#of course I probably shouldn’t be calling it a “dynamic shift” because so far in rebirth Lex and Kon have basically not /had/ a dynamic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mypoisonedvine · 3 years

Text

claimed || alpha!Andy Barber x reader

summary: an interrogation with an alpha is no place to have an unexpected heat.

word count: 2.7k

warnings: smut (dub con; the reader goes into heat and can’t think clearly enough to say no), a/b/o dynamics, loss of virginity, mentions of misogyny/discrimination against omegas, vague noncon and violence references, kinda housewife kink, possessiveness, breeding kink, praise, overstimulation, knotting, slight bondage (reader is handcuffed), slight pain kink, implied/subtle age gap, pregnancy mention at the end, kinda soft!dark andy but he's really not that dark

"This would be a lot easier for both of us if you started telling the truth."

You chewed your lip, looking away from the man across from you; it was impossible to keep eye contact when his gaze bore into you like that, when he gave you that stern, dominating look.

Andy Barber was so obviously an alpha, he was one of those types that just reeked of it. Figuratively— with the way he towered over you, his masculine body and strong features— but also literally considering his scent was filling the room now: pine, cinnamon, sage, and something a little bit sweet that made your mouth water.

It made sense for an alpha like him to have a high-powered, high-pressure career like this; he probably got a real kick out of squeezing information out of scared betas who couldn’t stand up to him.

And that was the role you were going to play now, because he was wrong: it would not be easier if you told the truth. If he knew what you really were, you’d be doomed.

You’d been hiding successfully as a beta for a long time by now, and you weren’t about to give it up now, even if it would likely have the charges against you dismissed. Omegas lived sheltered, oppressed lives; sought constantly by alphas, they had their pick of the finest since omegas were so rare, but until mated they were extremely vulnerable— and afterwards they were usually made to be subservient housewives, constantly bearing children as a consequence of their extreme fertility.

Maybe some omegas were okay with that, plenty probably loved that lifestyle since it was sort of the instinctual habit of an omega by nature, but not you. Never you. You wanted a life, a real life, your own life as more than an alpha’s mate. Thankfully you’d found the right mix of suppressants and perfumes to hide your scent, the right work schedule so you could always be home for your rare heats, and voila: to the rest of the world, you were a beta.

Being a beta meant being unnoticed, unacknowledged, never pursued and never courted. And that was exactly how you wanted it.

If Andy Barber knew that the man you’d stabbed was an alpha trying to force himself on you, there was a chance he would understand that it was self-defense and let you go. Then again, a lot of alphas seemed to think that being forced to mate was just par for the course for an omega; surely Andy wouldn’t be one of those types, as a man of the law, right?

“I can’t,” you finally answered.

“Whatever it is, you can tell me,” he assured, some of his anger shifting to a soothing tone. It really did calm you down; he must have been using his ‘alpha voice’ on you, and the fact that it worked should’ve been a red flag but you didn’t notice. “Let’s start from the beginning. You said you were at home but no one has confirmed your alibi. You said you didn’t know the victim but you obviously reacted when I showed you his picture. And, you said you weren’t there at the time of the murder but we found your DNA on the body.”

A little smile pulled at the corner of your lips, exactly not the reaction Andy had been expecting. “You’re lying,” you whispered.

He tensed up as you called his bluff. The DNA found at the scene was in the process of being analysed, sure, but it would be weeks until the results came back. “How can you be so sure?” he pressed.

“Because I. Wasn’t. There,” you hissed, glaring back at him; he shook his head solemnly..

“No, that’s not it. I can tell when you’re lying, too, you know,” he warned. “Tell me how you know I don’t have your DNA at the scene?”

“Because… because…” you breathed, blinking a few times as the room started to get warmer. Your head was spinning, your thighs clenched together— and when Andy reached out to rest his hand on yours and ask if you were alright, his touch sent it all into overdrive.

No, no, it wasn't your time yet. It shouldn't have come for a few more days, and you’d arranged to be bailed out tomorrow so you’d go into your cycle safely at home and not in jail. But now it was beginning and you had no way to stop it. Had the smell of an alpha really been enough to start your heat early?

Andy watched you start to pant and sweat with a furrowed brow, unsure what he was witnessing because he’d never had the opportunity to see it before. His ex-wife had been a beta, he'd never even met an omega before— they were quite rare after all.

But what he lacked in experience, he made up for in instinct; his body told him everything he needed to know about what he was seeing. “Omega,” he growled lowly, watching your whole body erupt into shivers at the timbre of his voice.

As far as alphas go, Andy was relatively level-headed, not as preoccupied with instinctual desires to dominate, to claim, to impregnate. A lot of alphas viewed mating with a beta as settling, although it was the much more likely outcome, statistically speaking. Andy, though, never really saw it that way, even knowing how much harder it would be to have a child with a beta. Their fertility was significantly weaker, both the males and the females, and Jacob was the product of years of trying; in all their marriage him and Laurie had never used any contraceptives and she only got pregnant the once.

But an omega? Especially a young one like you? He could knock you up right now, if he wanted. That power was intoxicating. It was exactly what he never knew he needed so badly.

“I don’t need the results of your DNA to know what you are,” he explained firmly. “I can’t believe I didn’t know before— you must have tried really hard to keep it a secret, little one. You must be so afraid of who you are… and who I am, for that matter. It must scare you to imagine what I could do to you.”

You whimpered, the noise tugging his heart in conflicting directions; to comfort you, or to make you do it again.

“I’m not going to hurt you, if that’s what you think,” he assured. “Not if I can help it…”

Honestly, he wasn’t so sure he would be able to help it; he felt his own sanity slipping as he watched you writhe and cry, instinct overtaking logic in the both of you.

"Alpha, please," you shuddered, the title making his cock harden instantly, uncomfortably filling the trousers of his suit.

"You smell so good," he purred, taking his jacket off as he stood up to cool off a bit. "I can smell your heat, Omega. I bet everyone in the building can—” he glanced to the locked door— “but I'm the only one here."

"Need you," you whined, tugging on the handcuffs that kept you bound to the table.

"Stand up, bend over," he commanded, and he'd barely finished speaking when you'd already done it, bent at the hips with your forearms resting on the table as you waited for him. "Good girl."

He rolled up his sleeves and took his place behind you, caging his body in with yours, nuzzling into your neck to get a deep breath of your scent.

"Fuck, so sweet," he groaned. "Waited so long for this. To feel an Omega on my cock. Never thought it would really happen. Has an Alpha ever taken you before?"

"No, I never… no."

"Not just unclaimed but a virgin. Christ, am I dreaming?"

But he was too far gone to take any more time to appreciate his luck— he needed you now, and he was taking you all for himself.

If he wasn't so overcome with need he wouldn't have thought to tear your clothes off, but now he didn't even think to question the idea, shedding you of your clothes like they were made of paper until you were completely exposed to him, your wet core vulnerable while another wave of your sweet scent filled the room.

"Look at all this," he grinned, kneeling down to lap at your folds and taste your slick. Your eyes rolled back in your head, your channel craving to be filled. "All for me, Omega?"

"Yours, it's all yours…"

"Doesn't it feel good to be claimed, little one? To be owned?"

"S-so good," you agreed. "Want your knot, Alpha. Want your mark."

A growl echoed in his chest when you said that, and he craved nothing more than to bite your neck and bond you to him for life.

But, it would be better if he saved that for a little later.

He stood up again and gave your ass a quick slap— nothing too rough, just enough to make you yelp all cute and whiny— before grabbing your hips to pull them back into his. You gasped and pushed back onto him, shamelessly rubbing yourself against the thick outline of his cock.

"Gonna make a mess on me with all that slick, Omega," he growled, but it was by no means discouragement.

"Want it in me, please," you sobbed. Unable to resist your begging anymore, he hastily opened his belt and fly, sighing with relief when he wrapped his hand around his cock and pulled it out. Your whole body visibly quaked when he swiped the swollen head through your folds, coating himself in your plentiful arousal.

Without any further warning, he pushed his cock in with a loud moan, a cry tearing from your throat as he tore into your body. "Shh," he soothed as his fingers rubbed your spine, "that's my girl, that's my pretty Omega."

But pain wasn't really your issue; it hurt, yes, but what made you cry was that you were already on the edge, about to come from hardly anything. When he thrusted once, you lost it and your legs quivered as a new wave of slick started to dribble down them.

"Are you coming?" he asked darkly.

You could only nod, biting your lip to try to keep from moaning too loudly.

"Oh my god…" he groaned, amazed at how sensitive you were. Clearly he wasn't the only one realizing how powerful and incredible it could be when an alpha and omega mated.

He started to really pound into you then, each brutal thrust knocking you forward.

"Feels good when you come for me, Omega. Do it again."

You couldn't help yourself; his voice had complete control over your body, his words a command you were helpless to resist. With a broken whimper you came again, walls squeezing his cock in a weak and stuttered rhythm.

"It's better than they say it is. Even better than I imagined. So fucking good," he sighed. It felt so right, that was the thing. It felt like your body was made to be claimed and owned by him.

"Want your knot," you whined, "please, Alpha—"

"If I give you my knot, you're mine. My Omega. You will never allow another Alpha to touch you. You will not speak to another Alpha, look at another Alpha, even Betas are off-limits. When I bite you, you'll be bonded to me and become my wife, you'll never disobey me or leave me. When I knot you, you'll give me a child. Is all of that perfectly clear?"

It was everything you'd wanted to avoid just an hour ago. Now it was your greatest dream come true. "Yes, Alpha. Yours, Alpha."

"Want to be bred, Omega? Bred by your Alpha?"

"Please!" you sobbed.

"Then keep coming and I'll let you have it soon," he promised. "I'll give you all my come like you need so badly."

You whimpered as your walls seemed to try to suck him in deeper, gripping him so tight that it made his head spin. Orgasm after orgasm washed over you, too many and too numb to count, each part of you slowly stripped away and replaced with pure, all-consuming pleasure.

The base of his cock began to swell and you mewled proudly— that is, until, it just kept growing and you couldn't imagine taking anymore.

"P-pull it out," you begged instead.

"I told you that you would take my knot, was I not clear?"

But you hadn't realized how big it would get, how far it would stretch you— and it was still going. "It hurts, Alpha, please!"

"You'll get used to it, gonna keep it in you all night and give it to you every day so you'll have plenty of practice. Take my fucking knot while I come inside you and breed your cunt."

When his knot finally grew to its full potential, streams of hot come began to fill you, deeper than you had ever imagined possible. It was overwhelming, apparently unending, and one final orgasm rocked your body as you milked his cock for all it was worth.

He wrapped his arms around your body, holding you close and soothing you as you shivered and cried, his kisses trailing up your shoulder to your neck where, finally, he sunk his teeth into your skin and left his mark on you.

Your walls quivered around him at the feeling of being claimed, mated for life. In that moment you didn't notice or care that it was to a man you barely knew; he was your Alpha now, that was all that mattered.

He kissed and licked over the sensitive bitemark, whispering praises your ringing ears couldn't quite process yet.

At least you were getting bailed out a day early.

Andy kept his promise about exactly how owned you would be. For the first few months you didn't even leave the house, he was too busy filling you with his cock every day. Although he was happy to claim you anywhere he happened to find you— the shower where he hopped in randomly, the kitchen where he bent you over the counter, the living room where he pinned you onto the couch— his favorite place was the bed. It was rougher and more animalistic in the other places, but in bed he was possessive in an entirely different way.

"My wife, my sweet little wife," he whispered in your ear as he slowly thrust all the way into you, making your back arch until your chest pushed against his. "My Omega. All mine."

"Yours," you agreed.

The protectiveness increased tenfold when your scent changed during pregnancy, even more when you started showing; he was obsessed with the way you looked full of his baby.

As for you, omega life was better than you'd expected. At times you felt smothered by him, but simultaneously you felt worshipped and loved like you never thought you could deserve. He certainly spoiled you, though he expected your unwavering loyalty in return.

That part was easy, though. Love, not fear, kept you in check when other alphas had a wandering eye. They knew you were mated, the bitemark scar (which Andy never, ever let you cover) and ring (which Andy never, ever let you take off) were sign enough along with the change in your scent to them. Occasionally one would shoot his shot and get unilaterally rejected by you before getting his ass kicked by your husband. If only they knew what you'd done to the last alpha that tried to creep on you; how you met Andy in the first place.

In the end, maybe it wasn't so bad to fall into your instincts, your natural role in society. Andy sure made it pretty enjoyable with the way he brought you to the height of pleasure over and over every night. "Mine," he promised you in deep whispers, "from the moment I saw you."

#andy barber x reader #andy barber smut #alpha!andy barber x omega!reader #I'll add tags when I get home later

2K notes · View notes

dream-a-little-bigger-x · 3 years

Text

Life in Quarantine (Part 1) | Owen Patrick Joyner

Summary: A series about being stuck in quarantine with your best friend Owen and trying not to lose your mind over being stuck inside all day every day.

Pairing: Owen x reader

Warnings: Fluff, minor swearing, lots of singing

Songs used: Don’t Let Go by En Vouque/ Washington on Your Side from Hamilton/ More than Words by Little Mix / Not a Pop Song by Little Mix -- All credits go to owners of these songs

A/N: I know nothing about songwriting and none of this will probably ever happened in real life, but it just worked for the story, alright? Alright. Enjoy!

Words: 3,372

Part 1: Not A Pop Song

Norman, Oklahoma. My home town. The place where I was born and raised. The place where I learned how to live and love. Where I learned what heartbreak is. Where I met and lost friends. The town all my most valued memories reside.

It’s also where I met my best friend, Owen. Our mothers were, and still are, college besties. So, us becoming friends was kind of inevitable. We went through everything together. Kindergarten, Elementary, Middle School and High School. Wherever you saw me, you saw Owen and vice versa. A lot of people often thought we were a couple, but that’s been off the table since day one. In Elementary School, Owen and I made a pact with five different rules to seal our friendship forever. The list only grew as we got older. But here’s the gist:

1. If one is teased or bullied, the other takes revenge 2. Always sing and dance together whenever one asks, even if you don’t want to 3. Always share cookies 4. Always play together at recess 5. Always sit together at lunch

Then the additions from Middle and High School:

6. We will never, ever, ever date each other or each other’s siblings 7. Ethan, Evan and Emmy are off limits too 8. Crushes too 9. Always go to Broadway shows together 10. Never lie even if you wanna do it for the right reasons. There is no right reason. 11. Always support each other’s dreams and successes 12. Always hate each other’s exes 13. Always share ice cream 14. Never share our secrets with other 15. Always go to parties together

That last one was added by Owen in senior year of High School when I didn’t want to go to a party since it was my exes party and we’re supposed to hate each other’s exes. But, since he’s been in LA for most of senior year to pursue his acting career, I really couldn’t say no. Him going off to Los Angeles for months, sometimes even longer, started in eighth grade when he landed the role of Crispo Powers in a Nickelodeon show called ‘100 things to do before High School’, which I religiously watched, of course. Rule 9 tells you to. After High School, the two of us split ways. I headed off to Boston to study at Berklee College of Music to major in songwriting as it’s always been a dream of mine to become a songwriter, while Owen went to LA to further pursue his career in acting. We’ve tried to keep in contact, but daily calls turned into weekly calls turned into monthly calls. Five months in, we just try to at least check in with each other every now and then, which is what works best for our busy schedule. Then December 2018 came and changed my life entirely for the better. The representative of Syco and Columbia records said he was in need of fresh blood to co-write songs with none other than Little Mix on their next album. They held a competition at Berklee College, and long story short, I won! Yay me. To say I was nervous to write with a girl group I’ve been a fan of since the very beginning is an understatement. But they were so nice to work with. We’d take turns flying to each other’s countries and wrote about five songs together of which only two made it onto the actual album. None of it made much sense to me at the time, it all just seemed like one big dream. Owen was pretty excited about it too. He knew how big a fan I was of the girls. Even though he wasn’t a big fan himself, he still listened to the album, mostly to listen to the songs I’d written. Over FaceTime, we even played a game called ‘Guess what song I’ve written’, and he’d gotten one right. The girls even gave you a full-time job as co-writer on more projects of theirs and even recommended you to other artists. This meant you had to quit college and become a full-time freelance songwriter. Thanks to Little Mix, though, you’ve gotten the nicest people to hire you. Since then, you’ve worked with artists like Meghan Trainor, Bea Miller, Isabella Merced -- who you could gossip with about Owen from her time working with him -- and even Harry Styles. The fifteen-year-old inside you didn’t know what to do with herself when that collaboration happened. But working with all those people also meant I had to move again. This time to Los Angeles. When I told Owen the good news, he immediately suggested you move in with him. It’s the thing you guys said you would do once you got older; get an apartment together. So, it was the only logical move. “Welcome to your new casa!” He said dramatically when leading me into the apartment. The tall white walls and large windows illuminated the entire place with a welcoming feeling. “Let me show you to your room, so you can drop off your excessive luggage and then I’ll give you the tour of the entire space.” I raise an eyebrow at his words. “Bro, I have excessive luggage because I just moved from Boston to freaking LA!” I exclaim, followed by an amused chuckle as I try to push him, but fail since he’s much stronger. From that moment on, I knew moving in with Owen would be the best and worst idea I ever had.

And speaking of ‘worsts’. From March 2020, the two of us were stuck at home together due to the outbreak of the coronavirus. Just when I was supposed to start working with Little Mix on their new album. I would’ve been in London now, but instead, I’m stuck in LA with my best friend who doesn’t have a job at the moment since he’d just finished filming a new Netflix show called Julie and The Phantoms. What I heard from it this far, it sounds pretty amazing. I even went to Vancouver with Owen for a few weeks. It was a fun trip and gave me some new inspiration for some songs. “Hey, Nugget,” Owen says as he walks into the room we call our studio where I’m working. “I’m kinda in the middle of something, Ace. Can it wait?” I know I shouldn’t work out my frustration on my best friend, but it kind of fell out of my mouth before I could stop myself. “Sorry, Nugget, I’m kinda bored…” I sigh exasperatedly and bob my head to signal his permission to come in. “What are you working on?” he asks as he sits down on the armrest of the armchair I’m sitting on. “This Little Mix song I can’t seem to make work,” I reply and point to the notebook in front of me. “I’ve got a few good lyrics, but the melody seems impossible.” Owen takes the notebook from me and closes it before getting up. “Time for a little break,” he says and goes to sit behind his drum kit. “Guess what song I’m playing,” he then says and starts with the cymbals, then hi-hats and when a beat finally floats through the room, my brain starts to work. This is a game we’ve been playing every time I’m in need of a break or just for fun. We’d take turns in playing a part of a song on our respective instruments and the other has to guess which song it is by singing along. “What’s it gonna be? Cuz I can’t pretend Don’t you wanna be More than friends Hold me tight and don’t let go Don’t let go Have the right to lose control Don’t let go” A smile appears on Owen’s as I get the first song right. He always underestimates my love for girl bands from the 80’s and 90’s. Though, I think he might’ve given me this one because I’m so frustrated from working on that song. “Your turn,” he then says after having hit a couple more toms and cymbals. I think about it for a moment, and then start plucking the sixth string to create a more bassy sound. Owen stares at the guitar for a moment trying to figure out what song I’m playing. Then, his eyes widen as he recognizes the sound. “It must be nice, it must be nice To have Washington on your side It must be nice, it must be nice To have Washington on your side” I let out a loud whoop in excitement, choking the strings to stop the sound. “I still can’t do that rap though!” he actually sounds disappointed in himself. “Washington isn’t gon’ listen to disciplined dissidents This is the difference This kid is out!” I proudly yell out, earning impressed applause from my best friend. The smile on his face warms me up inside. Owen has always had the most beautiful smile, in my opinion. He has one of those smiles that could just instantly make you happy. No matter how bad a day you had. “Very impressive, Nugget,” he replies with a smirk that sends shivers down my spine. Ever since I moved in, he’s gotten more and more flirty with me. I’m not sure if it’s just a change in his personality that he’s acquired in Los Angeles or if it’s something else, but it’s there. Not that I mind. Something has shifted in me too since we moved in together. It’s even gotten me thinking about removing rule number 6 from our pact. “Your turn, Ace,” I quickly change the subject, just so I don’t have to think about him like that too much. Our dynamic as best friends is too good to ruin it all. Twenty years of that is a long time to just throw away like that. “Alright, an easy one,” he says and simply starts stomping the bass pedal to activate his bass drum. It’s a slow, almost menacing thump that sounds very familiar. A little too familiar. “Oh, I need you more than words can say Oh, You saved me in ways I can’t explain Always been there for me, now I’ll do the same Oh, I need you more than words can say” It’s one of the two songs on Little Mix’s last album that I helped write. The song that means most to me since I wrote it with Owen in mind. It was a period of time where all I wanted was to see Owen and be able to talk to him and just spend time with him like we used to before his whole acting adventure. I think he’ll stop after the chorus, but instead, he picks up his drum sticks and starts playing the rest of the song on his drum kit. Deciding it could be a fun jam session, I start playing the chords on my guitar as well whilst continuing with the lyrics. “Won't forget, won't forget Won't forget when he broke my heart How you helped me through You turned, you turned, you turned a disaster into a dream Gave me the power, made my life brand new When the world try to break us, we found magic And we grew stronger, though every line, line, line Every night, every night, every night I strain and sing the truth Now, now they know that they gonna be alright, alright” The memories of when I wrote this song start slipping through my mind. I remember how alone I felt, even in a room with a dozen other people. I remember how much I missed Owen. “I find peace in every story you told I think of you, I'll never be alone It's true, true, true You know I do, do, do” My eyes lock with Owen for a moment. He shoots me a comforting smile that makes me feel right at home. And I don’t mean here. I mean home as in Norman, Oklahoma. “Oh, I need you more than words can say Oh, you save me in ways that I can't explain Always been there for me, now I'll do the same Oh, I need you more than words can say Oh, I need you more than words can say” We both stop playing and just look at each other for a while. I’ve never told Owen I wrote this song for him, but at the same time, I think he might already know. That doesn’t take away the urge to tell him though. “I wrote that about you when I missed you,” I blurt out without properly thinking about it. “Really?” he asks while coming out from behind his kit. Combing his long, blonde hair back, he makes his way over to me and grabs the guitar from my lap. “Yeah, I thought you’d know?” He chuckles, shaking his head whilst tickling the strings. I’d taught him a couple of songs on the guitar since we started living together. “You write with a lot of people, Nugget. Could’ve just been their words as well....” He isn’t wrong about that. Maybe it was a lot less obvious than I thought it was. “So, what are the guidelines for this one?” he questions. I grab my notebook again and open it on the page I was working on before he fluttered into the studio. “They didn’t want another pop song. Kind of more like a ‘fuck you’ to Simon Cowell for treating them so badly and telling them what to do and what to wear and whatnot,” I explain, showing the few lines I have already. Some of them Jade had sent me, others were Perrie’s, a couple were mine. “What are most pop songs about?” Owen queries. I know he’s trying to help me, but he’s kind of making me nervous with the constant strumming of the guitar. “Songs about falling in love, or drinks and drugs…” I sum up at the top of my mind, “Or heartbreak…” Owen nods his head whilst continuing to play the same few chords over and over again. I focus on the melody for a moment as my creative juices start to work again. “This ain’t another pop song ‘bout falling in love Or a party song ‘bout drinks and drugs No more singing songs ‘bout breaking my heart And my lonely nights dancin’ in the dark” I look up at Owen for validation. Nodding his head encouragingly, he keeps playing the same few chords but a little louder this time to support the flow of my lyrics. “If I’m a guilty pleasure I want this life forever I’ll take it all ‘cause anything is better Than another pop song ‘bout falling in love But if you wanna sing along say ‘I don’t give a fuck!’” Owen starts jumping around excitedly, and I can’t help but laugh at his adorableness. He used to get this excited whenever I sent him a demo of the songs I was working on. “Let’s record a demo!” he exclaims and, after handing me my guitar back, moves towards the recording equipment. “Let’s start with some guitar,” he says and that’s how our recording starts. First, the guitar, then Owen records some drums, and then I get behind the mic to sing the song all by myself. I can just imagine how amazing this’ll sound with the girls’ voices instead of mine. “No broken bottles Or glitter on the floor form the night before Ain’t no boy troubles If that’s what you came here for then you should know” I lapse back into the chorus one last time before we finish recording and put everything together. We listen to it a couple more times before sending it over to Little Mix and their management. Awaiting their answer, we head into the kitchen to make some dinner together. It only takes about half an hour before I get a call from Jade. “This song is epic!” she shouts into my ear before I can even say hello. “Exactly what we needed, Y/N, thank you so much!” I’ve grown accustomed to her thick Geordie accent, though it was hard to understand in the beginning. “Thanks, Jade! Owen helped me out a little,” I reply, looking up at Owen himself who shoots me a wink that sends a rush of heat from my head all the way to my toes. The girls all know about Owen. I’d told them about my best friend and how supportive he was, and they always teased me saying I was so in love with this guy. Which I didn’t realize at the time and always denied. Rule 6 clearly states no dating each other. “Give him a big snog as a thanks then!” Jade jokes, and I can even hear the others in the background. “I’m on Zoom with the girls at the moment. They say hi!” “Hi back!” I can’t stop the giggle from escaping from my lips. “I gotta go, Jade. Thanks for getting back to me about the song. I can’t wait to hear you guys singing it!” Jade snickers on the other side of the line. All while I’m watching Owen make some pasta at the stove. There’s something so attractive about him in the kitchen, I’m not sure what it is. Fuck, Jade is right. I am very much in love with my best friend and there’s nothing I’m going to be able to do about it. Stupid pact we made in the first grade. “We’ll call you later to discuss some more arrangements and stuff. Bye, Y/N!” “Bye, Jade! Bye girls!” I say loudly, knowing I’m probably on speaker phone anyway. “Bye, Y/N!” the girls chorus. I hang up the phone and look at Owen for a few seconds before bursting out into an excited cheer, dancing my way towards him. “They loved it! They loved it! They loved it!” I shout loudly, and cup Owen’s face in my hands before pressing my lips to his in an outburst of elation. I’m surprising yourself at first, but then melt into the familiarity of his embrace as his arms snake around my waist whilst kissing me back. He’s actually kissing me back. “And that’s rule number 6 out the door…” Owen mumbles when he pulls away. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have,” I mumble and step away from him, or at least try to. His arms tighten around my waist, restricting me from taking another step. “I’ve been thinking about talking to you about that stupid rule, Nugget. I’ve hated it ever since we were 16.” My eyes widen at his confession. Since we were sixteen? SIXTEEN? That’s four years ago. That’s even long before I realized I felt more for him than just a platonic love. “16? Why didn’t you say anything?!” Owen chuckles, retracting his arms from around my waist and instead tucking a strand of hair behind my ear before placing his hand on my cheek. “You were pretty enamoured with Ryan, remember?” My heart breaks at the mention of the prick’s name. Ryan was my very first heartbreak and the worst at that. Owen was in LA at the time, but when he heard the news, he almost immediately flew back to Norman Oklahoma to comfort me and eat ice cream together. “Besides, I was constantly on the move from LA to Norman, it wouldn’t have been fair to you…” “You’re the sweetest human being alive, Owen Patrick Joyner,” I tell him with a smile tugging at my lips, but then turn serious again as I flick his forehead. He lets out an ‘ow’ and shoots me a confused glare. “And the stupidest! I’ve been in love with you since I don’t know when, but I never realized until now! The girls from Little Mix even knew but I was too oblivious or stubborn to see it myself. If you’d told me, I probably would’ve realized sooner!” “Well… I told you now?” he tries, the cheesiest smile on his face that makes me roll my eyes. “I love you, Ace,” I whisper, “And not the platonic kind this time.” “I love you too, Nugget.” He leans down again after that, reconnecting our lips into a passionate kiss. The first of many. This ought to be a very interesting quarantine together.

Taglist: @hannahhistorian92 @marinettepotterandplagg @thequirkybookaholic @bookdealer5 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @hemmingsness @iainttakingshitfromnobody @ifilwtmfc @angryknightstatesmantrash @kiss-themoongoodbye @rudysbay @thedarkqueenofavalon @caitsymichelle13 @calamitykaty @wiselight @kcd15

Lemme know if you wanna be on my taglist!

#julie and the phantoms #julie and the himbos #julie and the fat ones #jatp #owen joyner #owen x reader #owen joyner fic #owen joyner au #life in quarantine with owen #life in quarantine #not a pop song

309 notes · View notes

thewickedkings · 3 years

Text

Between the Two of Us ~ Chapter 10

Masterlist || AO3 || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Summary: Jurdan High school AU. Rivals Jude and Cardan are forced to partner up for a history project, and drama ensues. Filled with banter, pranks, an unhealthy amount of pining, and Jude being clueless as usual.

Trigger Warnings: Mild cursing. Please let me know if there’s anything I missed!

~~~

A/N: This chapter is even longer than the last one, at 4k words. Also, you’re welcome in advance.

That Sunday was one of the busiest at the café. Students were streaming in to work on all their assignments before Thanksgiving break, and by the time they caught a break, Jude was out of breath.

“Damn, I don’t think it’s ever been this busy,” Lili said, wiping her forehead.

“No wonder no one else wanted this shift.”

Lili groaned. “I have to go home and write not two, but three essays. I know I shouldn’t have procrastinated, but it was my birthday week.”

“I’ll help you edit them if you want,” Jude offered. For some reason, she actually enjoyed editing essays, and Lili had definitely taken advantage of that in the past. “And you know it’s called birthday, not birth week,” Jude snarked.

“Shut up, Ms. I-made-googly-eyes-with-Cardan-all-night.”

“I did not.”

“Yes you did. Now please tell me what happened, because I know something did. The sexual tension when you guys came back down was disgusting.”

Thankfully, Jude was saved by a customer who had walked in. But Lili was stubborn, and after Jude took her order, she pressed, “Nope. Spill.”

Jude grimaced before recounting the incident, which she now referred to in her head as ‘the bathroom incident.’

Lili gasped comically. “Oh my God. Cardan has more game than I expected. Kissing your thumb after band aiding it? Hold on.” She called out the customer’s name, leaving the drink on the counter, before returning. “Damn, that’s smooth.”

Jude groaned. “I know.”

“Wait, did anything happen when he drove you home?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

Jude blushed even more as she remembered the drive. They had been bickering as usual, as if that could stop them both from thinking about the increasing tension between them.

And then the silence they’d both been avoiding like cowards descended. The painful, awkward as hell silence.

By the time they got to her house, Jude was anxious to get out of the car. She reached for the door handle right as Cardan spoke, staring straight ahead. “So we’re really not going to talk about it?”

She froze, not expecting them to address it. “Talk about what?”

“Jude.”

“Cardan,” she mimicked, and he rolled his eyes.

“Fine then.” He pushed his door open at the same time as Jude.

“What are you doing?” “Walking you to your door.”

“I can walk to my door by myself.” Her foot caught on the edge of the sidewalk, and she’d stumbled before righting herself.

“Righttt,” Cardan drawled and followed her up the sidewalk.

She ignored him, pulling out her keys and unlocking the front door. “Okay, you can go now, loser.”

“Weirdo,” Cardan said.

“You’re a weirdo.”

Cardan snickered. “Nice comeback.”

“Shut up.” She felt his gaze on her back and was thankful for the dark, because she was blushing for no reason.

“You shut up.”

They both snickered like the immature idiots they were, and Jude knew she had steered clear of the conversation for now.

When Cardan reached his car, he hollered. “We’re going to talk about it.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she hollered right back.

Cardan just grinned. “See you tomorrow, Duarte.”

Her expression must have been doing something weird at the memory, because Lili snorted. “You’re in deep shit.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Um, maybe first off, actually admit you like him?”

“I do not.”

The Bomb raised her eyebrows.

Jude groaned. “I can’t like him. Not him of all people.”

“But you doooo,” the Bomb sing songed. “You and Cardan are in-”

“Lili, I will not help you edit your essay if you don’t shut up right now.”

She went silent immediately. “That’s just cruel.”

Jude grinned. “So… how’s Van?”

Lili glared. “You’re not subtle at all.”

“I wasn’t trying to be.”

She wiped down the counter, silent for a beat before she sighed. “Fine. He’s just- I think I need to move on.” Jude opened her mouth to interrupt, but the Bomb continued. “I know what you’re thinking. Yeah, I think he likes me like that, but I don’t know… he’s always so skittish when I try to take things further. And I don’t want to ruin things between us.”

Jude knew there was more to the story, but before she could say anything, a group of girls entered the café, and Jude had to take their orders. She dismissed it, figuring she’d bring it up later.

~~~

Jude didn’t see Cardan at school the next two days. Meeting her college application deadlines took up most of her time, and before she knew it, it was Thanksgiving Break. Vivi came home from college, and suddenly their house was much more lively than usual.

Before Thanksgiving dinner, Vivi stomped into Jude’s room and shut the door behind her. “I know I haven’t visited much, but what’s going on between you and Taryn?”

Jude pulled out her headphones from her ears. “Why don’t you ask her?”

“That’s what she said too!”

“Viv, just leave it.”

“Well, you’re going to have to figure it out, because even Oak’s annoyed at this point.”

“He is?”

“You are all idiots,” Vivi mumbled on her way out of the room, before popping back in. “Oh, by the way, I think your mac n cheese is burning.”

“Shit! Why didn’t you say that first?”

Throughout dinner, Vivi proceeded to force Jude and Taryn into conversation. The ease at which Vivi slipped back into their dynamic was uncanny after so many months away, but Jude supposed that was the way with family.

Madoc and Oriana carried the turkey to the table while Jude prepared for the grand reveal. Oak bounced in his seat in anticipation of what had becomes Jude Thanksgiving tradition. When Jude pulled back the foil to reveal her mac n cheese, it looked perfectly fine. Except for unmistakably charred edges

Taryn snorted. “It’s definitely better than last year’s.”

Jude cracked a grin. Maybe there was something to say about Thanksgiving in bringing the family together.

~~~

Jude spent the end of the break hanging out with Lili, Van, and Garrett. The weird energy between Lili and Van was palpable, and Jude instinctively looked for Cardan to raise her eyebrows at before realizing he wasn’t there. Cardan had texted that he was busy with family stuff on the group chat, and Jude couldn’t help but wonder if he was avoiding her. Logically, she knew she was being self-centered and he probably was busy, but the thought stung more than it should have.

Monday came far too quickly, and Jude rubbed her eyes as she walked to her first class, bumping into the last person she expected to see: Locke. For the past few weeks, she’d been messing with him, but not too obviously that he would suspect she knew about what he did. Her revenge plan was still brewing, but until then, she could have some fun.

She and Lili made a game out of replying to his texts with the weirdest responses, just to see how much he could take. Her favorite was when she had ‘accidentally’ sent him a picture of two tampon boxes, asking which one she should get. When he had responded with a ‘whichever one fits??’ Jude had exploded with laughter before clarifying that it wasn’t meant for him, except that it definitely was.

When she’d asked him if he wanted to come to dinner to meet her sister and her parents, with an emphasis on her dad, he had avoided her for the next two weeks.

Which made it even harder to control her laugh when his face paled when he saw her. “Sorry, I’d better get going. I’m going to be late.”

“Right. Let me know if you can make it to dinner. My dad really wants to meet you.”

Locke practically tripped as he ran away from her.

“Damn, Duarte, what did you say to scare him?” Cardan’s familiar voice drawled out from behind her, and a grin escaped her lips, a small part of her relieved that he sought her out. She hadn’t realized how ingrained he was into her routine until she hadn’t seen him for a week.

His pace matched with hers until they were walking side by side, falling into their familiar groove.

“Just mentioned how much my dad wanted to meet him for dinner.”

Cardan grinned and handed her a cup full of coffee.

“What’s this for?”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry. It’s black. I don’t know why you would willingly drink that, but you do you.”

“Yes, okay, but why’d you get me coffee?”

“Consider it me paying you back for accidentally spilling your coffee that one time.”

“Accidentally, my ass.” She frowned at her cup. “It’s not poisoned is it?”

“Fine. If you don’t want it, I’ll find some other psychopath who likes black coffee.”

Jude hugged her coffee protectively to her chest. “No. Mine.”

“I figured. Also, we need to finish our project. It’s due…“

“Next week, I know,” Jude cut off. “We still haven’t bought a poster.”

Cardan groaned. “We should have gotten one from Dollar Tree.”

“Well maybe you could’ve gotten that instead of a tiara,” she said, grinning up at him as they stopped in front of her class.

Cardan rolled his eyes. “So are you free Thursday night?”

“Yeah. Text me when later.”

“Good. We’ll talk then,” he said, with an extra emphasis on the word talk. His eyes dropped shamelessly to her lips, long enough that it was anything but unintentional, before he smirked and strode away.

Jude called after him, unwilling to let him get the last word. “About the project!”

“Of course. What did you think I was talking about?” He disappeared before she could respond.

Kissing. She was thinking about kissing him. Ugh.

She grumbled angrily to herself as she placed her bag next to her desk. When she caught Taryn staring at her, she snapped, “What?”

Taryn opened her mouth to speak, but the bell interrupted her. “Nothing.”

~~~

After soccer practice on Thursday, Jude went home to take a shower. While blow drying her hair she texted Cardan to figure out when they were meeting up. He immediately responded with ‘can’t do my place,” and Jude frowned. After a couple messages, they ended up deciding to go to the library at Cardan’s suggestion.

Oak was throwing a fit over something or another as she headed out the door, and Oriana paused their argument to place a hand on Jude’s shoulder. “Heading out?” It wasn’t in an overbearing tone, just gentle.

“Yeah. To the library.” Jude hesitated, battling the urge to say something more. Oriana might not have been her real mother, but Jude realized what a blessing it was to have someone that checked up on her and cared the way Oriana did. She swallowed and said, “I’ll be back soon,” and headed out.

By the time she got to the library, Cardan had already texted that he was there. Seconds after she turned off her car, a knock sounded on her window, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. Cardan grinned sheepishly when she opened her door. “Sorry.”

She shrugged it off and handed him the poster she from the passenger seat. She glanced around the parking lot for his car. “Where’s your car?”

“I walked.” At the shock on her face, Cardan added, “Don’t look at me like that. Just because we live in a suburb doesn’t mean I have to drive everywhere. Plus, it’s only a fifteen minute walk.”

“Okay, but… car. Fast. Walk. Slow.”

Cardan rolled his eyes and tugged her wrist impatiently. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

They walked through the archway that opened up into the entry area of the library, ‘welcome’ inscribed into the stone. The wall behind the front desk was patterned with hexagons of different pastel colors, and the librarian behind the desk gave them a friendly smile. Her dark brown hair was tied up into a ponytail, strands of gray beginning to appear.

“Cardan, nice to see you. I see you’ve brought a friend,” she said to Cardan. Her honey-colored eyes glanced at Jude with curiosity.

“Um, yeah. Mel, this is Jude. We’re doing a project together.”

Jude introduced herself, trying to hide her own curiosity.

Mel smiled at Jude warmly. “It’s nice to meet one of Cardan’s friends.” Turning to Cardan, she added, “The back room is empty, if you two want to head there.”

Cardan thanked her and gestured Jude to follow him. They passed the kid’s section, which was littered with bright signs and seating, and when they were out of hearing distance, Jude asked. “So… you come here a lot?”

“Um, I guess. I came a lot when I was a kid, so sometimes I stop by.” The tips of his ears turned pink, and damn, Jude felt something squeeze in her chest at the sight.

“Cool.”

His head jerked up at her response, and whatever he saw in her expression had him reaching for her hand and twining their fingers together. He tugged her hand, and she followed him through the stacks, the only sound their footsteps and the comforting hum of the library.

She grinned at the floor. This boy never ceased to surprise her.

They stopped in front of a room divided from the rest of the library by a wall of glass, and Cardan pushed open the door. The opposite end of the room was also completely glass, and the window looked out over the lake behind the library. A table with four chairs was on the left, and a cozy armchair sat on the right.

Cardan let go of her hand, and she ached to pull it back to hers, feel the warm callouses of his palm against hers. Instead she put the poster on the table and pulled out her laptop. “This is nice. I’m surprised no one else took it.”

“Mel saves it for me sometimes.”

Jude snorted. “You really do charm everyone, don’t you?”

Cardan sat down across her, humming in agreement. “It’s only a matter of time before I charm you too.”

“Keep waiting.”

Cardan kicked her leg under the table, and she bit back a smile. If his leg stayed there, pressed against the side of hers while they worked, neither of them mentioned it.

~~~

“Not bad, if I do say so myself,” Jude said, as she looked down at their poster. Yes, it did feel like a fifth grade science fair project, but Jude was still proud of it. Something about cutting and gluing things together made it seem so much more satisfying.

“Not bad? This is fucking gorgeous.” Cardan pushed his curls off his forehead, his silver rings catching the light. Jude’s brain automatically snagged on how unfair it was that guys could have such attractive hands. Like how did that even make sense?

Her gaze caught on them now, eyes tracing the veins and the flex of his fingers where they tapped against the edge of the table. She’d noticed that Cardan always seemed to fidget with his hands, unable to keep them unoccupied.

“Jude?”

“Hm?” She pushed her thoughts away and tried to focus. “Yes, gorgeous,” she agreed.

He gave her a strange look, and she felt a flush creeping up her neck. She started hastily picking up the scraps of paper and tidying up the table. When she dared to meet his gaze, he looked like he was battling himself with something.

“What’s up with you and Locke?” Cardan blurted a few seconds later.

“What do you mean?”

This time, his words were a little more deliberate. “I know you’re messing with him, but does he think you’re… dating?”

“I don’t know. We only went on one date, and I pretty much scared him off when I mentioned my dad.” She shrugged, confused as to why he was bringing up Locke. “Does it matter?”

His hand stilled. “I guess not.”

Silently, the two of them worked until they had finished gluing on all the information. They cleared up the excess papers and started cleaning up.

“So when are you going to break it off with him?”

“Well, I was planning to do a whole revenge prank thing, but I haven’t fully planned it out yet,” she said contemplatively, scraping off the dried glue from her fingers.

When she looked up, Cardan was looking at her with a devious smile. “What?”

“I have an idea.”

~~~

The sky was dark when they arrived at the grocery store. As they placed their items on the counter to check out, the cashier gave them a strange look. Jude simply smiled and said, “Isn’t it such a wonderful night?”

At Cardan’s direction, Jude drove to a neighborhood a few minutes from Cardan’s, and they parked in a darkened spot on the side of the street.

Jude’s nerves thrummed in anticipation. She hadn’t been this excited in so long, probably since the last time she had pranked Cardan. She had to admit that scheming with someone made it all the more fun.

Cardan pulled on a black sweatshirt, and his eyes met hers as he pulled up the hood to cover his curls. The wicked grin he sent her made her stomach squeeze.

“You take the right, and I’ll cover the left?”

She nodded, and silently opened the door and stepped out as Cardan did the same.

They crouched on the sidewalk next to some trees and silently made their way towards the lone house at the end of the street. Thankfully, Locke’s car was parked out front. They hadn’t exactly planned for it if his car had been in the garage.

A car door slammed across the street and Jude looked at Cardan. “Where-”

He clapped his hand over her mouth before she could finish, and he pointed across the street. A car was reversing out of the house next to Locke’s, its headlights nearly passing over them. Her heart beat furiously against her chest.

The car drove away, and Cardan suddenly dropped his hand from her mouth. Her lips burned from the ghost of his hand, and her heart sped up for a completely different reason.

“That was close,” she whispered breathlessly, and Cardan nodded, his eyes darting away from hers.

They crept up his driveway, and Cardan passed her three rolls of plastic wrap from his backpack. Slowly, Jude unfurled the plastic wrap, and pushed it over the top of his car until Cardan caught it. He wrapped it over his side before rolling it under the car back to Jude. She hadn’t realized how painstaking the process would be, but they kept at it. The sound of the unfurling wrap seemed too loud against the silent night.

Twenty long minutes later, Jude passed the last of the last of the final roll of wrap to Cardan. She waited for Cardan to secure it into place, shifting impatiently on the balls of her feet.

A gentle whirring sound cut through the night, and Jude’s eyes flew to Cardan, who was tip-toeing back towards her from around the car.

“Run,” he whispered urgently.

She grabbed Cardan’s backpack from the ground right as a spray of water hit her arm, drenching her and the side of the car. She glanced behind her and almost laughed, realizing the sprinklers had turned on, not some sort of security device like she had thought in her panic.

Cardan looked at her, his eyes glinting with laughter. “Come on, let’s go.”

She grabbed his hand and pulled him with her.

They ran across the sidewalk like criminals fleeing from a crime scene, narrowly avoiding the sprinklers, and Jude felt giggles breaking out of her chest. Her heart pounded against her chest, her breath coming out in pants. The cold water pressed into the skin of her arm, a sharp contrast to the warmth of Cardan’s hand in hers.

They ran all the way back to her car, and they finally stopped to catch their breath. Jude leaned back into the car, panting, her hands braced on her chest to hold her heart in.

Her eyes met Cardan’s, who was panting as if he had just been in a police chase, and a giggle escaped her mouth. And then another. And then both of them were laughing like maniacs.

“Who the fuck-” she laughed, “turns on their sprinklers-” another fit of giggles overtook her. “-at midnight?”

Cardan laughed harder, leaning into her, a palm bracing himself on the car behind her. “Your face,” he wheezed, “when the sprinklers turned on-”

She could barely breathe in. “The way you said run, oh my god.” She broke into another fit of uncontrollable laughter, clutching her stomach. Cardan wiped tears from his eyes as he tried to regain his composure.

Eventually, Jude’s laughter slowed. The sound of crickets chirping and cars whizzing by on the street behind the neighborhood settled into the air as they caught their breaths. Jude leaned back against the car, tipping her head back up to the night sky.

Cardan was still leaning into her, the moonlight casting a faint glow over his face. When she met his eyes, his lips tipped up in a little smile that sent warmth to her stomach.

With a will of its own, her hand reached up to push back his hoodie, cradling his jaw, and he swallowed, his expression sobering.

A breeze blew over them, lifted a strand of her hair from her face. Her heartbeat thudded against her chest, a different type of adrenaline shooting through her body as his eyes darted to her lips.

In an unspoken agreement, Jude leaned up, and Cardan’s head bent down to reach hers.

Their lips brushed hesitantly, a barely-there kiss, before Cardan pulled back slightly.

Oh. Oh.

“Jude.” His voice was hoarse, a question, a plea exhaled across her lips, and she silenced it with her mouth.

Their resolve snapped, and Cardan’s hand slipped to cradle the back of her head as his head dipped and his lips pressed into hers, again and again and again, warm and soft and desperate. Jude buried her hands in his hair, pulling him closer, until she was pressed against the car, his forearms caging her in.

She had never been kissed like this.

It felt as though they were running past the sprinklers again, a rush of adrenaline running through her body. Her lips parted under his, and he made a noise in the back of his throat that set her blood on fire. Her thoughts fizzled into nothing, everything except the two of them fading away.

When they pulled back for air, Cardan’s lips were swollen, and both of them were panting. He rested his forehead against hers, one hand still tangled in her hair, and Jude‘s eyes finally fluttered open.

“That,” Cardan rasped, “was worth waiting for.”

“Shut up.” Her voice was a little too breathless for her liking.

“Jude, Jude, Jude,” he murmured as he nuzzled the side of her face, and she felt goosebumps erupt on her arm. “Now you know exactly how to make me shut up.”

“Oh?” She tilted her head, barely close enough for another kiss, before shoving him back, hoping distance would help her regain her composure. “You wish. There are other ways to shut you up.”

He stumbled back with a breathless laugh. “I do wish.” He glanced around at the street, as if just remembering where they were. “We should probably go.”

“We should. Wouldn’t want to get caught.”

“Okay, right.” His hands spazzed at his side for a moment before he spurred into motion, opening her door for her with a roguish grin.

Jude didn’t exactly know what she was getting herself into, but she couldn’t bring herself to put an end to it.

~~~

A/N: And there you have it, the scene that inspired this whole thing. It’s the first scene I even wrote, and everything else was just fun to write to lead up to it. I was about to cut this chapter off before the last scene, but I decided to keep it in because it takes me forever to update. Like I said at the beginning, you’re welcome 😌 I hope it’s as good as it was in my head 😭

Okay, but the fact that this is the tenth chapter and people are still reading?!! Thank you all so much for reading this and supporting this!! I probably would have abandoned this if not for you <3

As usual, let me know what you think in the comments!! Reblogs are appreciated :)

Check out my masterlist for more of my writing!

Tagging: let me know if they work or not

(Bolded tags don’t work)

@goddess-of-writing @cardan-greenbriar-tcp @amoosewithflannelforfur @charrise @mercrutiodidntdieforthis @hizqueen4life @mi-mavencalories @simonelovesff @b00kworm @nope-has-lied @andromeddea @aesthetics-11 @queen-of-glass @runnybabbit9 @afexiss @the-keen-queen @yesimtheslytherinwitch @fizziefaerie @abigneignenn @storiesandschemes @aelin-queen-of-terrasen @words-of-the-wise @thedazzlingheights @magicalbookwyvern @kittkatandbooboo @queen-of-no1 @iminsanenotobsessed @dorkzrul @snusbandxknifewife @aknymph @thefolkofthefic @snorting-up-pizza @fandomfanatic987 @fandom-will-be-the-death-of-me @cardanslittletail @curlyredqueen06 @losssssstttttt @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @omfglucayababies @judiecardan @woodsbeyond1 @yourroyalbooknerd @ireallyshouldsleeprn @st00pid231 @alittledribbledrabble @nomotivation-lads @herladyshipxx @emmabookworm08 @ducksmurf135 @jurdanhell @booksandothersecrets @fangirlprincess09 @ysitsohardtofindaname @dressedindustandshadows @mickeymouse-house @clockworkgraystairs @thesirenwashere @courtofjurdan @blackjacks-donuts @pig-on-acid @krispytalerebel @misskillerdarkness @sanctalina@dirigibledinosaur @foreverscreaming

#between the two of us #chapter 10 #my writing #wow i actually wrote something #jurdan #tfota fanfic #tfota fanfiction #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #literally one of my favorite tfota fics #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #jurdan fanfiction

172 notes · View notes

eldrai · 3 years

Text

Not Worth It

Whumptober 2021 - day 3 - prompt: insult

Character: Reid

Warnings: ableism, r-slur, brief/mild homophobia

Words: 2.2k

Summary: Spencer isn’t naïve. He is young and he looks young but he isn’t stupid. He hadn’t graduated with the expectation that because he was older, had qualifications to back him up, the world would collectively mature in kind. After all, he’d gained his relative immunity to insults because it hurt less to let them taunt him than it had to confront them and end up shoved in a locker or tied up on the football field.

He had hoped things might be different. Not expected. Not assumed.

Just hoped.

ao3 / masterlist

“—were actually invented in the early fifteenth century, though the first versions were, uh, significantly more spherical and made of a wood like beech. It’s also highly likely they used cows’ hair inside leather—”

The cop – Maciewicz – nudges the officer beside him. “Does he ever stop talking?”

Spencer is fairly sure the jab is intended to be audible. It’s an interesting social convention, that sort of insult, where everyone including the target hears it but the person who said it can’t be called out on it because they supposedly directed it at nobody in particular. Interesting, and very high-school of them: Maciewicz is closer to forty than thirty and beginning to bald, and the stale remnants of cigarette smoke follows his colleague wherever he goes.

It doesn’t offend Reid these days. Attending a public LA high school is its own distinct circle of hell but doing so at nine? University at twelve? He’s been called most names under the sun and petty insults don’t get under his skin like they used to.

Which isn’t to say they aren’t annoying.

What he hates the most is the variety of people who insult him: they all have different reactions, different sore spots, and getting them to go away isn’t a one-size-fits-all situation. Reid has dealt with enough bullies to understand that ‘ignore them and they’ll go away’ is useless, if not downright dangerous advice, but there is a whole spectrum of solutions which may or may not work. Get it wrong, and they just grow more persistent.

Spencer isn’t naïve. He is young and he looks young but he isn’t stupid. He hadn’t graduated with the expectation that because he was older, had qualifications to back him up, the world would collectively mature in kind. After all, he’d gained his relative immunity to insults because it hurt less to let them taunt him than it had to confront them and end up shoved in a locker or tied up on the football field.

He had hoped things might be different. Not expected. Not assumed.

Just hoped.

Of course they aren’t.

He pays them no mind and continues to explain the significance of the golf balls their unsub keeps leaving behind. If they didn’t want him to talk, they shouldn’t have asked for his opinion.

This seems like a fairly straightforward case and with any luck, they’ll only have to tolerate the local police department for a couple of days more.

He may have jinxed it.

(Once when they had come to take his Mom to inpatient, Spencer had overheard someone at the front desk talking lowly to someone else, and her words had stuck with him: see, that’s what you get for saying it’s quiet today!

That was always the gist of what was said on TV hospital dramas too. Police chaos isn’t all that different from hospital chaos, he thinks. There’s always too much of it and it’s unpredictable in its unpredictability.)

The curveball this time is their unsub is not a lone male but a male-female duo – he carries out the kills but under her direction. Classic submissive-dominant dynamic. The thing with pairs is they crack. Bend under the pressure until they break and lives are lost in the collateral damage.

Case in point: Marcy Edgeworth, aged twenty-four, Caucasian female, death by blunt force trauma. She is the first female victim and the first to have been left to lie where she’d died. That isn’t a good sign. No indication of sexual assault pre- or post-mortem but there is an incomplete ring of bite marks just beneath her right collarbone, exposed due to her torn shirt.

“What, never seen a naked girl before?” Jamison – Maciewicz’s colleague – mutters. Just low enough for Spencer to hear as he is trying to get on with his job, unlike a certain pair of officers.

“Woman,” he corrects, for her age, “and yes, I have.”

He hopes the lightness in his tone offsets the brusqueness. Spencer shifts his crouching into kneeling and leans forwards to examine her hair. It’s an artificial red – her roots and her eyebrows are blonde – and their previous victims have all had brown hair.

“Only counts if it’s outside a morgue,” Maciewicz chimes in.

He ignores them but their gaze burns the back of his head, and their presence has his guard raised. They stand behind him and their shadows stretch out over the grass either side of him. They’re going for a reaction, Spencer assumes.

Biting is an interesting thing without an accompanying sexual assault. If nothing else it gives them a good estimation of their male unsub’s teeth. The impression he’s getting from the scene is one of interruption, an impulse kill whose victim he had to leave too soon. It is a public park and it was an early-morning dog walker who found her – likely a jogger or someone on a night shift.

Jamison clears his throat once, twice, then taps him on the shoulder. Spencer rears away from his touch. People never ask, they just do.

“Yes?” he asks.

“Oh, nothing,” Jamison says. “I – we – we were wondering why you do that… thing.”

“What thing?” Spencer asks.

Jamison gestures. “You know, the – you know.”

Is that some sort of punchline he’s missing? Spencer glances over at Maciewicz and finds a mild amusement. Nothing to indicate he should be laughing, nor should he know what they do mean.

Maybe he’s missing the cue. He’s better at it these days, but not perfect.

“No, I don’t.”

With a furtive glance at the precinct’s captain, deep in conversation with one of the forensic technicians, Jamison sighs. “The thing with your hands, the—” He shakes his hands in an exaggerated manner.

Spencer’s hands still. He hadn’t thought it was very noticeable and more to the point, Jamison is definitely overexaggerating it like kids in middle school used to do. Only back then they had his unusual gait and meltdowns to mock too. “I don’t do that,” he says firmly.

(He’d answer it if it was a genuine question. Respectful. He loves people who ask out of genuine good intent. They are few and far between.)

Maciewicz snickers.

“Yeah, you do,” Jamison says. “I want to know why, that’s all.”

“Makes you look like a retard,” Maciewicz adds.

…and there it is.

He goes cold from head to toe. It never fails to make him feel as if someone has just dumped a bucket of water right over him, washing away his enthusiasm and excitement and everything else he values. Leaves the bare bones, the weirdness, each of the hundred ways he never quite fits in.

Spencer hates the word.

Because they don’t care about his IQ or eidetic memory or reading skill when they say that, and they don’t care after he tells them.

Nobody calls him that because they think he is. They say it to hurt him.

He wishes it wouldn’t.

Despite how often he’s heard it, he never has a response. His mind goes blank and all he can pull from it is the roots – re,from Latin: back, and tardus, from Latin: slow – as if they give a damn about etymology. As if that’s a normal person’s response. Today is no exception so it’s a blessing when Morgan wanders over.

“You got anything, pretty boy?” he asks. Maciewicz and Jamison snort. If Morgan hears it, he pays it no mind. “They found a guy’s baseball cap over there. No hair but it looks like it’s our man’s.”

And once again, his mind goes blank. Makes you look like a retard. He’d been thinking about – the bite mark, yes, what does that indicate? Spencer catches his hands moving and shoves them in his pockets before they can. “He was interrupted,” he says. “It explains why the bite isn’t complete and why he didn’t notice he’d left his hat.”

Morgan nods. “The person who found the body didn’t recall seeing anyone else around, so you think he’d just left before they got there?”

“Probably,” Spencer says. “I think the woman might be blonde. If they got into a fight, he’d be stressed, he’d be thinking about her. Maybe she reminded him of her.”

“Could be the hair, could be something else,” Morgan says. “He won’t have talked to her, not if he hit her from behind.”

“What if they did? She could have walked away—”

“Maybe,” Morgan says. “But if her hair was dyed, he wouldn’t see that unless they were up close, right? He’d initially go for her because she’s got red hair, not blonde. And if they did talk, Prentiss says no woman’s gonna just turn her back on a strange man. Especially in the middle of the night with no-one around.”

It’s a valid point, and it isn’t condescending. Nonetheless it hurts. Spencer studies the ground for a long moment and tries to forget (retard) Maciewicz and Jamison. “The unsub isn’t going to be someone he’s sexually attracted to,” he says. “He didn’t assault her, and if the victim reminds him of the other unsub, he’d probably have tried to even if someone interrupted him before he really could.”

A burst of laughter from Maciewicz and Jamison. His cheeks go hot with embarrassment—they must be talking about him, what else is there to laugh about? Morgan follows his gaze. “There a problem?” he asks.

Maciewicz holds up his hands in mock surrender. “No, no. Just… the hell is that about, ‘pretty boy’?”

Morgan shrugs. Spencer isn’t sure if it’s as casual as it looks.

“Well, makes sense,” Jamison says. “Course he’s gonna freak out over a naked girl if he doesn’t swing that way.”

…oh, great.

Spencer doesn’t mind exactly what they say as much as the implication—that they know, that they’re entitled to know his sexuality. How they say it as if gay is equivalent to bad. Once again, how utterly high school it all is. And he knows Morgan isn’t going to appreciate it either, probably more insulted on his behalf than Spencer himself.

“And you care, because...?” Morgan says, looking back and forth between them.

“I don’t,” Jamison says.

“He’s…” Maciewicz stammers, “…you know.”

“Smarter than you?” Morgan suggests. “Better at his job than you? A better person than you?”

“You don’t have to stick up for him,” Jamison says. “Must get annoying to deal with a re—”

“It’s fine,” Spencer interrupts. It isn’t. It really isn’t but it isn’t worth the conversation. How tiring it gets to deal with it, how much easier it is to walk away. These officers aren’t going to change their worldview on disabilities all of a sudden. “Morgan.”

Morgan takes in his posture, the unnatural stillness as he forces himself not to fidget, though the look in his eyes doesn’t fade. “The only people I don’t want to ‘deal with’ are both of you.”

The men share a look – not so much chastened as disappointed their fun was interrupted – but they do back off.

“They already seem to think I’m incapable,” Spencer says irritably. “I said it was fine, I didn’t need you to say anything.”

He crouches down to examine the bite again.

“It didn’t matter,” Spencer says. His hands itch and despite needing to, he can’t bring himself to move. Makes you look like a retard.

“Does if it bothers you,” Morgan insists. “And it did, don’t look at me like that.”

He sighs. They’re not even there any more, the two cops out on patrol and them revisiting the penultimate crime scene. “I’m used to it.”

“And?” Morgan says. “Just because you are doesn’t mean you have to put up with it—”

“It was five minutes at most,” Spencer points out. “Everyone else was fine.”

“Yeah, and they were dicks.”

He shrugs.

“What else did they say?”

Spencer rolls the fabric of his sweater between his fingers and feigns ignorance. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what else did they say when I wasn’t there, ‘cause they said something.”

“Makes you look like a retard.”

He doesn’t mean to say it – wasn’t sure what he had planned to say, but it certainly wasn’t that – but he says it nonetheless, his tone mimicking the disdain and irritation. And now Morgan definitely isn’t going to believe him if he says he’s fine and it’s going to make the situation worse to explain that he mostly is, he just hasn’t heard it for a while, he’s used to it.

Stupid echolalia.

“Like I said,” Morgan says, “they were dicks.”

Spencer doesn’t point out being rude doesn’t automatically mean lying. “I’ve heard worse.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t give them the right to say stuff like that.”

He rocks back on the balls of his feet. His hands aren’t co-operating but the swaying motion is a good substitute. “I’m okay.”

“You know,” Morgan says casually, “whenever you lie, you stand exactly the same way.”

Spencer looks up. The expression on Morgan’s face falls somewhere between sadness and sympathy but, he thinks, not pity. It’s a nice change.

“Kid, the only thing you’re gonna get from pretending you’re OK is worse,” Morgan says. “It’s not worth it. Not for anyone but especially not morons like that.”

“It’s not worth it,” Spencer repeats. The words catch in his thoughts and he murmurs it again and again and Morgan isn’t even slightly annoyed at him.

(It isn’t worth it—he knows this—but maybe it is. Just a tiny bit. Just for the part where he has friends who tell him things like this, who don’t mind when he’s awkward. Who don’t mind him.

Friends who say nothing about it but when they get back to the station, the pair are getting chewed out by a pissed off captain.)

A/N: I had trouble getting this to flow as well as my other ones, there's something about it I just can't figure out. Regardless, I hope you enjoy it.

#whumptober2021 #no.3 #insults #criminal minds #fanfic #cw: ableism #fanfiction #cm fanfic #cm fanfiction #reid #spencer reid #eldrai does whumptober

17 notes · View notes

camilliar · 3 years

Text

recs for someone new to omgcp

[February 2021.]

Reading, or not reading, OMGCP fics has come up in a couple of conversations I’ve had recently with artists newish to the fandom (ie. @jovishark; @decafffff), who are making OMGCP art (!!!) but haven’t started exploring fic -- but maybe want to? Which of course reminded me that I’ve never bothered to make an actual, concrete recs list for this fandom. So, I mean. Here is one.

The approach is, what do I think about when I think about OMGCP fanfic? What comes to mind, what stands out to me? I have excluded some very popular fics. Some of these I just don’t think are very good, and others I do think are good, and/or I enjoy them, but I don’t see why you’d need me, specifically, to recommend them. I am thinking of a story like maybe i’m waking up, which I discuss below because I link to a podfic of it. It has a lot of merits, to be sure, but it’s the second-most-read fic in this fandom by hits, and it’s got thousands of comments, and it’s by an author whose work is relatively widely praised and circulated. I am not sure what telling you more about this fic will add to the conversation; if you want to find and read it, you inevitably will. I’m happy to, say, answer asks about these kinds of fics, or talk more generally about them via DM or whatever. Feel free.

Also, I don’t think there’s a point to pretending to be objective about fanfic; this list has a perspective and that perspective is mine. In this fandom I largely read stories that navigate the tension around Jack, Bitty, and Parse, in various permutations. This is not to say that I’ve never read fic about the frogs, or that I have no interest at all in other pairings, but I am by no means an expert on Dex/Nursey and can really only speak to the one fic about them that sticks out to me because it goes beyond being merely Dex/Nursey and does something else. This is just to say that I am sure there are great and interesting fics about other things and ideas--but I’m not the person to hear about those from.

Likewise, I’m not super interested in stories that really reproduce that which is already in OMGCP. I like Zimbits--albeit maybe not in the ways or for the reasons most fans would--but I do not really need to see endless iterations of the same story about them falling in love and being cute together. I don’t think these stories are bad or they shouldn’t exist or that they have no merit by default. Still, I don’t need fanfic to give me more OMGCP. I need fanfic to complicate, to comment on, and to transform OMGCP. Many people don’t work like this! Totally okay! But I can’t rec you fics that do that.

What I have noticed, however, is that over time there appears to have been a shift in how people do write fic for this fandom. (Other than, you know, increases and decreases in activity pending the status of the comic, pairings going in and out of vogue, and so on.) Early on, say during Y1 and Y2, the comic was about the group of friends having a cool time at college together; about whether the burgeoning attraction between Jack and Bitty would manifest and, if so, how; and, especially, Jack’s past coming into fuller view for Bitty and how it would have to be dealt with in order for a relationship between them to work. YMMV on how great the comic executed there, but as Y3 went on these themes increasingly disappeared from the story. I think this means a lot of fic written over 2015-2016 or 2017 has one kind of tone, and was written mostly around these questions; after that, it feels like a new crop of writers and a new crop of ideas started circulating, that is, either embracing Jack and Bitty’s canon relationship and accepting its relative straightforwardness in text--or deconstructing it, imagining what readers aren’t seeing, or how problems not dealt with in the comic would manifest later. People who have read my fic know which of these I’m mainly interested in exploring.

All of which is to say, looking at what I’m reccing here, when the fics were posted or when I first read them probably has a lot to do with why they stick out to me so much. Because there’s no real culture of fanfic criticism--and I mean that in the positivist sense of broad evaluation not explicitly for fault and merit but rather, for context--I think it’s really hard to keep this in mind. But I’m obnoxious and I can’t just be easy about things.

Fic recs

In alphabetical order, somewhat unsorted; if a stand-alone fic has a summary I’ve included it, but in other cases I’ve recced a couple of conceptually related fics or series, which I’ve tried to just describe or explain as opposed to copying the summary off AO3.

There are so many more fanfics I think are great and worth reading! In an ideal world I’d come back and add more later, or create a secondary list that’s more along the lines of “if you like this, read these,” or whatever. But, being realistic, this is a starter kit. I’m open to talking about fanfic.

- - - - - - - - - - -

7-0-2 by Idday; Friends in Low Places and Sorry for the Blood in Your Mouth; I Wish it was Mine by blue_rocket_frost | I’m not sure it would be correct to say that I don’t like Parse/Tater, or that I’m not interested in Parse/Tater. I’m not interested in Patater a priori; I think it could be interesting, with teeth. These fics stick out to me when I think about this pairing, because they feel different. Accusations of a preference for just linking any two white men who happen to be hanging around have validity, but because of what hockey is and how it works and who’s hanging around it, it’s not exactly a leap to imagine what kind of gritty spark the friction between two closeted NHL players would create. A little violence in your sex? A little sex in your violence.

A Sight Worth Seeing by sadtomato | A four-fic Jack/Bitty/Shitty/Lardo explicit BDSM series. Either you want that or you don’t. It’s nothing hardcore, and not properly a four-way, really; more properly a kind of voyeuristic round-robin. There’s a more open and egalitarian view of sex here than I really get from the characters in the back end of the comic. It’s an expansive, propulsive view of sex and relationships that’s really nice to see. I love Lardo's detached coolness, and Bitty as a smooth operator; if you’re looking for some kind of Dom/sub dynamics world, this really isn’t it, but it’s a lively exploration into the sexual dynamics in a group of friends that’s super close to the good-times vibe you get from Haus scenes in the first couple years of extras.

call me son (one more time) by Summerfrost, Verbyna, and blithelybonny | This is a series, incomplete, and you will love it or be massively put off by it. I mean that as a compliment. I love it. The premise is, Bob Zimmermann and Kent Parson have been having sex since Kent was, like, 19. Everyone in this story has been chewed up: by themselves, by each other, by hockey. Plainly, this is a pretty bleak view of what OMGCP, as a story, is supposedly offering. If you want fic that is dark and glamorous, treading the toxic melange of substance abuse, sex-as-sublimation, and so much money you can’t possibly throw all of it away without trying, this series has that sick-inducing shimmer to it. But, again, its strength is its examination of Kent Parson, textually and meta-textually, as someone to be projected onto. Bob, Alicia, Jack, and Bitty all impute certain feelings of their own onto him, displacing their own issues to a character who’s centralized in every fic but defies neat or total comprehension. Some critiques I’ve read of this series feel it’s too dark, and I’ve also seen it argued on FFA that an overwhelming amount of praise heaped onto these stories has made it tough for other writers to make headway in writing Bob/Kent fic. But I’m also not sure you could engage with Bob/Kent fic without going down this road at some point? I’m sure there are ways to scale it back, but ultimately it’s a story about how hockey’s violent, homophobic, old-guard gatekeeping has continued to set the terms for a younger and ostensibly less toxic culture. I fully embrace PWP fics that tread on the power dynamic without fully excavating it, but buried within any PWP is the fact that a 53-year-old man is ensnaring a 19-year-old, no matter how much the latter is, realistically, into it, and legally empowered to consent. Not to mention the dynamics of it being a 53-year-old man who is the father of the 19-year-old’s ex-boyfriend, and a 53-year-old man who is an eminence grise in the field the 19-year-old is trying to make a career in The sexual element--the vaguely incestuous nature of it--is making textual the subtext of how hockey works, actually: objectification of teenage bodies as older men’s capital.

Coach Z by thistidalwave | Just before the 2009 NHL Entry Draft, tp prospect Jack Zimmermann overdoses on his anxiety medication and is admitted to rehab. His future turns from a clear-cut road to the top into an uncertain path filled with therapy appointments, ignored text messages, a group of boys who aren't there to teach him a lesson about himself, and, of course, hockey. | I keep reccing this fic because it has 360 comments on AO3 but nobody, as far as I can tell, has ever read it; it never appears on rec lists. This isn’t the kind of fanfic I usually go in for, but I can’t help being charmed by it. This is a character study in the truest sense, a kind of Mighty Ducks-but-better view on what Jack’s time coaching peewee hockey might have been like. I have no interest in kids and my own aesthetic is maybe a little darker than this, but I admire this story because it injects vibrancy into a period of Jack’s life that OMGCP has left largely unexplored, and so has the fandom. We know nothing about what made Jack want to go to college, nothing about how he spent his days in between juniors and Samwell. It posits a very sympathetic and patient Jack/Parse dynamic, showcasing the exact kind of ragged teenage push-and-pull that would have led to the circumstances we see in Parse I-III. The outside perspective Jack needs is largely present in an OFC who’s not a love interest. Super unique, somehow both engrossing and low-key.

#dirtbags by angularmomentum | A series that is a Kent Parson/Claude Giroux fuckfest with feelings. I’ve long suspected that Parse is popular in part because he is the character who most easily elides OMGCP with the actual NHL, or rather, NHL fandom; I think he made it appealing to write OMGCP fics where the NHL is a factor. Case in point, this series, which is basically “what if Kent Parson was a real hockey player and therefore part of NHL RPS”? I have only read some NHL RPS, so I’m not the person to assess accuracy, but what I do know is superstar IRL hockey players take turns here as the caricature fanfic versions of themselves, and since Kent Parson is already that, it’s great how seamlessly he integrates into their social fabric. Rambunctious energy peppered with regret and loss, but ultimately this series is farcical, and it doesn’t take its sentimental ending too seriously--which, good.

fated to pretend by nighimpossible | 5 Jack/Kent fics that Ransom and Holster dramatically reenact for the Haus + the truth. | As a fic format, 5+1 doesn’t usually work for me, but this one isn’t just front-loaded with five too-knowing vignettes; it then wraps up by using its +1 better than you might expect. Sometimes I talk about economy of fic, and this one exemplifies it. A zero-waste fic.

go ahead and move along by originally | "Leave, Parse," Jack says. Again. Or: Kent finds himself stuck in a time loop. | Kent Parson is trapped in a Groundhog Day scenario on the day of Epikegster. I’m sure you can imagine, just from that, what happens. And yet I think this fic is super entertaining, reserving some key surprises. What this story is doing is something a lot, and perhaps even the majority, of great Jack/Parse fic wants to do: digging into the question of just why this can’t work in comic canon. Most often this is approached from the past, by writing teenage Jack/Parse deep-dives that examine their lives mid-juniors, or by writing AUs where enough circumstances are shifted that it does work, or via future fics that posit enough growth has happened, and enough things have changed. But this fic makes Parse live the same bad day again and again, testing multiple theories about just how dependent on circumstance and incident real life actually is. Another day, another tone, 10 minutes sooner, not at all--you just can’t know why it didn’t work until you exhaust every possible variable. I worry that this rec has sucked the life out of the story, though--it’s so fun!

I Saw a Life and Strange Lovers by @bluegrasshole | Most AUs in this fandom seem to retell the story in a new setting or with some big detail change, following OMGCP’s rhythm beat-for-beat. I think of this as, “It’s the plot of Check, Please, but” -- they’re doing high school football? They’re acrobats? They’re a/b/o? They’re in a DIY punk band? And so on. These two stories are not that! They’re both 1950s AUs, each deeply felt, and yet hugely different from each other. I Saw a Life is about displacement and fragmentation, two sides of a similar but incongruent social critique; Strange Lovers is a finely wrought social drama about coal mining in Nova Scotia in the 1950s, centered around historical events. I suppose a theme on this rec list is something like, “I don’t even like this, but” -- yes, okay, I don’t even like Dex/Nursey, but--! This fic is so overwhelmingly complete, the AU laid out so carefully that the story breathes with all the background details informing the writing that aren’t actually, in the story; you just know they’re below the surface. (With the exception of one investigation of Jack’s character in a short, separate fic.) I Saw a Life, meanwhile, really tests the limits of the notion that Jack and Bitty are soulmates--not by calling it into question but by asking, rather innovatively, how the setting and place of the comic itself activates that.

Les Hivers de mon enfance by staranise | What do you do when hockey is the language of prayer for your soul, and also the toxic thing that almost killed you? 2009: Jack Zimmermann takes a mental health year. God knows he needs it. | Here’s a fic by someone who’s no longer around so much, but she felt ubiquitous in 2016-2019 OMGCP fandom. Before any of that, though, she wrote this one lovely fic about Jack’s pre-Samwell recovery. The author is Canadian and really irritated by hockey culture, and I think this fic benefits greatly because she is clear-eyed about Jack’s being caught in an exploitative system; it’s hockey he’s in recovery for, in a way. There’s an epistolary element that works for me, too. I read this early on in my time in OMGCP fandom and it really stuck with me.

Lysistrata? I Hardly Know Her! (by which I mean everything) by @tomatowrites | It feels somehow like cheating to recommend OMGCP fanfics by my OMGCP BFF with whom I make an OMGCP podcast where we talk about OMGCP. You know the fics I really want to rec, like truly the ones that speak to some kind of shared depravity, are the ones where Jack is miserably mpreg for the second time and accidentally lets his kid see Kent Parson’s Long John Silver’s shrimp scampi promo spot, which obviously would get twisted into a self-hating three-way. How many times do I have to rec this fic? As many as I need to, is my feeling. If you don’t know, Long John Silver’s is an American fast-food chain that sells, like, fried pollock sandwiches; it is nautical-themed; I have never eaten there; I don’t know where there is one; I don’t eat fried fish. (Shrimp, on the other hand?) All of which is to say that it takes a real genius to investigate a premise that far out. And while a lot of people almost certainly will start reading this humanity’s depths-themed sex scene and back the fuck out, readers with refined taste will note that Kent, the point-of-view character, is right there with you, despairing that he can’t help himself. And so long as you’re in that story collection, honestly, you’ll love petite gems like Jack is transmasc, Jack and Shitty play hockey in 18th-century England, and oh, right, he’s from Georgia. Tomato holds the distinction of being probably the gamest author I know in this fandom, just really like fearless in her pursuit of any range of concept she’s pushed to. (I can push her to?) See, for example, a sublime bandom AU; Bitty is cancelled for buying a maybe-unethically exported Roman fragment of a youth’s torso; or, god, the masterwork that is this future fic series where Jack keeps relapsing and Bitty exiles him to their guesthouse. Do I think you need to read a fic where Bitty is snide about the teen prostitute whose baby they’re adopting? Yes, I mean, he would be snide, don’t tell me he wouldn’t. I could go on, but my main thing here is, if I have to pick just one, I’m going to pick this Lysistrata fic. The premise, literally, is that Bitty reads the Lysistrata and it gives him ideas. Like most of Tomato’s OMGCP fic, it’s a stripping away of the comic’s polite fiction that Jack and Bitty could possibly attain the ideal it reaches in the comic without some kind of messy, efflusive breakdown. Life is like that, you see! Tricky. Like a lot of people, although it’s tough to say precisely how many, I have always intuited that maybe Bitty is kind of a natural top? But obviously when you meet him, as a literal virgin, it’s hard to see how he’d go from zero to self-actualization so neatly. This fic floats a theory, and it has a fun little side plot for Whiskey, something I never thought about or needed before Tomato built it out herein. In conclusion, BONUS: Dex’s gay lobster novel.

only fools rush in and the light of all lights by decinq | This person wrote of the nature of the wound, one of the early, formative Jack/Bitty fics that was oft-recced when I was getting into the fandom in 2016. It forms part of a larger series that deals deeply with how Jack has been shaped by his struggles (? I hate this word) with homophobia and his own mental health. It’s a picture of the character as you might have imagined him much earlier in the comic’s run. The formatting is atrocious and he author’s flair is what Tomato would call “AO3 house style.” It’s a voice that works great for her writing. I think it’s at its best in these shorter fics; the former is about Parse and Shitty stumbling into a relationship almost accidentally; the latter, an eerie PBJ vampire fic. I had begun writing a fic where Parse is a vampire early on in this fandom, only to read this and immediately quit, because you only need one, and this one’s all I need. The Parse/Shitty rare pair fic shares its exuberance with hockey RPS when it’s good: here’s how fun it can be when you’re young, rich, and jocular. And I don’t even like accidental marriage AUs, they’re usually boring, so that says a lot. By all means, read the wound fic; read the entire series. But these are highly unusual.

OVERDOSE and Oomph and a little spin-o-rama by jedusaur | None of these are long, or plotty, and they’re all a little experimental. OVERDOSE is an AU set in a world where you know how you’ll die, but no details; Oomph, a little fic where Jack hears hockey pucks talking to him. This is the kind of stuff I used to think I’d find in fandom forever, coming out of Lotrips lurking in the 2000s: short, zany bursts of energy that surprise and delight. a little spin-o-rama peers at Kent’s character through the grim reality of being the hypertalented superstar stuck on a dead-last team. All three are sparse and stylish in a way that’s really smart, practically economical.

Sowing Season by @agrossunderstatement | Parse and Zimms, Zimms and Parse. Kent Parson's life, from the Q, through his early years with the Aces, to Jack's senior year. Canon divergent. A story of love, loss, moving on, regressing, hockey, and found families of all kinds. | Effectively a novel, digging into Kent’s personal history, mostly concerning his life in juniors but expanding into his present, overlapping with the plot of OMGCP. I think there is room enough for endless speculations on what went down pre-canon; this one offers a fuller life for Kent than nearly any others, digging into him as a whole person rather than as a satellite to Jack or the plot of the comic. Which isn’t to say that the Kent/Jack stuff isn’t dealt with here; it explicitly is. But the fact of Kent Parson’s life, if we can begin to imagine it beyond mere text, would exist before, after, and alongside Jack; he gets to juniors without Jack, presumably, and he is the captain of a hockey team without Jack, and Pinkerton lays the foundation of Parse’s character within a junior hockey that Jack also inhabits, more so that Parse existing for Jack, so to speak. And I’m not implying this latter tactic is wrong; I have certainly employed it, and others have employed it to great impact and effect. But, still, the title of this series tells you what you ought to know: Kent and his story are the potentiality of OMGCP, up to a point; seeds being planted. Young hockey players, similarly. The question implied there is, what will be reaped? And the answer to the latter, in a sense, that reaping is a sort of violence. Which makes this series sound pretty heavy, but it’s not -- more like, realistic.

(tell everyone) you were a good wife by @queerofcups | The biggest problem with pretending that he doesn’t know that Kent Parson is fucking his husband is that Jack can’t tell Kent how grateful he is. | The ne plus ultra of PBJ triangulation; I’ve been squealing to the writer about how good it is since August, begging for behind-the-scenes insights, and I’d only do that if I really meant it. The precarious social fabric stretched across these three chapters is fraying before the reader’s eyes. The details are delicious, and I don’t want to spoil them, but they sing in chorus with the plot. My favorite OMGCP fics, honestly, remove the romance narrative guardrails that keep things in the comic itself humming along. I think Dann’s take is to ask who in this comic has power and what they would end up doing with it. (Or not doing, from another angle.) At one point, early on in its telling, OMGCP looked like it was going to be a story dealing with the compounded traumas of hockey’s discontents. Then, of course, it wasn’t. This is a fic that steps back and asks what the fallout of that oversight would be. But that’s just the moldering core of this fanfic; it’s actually embroidered, like I said, with glittering detail. The color of the suit Bitty wears to his wedding is burned into my brain. The gray manicure of a woman Jack knows. The ingredients in a cake. This is one of those fics I still haven’t reviewed because the thought of stacking everything I could say about it into mere AO3 comments is inadequate.

when you’re ready by megancrtr | The Aces’ director of communications gets the call at 3:13 a.m. Jack Zimmermann has withdrawn from the draft. | “What happened at the draft” is so mythological it gets asked in the comic proper, and I’ve never counted how many fics attempt to answer this question--from Kent’s point of view, even--but it’s gotta be, oh, hundreds. This story replays the situation from the perspective of an Aces staffer who just wants to do her job, and gets at the jarring discordance between the plot of OMGCP in its quest for social justice and the business of actual hockey. Important context is that this story was written around the time the comic was playing out the end of Y3 and start of Y4, and Bitty pointedly asked Jack the question, “why can’t we?” This story reframes the question as literal, rather than rhetorical. A sterling example of fanfic being a gloss on its source.

BONUS, podfics

hockeyed up | There are many things on Jack's mind. Namely: hockey, hockey, Bitty, hockey, anxiety, hockey, hockey, anxiety, Bitty, hockey, hockey, anxiety, and hockey. | A fic read aloud by its French-Canadian author. Also a relatively early OMGCP fanfic; composed while the first semester of Y2 was posting, the story suggests a version of OMGCP that was in some ways more and in other ways less complex than what it would turn into not long after. The real power of this podfic, however, is that it’s read by the writer, so you can hear the intended emphasis in every line. Also, because she’s French-Canadian, Sophie’s intonation is what I picture when I read or write dialogue for Jack.

maybe i’m waking up | It’s almost funny. All he ever wanted was to play hockey, to play in the NHL, to win the Cup. This—Samwell, the team, the Haus—was supposed to be just a detour, but now it feels more like a destination he failed to realize he’s already reached.(Or: Jack signs with the Falconers, graduates, and leaves. It's the hardest thing he's ever done. What comes after is even harder.) | Don’t get too excited; this isn’t finished. A podfic of probably the best-known, most-recced fic in OMGCP fandom. Striking for its use of metatext woven into the story, this is one of several early longform Jack/Bitty fics that posits that maybe Jack has a lot more development to undergo before he can really, truly, be okay--or be okay enough to be with Bitty? To be honest, this story strikes me now as too long, but the parts in it that work are effective beyond that which fanfic demands. Meanwhile, this audio version only covers six chapters, but it’s so slick, so well-realized, so true to the story. Podfic as art.

my own dear friends | Ever since the day he met Jack Zimmermann, Shitty has seen it as his solemn duty to aggressively love him. (He just didn't know how aggressive the love Jack needed would be.) | There’s previous little Jack/Shitty in this fandom and a lot less quality BDSM,

the city’s ours until the fall | Kent has been, historically, good at this—forgetting about things until suddenly he doesn’t, and then it’s like the scar has never been there in the first place, just the wound. (Or: Kent Parson lets himself be happy, after all this time.) | I’ve never read this fic and I never will. I cannot imagine how, no matter how good it is, it could compare to the version that lives in my head, with Kent’s voice so totally realized. Vocal fry and pathos, a languid energy that I still think about when I think about Parse.

the model home | It’s going to be better, and that’s great, but sometimes Jack thinks, why can’t it be good right now? | j/k j/k, this is a self-reminder to finally one day review this.

99 notes · View notes

whiskeyjack · 3 years

Note

I absolutely hear you on a lot of what you said about Rio’s development this season, but I don’t think the show is saying that Nick’s comment about Lucy’s murder is what we’re supposed to think about it. That’s just what Nick thinks, and considering the way they’ve portrayed him, I really don’t think we’re meant to agree with him. In fact I thought we were supposed to do the opposite. Why do you think the show itself is reframing what happened through him? I’m curious in your reading of that

(x)

you know? you make an excellent point. this one also got unintentionally REALLY long, so it is too, under the cut haha

-shout out to @jade-marie and @00gangfriend00, without them I don’t know how coherent this entire response would be haha

Alright, well firstly, I think it’s unfortunately clear that even some of the show’s writers don’t actually have a good grasp on the events leading up to Lucy’s death, both during s3 and now. It seems like depending on who is talking, and the timing of the discussion, the answer will shift. It is… really hard to speculate sometimes when the writers don’t even know the reason behind a scene. However, since it’s canon - whatever the reason or goal of the scene - I’m just going to go on my merry way and create/keep my own interpretation.

The more I thought about your ask, the more I realized, yeah, through Nick’s scripted words alone, they aren’t necessarily reframing what happened, since Nick does seem to be unaware of much of the entire sequence of events regarding Lucy: “So… you were just gunna, what, keep it to yourself?”. Assuming the diner scene with the cop was the first time he heard about it, his impression most likely wouldn’t be a fair representation of what actually happened. So, this is me eating my own words from before, so I apologize for using his quotes to reinforce my idea. This is simply my opinion, and it does regularly change quite a bit… I am wrong a lot haha

To some degree, I think reframing or shifting of some sort is kind of unavoidable when a show continues a plotline from a previous season, especially in addition to incorporating new characters into the past events. Nonetheless, I do think that the show is deliberately in fact reframing Lucy’s death and why it happened - through Rio’s backstory & POVs, Nick’s character development, and the show’s choice to show Rio having a lack of scars.

1. The backstory and Rio POVs

According to the backstory we’ve been given so far, Nick is this person who apparently is so deeply entrenched in Rio’s life and decision-making but he doesn’t know 1) that Rio killed someone, 2) the fact that Rio killed Lucy for Beth (as opposed to killing Annie, Ruby or Beth), and 3) why, which makes me wonder how exactly they are using Lucy’s death as a plotline in combination with Nick and Rio’s relationship. As I said in my previous post, I believe that the events leading up to and including Lucy’s death were heavily tied into if not directly a reaction to the shooting in 2.13.

According to this season, it seems Nick is Rio’s backstory, and Rio is Nick’s. So far, we’ve gotten approximately eight Rio POV scenes, separate from the girls, including flashbacks (excluding the Fitz kill):

4.02:

-the police station

4.08:

-baby Rio (rotten eggs with Nick)

-teenage Rio (the boxing scene(s)/contrasted with Nick’s POV on the golf course)

-teenage Rio (locker room theft)

-teenage Rio (grandma/stove and locker room arrest)

-adult Rio (outside the police station)

-teenage Rio (with Nick, kitchen flashback - I think this is more just an omniscient POV, however)

4.09:

-the boxing scene (with Nick)

With the exception of the police station in 4.02, Nick has been present in some capacity in each one of these Rio POV scenes. Since it’s only been through the flashbacks that we’re getting the main context of their relationship, it’s clear that the storyline the show is perpetuating this season is that Nick and Rio’s characters are very tightly weaved together in some capacity. And have been historically.

Rio, as a teenager, was a victim of Nick’s early manipulative actions, but in the end, it made him money, so (we are able to gather) he was able to justify falling into a criminal relationship with him. After Rio’s six-month stint in prison, he spent (probably) the entire time resenting Nick (and also, this is where he most importantly - in my opinion - developed adult Rio’s mannerisms haha jk).

So, moving forward with this knowledge, let’s take a look at their adult relationship.

2. Nick’s character development (in relation to Rio)

First and foremost, with Rio, in s1-3, he was an enigmatic, charismatic, clever, powerful, king who loved money, was in charge of every decision, well-connected, and a man of few words etc etc. Now, while Rio is being given more facets as more and more of his relationship with Nick is revealed and explored: he is being illustrated as someone who is dependant on his likely long-time abuser. This may be the case, absolutely, but, in my opinion, takes away from the last three years of work the show put into the character Rio mentioned above, including Manny’s nuanced acting. The reveal of Nick’s current power dynamic over Rio (at least the abusive part) in this past episode was quite jarring and seemed incredibly OOC of the Rio I personally know and love from past seasons, and, it kind of came out of nowhere, in my opinion. To be clear, I have nothing against the storyline of Rio being a victim (have you read my fic? haha), but I think that the way they are progressing this storyline is too abrupt and lacks the subtleties that I would have preferred to see with something like this. Especially considering this is canon.

Returning to the original point though, by assuming this abuser/abused dynamic is where the show is taking Nick and Rio’s relationship, that means that Nick likely seeks to control Rio’s life and decisions as much as he can (props to @00gangfriend00 for this articulation). Related and important side note: @jade-marie pointed out to me that by setting a preceding occurrence of physical mistreatment, the show is (unintentionally) establishing Rio as someone who is stuck in a cycle of abuse, and who seems to seek out abusive relationships and probably misunderstands abuse as intimacy. Rio’s relationships with both Beth and Nick demonstrate this. How much shit they’re both clearly able to get away with, and still have power over him. Which I think is an incredibly problematic message to be sending. This is a critical point, especially regarding the scars/acknowledgement of the shooting, because it offers the writer’s an excuse to write off the entire shooting, and by doing so, they are validating this cycle of abuse. (I won’t apologize for this particular tangent, because I really hope the writers acknowledge the damage this storyline could do if they don’t properly see it through this season)

Since it was confirmed that Nick didn’t know about Lucy (even though Rio supposedly got the alibi of the boxing tickets from him) Rio was, presumably, hiding the true extent (or the entirety) of his relationship with Beth from him. Which - I think from a writer’s perspective - does benefit the show, if they choose not to circle back to the shooting. This also allows them the freedom to ‘pretend’ that Rio got over it by himself. Obviously, there are a lot of issues and plot holes with that in itself, but to me, because Lucy’s death wasn’t something that Nick already knew about, combined with the lack of clarity of who Beth is to Rio in Nick’s mind - he doesn’t know about either the shooting or the consequences of it.

3. The lack of scars

Alright, so lastly - the show’s decision to not put scars on Rio. I think this was absolutely a conscious decision, there must have been at least one person in the building that thought of the fact that a shirtless Manny without scars couldn’t just be brushed aside. As a result, I, personally, think this demonstrates that the show is done with shooting. Pretending it never happened, erasing the trauma, moving on, yeah. Obviously, as I said, I vehemently don’t agree with this direction but I think it’s clear it’s a storyline the show doesn’t want to circle back to. Otherwise, Nick would know about Beth and Rio’s history. Otherwise, Nick would know about Lucy. Otherwise, there would be scars. This is my own opinion of course, but I’m making it based off of a couple of Nick’s lines: “Did you [kill Lucy] for [Beth]?” and in 4.08 when he talks to Beth, “So what’s the deal with you and [Rio]? […] Anyone who wears a cardigan, shouldn’t be doing what he does.” He generally seems unaware of the true state of Beth and Rio’s history and is probably genuinely curious about it considering the amount of control he has (or wants to have) over Rio.

I think that because all of the Rio POVs we’ve had are linked to Nick, I made the jump that we are supposed to believe Nick’s influence is/was at the heart of many of Rio’s decisions in the past. Obviously, during s2 and s3 writing and production, they didn’t actually know they were going to get a s4 or do a Rio backstory, so the fact is, that the character they wrote called Rio then, was someone entirely different from today’s Rio. However, we’re watching different seasons of Good Girls, not a different show from one year to the next. I think because this is the backstory we’re getting, the show is implying that this was the case all along. That s2 and s3 Rio made all of those decisions with Nick, someone he was scared of, hanging over his head in some capacity. Or somewhere in his vicinity. That’s why I have a problem with the implication that Lucy’s death was phrased the way it was, without the scars present. They coated that dialogue with innuendos about Beth and Rio’s sexual history, which is also quite layered, but at least that connection I get. It reminds us that Rio was betrayed in more ways than one. However, without the scars present, and Nick seemingly unaware of the shooting, how does the show intend to justify Lucy’s death with the audience? None of it makes sense. Jade was so incredibly helpful; she cohesively summarized the events - by erasing 2.13, they are erasing Rio’s motivations for 3.05. I just want it to make sense 😩

#gg analysis #gg s4 #gg spoilers #nbc good girls

30 notes · View notes

spookypotato · 3 years

Text

Here's to my wonderful Verwandtschaft! @witchybisexualmess , happy, happy birthday! I hope you enjoy this a tiny bit... I wanted you to have some fluffy times.

I'm sorry for pulling you into the madness that oknutzy but there you go anyway.

Characters by @lumosinlove. Thank you!

The next step

Finn loved his life. He loved that the first thing he got to see every morning now, were his beautiful boys. His boys.

Logan must have felt him being awake, because Finn could see his eyes fluttering open, lightly brushing his shoulder.

"Hey Lo'. Slept well?", Finna asked, keeping his voice as quiet as possible not wanting to wake up Leo.

Leo, their giant of a boyfriend. He had his limbs wrapped around Logan, face looking relaxed if not pleased, even though he was still asleep. His legs were so long they reached over to tangle with Finns even unconsciously. He could feel the blondes warm feet touching his, now cold ones.

Logan must have read his mind, because he seemed to snuggle back into the warmth provided by the strong muscles against his back and the gentle arms thrown lazily over his body.

"I love you.", Logan mumbled, "both of you."

Logan felt a lingering kiss on his neck, just under his ear. He had known Leo was awake, and just waiting for the right opportunity to make it known even to the red head.

"Good morning, sleepy head.", Finn leaned over and kissed the top of Leo's head.

"'Morning, sweetheart.", came his raspy reply.

Finn moved closer to the others. He needed contact. He always needed contact. They were more than happy to help him out.

Logan was on him, the instant he felt him even shift the slightest in their direction. He wrapped his legs around Finns hips and pressed his face to the others chest.

"Fine, leave me for him, I see how it is.", they heard Leo's voice from the side of the bed, Logan had just moved away from. He was sitting on the edge, putting on some fuzzy socks.

"No, Nutty, Baby, dont leave us.", Finn pouted and he heard some grumbling from Logan, which was swallowed by Finn's body.

"I mean, if you dont want breakfast that's fine, but I do.", he got up and walked away in the direction of their kitchen.

Finn couldnt believe his luck. How was he worthy of these two people's attraction. He desperately wanted to wake up like that, with his boys, tomorrow. And the day after. And the days after that, until the end of his life.

"Hey Nutty, pass me the strawberries?", Logan asked from his chair next to Finn's. In front of them there was a stack of pancakes that would have filled them up after the Stanley cup finals.

Those games were long over. They were in their summer break now, mostly relaxing sometimes the team got together and practiced, but all the pressure was off of them. They were mostly fooling around on the ice, playing games and incorporating new rules into each one. Finn loved every second of it.

He snapped out of his thoughts, when Leo held out one of the strawberries to Logans mouth with a cheeky smile and a "here you go, sweetheart." They knew what they were doing. Finn was sure of it.

Logan took the fruit between his teeth, carefully wrapping his lips around it, never breaking eye contact with Leo. Once the brunette had bitten a piece of, Leo ate the rest of their shared strawberry. They were still staring at each other.

Their love hadnt faded one bit since they got together. Finn was so glad. He couldnt imagine ever taking the two amazing boys for granted. He couldnt imagine ever walking up and not melting at the sight of them cuddling each other and him. He almost loved their love for each other more than his own love for them. He loved them kissing each other almost more than him kissing them himself.

Lost in thoughts, his eyes trailed to Logans lips. He hadnt noticed before. There was a red smudge on his lips. Finn desperately wanted to lick it off. Then he remembered he could now. He often forgot, that he was allowed to have them now. To think about them. To kiss them.

He moved his hand over to Logan's side, cupping his chin with his hand. After breaking the eye contact with their other boyfriend, after a moment, which almost felt like hesitation, Logan turned to Finn and let him connect their mouths. Their kiss was slow and deep and they could feel Leo's eyes on them. Finn tasted the strawberry, licking over the spot on Logan's lip he had stared at before. They broke apart and Logan smiled at him. A genuinely happy smile. One that told him, that his life couldnt be better. Finn smiled too.

After they were full, there were still half of the pancakes left. They put them in the fridge to heat up later, as they would get hungry again in a few hours minimum.

Finn and Logan stood next to each other, shoulder to shoulder, at the sink, washing their dishes. Off course they could have bought themselves a dishwasher, but they have grown to like the dynamic of them watchin Leo make food and him watching them clean up. It was their arrangement. It was something that connected them.

"You know, it's bizarre, really.", they heard Leo, sitting on one of their counters. "When I was younger, back in NOLA"-Finn loved how he didnt say home anymore, he called them his home now. His family.- "Mama would always make me do the dishes. She'd said once you live on your own, you'll have to do them, so you need to practice. Little did she know I would have two wonderful boyfriends to do it for me.", he ended, hoping of the counter and pressed a kiss to their cheeks, with a little "Thank you."

That was one of their rituals. Once Leo was done with cooking, he got a kiss on each cheek for both of his boyfriends. Once they were done with cleaning they got one each from Leo.

While Finn put their towels up to dry, and cleaned the sink of any left over soap, he heard Logan mumble something. It was too silent to understand, but he had definitely said something.

"What, Lo'?", Finn asked pulling his boyfriend in by his waist and kissing his nose gently.

Logan kissed along his jaw for a second and then turned to the blond.

"Would you like that, Leo?"

"Like what?"

"A family."

Leo hesitated. Then he took their hands in his, and told them, "I have a family. I have you guys."

Logan looked down, hesitant, if not shy. "I meant, would you ever like children."

Finn had thought about it before. Off course he had. Raising children of his own, even before he had met Leo, or even Logan. I was something he had always wanted, but he hadnt discussed it with his boyfriends. Were they even that far along? Finn could imagine them raising their own kid though.

Debating about what they should wear. Teasing them a bit about their first crush, if they had one. They would probably be embarrassing parents. Wow. That sounded really good though. Them being parents. Their child coming home from school, running into their waiting arms and telling them all about their day.

But off course Finn wouldn't force them to adopt a kid. He wanted it. He had wanted it since he was a kid himself, but if Logan or Leo didnt want to, he would accept that. They probably didn't anyway. Neither had ever mentioned anything until that day.

Logan was still waiting for Leo's answer. It couldnt be easy for him to. If he said no and one of his boyfriends did, he would feel guilty for holding them back, and if he said yes and one of his boyfriends no, then he would feel awful for making them feel, like they were holding him back. But he had to answer.

"Yeah, I would like to have a child with you. Some time in the future, but even now.", when neither Logan nor Finn replied -Finn being lovestruck at that moment, because there was a possibility for them to become an actual family- Leo quickly added, "But no worries, guys. I know that isn't a top priority of yours. Or maybe you dont even want children. I know there are so many people that dont. And off course that's fine. We dont have to, ever. You know what, just forget I-"

He was cut off by a hard kiss from Logan. Once he hadnt been in a 'my-boyfriend-wants-to-have-children-with-me' daze, Logan had jumped up to Leo, hooking his legs around the blonde's waist, knowing he would easily be able to carry him. He felt Leo's hands wrap around him, holding him in place, while he let himself he kissed by his boyfriend, overwhelmed with emotions.

Logan stopped abruptly, though. Tapping Leo's arm so he would let him down. It was like he had just remembered Finn's presence again.

"I'm so sorry, Fishy. I didnt even- I should have asked.", his voice sounded close to tears, if from the blissful blur of wanting children with your boyfriend or from not consulting Finn on that matter, he couldn't tell.

"Me, too.", was all Finn could contribute to this, way too emotional morning. He wasnt made for thinking that much at 10 am.

He felt Logan lifting him, with way too much ease for their height difference. Leo was behind him, wrapping his arms around both of them. Logan let him back down gently, but they weren't moving away, pressing each other closer together than should have been physically possible.

"Imagine us raising a child.", Logan said disbelieving, while not letting go of his boys.

"Yeah, pretty crazy", Leo answered, clearly in his own thoughts at the moment. "I do want it though. With you."

"When you imagine it, ... how old we are.", Finn's voice broke through the thought filled silence.

Logan and Leo looked at each other, seemingly understanding the other without using words. It was Logan that answered, "Probably in a few years time? Leo shouldn't have to be a father, before he's turned into a legal adult. He should get to enjoy his youth."

"Good old days.", Finn said wistfully, instantly shaking at feeling those words cross his tongue. "I feel old."

#harry potter #lumosinlove #sweater weather #logan tremblay #written by meee #finn o'hara #coast to coast #leo knut #oknutzy #o'knutzy fluff #o'knutzy #fluff #birthday #caros birthday #fanfic #babies #the next step

90 notes · View notes

cargopantsman · 3 years

Text

Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here

Trigger warnings: All of them, because I am lazy. Also none of this is sensical.

Utter, hyper-caffeinated brain noise.

The problem with the concept of a "sense of self" is it already tries to concretize an amorphous abstract. It makes us want to point at some thing and say "Well... that's me." Whether it is a set of ideals that we try to live by, a set of activities that brings us a sense of joy or fulfillment, or, gods forbid, and entirely different and other person that "completes us."

I've always had an affinity for trickster figures and shapeshifters. The wearers of masks, the truthful liars, the artisans of duality, yada, yada. Since I was a child my first instinct has always been to blend in. If into the background, great, but if need be, if I needed to blend into the social fabric around me, I could do that too. To throw this into the high school backdrop; I wasn't a social butterfly, I was shy as could be, but I got along with the jocks, the goths, the nerds, the art freaks, the band kids, the preps, the whatever. Where ever I was I could fake that I belonged there. I was comfortable drifting in between worlds. (Looking back, I could have caused a lot more chaos with the information I was privy to at the time...[Oh, there's a constant point. I'm good at keeping secrets, keeping confidence. I'll lie my ass off to keep a secret.]) Does any of that really help drive a sense of self though? When your natural instinct is to mirror, to blend, to fade? When your point of pride is walking into a room unnoticed and, even better, leaving a party unseen? Does being a ghost count as an identity?

"Expression of Will" comes to mind... what does that mean? Ok, so some abstract thing is inside of you and you manifest it objectly outwardly. I was an artist. I made images in my head and "kind of" manifest them on paper. Some times people see that paper... I was a writer... images in my head "became" words and some people saw that. I combined them into comics. Some people Saw that. Is that a lasting affect? Maybe the fights I've been into?! That time in 2nd grade someone was picking on a friend and I laid them out... the time in 8th grade someone was picking on me and clocked them down. Or in high school when someone decided to start some rumors and I held them up by their throat in the air until they turned blue? That was an inward thing that manifested outwardly. Nevermind good or bad, but was any of that... me?

Hmm. The beast. The primal... come back to that later.

"Expression of Will," "Expression of Will," "Expression of Will" ... What the fuck even is "Will"? Is this why philosophers get their heads so far up their ass? Is it a desire? The will to live.... living requires eating and the amount of times I forget to even do that... Maybe been looking at the phrase all wrong...

Will to Live (noun) It isn't a thing.

Will (verb) to (preposition) Live (verb)

Why does that sound better?

Desire to Live (noun)

Desire (verb) to (preposition) Live (verb)

Okay, that feels better even, but still... Sense of self, will, desire, expressions thereof. Are these just the aimless desires and wills? The fleeting flights of frivolous fancies festering forlornly in frontal cortices?

The self with the will can direct the desires towards living. "Get in the fucking robot Shinji!" "I don't wanna"

The (ghost) with the (strength) can direct the (impulses) towards (being). Getting too close to a concept of a soul on that one huh?

Forget self. It's a useless moniker right now. There is no self. It's just this mind alone for the first time in its entire life. (Not alone alone, there are friends, but they've learned more about me in the past two weeks than the past 6 years so...) "What did they learn?" asked the projection of self that defines itself by interactions with other.

I thought we were forgetting self.... not an option really. Sentience is a bitch like that. But they've learned I'll put up with a lot of bullshit under the guise of strength and integrity when I should've callously called this whole thing ages ago. That I can shut myself down completely in the interest of bodily-self preservation. (Not Self-self preservation, fuck the English language). What did I sacrifice? What did I shut down?

Everything.

That is less than helpful.

The Beast. Vince. Your Shadow.

My Shadow...

What do you desire?

Blood in the cut, tears in their eyes, power over someone that wants that power over them...

Do you want that? I don't want it, I just need it. No... I want it.

Is that all you are? A sadist? An animal?

Maybe... probably not though. A caretaker, and a sparring partner. A trickster and a shapeshifter. A crafter whose tools are destruction.

Next problem, grandeur. Mythologizing everything. But how to see a thing if you don't blow it up/magnify it?

You lack a sense of self because no one ever tested your sense of self. No one actually fought you for who you are. To find out who you are. The ex didn't. An old friend did until she got scared by what she found there.

You don't want to be yourself because it's not nice is it? You were raised to be nice.

College. I controlled the group. Never hit anyone after high school aside from set matches in classes or sparring for funsies. They all saw my eyes and stopped if they were getting out of hand.

The Dom-Friend.

Don't use the d-word on me.

Destroyer? Yeah, that one's fine. That one fits. He says as he carelessly tosses lit matches around his entire life. Can we bring up the phoenix or is that too grandiose? Why shouldn't it be grandiose? We spend every day of our lives going through the same kind of tedious bullshit all the time why not make our inner lives a bit bigger, a bit richer?

A bit darker.

Why do you want them to bleed? Hurt and comfort. That's a big theme, a trope if you will. Why not have both at the same? Why not let her think that I'm about to kill her but let her rest in the trust that I won't? Why not let me think that I'm about to break her while believing she is the most precious thing in the world?

Caretaker. A caretaker kills all the time. Tearing out weeds, uprooting the prized plant to move it to a better place for its growth.

Growth.

The self isn't going to be found just in ones self... not in another either. No, the self has to be found in everything. The things one wants to run to and run from. The soul (oops) is formed by what it crashes into right? The mind recoils from traumas races towards panaceas, why not, if one can, flip the polarity on the two. Bring the darkness screaming into the light so you can see it, bring the light quivering into the darkness so it can loose its terrifying brillance. Balance in all things right?

You're not a very positive person, they say. No... I'm not. It lashes out in bad ways sometimes, sure. Control, control, you must learn control. But being negative isn't bad. Not if you can grow from it. No plant can survive the sun for 24 hours. Trees sleep in the winter. We sleep, we heal, we grow.

Self-Destruction!! That's a fun one... seven fucking months downing a bottle of whisky a night. Whooo boy. Do Not Recommend.

Got a nice stay in the underworld though and trudged up a lot of shit. Now I'm sitting here with my ears ringing because I finally hit the personal limit on Monsters and my brain is overclocked enough I can finally see shit at 4 angles at the same time. I am a god damned quantum supercomputer of emotions right now.

Faith and faithlessness are the same thing. Have faith, trust the future, don't expect anything, don't plan your now for your future. Sounds sadly like live in the moment type bullshit, but life is weird and people are complex. Shifting drifting clueless animals that want to be safe but don't want to get stuck in anothers arms even when there is one whose arms are so safe.

The damage runs deep... and two people with damage running that deep. Hmm. How much healing can falling do? The other just puts a bandage over a puncture wound and both try to ignore it, but then the blood gets pumping, the heart pounds and poisons surge to the surface. It's neither one's fault really. Life is a trial of knives and we don't always have time or concern to tend the wounds properly. There's always something else that needs to be taken care of first.

Divorce is a helluva drug. It is maddening, the freedom to finally to be yourself is line having the lineart stripped off, there is a terrifying infinity in front of you and the only thing to do for awhile is melt. Let the slings and arrows just pierce and sink in. Anyone else tries to push the sludge of you into a shape might get hurt when they find the arrows. I want to go absolutely feral in a way. In a way the whole COVID mess is keeping me under lock and key so I'm just prowling around the empty house like I always have been, but now there's some sense... of purpose.

I'm raging against any depression, the executive dysfunction is going to have a talking to. The sense of self is going to be found in stripping this house down to bare walls and making a blank canvas. Bring everything down, ruin it all, start again.

My self is emptiness, it always has been. I can be anything, but I should be wary of ever wanting to be something. (My career options are AWESOME). But this is a different emptiness than before. Before I pulled the trigger and splattered the brains of the marriage across the floor I was just a void, and inky black pit of nothingness. Somehow, having the Shadow rise up and finally start getting along with the rest of me, the emptiness isn't.... void. It's just nascent possibility and that shouldn't scare me.

It does, of course, terrify me. First time in 40 years being legitimately alone is terrifying, should have done this kinda thing when I was 20, but... I was an idiot back then (60 year old me laughs from the future). But I think I can get a grip on the concept that "I" don't exist, but I'm real... ever changing ever dynamic, not who I was while I was married, but a mix of the me before, a angry beast now, and something yet unseen in the future.

#personal bs #vince rising #dan falling #don't try this at home kids

8 notes · View notes

thejustmaiden · 4 years

Text

Heyo, fellow Inuyasha fans! Happy Friday! This particular blog will serve as a collection of random thoughts I’ve been mulling over lately. Hope you’ll consider giving it a read. By the way, it’ll specifically pertain to the Sessrin ship. If that’s not something that is of interest to you, then no need to read any further. Whatever happens, I wanted to get this out before the sequel. Alrighty, let’s go!

I’m not sure many of us realize just how much fiction sparks public dialogue and shapes culture. There have been countless studies and research done to prove it, therefore this really isn’t up for debate. What the real question here should be is have we taken the time to fully contemplate and assess just how much fictional experiences are able to change or influence our perspective on real, everyday life? The visual arts are just one of many evolutionary adaptations that serve to give us more insight into one another’s mind. If our outlook on fiction contrasts with said insight, then perhaps some re-evaluating is in order.

Powerful works of literature such as 1984 and the beloved Harry Potter series are just two examples. George Orwell’s book contributed strongly to how readers viewed government and politics during that time, and to this day it’s a book that resonates with many. As much as Harry Potter is cherished all across the world, there are religious and academic institutions that condemn it or have even gone so far as to ban it. I may not agree with the extreme measures taken, but it’s fascinating nonetheless to witness the extent to which fiction can move and mobilize people for a cause.

The takeaway is that indicating fiction doesn’t have the power to create change in our everyday lives is misleading to say the least. So how exactly then can fictional stories that are, after all, completely made up affect society in such profound ways? It all lies in the power of the psychology of fiction. According to cognitive psychologist and novelist, Keith Oatley, who’s been researching the psychological effects of fiction for over a decade, he states that engaging with stories about other people can improve empathy and theory of mind. When we identify with these characters’ struggles, we begin to share their frustration for societal problems that plague them. These types of stories tap into our emotions more so than- believe it or not- nonfiction, and thus their effects inspire us and even have the ability to alter our worldviews.

I’ll be returning to that specific topic a bit later, but moving on for now!

It’s safe to say that I speak on behalf of the majority of antis. That being said, I first want to add that we are aware that sessrin shippers claim to agree that there was nothing inherently romantic that took place between Rin and Sesshomaru during their travels together. The thing is we have trouble believing you guys when you time and time again provide contradictory statements to defend your stance.

Voicing things like, “all signs point to Rin” and “it’s been foreshadowed” sends the exact opposite message of what you supposedly stand for and, if anything, confirms that you’ve had romance on your mind long before it would’ve been acceptable to come out with openly. You can’t just go along with what we say when it’s convenient to your argument and then back it up later with “who else but Rin.” How can the relationship you’re imagining be so obvious if they didn’t hint at it for the whole duration of the original series like we agreed upon? Elaborate on how we could’ve possibly come to such wildly different conclusions when we started AND left off with the same views for and throughout the series.

On top of that, making the excuse that we don’t speak for adult!Rin and that she has the right to make her own decisions once she’s old enough is a weak defense. Firstly, because we haven’t even met her. Secondly, because it’s unfair of you to assert that you know what’s best for Rin and then say we’re not allowed to just because it doesn’t align with your beliefs. I get that you feel protective over her character, but do recall that this adult version of her none of us have actually met yet. We have no idea what kind of woman she’s become, what her dreams or aspirations may be, and whether she’s married or even wants to be. I’m not against the idea of her falling in love, I just don’t think it’ll be with Sesshomaru. I guess I’m also a fan of the idea of her following in Kaede’s footsteps, because if anyone can grow up to be an independent, trusted, and wise leader of the community like her it’s Rin.

To make matters worse, way too many of you continue to celebrate the drama cd and profess that it was sweet that Sesshomaru basically promised he’d wait for Rin all while somehow ignoring the glaring grooming implications. Why do you only see what you want to see and fail to acknowledge that actual child grooming scenarios do in fact play out like this in real life? A high percentage of people who have been victims of grooming can attest to this. If Sessrin does go canon, all the sequel succeeded in doing to avoid the direct correlation with grooming was skip over the more questionable and dodgy portions of it. Take out the time jump, however, and you no longer have a loophole to cover up the scary unmistakable truth, which is that Sessrin and grooming are essentially one in the same.

No one case is identical to another so please don’t come to me with your “but how is it grooming if Sesshomaru didn’t manipulate Rin” refutes. Nobody knows what the hell went on during those years between The Final Act and this upcoming sequel. Based on everything exhibited so far- that is if we decide to recognize the drama cd like so many of you choose to do- Sessrin’s dynamic is eerily reminiscent of real life child grooming. Why else do you think a lot of us fans have a huge problem with it? It’s triggering for a reason.

Let’s be honest, Sesshomaru’s supposed love confession could’ve just been the first of many gestures like it. Who really knows, right? According to you shippers, a major shift in their relationship took place sometime during this critical period none of us got to watch unfold. I’m sure you all have explored the various ways this would’ve gone down in fan fiction and through other creative means of expression. Not to spoil the fun, but all I can’t help but wonder about is just how many of those supposed “cute moments” would’ve been as creepy and cringey as that proposal. Hundreds of thousands (possibly millions?!) of fans would undoubtedly agree with me, too. It seems to me this ain’t due to a mere difference of opinion. Taste is one thing, ethics a whole other.

By the way, in case you didn’t know, groomers don’t necessarily need to plan out every single move in order for their behavior to constitute as grooming. What we should be paying attention to instead is the fact that Sesshomaru made a conscious decision to act on his own selfish desire for a young girl who couldn’t have possibly known in that moment the magnitude of what he was asking of her. Why is it that a vulnerable Rin is put in a position that forces her to be the one responsible for making such a big, life-changing decision for the both of them? Yes, Sesshomaru gave her the choice and, yes, she doesn’t have to make it till later, but why on Earth is he coming to her with this well before a child her age is ready and mature enough to handle it? Even if his intentions are good (broadly speaking of course), his what you shippers probably call “innocent acts” are incidentally coercing Rin into reciprocating his feelings. Whether he planned for that or not, he’s at fault. Period.

That’s one way the power imbalance works. A child wants nothing more than to please the adult they look up to and adore, because they’re impressionable like that. Maybe Rin processes this like she’ll want whatever he wants, so that’s what she trains herself to believe- either right then and there or over time. Plus, if you really think about it, why wouldn’t she trust him if in her eyes he’s been nothing but good to her and that’s all she’s ever really known? (Psst! Charm is integral to the manipulative nature of grooming so it’s deceiving AKA manipulation can come off as praise or flattery.) Bottom line is that Rin is too young to have to think about this kind of deep stuff at all, and Sesshomaru shouldn’t have taken advantage of the power he had/has over her to influence a decision she was by no means prepared to hear about much less decide on. Your headcanons seem to imply that she’ll eventually have to choose though, and Idk about you but I rather not push my own fantasy agenda onto a underage girl regardless of how much I want it. Idc if she’s fictional, it wouldn’t feel right so why would I want to see that? My principals couldn’t ever allow for it.

Even if it wasn’t an official proposal, per se, it’s still disturbing to me that so many of you find joy in the thought of a grown adult male essentially waiting for a young girl HE KNEW to become old enough before pursuing her. I know this drama cd ain’t technically canon, y'all, but since this is literally the only source we have that may foreshadow a potential Sessrin to come, and it’s referenced a lot, I figured it still should be called out for exactly what it is- Grooming: 101!!!!

Just as I demonstrated above, fiction has the ability to make even the most inappropriate and uncomfortable situations be viewed in a favorable light when you put the right spin on it. *cough* Lolicon culture, need I say more? *cough* Despite what you may believe, the strategies fiction utilizes to explain themes/concepts can genuinely lead to how we perceive them, and ultimately to how we come to make sense of a similar event presented to us in real life. Especially if we have no prior experience with any of it and have nothing to compare something to, these perceptions can be dangerous yet still persuasive to certain fans- young ones in particular. The more narrative consistency across stories and different mediums, the more likely they’ll influence social beliefs. Minors don’t possess the same capacity as adults to think critically about the content they consume, and if we aren’t more careful about what we put out there then all of us will continue to face serious repercussions.

This is precisely why it’s crucial we persist in our fight against the rabid phenomenon of glorifying young girls in every sexual context imaginable. Just look at what something as seemingly harmless as fiction has the power to do. The scope of fiction is broad and far-reaching, and it’s about time we stop denying that fact and actually do something about it if we have the means to.

The truth of the matter is that we’re in desperate need of proper education and training programs on this issue in our communities. Families need to ensure their children have access to the necessary resources, but it isn’t just on them. ALL of us gotta do our part and ALL of us should be up for the task. It takes a village, right? If we do not properly discuss and address child sexual abuse (CSA) with our children and in public forums, including the internet, then we’re ultimately accepting incidents of CSA should they arise. Consequently, that also translates to indirectly accepting that the predators among us stay untreated and/or unpunished. That’s how the generational and societal aspect of the abuse can continue, and we must do everything in our power to secure our children’s future. Yes, even when it comes to fiction.

If you still somehow don’t think the Sessrin pairing has anything to do with grooming, allow me to break this down for you one more time:

1. If some of your fellow sessrin shippers say that a relationship like this in real life is harmful, then that should be pretty telling in and of itself.

2. Piggybacking off #1: if your only defense to that is “well it’s just fiction,” then you should ask yourself why you can’t ever come up with better reasons. Same goes for history and culture, so please stop using those to justify this relationship. None of the above can or should be applied since it’s already been established that fiction pervades our lives and vice versa.

3. If fellow shippers who are victims of grooming say they are drawn to Sessrin because it allows them in a way to “take back control” from their abuser so that they can better cope with past traumas, then they’re inadvertently admitting that Sessrin does possess qualities associated with the past child sexual abuse they underwent. AKA Sessrin is relatable for its abusive dynamic.

I have to ask by the way, but why do you get so offended when we don’t support your ship anyway? Is it because we interpret it to be controversial and you don’t like your ship getting a bad rap? Is it because it would be insulting to admit that antis actually have a point in it being problematic and you rather double down instead? Or is it because you’re projecting yourself onto Rin and prefer to not go into detail about why that is? Maybe it’s too personal, or maybe it’s because deep down you’re ashamed. Of course that doesn’t mean you’re bad people, but suppressing these kind of negative emotions can’t be healthy for anyone. A little awareness and self-reflection on your part can benefit not just you but all of us in the long run. Cognitive dissonance can suck, but it’s also part of being human.

I recently came across a comment I’d like to share with you. Unfortunately, this is not the first time nor will it be the last I see the likes of it. Anyway, in it a fan stated how embarrassing it must be being an Anti in this fandom when an episode like “Forever with Lord Sesshomaru” exists. Guys, this shipper and all those who liked their post are showing their true colors. Perpetuating and/or anticipating these sexualized images of young girls is a grave issue in both our society and media alike. I think we can all agree on that, or at least I hope so. It’s remarks like these that prove we still got a long way to go in terms of progress, and if we ever hope to effectively reverse some of our backwards way of thinking. So serious question for ya in regard to this: Why is it too much to ask that grooming be portrayed for what it is? Grooming. To clarify, grooming is bad and needs to be painted in a bad light. It’s as simple as that. If only we could all acknowledge it for what it is, we wouldn’t be in this predicament.

Historical accuracy and cultural differences aside, it appears the crux of the matter between Sessrin shippers and Antis is our acceptance and/or denial of fiction’s influence on real life. If we can’t agree on this, then we’ll never agree on anything else. As mentioned earlier, there is more than enough evidence to support the idea that fiction impacts our lives in extraordinary ways. I, for one, believe in the transformative power of stories. I think they do more for us than many of us give them credit for and/or are inclined to admit.

This is partially why I believe that the majority of sessrin folk are missing the point most of the time. All they do is focus on insignificant and irrelevant information that accomplishes nothing but more gaslighting and strawmanning. Whether it be an intentional or unconscious decision, whatever we argue goes right over their head. All they do is throw around deflections and antagonizing remarks that serve no real purpose other than to make Antis out to be the unreasonable and irrational ones. Making connections between our own lives and our stories is a completely natural and normal occurrence. If those particular shippers insist on denying just how interconnected real life and fiction both are, what that tells me is they’re either out of touch with reality or deliberately choose to be.

Just to be clear, I am of the opinion that most if not all antis aren’t real life predators. If they say they aren’t, I honestly take their word for it. Speaking to Sessrin shipper directly: We know it’s not Sesshomaru you want to be but Rin. No, we’re not calling you pedophiles or groomers. None of us think you are using a fictional ship to attract underage fans to be the Rin in your life or anything of the sort. We are well aware that many of you are self-inserting yourself as Rin, so please don’t feel the need to tell us yourself because that would be stating the obvious.

I learned from a few of you since this sequel was announced that the Sessrin relationship isn’t just a ship but an opportunity for you to confront the person who used and abused you. So there’s two issues with this I’d like to raise. (Sorry if I’m repeating myself, but it’s urgent I stress this again!) This is what I have to say:

If fiction does not affect real life or have the ability to normalize anything as you claim to believe, then why does “fixing” what happened to you via your preferred choice of coping associated with these two characters in the first place? Why bring your past abuse into this at all if at the end of the day it’s “just fiction” and nothing more to you but a source of entertainment?

By confessing that you use Sessrin to cope with your past trauma, you therein reveal that Sessrin does in fact resemble an adult-child relationship with a grooming dynamic. So why then would you want other fans to be exposed to a pairing that brings to mind the very abuse you endured? We’re supposed to stop this toxic cycle- NOT find more ways to manifest and relive it, much less subject other fans to it.

You may think that Sessrin doesn’t fit the textbook definition of what child grooming is, but that’s not to say it doesn’t embody it or that it doesn’t at the very least have traces of it that stand out.

“Antis are miserable people who don’t know how to enjoy a good story. It’s just fiction, stop ruining it for other fans!”

Well, no, it’s not just fiction or just a story. Some of you evidently went and proved that yourself, and without my help, by revealing how you relate Sessrin to your own life and apply it to cope with past abuse. Past abuse or not, as far as I can tell we’re all equally invested in these characters. That speaks volumes and just goes to show that fiction touches our lives in long-lasting ways.

I have something I want to say concerning some of who believe that it’s inconsiderate of antis who have been victims of grooming or another form of child abuse to tell other victims who ship Sessrin how they should cope with their trauma. Now as much as I respect the various means victims discover to deal with their painful pasts, there’s always an appropriate time and a place for these things to occur. We must seek out better ways to safely cope with the abuse we lived through (if any) without running the risk of hurting and endangering others.

There are plenty of fans in other fandoms who don’t try to defend their ships going canon, because they’re able to recognize an unhealthy or toxic pairing when they see one and won’t try to justify it. A Sessrin romance simply does not belong on a show geared towards teens, and I really don’t need to go into detail about why we shouldn’t support it, at least canon-wise. Shipping Sessrin is your right, but if you don’t keep it to yourself and your corner of the fandom then you really shouldn’t be surprised by the opposition. All we ask is you respect that their specific dynamic falls under the category of child grooming (or very close) and should be treated as such in public. The world of fiction may be wider than the world we live in, but that doesn’t always mean “anything goes.” In the creative spaces our minds occupy we must still adhere to the same fundamental and moral guidelines we live by in life. There’s nothing wrong with exploring new terrains and experimenting with ideas, but we must also remember that our stories are all about communicating and connecting with people. So let’s please be more mindful of the sort of messages they’re sending.

Besides, this isn’t only about you and what makes you feel safe, it’s about all of us. I don’t know how much more I can stress that really. How can thoughts endanger our children, you ask? Well, it’s not like we’re suggesting that our thoughts can jump out of our tvs, materialize themselves, and place kids under mind control. The forces behind fiction are a lot more complex and nuanced than a “monkey see, monkey do” approach, so don’t waste any more time trying to describe that to us. You’re taking this argument in the wrong direction.

Take the “violent video games breed killers” theory. I’m afraid you’re misconstruing what we’re saying and then taking it quite too literally. Please stop twisting our words, because nobody on our side is saying that just because you play violent video games that you’ll become a violent person. The Sessrin equivalent of that would be if you ship them then you must be a pedophile or turning into one. *sigh* I know you guys are feeling attacked, but I’m afraid your defensive nature is keeping you from thinking straight. Clearly, there are always exceptions (I’d recommend reading up on the Slender Man case), but Antis aren’t saying you’re one of them.

You see, it’s not so much about the content as it is the notion of the content. Kids and teens who are playing these video games have been informed that killing is wrong, because they grew up learning that early on like the rest of us. No sane person would advocate for violence and nonsensical killing in real life. Since they fully understand the severity of the consequences of killing a person in real life, they are able make a clear distinction between the two. When it comes to killing there is hardly any ambiguity. Sadly, that is far from the truth when it comes to sexualizing girls. It should immediately be perceived as wrong leaving no room for interpretation, and yet here we are still putting up with these inaccurate and demeaning female representations.

Most children who have been groomed don’t realize it till years down the road. If they aren’t ever taught the telltale signs to properly labeling grooming situations, how do you expect them to make sense of and relate to a fictional version? Let’s think of about it from a child’s perspective. Yes, this includes teens who rely pretty heavily on adult guidance and the content we put out there for them. Put yourself in their shoes for a moment and picture that you’ve never had child grooming explained to you (because that’s just the reality for so many unfortunately). Wouldn’t you say it’s possible for them to deduce that what they see on their screens is how they come to discern something in real life, especially if they have little to no experience with it? Perceived realism is plausible, y'all.

What it comes down to in the end is that the ideas and emotions we cultivate behind these stories leave an impression on others. Impressions are capable of influencing the way we see the world, which in turn affects us and beyond just our imagination. The way I look at it, stories contribute to how and why we normalize certain beliefs and trends. If fiction reflects real life like most of us tend to agree, then wouldn’t you say Sessrin is a (in)direct result of this world’s tendency to place young girls in overly sexual or romantic environments? Where do you think fiction draws its inspiration from? Sure, some of it originates from our imagination, but most of what drives us to create these stories is the real world and the people who live in it.

Fiction is meant to mirror reality, but it’s ridiculous to suggest that it’s only a one-way street. That fiction in no way, shape, or form influences our reality? Or that it only works the other way around? With all due respect, that’s simply not true. No productive discourse can be had if we choose to ignore the truth and don’t come together (at least halfway) to tackle the real issues at hand.

Okay, I think I’ll leave it off there! Thanks so much for reading. I expect this to be my last blog on any topic regarding Inuyasha in the near future. As much as I’ve looked forward to answering all of your asks and writing all the blogs I have over these past almost 5 months, I think it’s best if I spend some time away for now. With the sequel fast approaching, I’m doing what I always do: hoping for the best and preparing for the worst. I’ve met some amazing people along the way, that’s for sure. And who knows, maybe you’ll see me active in the tags sooner than we think. Until then, it’s been an absolute pleasure! Enjoy the sequel, all of you. 💜

#inuyasha #hanyo no yashahime #anti sessrin #it's been real y'all #catch ya on the flipside #(which I hope is in a promising sequel 🤞)

103 notes · View notes

thatmomentwhen345 · 3 years

Text

Ok ummmmmmmmmmmmmm

These last two weeks have been very emotionally exhausting because of finals and what I’m about to tell you and I don’t really know how to sum it up so I guess you’re getting the same treatment as my Facebook (this is copied directly from the post on there and was posted on December 12th for context)

(This is the beginning of the Facebook post)

You guys, I don’t know what to do.

You might have gathered from my last few posts, but I’m not okay. And it will sound like such a stupid reason to the majority of you. But I made an irreversible mistake back in 2019 that has been haunting me for the past week. This is the first time that I can remember regretting a decision this much. Was it my stubbornness, my closed-mindedness? Was it my see-it-to-believe-it tendencies? Was it my inability to learn from my mistakes?

For those who don’t know, on November 13th of this year, the YouTube channel Unus Annus was deleted from the platform forever. After one year of daily videos by Markiplier and CrankGameplays, it was all gone. The point of the channel was to remind us to use our time that we have alive wisely, because Memento Mori. Remember that you must die.

The channel started on November 15th of 2019, and, well, I don’t know anything about their beginnings. I just saw their introduction video in my recommended or on trending or something and thought, “Is that Markiplier? Shouldn’t he be focusing on his own channel? Who’s this other guy?” and moved on without a second thought. I occasionally saw their videos in the trending tab but ignored them. I didn’t even know they had such a big following. I thought it looked stupid and didn’t think about it until, well, the end.

A few weeks ago, my brother was watching the final livestream that would mark the day that the channel was deleted for good. I was in the room with the livestream on the TV, watching their final hours tick by, still not thinking about the channel at all. Just like, oh hey that thing that people were talking about, wasn’t it like, a cult? I didn’t think about it at all until... the fifth of December? Was it really only a week ago? That feels like a lifetime away now...

The YouTuber FootofaFerret released a video called “Pretending Unus Annus Isn’t Over” and I saw it in my reccomended. https://youtu.be/8SMpCbI9U00 I was like, hey, yeah, I remember that thing that ended. I trusted Foafy’s judgement because of his previous videos about saying goodbye to Steven Universe. So I watched it and don’t really remember how it made me feel. I just remember him saying that the Unus Annus fandom was in mourning and I was like “aw poor guys I’ve seen on TikTok some people are sad about it”. Foafy also suggested that people who were wanting more of the Unus Annus vibe to watch Mark’s Markiplier Makes playlist. I watched some of them and, again, moved on.

The timeline is fuzzy from here on. I’m still processing it, honestly. I think I might have looked up the Unus Annus theme (Turncoat by Michael Rothery) first? Then I think I found some compilations or clips from their videos and was like wow this stuff is funny. And then I realized that there are archived versions of all of their videos (that’s against the rules of Unus Annus for those who don’t know) and... don’t hate me... went looking for them. I watched two in full. I won’t say which two but just know that the second one I specifically searched out because I knew that they did a lot of random stuff on there and that there was a chance that they would do it too. And they did! It was a funny video. I realized how much of a fun dynamic that Ethan and Mark had and looked for more compilations. The more I watched, the more I realized that I had made a terrible mistake in 2019.

I had missed out on so much. And I couldn’t take it back without breaking the rules. The concept of Unus Annus intrigued me so much, all of the people involved on the channel worked so well together, they were all so funny, but now I could never experience it in full because I was stubborn and, well, thinking about other things this year. I could have jumped in at any point between then and November 13th of this year but I chose not to.

Monday was a rollercoaster. 1st stage: denial. I was like well this doesn’t matter, I’m not even in the UA fandom, it’s gone and I don’t care. But it wasn’t that simple of course. I kept watching the Markiplier Makes videos and the UA compilations and became particularly interested in Ethan. He seemed very genuine and sensitive and his on-camera chemistry with Mark was really entertaining. 2nd stage: anger. I was furious at myself for missing out. Those two videos I watched in full were just small teasers for what the entire channel was like. I hated that I couldn’t take it back. And I hated that if I did, I would’ve broken the rules and gone against Mark and Ethan’s wishes, which I also wouldn’t be able to take back. I was horribly conflicted. 3rd stage: bargaining. I desperately went after any content surrounding Unus Annus that I could without breaking the rules, and was still considering watching the illegal archives. I haven’t watched any more of them in full, but sometimes I watch parts of them in incognito mode when it becomes too much to bear.

Tuesday was... Tuesday had to have been the longest day I’ve had the entire year. 4th stage: depression. It was slowly sinking in, the gravity of my mistake. I was starting to realize how much of a phenomenon Unus Annus was and that it was so unique and had such a cool message and that it made so many peoples’ 2020 just a little bit better, but not mine. I then did what I always do and found my comfort in music. I put on a bunch of good songs that I hadn’t heard in a while and just... sat there painstakingly doing my math homework. I couldn’t concentrate on anything the whole day. Monday, either. The song Goodbye to a World by Porter Robinson came on and I was like hey, this song perfectly suits the way I’m feeling right now. I wondered if anyone else had made connections between this song and Unus Annus and looked to see if there had been any AMVs (animated music videos) about the idea and the end of UA. Lo and behold, this popped up and I watched it! https://youtu.be/-q-oByQWdlM It hit all the right spots and I just started bawling. What had I done? Why had I missed this opportunity to improve my 2020, just a little bit? Why had I missed this opportunity to get to know Mark and Ethan better? Everyone who had watched all of their videos could feel peace after the end, like Mark and Ethan. But I couldn’t. I could only forever regret my mistake. MY mistake.

Terrible things have happened this year, but all of them have been out of my control. This, however, was my fault. And I can never take it back. And I am having a very hard time handling that.

I don't know how many times I cried on Tuesday. The next song to come on after I watched the AMV was As the World Caves In by Matt Maltese which of course broke me even further. This song also perfectly encapsulated my dilemma. Later I finished my tribute drawing of the channel logo and felt the smallest bit better. The rest of the day is a blur.

Wednesday was better, I guess? I thought I had made it to the 5th stage: acceptance. I was still very sad and mad at myself but I was starting to realize that there was nothing I could do. I subscribed to Ethan’s channel and started getting to know him better. He’s so sweet and talented ☺️

But no, acceptance is still far away. Thursday and Friday were barely better than Tuesday. I painted my nails black and white as a way of coping. I went to a livestream on Ethan’s Twitch and it was really fun! I started watching more of his streams and on one of them he mentioned that his Twitch chat mods had TikToks. So I wondered if he also had a TikTok, which he does! I looked to see if he posted one on the day UA ended. The answer was no but he did post one the day after asking if someone with the skills required could make a mashup of the song Cancer by My Chemical Romance and As the World Caves In. https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMJqgyrkR/ I was like wowie this guys got taste! And so I looked up if there was a mashup. As a matter of fact, there was one by Clem Turner on YouTube that came out only three days after the end of Unus Annus. https://youtu.be/a5RTVoreSAY I cannot express how much I love this, what it made me feel, and how much it hurt/helped. So I commented on Ethan’s TikTok about it and only a few hours later a new comment appeared on Clem’s video. Ethan had seen it! So I’m just gonna assume I was responsible for that... not only that but half of the comments on the mashup were about Unus Annus as you can see below. I realized how big of a following UA had and felt bad (because of course the people who had actually been with UA the whole way would be grieving a lot more than me), but also, comforted by the fact we could all connect over the loss of something important to them, if in a lot of different ways.

I’m far from getting over this. I’m far from being okay. I’ve never really felt like this before. I feel like a different person than I was last week. But I wanted to write all this down to let it out, process it a little bit, and maybe get some comfort from you guys. It’s completely understandable if you didn’t read this all the way through so...

TLDR: Memento Mori.

(This is the end of the Facebook post)

What I just described really shifted a lot of things in my head in a way I didn’t expect and in a very short amount of time. So, long story short, my Steven Universe hyperfixation ended very suddenly because of an outside factor and I probably won’t be posting a lot about it anymore. Hope you understand.

(art by me but I used the official UA logo as a reference)

#personal #long post #my art #please read if you are wondering about the change of atmosphere

30 notes · View notes

danny-chase · 3 years

Text

Hello, are there any Cassandra Cain fans/stans that could help me out with her characterization? I’ve just started to get into writing fanfiction (I haven’t posted any, and am working towards getting more confident with writing the characters in general so hopefully I’ll post some someday) and I haven’t been in the fandom long. Cass is a confusing character for me to write, mostly because I feel like she’s written differently in everything she’s in. And her personality absolutely got erased and overhauled in the New52. I’ve read some of her Batgirl run (it was awhile ago ngl) and I read the storyline where she was introduced in the New52 and the Rise and the Fall of the Batmen (I think that’s the arc she’s involved in with Detective Comics). Idk, more under cut.

My goal in writing Cass is to make her seem like a real person and I’m drawing more on pre-New52 than post-New52. I feel like she used to have so much more to her than just being like a perfect person and the sweetest person in general. Not that she can’t be sweet (I love cinnamon bun Cass too), but she used to have much more grit to her personality it seems like. I’m blending the two personalities, and I’d really like to focus on her love for dance, it’s one of the changes I really liked, and of course her connections to her siblings because I love sibling dynamics. Currently I’m working on a fic where she ends up dancing with each of her siblings. I like the idea of writing her as a bit snarky or sassy (the kind of person that just stares at you with the “really” expression when you do something dumb), more introverted, a bit of a little shit, self deprecating, but genuinely kind hearted, driven, and a perfectionist. I also don’t want to write her as being a magic character that instantly knows what’s wrong with a character. Yeah, she can read body language, but her family is good at hiding things, they’ve been trained recognizing body language and I’m guessing some of them have worked to have good control over their own. My interpretation is she can tell what people are feeling but not why, and how they’re going to move. I’ve written a little bit of the fic so far (um please don’t feel obligated to read through it, any comments on how you think Cass should be written is helpful) so I’ll post it below. Thanks for reading this far if you made it XD.

I don’t have a title for this lmao but the fic starts here:

“Hey.” Dick gently placed a hand on her shoulder as he hopped down from his spot on the water tower. “You know who’s my most favorite, strongest, most beautiful, spectacular-”

Cass groaned; he was making the face. He was wearing his Nightwing mask, but as she turned to look, she could already tell he was making the face. Dick ignored her groans and continued “-most perfect, amazing, gorgeous, sweetest, nicest, kindhearted, thoughtful-”

Cass pulled away; she would not be doing what he asked. Nope. The last time she heard Dick talking like this, Barbara ended up agreeing to dog sit for Titus. The dog chewed everything in the clocktower; they were still finding ripped up socks in various locations. “He’s so well behaved” he said. “It won’t be for that long” he said. “You’re the best thank you so, so much” he said. On the bright side, Dick had bought her new ballet shoes to replace the ones Titus tore through. But they’d taken weeks to break in and-oh he was still talking.

“-smartest, wisest, funniest, loveliest, badass, awesomest, funnest-” Cass placed her hands on her hips and stood up to meet him. The stakeout had been going fine on her own, at this rate she probably didn’t need his backup anyways, so if this was something stupid, she could always tell him to leave. She gave him her best “bat-glare” as he continued to mumble on compliments. “fantastic, reliable, trustworthy-” his voice grew smaller as she continued glaring. He cleared his throat “sister of all time?” He finished.

Cass sighed and leaned back against the tower’s support. “What do you want?” Dick gave her a weak smile, embarrassment radiated off him. That couldn’t be good.

“Look, I’ll cut to the chase.” Thank heavens for that. “But like, just know I love you so much.” Cass wished she could stick her tongue out, maybe the domino mask was the way to go. She settled for lightly shoving his shoulder. He grinned at her, doing his best to seem casual, but slight tension in his neck gave away his discomfort. Dick was always hard for her to read, he was a performer from birth, and had excellent control of his posture and facial expressions. He gave himself away in movement, in the lack thereof. He could paint the perfect mask, but it slipped slightly when he moved. He was nervous, anxious, exasperated, and worried. Cass was intrigued.

“What is it?” She said, more gently than before, turning back to watch her mark. She could hear Dick let out a deep breath.

“It’s Da-Robin. He got invited to a formal.” Cass turned back and cocked her head. “Don’t give me that look, you know how he is.” He said, shifting his weight. “It’s a school event, so they’ve been learning ballroom dance in gym. But I got a call the other day from the gym teacher saying he’s not participating.”

“Why should he?” Cass asked. “You shouldn’t force people to do things they don’t want to do.” Living with the family long enough had taught her that. If the kid didn’t want to dance, he shouldn’t have to.

“Yeah, I know.” Dick replied a bit flatly. He moved to crouch where she had been sitting and focused on the building across the street. “But I don’t know if he doesn’t want to, or if he’s just embarrassed.” Cass thought for a moment. “I don’t suppose he grew up with many dance lessons.” He added a bit apologetically. She shook her head.

“Have you talked to him?” She asked. Dick sighed.

“I tried. But he kept switching topics and when I pressed it, he locked himself in his room. Which is why I’m concerned.” Cass hummed in affirmation. It made sense.

“Why haven’t you tried teaching him?” Dick wasn’t a bad dancer, and he’d always performed quite well at the galas.

He looked back at her sheepishly. “I gave it a go last time I was at the manor. But he stormed off before we could get anything done. Something about me being an embarrassment to the family.”

Cass rolled her eyes under the cowl. “What did you do?”

“I just wanted to do some jazzercising to warm up, what’s wrong with that?” Dick spluttered in response. Cass lightly smacked the back of his head. “So anyways, I lost my chance at it. I can’t even play music without him running away.” He continued, ducking away as she tried to tap him again. “Besides, you’re probably a better height to practice with for him.” She scoffed in response.

“When’s the gala?” She asked. It slipped out without her permission. She wasn’t getting involved. The kid could figure it out on his own. Couldn’t he?

“It’s next weekend.” He replied and sighed. “I don’t want him to miss it. He never does stuff that’s age appropriate.” Oh, no. Not that card. Cass would not be involved, she had work to do. She stepped back to lean against the tower again and bit her lip. “And some girl in his class asked him to go. Her name’s Maps and she’s a really good influence on him.” She crossed her arms tighter. Damian was rude to her. He called her Cain. Not. Getting. Involved. “She’s so energetic, it helps him loosen up-” Damnit.

“Fine.” Dick whipped around to look at her, not bothering to hide his disbelief. She squirmed internally. It wasn’t that she didn’t care about the kid. It was just easier to spend time on her own. The kid was better off without her influence anyways.

“Are you sure, I could ask Steph or I don’t know-” He continued.

She cut him off. “I’ll do it. I don’t mind.” The others wouldn’t work. Dick knew that going into the conversation. They were too…loud in their judgement. Steph would laugh at the wrong time, Tim would say the wrong thing, Jason didn’t have the patience for the kid’s temper, and Duke would be a safe bet, but was away on Outsider business for the next two weeks.

Dick practically melted in relief. “Thank you so-”

“You owe me, big brother.” Cass reminded.

“Anything you want, little sister.” He promised. “Are hugs acceptable as a down payment? I could kiss you right now.”

“Eww.” Cass made a face under the mask but strode forward as he opened his arms and stood for a hug. He eagerly wrapped her in a bear hug. She couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re winning sister of the year award.” He said as he released her.

“You’re making me cookies.” She retorted. Dick grimaced.

“Can I buy them?” He asked hesitantly. She shook her head.

“Homemade, with love. And I’m watching.” She added, smirking under the mask. Dick sunk back down into position.

“I’ll do my best.” He promised. Cass snickered. The last time Dick tried making cookies, he apparently caught his oven mitts on fire. There was still a bit of cookie dough on the ceiling he hadn’t noticed yet.

A flash of movement jolted her back into reality, their mark was making his move. She shot her grapple, and Dick quickly followed suit. “I’ll text you the plan tomorrow.” He promised as they leapt into the night.

Thanks so much if you read this far, and please comment or send me feedback directly if you have the time and don’t mind. I’m sorry if you completely disagree with how I characterized her (or Dick/Damian for that matter) I’m mostly relying on Damian’s canon interactions with her and Dick’s half canon half fanon personality (I know they don’t get on great in the comics...but sibling dynamics) and the rest of this portion of the fic would focus on Damian earning more respect for her (and learning to call her Cass - not Cain).

#i don't know how i feel about posting this #this is the first time i've posted some of my writing #and it isn't betad or anything #please help me #i don't know what i'm doing #i don't even have an AO3 account cuz i'm such a noob #it's gonna take time #a whole lot of precious time #but someday i will hopefully post a fic or two #if i ever finish one of them...#cassandra cain #batgirls #batfam #batman #dc #black bat #orphan

9 notes · View notes

neuxue · 4 years

Text

Wheel of Time liveblogging: Towers of Midnight ch 3

I have been waiting for this reunion for literal years. It did not disappoint.

Chapter 3: The Amyrlin’s Anger

Oh, we’re doing this!?

One thing I can guarantee: I am definitely not ready. Childhood friends turned childhood sweethearts turned near-siblings turned uneasy allies turned near-enemies, perhaps turned uneasy allies once more, with prophecy and opposing institutions and the apocalypse hanging over them?

I’m just. In case you haven’t noticed, I have a lot of thoughts about this whole dynamic, and I have been waiting for this… probably since they last saw each other in Lord of Chaos. Before that, even. Since they were set on their separate paths, but with this thread, strained and near at times to breaking but a thread all the same, of some kind of love between them that might, in the end, be enough to do what their predecessors could not, and face the end together.

Also their stories have been running in this fascinating not-quite-parallel for so long but they haven’t interacted in so long that I’m just! Very excited for this reunion and the pain it will no doubt bring!

I should start reading now, shouldn’t I?

Egwene floated in blackness. She was without form, lacking shape or body. The thoughts, imaginings, worries, hopes, and ideas of all the world extended into eternity around her.

The imagery of that last bit catches my attention here because it plays very close to the position Rand holds: stood at the centre, a force, or a being more than a person, touching all the world or – in Egwene’s case – all the world’s dreams. It’s just an interesting one, in amongst all the other parallels and inversions between them.

Though her feelings for Gawyn were still strong, her opinion of him was muddled recently.

Just break up with him already. Please. You’ve already once decided that actually no, I don’t want a storybook romance with the designated hero thank you very much; you can do it again.

The dreams of all the people here – some from her world, some from shadows of it – reminded her why she fought. She must never forget that there was an entire world outside the White Tower’s walls.

This is her anchor, just as Rand has now at last found his. Or, not even an anchor so much as a reason. Something to fight for, something to remember and strive for beyond the fight itself. And again this places her very much at the centre as well, looking at all the people, all the dreams, the entire world. They just each have their own ways of going about it, and their own reasons for doing so.

Time passed as she lay bathed in the light of dreams.

Just quoting this one because it’s pretty.

It’s sad to see Egwene thinking of the Wise Ones in terms of ‘dealing with’ them, but also not really surprising; there’s been a distance between them ever since she took on this role. They hid the events of Dumai’s Wells from her and she chose the Aes Sedai over them and it is, perhaps, one of the harsher aspects of the way she absolutely embraces her role, the good and the bad.

Ugh, fine, dream of Gawyn if you must.

A more simple life. It could not be hers, but she could dream…

Everything shook.

Or not. I’m just imagining this as the Pattern itself interrupting like ‘EGWENE, PLEASE. YOU CAN DO SO MUCH BETTER THAN HIM.’

(Yes, the Pattern speaks in all caps. No I will not be accepting constructive criticism on this point).

This pleasant dream interrupted by an emergency broadcast: thirteen black towers rising and then all but six falling. In case you weren’t keeping track of how many Forsaken were still alive, I suppose.

And then a follow-up as a reminder, I assume, that Mesaana is still in the Tower.

Unless the eagles-and-snake bit is referring to the Black Tower? Still no idea what’s going on there these days; it’s been a while and I’m very, very curious after that ominous line drop in the KoD epilogue.

She saw an enormous sphere made of the finest crystal. It sparkled in the light of twenty-three enormous stars, shining down on it where it sat on a dark hilltop. There were cracks in it, and it was being held together by ropes.

There was Rand, walking up the hillside, holding a woodsman’s axe. He reached the top and hefted the axe, then swung at the ropes one at a time, chopping them free. The last one parted, and the sphere began to break apart, the beautiful white globe falling in pieces. Rand shook his head.

Innnnnnnnnteresting.

The sphere (and its breaking) sounds – first of all a lot like the Sharom because what, you thought I’d pass up a Rhuidean reference? – like the Dark One’s prison, perhaps. With Rand cutting the ropes like breaking the seals.

Or maybe the Choedan Kal, with all the brilliant light of that enormous power, that he has now broken. Or the world itself, I suppose. I’m going with the Dark One’s prison here, probably.

But what are the twenty-three stars?

Thirteens are common, you can’t swing a cat in this series without hitting a duality, threes and sevens crop up on occasion… but what the hell numbers twenty-three? Except for the graves Bashere once had to dig for oak trees on the orders of the mad general he served, but while there may be no such thing as coincidence, that’s a bridge too far even for me.

Nations? Okay now I’m just curious if I can name them all, so… in the wetlands we have: Altara, Amadicia, Andor, Arafel, Cairhien, Far Madding, Ghealdan, Illian, Kandor, Mayene, Murandy, Saldaea, Shienar, Tar Valon, Tear. Then the Aiel, or: Chareen, Codarra, Daryne, Goshien, Jenn (?), Miagoma, Nakai, Reyn, Shaarad, Shaido (?), Shiande, Taardad, Tomanelle. Then Seanchan and Shara on the edges, the Atha’an Miere and the Tuatha’an, and the dead nations of Malkier, Manetheren, and the Amayar. The Ogier. The even-more-dead nations like Almoth and Eharon and whatnot. But even playing with the obvious ones like how to count the Aiel, or the dead nations, or the city-states, there’s not an obvious 23.

The Hall of the Tower maybe? Three Sitters from each Ajah is 21, so with Amyrlin and Keeper we’re at a much cleaner 23, and there is the whole ‘Watcher of the Seals’ element of the Amyrlin’s role, so twenty-three stars watching could make sense.

Or, hell I don’t know, maybe there are 23 verses in the Karaethon Cycle. Meh.

Well, Egwene’s focused on the Mesaana implications (rather than the Messiah implications; I crack myself up sometimes), which seems fair enough.

“He’s here, Mother. At the White Tower.”

“Who?”

“The Dragon Reborn. He’s asking to see you.”

HERE! WE! GO!

Because you know what this means? It means, once again, that we’re going to get outsider POV of Rand, after a crucial turning point in his character.

Twice. Because first, we got it via Almen Bunt, effectively a random character. We got to see a ‘first glimpse’ of Rand, as it were. But now we get to see through the eyes of one who knows him – or rather, one who knew him. One like him in some ways and so very different in others. An opposing role who once was a friend. There’s just so many potential layers there, through which to observe, and I am inordinately excited for this.

Though okay right as I say that we shift POV to Siuan, so I may be pre-empting this.

That said, it’s either going to be some form of outsider POV or it’s going to be Rand’s POV and either way I’m going to be on the damn floor so it’s a win-win situation here.

The Dragon Reborn? Inside Tar Valon?

I mean technically that was the goal all the way back in EotW, so you could argue that he just took a really, really long detour. Across the entire continent, a past life, and near-destruction of the world, but… details.

“He was at the Sunset Gate”

How appropriate. Is there perhaps a Wind Tower for him to climb?

“What is his game, do you think?” Saerin asked.

“Burn me if I know,” Siuan replied. “He’s bound to be mostly insane by now. Maybe he’s frightened, and has come to turn himself in.”

“I doubt that.”

“As do I.”

Harsh, Siuan. But not entirely unfounded – at least on the mostly insane part. He’s not, but first of all how would she know that and second of all, if this were a few days earlier, that would be a much harder one to argue. (For the record, my own interpretation of Rand’s sanity or lack thereof before Dragonmount is a strong vote in favour if It’s Complicated).

Of, course, then there’s the whole issue of ‘how long can you stay sane when the entire world is waiting for you to go mad’ but that is, perhaps, a moot point now.

“Maybe he heard that Elaida was gone,” Siuan said, “and thought that he would be safe here, with an old friend on the Amyrlin Seat.”

Oh no this already hurts. Honestly I think any reference to Rand and Egwene as old friends is probably going to, at this point, but also the way Siuan goes to this idea of Rand needing a place of safety. A refuge. Because in so many ways, for a very long time, she wouldn’t even have been wrong. It’s just that it wasn’t an option and there was no such place and the Dragon Reborn couldn’t afford that kind of weakness, and anyway he was never looking for safety for himself; it was keeping others safe from him that he wanted, back when he was just a shepherd boy holding himself together with determination and fragments of Warder instruction against power(s) trying to claim him from within and without.

But Siuan is remembering that boy, and I’m also remembering Rand in the early days at the Stone of Tear, trying so earnestly to let Elayne and Egwene help him with saidin, and how that, from a certain perspective, is not really so different from trying to find some safety in friends.

“Reports call him mistrustful and erratic, with a demanding temper and an insistence on avoiding Aes Sedai.”

I mean, up until – what, a day ago at most? That would be not at all inaccurate. Especially from the outside.

Really I think this whole scene with Siuan and Saerin is largely to remind us of how Rand comes across to the rest of the world. Because the thing about that Dragonmount epiphany – a crucial part of it, but one that is likely going to also result in some complications – is that it was unwitnessed. Just Rand, alone, thinking. And if the cleansing of saidin was difficult to believe by those not directly involved (and even by some of those who were), how much harder will this be, in its own way?

And just to set the scene even more ominously as far as anyone but the reader is concerned, the floor tiles are now the colour (and sheen, and probably texture, and very possibly actual chemical composition) of blood.

It is interesting to contrast the feeling of approaching this meeting to how it felt in the buildup to Rand’s meeting with Tuon last book. That was just full to the brim of impending doom, of ‘there is no possible way under the sun that this will end well’, of ‘oh no, how disastrously is this going to go?’ because at that point Rand was in freefall and the only certainty was disaster. Now, there’s a sense of lightness in approaching this meeting. I mean, I’m still quite sure it’ll hurt me, but the actual tension is different. It feels like waiting for catharsis, almost, rather than waiting for catastrophe.

So hey, maybe we just look at that meeting with Tuon as a practice run for Rand in terms of how to negotiate treaties with a woman who controls a decent part of a continent. If nothing else, it set the bar about as low as it could possibly be, so this can only be an improvement!

Siuan had harboured a small hope that she herself would be chosen [as Keeper]. Now Egwene had so many demands on her time – and was becoming so capable on her own – that she was relying on Siuan less and less.

That was a good thing. But it was also infuriating.

Oh, Siuan. Siuan’s thoughts about her position in the Tower and how it has changed are always a little sad to read. She’s so strong that it’s easy, almost, to forget just how much she’s gone through – and she can’t even just put it behind her and move on because she’s surrounded, every single day, by constant reminders of all she has lost and all that has changed. And even so, we only get these occasional moments of sadness or bitterness or frustration from her. The rest of the time she just… keeps going.

She wanted to do what she’d set out to do, all those years before with Moiraine.

It really is kind of incredible dedication to a cause. Even if ‘shepherding’ the Dragon Reborn is perhaps not really what is needed, she has paved so much of the way, and even from the sidelines has been instrumental, and this has been more or less her entire adult life. A thankless and often punishing task, one that has gone and will likely continue to go largely unacknowledged, one that has brought her hatred and suspicion and pain, and yet she does not question it, does not falter.

It's… I guess in a way it comes back to the whole idea of those who choose vs those who are chosen, but I like the way we see these characters who aren’t the Chosen One but who still give everything they are, and everything they have, to this world and this cause. Some because they must and some because they choose to and some for reasons in between but it’s again this sense that while Rand stands at the centre of it, there are all these other stories and sacrifices and triumphs and tragedies spiralling out from that centre, all weaving together into this pattern. Or Pattern, as it were.

Also, I would like to strongly second the ‘with Moiraine’ part of that sentence. Can we have her back yet please? I’ve been good, I promise!

Bryne’s here too, which means I also get to reminisce about the first (and last) time he met Rand, even before Siuan did, but another scene of Rand as little more than a shepherd, uncertain and afraid and getting by on determination alone and yet, as with his meeting with Siuan, still surprising those around him by being just a little more than expected.

(As for Rand’s first meeting with Egwene, we have no textual evidence but given their ages it probably involved eating mud).

“You came faster than I’d assumed you’d be able to,” she said.

That is, quite literally, what she said. I’m sorry, I’m twelve.

“She’s what we need now,” Bryne said, “but you’re what we needed then. You did well, Siuan.”

YOU DID WELL

I’m sorry, Moiraine’s letter to Rand really just loaded all variants of that phrase quite heavily and it’s not Moiraine saying it to Siuan but it may as well be, and to have anyone looking at all she has done and all she has been through, looking at someone most Aes Sedai now dismiss as inconsequential at best and to blame for their problems at worst, and actually seeing everything she’s achieved and everything she’s sacrificed and to just acknowledge it outright is… such a small phrase but it means so much. Because how many others would say that? How many others could? So few even know what she’s done and why and for how long. Egwene, maybe, but Egwene is still in some ways her protégé and so not really in a position to give that kind of praise. Moiraine, but she’s still… on holiday. And that’s really kind of it.

There’s a reason these kinds of tasks are called thankless.

“He’s standing below, watched over by at least a hundred Warders and twenty-six sisters – two full circles. Undoubtedly he’s shielded”

My first thought was ‘good thing this is Rand after Dragonmount otherwise I don’t think there’d be a Tower right now’, but then, Rand before Dragonmount would probably quite literally not have been caught dead within balefire distance of the White Tower.

Whereas now… what a stark difference this highlights in his entire mindset and character. Once, the possibility of thirteen Aes Sedai sent him away from a city he was holding, tense and desperate and furious. Once, being shielded was – well, I believe the direct quote was ‘Lews Therin fled screaming’. Once, Aes Sedai so much as touching the One Power in his presence without his permission was like dancing on a minefield.

Now… he stands calmly, shielded and within the Tower itself, the stronghold of the Aes Sedai, of his own free will (and that’s it, isn’t it; that’s what truly makes all the difference in so many ways).

Also a bit of a random comparison but I can’t help but be reminded of Taim walking into Caemlyn to claim Rand’s amnesty, guarded and distrusted and hated by pretty much everyone around him and yet appearing, himself, all but unaffected by it.

“Well, what did he look like, then?”

“Honestly, Siuan? He looked like an Aes Sedai.”

Well. Lews Therin was. In an even older sense of the title.

And if we’re looking at the title itself, and its meaning… servant of all is sort of in the job description of a messiah figure, in a way.

I like how we’re reminded that, because of her Talent for seeing ta’veren, Rand literally glows to Siuan’s eyes. Which means the Dragon Reborn, the chosen one, the saviour, having now fully embraced his role, is walking into the Tower literally haloed in light. There’s just a tiny bit of religious symbolism here, is what I’m getting at.

I also – for all that I’m still hoping for a glimpse of Rand through Egwene’s eyes – am very very happy with the choice to show this through Siuan’s POV. Because in so many ways it is a reflection of that scene in TGH where he is summoned to the Amyrlin, and she gets her first look at the boy who will be the Dragon but does not yet know it, and tells him what his role will be, and he surprises her in his stubbornness and strength but still does not truly accept what she says.

Now, we get the Dragon Reborn calling for an audience with the Amyrlin, having finally and truly embraced the full reality of that role. The first was, in a way, to set his path. This, then, feels almost like closing it. And in between those bookends was that long, fraught journey towards acceptance.

Me? Obsessed with symmetry and reflection in a narrative? Never.

She froze as he met her eyes. There was something indefinable about them, a weight, an age. As though the man behind them was seeing through the light of a thousand lives compounded into one. His face did look like that of an Aes Sedai. Those eyes, at least, had agelessness.

This is one of the things I just absolutely love about outsider POV: the way it allows you to almost re-experience the full weight of what you already know. To be able to almost… soft-reset, and then open your eyes and have the impact of it all over again. None of this is news, really, to a reader who has seen Rand atop Dragonmount, or even in the first chapter of this book. But we get it again anyway, because for one thing it’s fun and for another it just serves to highlight what he looks like to one who does not have the privilege of being in his head (not that that’s… a particularly exclusive list these days, but that’s beside the point).

And it’s also interesting how this doesn’t humanise Rand in the perception of others – he’s still very much in the position of being seen more as a force of nature than a person – but the tone and the effect are so very different to before, for instance when he was lost or in pain or just desperate (or all of the above) and yet perceived as arrogant, inhuman, even monstrous. There’s still this sense of… not being seen as just a person, being seen more in the heroic lines and angles of power and weight of legend, but the difference, I think, is that Rand himself accepts it now. It is now a part of who he is, and a part of him he accepts, and embraces, and steps willingly into.

It also gives him some rather extraordinary weight of personality so making his way through a crowd of Warders is a piece of cake. See, sometimes being the chosen one has its benefits.

“And Siuan Sanche. You’ve changed since we last met.”

Oh. Okay yeah the fact that we get him saying this to her, rather than the other way around, is a really, really excellent way of just subtly shifting the entire balance of power – not even quite power; something else I can’t think of a good word for – of the scene.

It's the way it takes the way this scene is so neatly set up to be a bookend of that first meeting between them, and just… flips the obvious line on its axis. It’s still there, we’re still on script, but it’s ever so slightly not what you expect, and that difference itself becomes the point. Because Rand is no longer the object of the scene; he is very much its subject. The assignment of agency and proactivity has shifted (he has chosen, now, rather than been chosen; a semantic shift that makes perhaps literally all the difference in the world), and this is just a really cool way to play with that.

If that made any sense.

“You once took an arrow for me. Did I thank you for that?”

This… this gentleness is absolutely killing me and we’re only a few lines into his actual appearance in this chapter. The way it’s no longer forced, or agonised, or desperate, or serving only as a sharp contrast to either anger or apathy to remind you of who he once was. Instead it’s just… there. Without brittleness or the aching sense of something lost. There’s just a weird kind of beauty in the simplicity of this, in how it’s just… him, without any of the hundred things waiting to shatter beneath that statement.

Maybe that’s it; the gentleness that doesn’t feel like the precursor to shattering glass. The way this isn’t a veiled threat, or a barb, or a forced admission, or a conversational gambit. Just thanks, remembered honestly and offered freely and that’s… it.

(Moiraine once took a Forsaken for you, Rand. Be sure to thank her for that too).

Anyway, Siuan sings Egwene’s praises as Amyrlin, of course, and apparently everything Rand says or does in this chapter is going to just get me because:

He smiled again. “I should have expected nothing less. Strange, but I feel that seeing her again will hurt, though that is one wound that has well and truly healed. I can still remember the pain of it, I suppose.”

Again it’s just the gentleness that pervades all of this, where once there was turmoil and pain and a rage in him fit to burn the world, or else terrifying coldness and absence and a distant voice screaming. It’s like everything has finally fallen silent and only then do you realise how loud everything was before, and how maddening. Just… Rand being able to smile simply, and feel and express emotions in the normal human range.

And that sense of… wonder, almost, that you get from him at that fact. It’s—there is very much a rebirth kind of feel to a lot of this, because a part of it is that Rand is very, very aware of where he has just come from and where he stands now. That’s the whole point: to get to this, he had to choose it and realise it and open his eyes, I suppose. And so now he’s seeing everything through that new filter (or perhaps without the noise of the old one) and there’s a kind of beautiful simplicity and something like but also entirely unlike innocence to it.

Tiana has a letter for him with a red seal… one of Verin’s, maybe? If so, Rand sure has a track record with Aes Sedai and letters left to him. She did have several, when we saw her with Mat… and I struggle to think of who else would have left one. Cadsuane, maybe?

“Do your best to calm Egwene when I am done,” he said to Siuan. Then he took a deep breath and strode forward

CHILDREN. ALL OF THEM. That, right there, for probably the first time this book, is absolutely 100% a glimpse of Rand al’Thor, Woolheaded Sheepherder, and you cannot convince me otherwise.

Wise, gentle, reconciled to his role, remembering his past life and accepting who he is… and still taking a deep breath and making contingency plans before going to a stubborn-off with his former childhood sweetheart. I’m laughing.

OH IT’S EGWENE, WE DO GET TO SEE THIS IN EGWENE’S POV, YES THIS IS EVERYTHING I WANTED.

This was not Rand al’Thor, friend of her childhood, the man she’d assumed she’d one day marry.

Oh no, just start right out with a gut-punch why don’t you. No, Egwene, he is.

Except… he also isn’t, and that’s the sad part. But if this is to work, I still think that’s going to be the key: that they know—knew—each other as people. Except now Egwene is deliberately telling herself not to do that, and while it’s understandable it’s… that way lies the end of the Second Age.

No. This man was the Dragon Reborn. The most dangerous man ever to draw breath.

This hurts me in exactly the way I was hoping it would.

Just as Rand has finally accepted himself, and in some ways come back to himself (not quite, because you can’t go back you can only go forwards as the Wheel of Time turns, but he’s no longer forcing everything about who he was away), Egwene is forcing herself to see him as anything but that. As just the Dragon Reborn, legend and monster and saviour and destroyer. It’s a perfect mis-alignment of timings.

(Egwene is steeling herself, just as Rand has finally stopped trying to become steel).

“Egwene,” Rand said

IT’S! ABOUT! THE NAMES!

She’s thinking of him, emphatically, as the Dragon Reborn… but the dialogue tag betrays her. We are in her POV and as soon as he speaks, he is Rand.

And the first word he says is her name. Not ‘Mother’ or ‘Amyrlin’, not the opening of some request or demand. Just… ‘Egwene’.

He is the Dragon Reborn, come to see the Amyrlin—he asked for the Amyrlin—and she is the Amyrlin steeling herself to face the Dragon Reborn and yet in the first moment, when that silence of waiting is broken, they are Rand and Egwene and—

I just. Maybe I’m reading too much into this but it’s perfect and it hurts and I love it.

(Names are important).

He nodded to her, as if in respect. “You have done your part, I see. The Amyrlin’s stole fits you well.”

WHY DOES THIS HURT ME? WHY AM I EXPERIENCING AN EMOTION?

They’ve both just come so far and through so much and they hardly even know one another anymore, and there’s this almost-but-not-quite uncertainty and almost-but-not-quite familiarity, and yet it feels not like the anticipation before an ‘everything goes wrong’ moment but instead the anticipation of… maybe, finally, finding their way back to something? Or forwards, I suppose. It’s like the tentative formality of meeting someone for the first time in years, unsure of them and of yourself and of everything that’s happened in the interim but there’s something weirdly hopeful about it.

Maybe I’m just so used to liveblogging pain that I don’t know what to do with myself when it’s not there, except in echoes and memories and all the space that has grown between them, but this is like… a hand offered across that intervening space.

From what she had heard of Rand recently, she had not anticipated such calm in him.

I mean. That’s… fair.

Well, or she might have been led to anticipate a very different kind of calm. The calm of ice or cuendillar that could in an instant become, you know, balefiring an entire fortress out of existence.

Maybe save your musings on whether or not he’s a criminal for whatever passes as a Geneva Convention in this world, Egwene. We don’t have time to unpack all of that right now.

“What has happened to you?” she found herself asking as she leaned forward on the Amyrlin Seat.

“I was broken,” Rand said, hands behind his back. “And then, remarkably, I was reforged. I think he almost had me, Egwene.”

HELP.

THIS IS JUST.

I… wow. What do I even do with this?

Just as the first word out of his mouth was her name, and her first thought of him was as Rand… now, despite sitting on the Amyrlin Seat—which we are quite literally reminded of here, and I don’t think that’s accidental—her first words are… call it concern, call it curiosity, call it demand, call it accusation even, but that’s not Amyrlin to Dragon Reborn there. That’s not the opening of negotiations or a summons or a meeting. That’s Egwene, looking at Rand. It’s like Nynaeve in TFoH reaching for him almost instinctively and saying ‘at least let me Heal you’.

And then Rand’s response!

‘I was broken’. Such a simple statement for so, so much more. And yet… that’s what it is. It’s the simplicity, again, that gets me. The simplicity and the self-awareness and the way he can look at it now, with that sense of removal, but this time not because he’s walled himself off from the pain; instead, he lets himself feel it but he has accepted its reason and its source and its necessity. He’s no longer fighting against himself, and that lets him bear so much more, because so much of that pain came from that battle against himself, and from the fear of what he might become.

He spent so long trying to forge himself into steel, but in the end that’s not the reforging he needed. And now he knows that, and sees it, and there’s just something about a character who can stand on the far side of their own breaking and their own agony and speak of it calmly, whole.

It's just an entire situation I’m having here.

And that last bit. ‘I think he almost had me’. The memory of ‘it is HIM’. And the fact that Rand can see that too, now; can see how close he came to the Shadow without ever turning from the Light, and understand that nuance.

But also… there is still one very glaring loose end there: Rand has used the True Power. Sure, he doesn’t seem particularly… uh… compromised by that at this point, but I still just cannot imagine that won’t be brought back in some way.

He spoke differently. There was a formality to his words that she didn’t recognise.

And then it’s lines like this that keep this scene from being… to perfect? Not in terms of execution, but in terms of ‘things going well and painlessly for characters’. Because there is still a sadness to this, to Rand and Egwene looking at one another (and naming one another!) and seeing the person behind the role, and looking for the person they knew, and yet also still seeing elements of a stranger.

Because they have changed. Neither of them is at all the child they were when they left Emond’s Field, and there is so much between them now, and that connection they have is worn and thinned and this isn’t a joyful reunion. There’s catharsis here, and a tentative possibility of peace or friendship, but there’s also this recognition, each to each, of how much of what used to be is now gone. They’ve both been hardened and shaped by their experiences and they both know it and recognise it in each other—perhaps in part because they both also very clearly by this point recognise it in themselves.

“Why have you come before the Amyrlin Seat?” she asked.

And now we get the opening of Amyrlin-to-Dragon. But that’s not where we began. We began with Rand and Egwene, and I’ll shut up about it in a minute but this whole play of naming and identity is one of those little things that gets me pretty much every time it turns up in a story.

“I’ve hated you before,” Rand said, turning back to Egwene.

I’M FINE! THIS IS FINE!

Yes I am quoting pretty much every line of dialogue in this scene but LISTEN, IT HURTS ME.

The thing is, this is a statement utterly without malice. It’s not a threat or an insult—not even the childish sort of insult they might have exchanged last time they met. It’s… really, the only word that comes to mind is a confession.

Which plays into one of the features of Rand’s character that stands out so far in the brief moments we’ve seen him in this book: genuine self-knowledge, and self-knowledge that he fully accepts. There is no longer any remnant of denial.

And that allows him to make statements like this and have them come across as, weirdly, almost benevolent. Nothing he has said is said with the intent to deceive, or to wound, or even really to manipulate. It’s just truth—and truth that he himself fully understands and accepts now.

So he’s not fighting against her out of fear of being caught up in Aes Sedai strings, just as he’s not fighting against Lews Therin’s memories out of fear of being caught up in Kinslayer’s fate. Instead of fighting against everything up to and including himself, he’s just… him.

“It occurs to me that I’ve been trying too hard.”

That’s exactly it. He’s been fighting, when in some ways what he needed was to learn how (and where, and when) to surrender. Though even ‘surrender’ connotes a struggle or a conflict, and I think a lot of this realisation is that it’s not about fighting or forcing or struggling; it’s about accepting, and guiding, and leading. And choosing, of course.

“A fear that the acts I accomplished would be yours, and not my own.” He hesitated. “I should have wished for such a convenient set of backs upon which to heap the blame for my crimes.”

Wow. Okay, that’s… a line.

Um.

Damn.

It’s almost ironic, the way he instead tried to heap all the responsibility on himself and take all that blame and pain, and let it damn him and in doing so tried to pretend it freed him to act as he needed, no longer held back by such trivial concerns as humanity and his own conscience or sense of redeemability. But ultimately it came down to the same thing, in a way: an inability to accept what he was doing, and so trying to find a place to put all that pain.

(Or, as Lews Therin once advised, ‘If it hurts too much, make it hurt someone else instead’).

But now he sees that, too, and so instead of trying to escape the pain or treat it as ‘I’m damned either way so may as well burn it all’, he understands his responsibility but in a more… balanced way, I suppose.

The Dragon Reborn had come to the White Tower to engage in idle philosophy

Moridin? That you?

I do sort of wonder, because I’m me, what impact, if any, Rand’s epiphany might (or could; I don’t really expect the story to go there, much as I might wish it to) have on Moridin, given the link they share.

“Rand,” Egwene said, softening her tone.

And now we get the reflection of the names from the opening of this conversation! It’s about the names! It’s about the dialogue tags! It’s about identity and perception and that thread of friendship that still binds them and might in the end be enough to save them from their predecessors’ fate!

“I’m going to have some sisters talk to you to decide if there is anything… wrong with you. Please try to understand.”

I mean you could not have phrased that less tactfully if you tried, Egwene, but it is kind of understandable. We may know full well that there’s less wrong with Rand now than there has been at pretty much any point since the start of the series, but how in the Light would anyone else be able to be sure of that? He’s certainly not acting like the Rand Egwene once knew, or even the Rand she last saw. Nor is he behaving like the Rand from whatever reports she’s received.

And yes, while I think the world waiting and watching for him to go mad hurt far more than it helped, there’s also the fact that that is what everyone and their mother expects—because up until what, a few months ago, that was inevitable.

So then in walks the Dragon Reborn, acting like… well, this, and what else are you going to do? A bit like the cleansing of saidin, as a reader you want all the other characters to just take it on faith, but the rather sad irony of Rand’s position is that his own word is the one no one is entirely sure they can trust. And the only one here who can vouch for him is himself. Elayne or Aviendha or Min might be able to, but none of them is nearby, and also that bond’s been kept pretty quiet.

So anyway. Yeah, I can see where she’s coming from on that.

To his credit, so can Rand.

“Oh, I do understand, Egwene. And I am sorry to deny you, but I have too much to do.”

There’s the woolheaded sheepherder again. He’s smiling here, and I am quite sure this is a bit of the old Rand dropping by to say hello and needle Egwene just a bit, because that’s what they do.

“A friend rides to his death without allies.”

HE NAMED YOU FRIEND. AND NOW YOU REMEMBER HIM. THIS IS FINE I’M FINE EVERYTHING’S FINE.

“This is the part I regret. I did not wish to come into your centre of power, which you have achieved so well, and defy you. But it cannot be helped. You must know what my plans are so that you can prepare.”

To be able to say that without so much as the hit of a threat in it is… quite a power move, I have to say. Because even here, I think he’s still just being absolutely and even benevolently honest. He doesn’t want to undermine her. He doesn’t even really want to challenge her. He understands where she’s coming from – which itself puts us so, so far from where he was just days ago, that he can meet her uncertainty and suspicion and say ‘okay yeah, that’s fair’.

And if he had time, I wonder if he might actually agree to that particular request.

But he doesn’t have time. Which brings us to the other extraordinary part of this statement: willingly offering up communication. Just. Straight up saying ‘you need to know my plans’. Mark this date in your calendars, friends: a Wheel of Time character just offered, unprompted, voluntarily, to share their plans with another character, so that they can prepare.

I am astonished.

“The last time I tried to seal the Bore”

You know, just the other day.

“I believe that saidin and saidar must both be used.”

I think he’s absolutely right there—it’s a part of what I love about Rand and Egwene, childhood friends for all that they’ve grown apart, holding the roles that they do; the idea that this bond between them, strained as it is, could allow them to do what Lews Therin and Latra Posae could not—but I also… he shall hold a blade of light in his hands, and the three shall be one. I just… wonder.

Egwene leaned forward, studying him. There didn’t seem to be madness in his eyes. She knew those eyes. She knew Rand.

YES!

THIS IS EVERYTHING I WANTED! That she sees him. Looks past the Dragon Reborn, past her role as Amyrlin, and for a moment she is just Egwene looking at Rand and it is by nature such a simple thing—stripping away everything but that simple identity—but it’s also the thing that can give them a chance to do it differently this time. This chance of understanding, this one small thing that could tip them towards cooperation and trust rather than letting them turn away from each other or fall apart.

Light, she thought, I’m wrong. I can’t think of him only as the Dragon Reborn. I’m here for a reason. He’s here for a reason. To me, he must be Rand. Because Rand can be trusted, while the Dragon Reborn must be feared.

Maybe it’s very Sanderson to have this stated outright, but I’m not even going to complain, because it’s… perfect. To allow, in the end, trust and friendship and who they are rather than purely what they are come into it as well, even just in some small way, to bridge that gap. It’s what Lews Therin and Latra Posae couldn’t do, but Rand and Egwene have a chance to try again.

I just… have been spinning around on this EXACT CONCEPT for, I don’t know, several books now, and to see it playing out so plainly here is everything I want and I am never going to be okay again in my life.

“Which are you?” she whispered unconsciously.

He heard. “I am both, Egwene. I remember him. Lews Therin. I can see his entire life, every desperate moment. I see it like a dream, but a clear dream. My own dream. It’s part of me.”

It’s a nice touch, that he speaks of it as a dream, to the one who understands dreams so well.

It’s also just a lot, to have gone from ‘so many parts of him, mind splintered in glittering shards, all of them screaming’ to ‘sorrows and his own suicide’ to a clear dream he accepts as a part of himself. The pain and desperation of it are still there, but he’s no longer fighting them, because he no longer sees it as something he’s bound to. It’s just a part of who he is, but it doesn’t have to define what he will be.

I also like this because Egwene was one of the first to notice him speaking to a voice in his mind. And now she gets this, just an honest and accepting response. It seems fitting, somehow.

The words were those of a madman, but they were spoken evenly. She looked at him, and remembered the youth that he had been. The earnest young man. Not solemn like Perrin, but not wild like Mat. Solid, straightforward. The type of man you could trust with anything.

Even the fate of the world.

THAT’S IT THAT’S IT RIGHT THERE. If they did not know each other, this could be an impasse. Not as disastrous as Rand’s meeting with Tuon, perhaps, because he’s a little… uh… less omnicidal at this particular moment, but likely just as unsuccessful. An Amyrlin who could not trust the Dragon, and a Dragon who could not afford to give her the assurances she needed, and so two powers working in parallel but separately, almost in opposition.

But she knows him. And it’s the youth he had been—it is LITERALLY THE MEMORY OF A SHEPHERD NAMED RAND AL’THOR, the echo of one of my favourite quotes—that tips the balance the other way this time.

It’s Rand. The boy he tried for so long to destroy, because to be him hurt too much.

And I also really love how it isn’t about some Grand True Love between them that does it. They were childhood sweethearts, sure, but the love between them is that of friends, of a shared childhood, of something very much like family. And I like that there’s this implicit importance and weight placed on that; that in its way it’s as crucial to this moment as the ‘veins of gold’ were on Dragonmount

This is what Latra Posae and Lews Therin had. And so instead it falls to Egwene and Rand, to learn from their mistakes, and do what they could not. It is what Rand realised on Dragonmount, and what he is playing out now. A chance to try again.

And it’s because he’s Rand that that’s possible. It’s not Lews Therin, or the Dragon Reborn (but it is also both of those, because he is both of those).

“In one month’s time,” Rand said, “I’m going to travel to Shayol Ghul and break the last remaining seals on the Dark One’s prison. I want your help.”

Well. I mean. Okay. Points for honest and straightforward communication, I suppose. I love that he just walks into the Tower and drops this on her like a grenade, though. It amuses me.

Ah, so she thinks the crystal sphere in her dream represents the seals or the prison as well.

“Rand, no”

Rand: Rand yes!

Sorry, couldn’t help myself.

“I’m going to need you, all of you”

Rand openly admitting to needing anyone or anything, and again just as a statement rather than a threat or an angry demand, is another thing that’s new and kind of refreshing.

“I hope to the Light that this time, you will give me your support.”

Rand to Egwene, remembering Lews Therin to Latra Posae. And if everyone is someone reborn, who’s to say she isn’t? (I’m not… really sure whether I’d want that to be true or not, so I suppose it’s nice that it’s not stated one way or the other, at least up to this point. But it could be a fun one to play with). Either way, those very much are the roles they’re echoing, and I swear I’ll shut up about this but I still just love how, so closely following Rand’s realisation on Dragonmount, we get to actually watch that kind of chance-to-try-again play out. A chance to work together, rather than apart.

“And then… well, then we will discuss my terms.”

Ah well, I suppose it was too much to hope for him to communicate the whole plan right now. Baby steps and all that.

Also, you know, narrative choices and the need to keep at least something back.

“Your terms?” Egwene demanded. “You will see,” he said, turning as if to leave.

So… the way it’s framed puts us into very slightly antagonistic (and much more familiar) territory of lack of communication and demands and terms.

But I wonder what terms he’s referring to, because there is a nonzero probability that he’s talking about Callandor here. In which case, it’s not entirely impossible that the terms he’s referring to are, in effect, those of his own surrender.

I could be wrong. I very probably am. But it’s… an interesting possibility to consider. And it would be kind of fitting, in a way, for that to be the uncommunicated and therefore misunderstood thing here.

Turns out ‘the Amyrlin’s Anger’ is Egwene just shouting at her childhood friend ‘don’t you turn your back on me when I’m talking to you, Rand al’Thor’ and Rand turning back like a boy who tracked mud into the house. I love them, I really do.

“We must talk about this,” she said. “Plan.”

“That is why I came to you. To let you plan.”

He seemed amused.

Oh, he’s absolutely amused. Part of him still is the boy you knew, and this is honestly just classic Rand-and-Egwene, for all that it’s also on an entirely different level. They antagonise one another: it’s what they do. But I don’t think there’s true anger here, on either side. And again, that is what could save them. That ‘anger’ between them is… this, rather than that snapping of tension and dropping of any possibility of a truce and turning immediately to planning their next moves, all thought of alliance or restraint over, between Rand and Tuon.

Anyway. The other thing here is that… it’s easy to be exasperated with Egwene, because just listen to Rand, he’s sane now damn it, and he’s almost certainly right about the seals.

But honestly? In her position? Knowing what she knows—and not knowing all the things she doesn’t know, like the actual state of Rand’s mind—it’s hard to fault her for pushing back on this. He walks in, says he’s fine and that he remembers a dead man’s entire life and also that they need to break the prison of the embodiment of entropy and chaos and evil, okay bye!

Like. As Amyrlin, it’s her job to say ‘okay, right, I’m with you, but also what the fuck’. It would be irresponsible not to.

Of course… I get the impression Rand knows that, too. And is, perhaps, counting on it. He came to her to let her plan, and he doesn’t seem surprised or upset by the fact that she doesn’t just immediately say ‘okay cool when do we start’, and he has a certain respect for the position she holds.

I think it’s entirely possible this is what he wants from her. For her to plan. Because he doesn’t have time to. And because, just as she looks at him and sees someone she can trust with the fate of the world, he looks at her and sees someone he can trust with planning and logistics and getting the Aes Sedai to get themselves where he needs them. A kind of ‘this is what I’m going to do, now do whatever it is you need to do because I don’t need to micromanage and I also don’t have time to, okay see you at Tarmon Gai’don’.

“And so here we come to it,” Rand said.

Yeah, he saw this coming.

“Egwene al’Vere, Watcher of the Seals, Flame of Tar Valon, may I have your permission to withdraw?”

He asked it so politely. She couldn’t tell if he was mocking her or not.

The thing is, I really don’t think he is. It’s like how earlier he said he didn’t want to come into her place of power and undermine her. He’s giving her, I think, an honest gesture with genuine respect. Because now, at peace with himself as he is, it costs him nothing to do so. She is not his enemy, and I do think his respect for her is honest, and I think he still cares about her as a friend, and what does he lose by giving her a small bow and her titles and the opportunity to grant him permission to leave?

And of course Egwene is conflicted, because on the one hand she can’t keep him here like Elaida tried to, but on the other hand…

“I will not let you break the seals,” she said. “That is madness.”

“Then meet me at the place known as the Field of Merrilor, just to the north. We will talk before I go to Shayol Ghul. For now, I do not want to defy you, Egwene. But I must go.’

Ah. And so we have a battleground.

As for the rest… well. It’s not quite accord, but nor is it disaster. It’s not even quite a true impasse. There’s tension now, sure, but it’s a) not even in the same hemisphere as as bad as it would have been if Rand hadn’t had some alone time on a mountain to think, literally, about his life choices and b) not insurmountable.

And c) I still think there’s a very real chance this is all Rand actually needed or wanted out of this. Egwene now knows his plan and his timing and the battleground, and she can take care of the rest.

It’s almost—gasp—as if Rand al’Thor, Dragon Reborn, has truly learned to delegate.

The chamber was still enough for Egwene to hear the faint breeze making the rose window groan it its lead.

The wind, for Rand, against the rose, for the Aes Sedai. (Also, listen, I have not forgotten that Eldrene was the Rose of the Sun).

“Very well,” Egwene said. “But this is not ended, Rand.”

“There are no endings, Egwene.”

IT’S! ABOUT! THE NAMES!

They talk a big game about each other’s titles, and wonder if they’re really the person they each once knew, but they both open and closes with nothing but each other’s names, and it means absolutely everything.

Also, that’s… really not a bad outcome. Honestly, this could have been so much worse. Anger? Try ‘okay um that’s unexpected and I’m still not sure you’re not insane but…sure. Okay’.

Which really is all you need, right? It’s agreement with a bit of hesitation, and at this stage in the game that’s a damn victory.

Again, I can’t help but contrast it with that absolute catastrophe at Falme, and compared to that? This is just friends sticking their tongues out at each other on the way out. Rand knows he can count on Egwene to be there, at least. Will she agree with him when she arrives? Who knows. But that’s a problem for another time. For now, he at least knows she’ll go, and that’s all he can ask. And he can leave the rest of the planning in her hands.

And she knows what he’s planning, and knows he wants her as an ally, and can therefore make said plans.

I don’t think this is ended either, and I’m sure there’s plenty of potential conflict to come, but this was, all things considered, really kind of impressive in its lack of explosions.

(Also, ‘there are no endings’. Now who’s giving Aes Sedai answers, Rand? As well as probably spoilers for the last line of the series. Rude.)

Oh, interesting. So Rand’s ta’veren hyperdrive powers pretty much literally froze all the other Aes Sedai in place. Because this needed to be a meeting between Rand and Egwene. Because of their roles, yes, but also because of that thread of connection they still share. And so it had to be the two of them, because that was the only chance of this working at all.

Egwene frowned. She hadn’t felt it that way. Perhaps because she thought of him as Rand.

I… yeah. Because that’s what he needed: to have this conversation with someone who could see him. Even then, it barely came out to something almost resembling accord. They needed that small weight on the scales, to have that chance. And so she was free, because it was the Dragon Reborn, and not Rand, who was holding the others silent, in a way.

Or at least that’s how I’m reading this because it plays into my entire thing for names and identity and perception, and the importance thereof.

“We need to discuss his words. The Hall of the Tower will reconvene in one hour’s time for discussion.”

Which, really, is exactly what they need to be doing. Now they have the information, and they can figure out… a battle plan, I suppose. Okay. We’re there now. We have a place and a time (this place, this day, which of course is followed by the lesser sadness, yes I remember sequences of chapter titles why are you looking at me like that) and the beginnings of a plan. I’m… it’s been five years and I’m not entirely ready for this.

“And someone follow to make sure he really leaves.”

You’re just afraid he’ll find some way to prank you on his way out, don’t lie.

“Then how? How do we stop him?”

That, Silviana, is not the question you need to be asking. I mean, I get it. I really do. And I’m not sure how they could not think that, at least initially. But… the time for working against each other’s aims, when you are all on the same side, is over.

“We need allies,” Egwene said.

Which, again, I think is precisely the point. That is something it makes absolute sense for Rand to delegate to the Amyrlin Seat, who has the power and the standing to gather allies and play the games of politics, and bring her portion of the Forces of the Light to… the Field of Merrilor, I suppose.

She took a deep breath. “He might be persuaded by people that he trusts.” Or he might be forced to change his mind if confronted by a large enough group united to stop him.

Oh, Egwene, no. You can’t be another Latra Posae.

But perhaps it would be too easy for this to actually just be their only not-quite-conflict. I still think it was more a success than a failure, all told, and I stand by everything I said about the importance of their friendship in letting them see each other, but I think we’re looking at one final testing of that, before the end.

Next (ToM ch 4) Previous (ToM ch 2)

#the. NAMES!#i'm fine #Wheel of Time #neuxue liveblogs WoT #Towers of Midnight

63 notes · View notes

princess-of-the-corner · 5 years

Text

Okay, thinking of more ways for Marinette and Adrien to handle the Lila situation in some sort of standard ‘salt fic’, though the salt quickly turns to sugar:

Between Adrien learning that Lila isn’t just telling grand-but -harmless stories, learning that she threatened Marinette, and having to deal with Lila coming onto him constantly, Adrien has had enough.

He decides they have to do something, but he knows calling Lila out won’t help. Not because she doesn’t deserve it, or because ‘she could be Akumatized again’. No, it’s because Lila is good at coming up with things on the fly and would turn everyone against both of them if they tried.

Adrien’s solution? Fake Dating AU.

His idea is that he an Marinette pretend to be together for a while. At least until Lila is done with.

Adrien does admit it’s a bit much, and he doesn’t like lying like that either, but Lila is very much not taking ‘no I think you’re terrible’ for an answer. He’s just that desperate and kinda trapped since he can’t find a way to reject her publicly without backlash.

Like, he’s tried to tell other people that Lila hanging off him makes him uncomfortable, but that’s met with ‘well you let Chloé hang off you all the time so why’s this different?’. And when he says that Chloé is a friend and has permission, people get all ‘well isn’t Lila your friend too?’, and he can’t call her out because of previously mentioned fuckery.

But him getting a girlfriend is a good way to at least get Lila away from him. Or at the very least it will have everyone else go ‘look, the man has a girlfriend. Even if you supposedly don’t think of him as a potential boyfriend, you probably should lay off the touchy-feely-thing.’

he says it also gives them an excuse to hang out more often.

Marinette is conflicted for so many reasons. But in the end, she swallows down her anxiety and tells him that she shouldn’t do it because she has a crush on him.

She’s legit like ‘this is probably the worst way to find out but...’.

While the ‘Fake Dating AU’ idea could work, it would be unfair because then she’d be the girl with a crush all up on him.

Adrien is very flustered by the confession, and feels really guilty about putting her in that position.

He’s more concerned about how it would’ve been hurting her to ‘be so close yet so far’ and all that.

At this point he’s like ‘okay this was a dumb idea let’s figure something else out.

Marinette suggests he ask someone else. Like Kagami or even Chloé, or just go and ask out that ‘other girl he likes’ for real and date her.

Adrien kinda flounders on why he chose Marinette instead of Kagami. I mean, the real reason is that he is already into Mari and would like to actually date her, but he’s very much in denial. “just a friend” my ass!

He also can’t pretend to go with Chloé for several reasons.

The biggest is that while she can overact about liking him, the two of them would be very uncomfortable pretending to be an actual couple.

There’s also the fact that it wouldn’t be believable since he ‘turned her down so often’.

Obviously Adrien doesn’t tell Mari that the ‘other girl’ he likes is Ladybug, but he explains that it’s a complicated situation

he also mentions that she rejected him, and that he also needs to talk to her. Because while it’s no where near the same as the Lila situation, he had been a bit pushy about flirting after rejection.

After a long conversation, they end up still going through with it.

Adrien tells Marinette that she’s allowed to back out at any time. If it gets too painful for her. He’d accept the brunt of whatever fallout their ‘breakup’ is.

Marinette tells him that he is the one to set most of the boundaries on how far she can go with the ‘being a girlfriend’ thing. Because obviously they have to act the part and be all cutesy, but she doesn’t want to force him into anything.

He trusts her to not take advantage of the situation.

The next day at school is wild.

Adrien kisses Mari on the cheek and she just lets out this high-pitched noise. Luckily he finds this endearingly adorable instead of weird.

Alya sees this and is begging for details. As is the rest of the class, really.

After the initial announcement everyone kinda holds their breath and braces for loud noises. When it’s just quiet, they all look over at Chloé.

Chloé looks up from texting to be like ‘What? Oh, right. You hurt him and I’ll kick your ass.”

Of course my girl is in on this plan.

TBH one of the constants with me is that she pretends to be ‘madly in love’ with Adrien for various reasons, but she does care about him a lot so she supports whatever relationship he wants to go for

also, another constant with me is Chloé figuring out everyone’s identities so you know. She double supports this.

And then we have Lila. She is very pissed. Not just because of Adrien being ‘off the market’, but because it was Marinette of all people. So she does what she does best. She lies. Fortunately for Mari, some are a bit too unbelievable, and others she has Adrien to be an alibi for.

She claims she ‘recently developed a small crush on Adrien and Marinette is obviously doing this just to hurt her!’. The class is like ‘nah Mari’s been in love with him for like a year. Lila covers this lie with ‘oh I didn’t know about that. I was just concerned because she doesn’t like me and this happened now...’

She brings up that she saw Mari out with another guy, and Adrien says ‘no we were out that day’ or ‘we were on video call’. Lila covers this by saying that she must’ve just seen a girl that looks like her.

She says Mari ‘confronted her in the bathroom at lunch about all this and totally threatened her to stop!’. Too bad she didn’t realize that Mari and Adrien were out to lunch off-campus. This one is a bit harder to lie out of, but people don’t realize everything is a lie, just that this might be.

Lila then brings in the ‘big guns’, telling Gabriel.

She informs him about the relationship, saying that Marinette is just horrible, and is only interested in Adrien because he’s Gabriel’s son and it would easily further her career.

Of course, while Gabriel isn’t aware of all of Lila’s bullshit(like her harassment of Adrien), he does know that she lies about things.

He also knows that Marinette doesn’t need to use a relationship with Adrien to further her career, as she’s already gotten the attention of himself and a few other celebrities.

However, now that Gabriel is aware of the relationship, he tells Adrien to bring Marinette over so they can formally meet.

There’s panic from the class when Adrien tells Mari about this, and of course she panics.

But by the end of the night she and Gabriel actually get along, having gone on a tangent and talked Fashion for literal hours, and the relationship has the ‘Gabriel Seal Of Approval™’

Lila is internally screaming.

As all this continues, Adrien is having a lot of realizations.

He’s getting very into the role as Marinette’s boyfriend. A little too into it. Like, even Mari is like ‘okay keep doing that and I’ll start to wonder whether this is acting or not’, because he’s still being sweet and affectionate even when they’re somewhere alone and don’t have to play the parts.

And then there’s the things everyone else is saying. Like, all of his friends are like ‘glad you finally realized you love her’. When he asks what they mean, they give this long list of things that ‘were obvious signs you loved her’.

Basically he realizes he was in love with Marinette the whole time. He goes over everything to try and pinpoint when this happened and ends up pretty much at the very beginning with the umbrella.

Adrien is having a Crisis™. So he does the only thing he can think of: wait until he can be Chat Noir and talk to Ladybug.

Chat tells her that while he is still in love with her, he also seems to have fallen for this other girl.

Ladybug says ‘look, I’ll admit that while I have the other guy, I might’ve fallen for you if I hadn’t fallen for him. But two heroes dating is dangerous and all.’. She suggests he asks out the other girl.

Chat admits that might be difficult, and explains that he and this girl are ‘fake dating’ for reasons. But in the end he’s encouraged to be honest about all this.

Ladybug’s also a little unnerved by this situation being a little too similar to her own, but brushes it off as coincidence.

Adrien takes a day or two to get his courage up, and talks to Marinette about it

Explains that while it had started as ‘fake dating’, he realized he actually does like her like that.

Mari’s a little worried that it’s just him feeling like that because they’ve been acting the part

But he explains that no, he’s been feeling this way for quite a while and this was just the thing to make him realize

So now they’re real dating and are 10x as obnoxious. Chloé is the only one who knows why the dynamic shifted, but everyone else is a little confused.

Of course we’re eventually going to have a reveal.

During the next Akuma attack, Chat Noir saves Marinette and takes her somewhere safe, saying ‘Okay honey, stay here and don’t get into trouble bye love you’. And kisses her on the cheek

Marinette.exe has stopped working

Chat is half-way down the block before he’s like ‘wait FUCK*

They have a talk later and Mari’s like “you’re an idiot but I love you. Obviously I love you. I fell in love with you twice like an idoit.’

Adrien’s like ‘aw, babe you had a crush on me’?

Mari just replies with ‘you fell in love with me twice too so shut up!’.

She then tells him that she’s Ladybug and Adrien.exe has stopped working

They somehow get more obnoxious

The LadyNoir flirt banter gets worse, but for the most part they can wait until out of costume to be actually romantic.

Adrienette interactions have begun to mirror the LadyNoir flirt banter. Everyone is confused again.

Things are fine for a while but then Lila stirs something up again.

She manages to get a picture of Marinette kissing Chat and shows it to the class. Yikes.

Mari lets Adrien handle this which is a bad idea

He’s just like ‘Obviously we decided that Heroes are free game. I mean, who wouldn’t want to make out with a superhero?’.

Marinette rolls with it and turns to Nino and Alya like ‘You get it, right? I mean, Nino, if Rena Rouge showed up and asked to make out, you would go for it, right?”

Alya and Nino kinda hesitantly agree. Like, the expressions Mari and Adrien give them makes them wonder if they know… but it’s not possible…

They then make it worse, Adrien saying ‘I’d love to have Ladybug show up at my window one night’. Mari then asks him ‘What if it’s Rena or Carapace?’. Adrien pauses, gives his best cat grin, and says ‘You talking one or the other or both?’

They then go off on a tangent, joking about making out with the various other heroes. Most of which are currently in the room, and have no idea how to handle this.

Eventually Chloé joins in the joking, asking ‘What, no love for Queen Bee?’. Adrien isn’t sure how to respond, but Marinette just grins and says ‘That depends on if you get the Bee again or not, now doesn’t it?”/ Chloé is not flustered and low-key screaming.

Alya and Nino ask for a double date the next weekend.

While out somewhere quiet, they confront Mari and Adrien about being Ladybug and Chat Noir. They’re all ‘idk what you mean! Why ever would you think that?”

They’re not buying that. They keep pushing and eventually they’re like ‘okay fine you’re right can we get back to dinner now?’

Cue freaking out

also cue them asking about that ‘making out with heroes’ thing. Marinette and Adrien kinda admit that while they might be Disaster Bis and open to the potential, they were mostly saying it to fuck with everyone.

Then Alya remembers ‘wait, fuck Lila!’.

She connects the dots that if Mari is Ladybug and Mari hates Lila then Lila is lying about being bffs with Ladybug and probably everything else too

Mari is a little salty about the whole situation, but knows that Lila is convincing

They come clean about the whole situation. How they both knew Lila was lying from day one, how she threatened Marinette, how Adrien was scared that speaking up would turn everyone against him too since they could turn against Mari so easily, how Lila’s harassment led to the ‘fake dating’, and how that turned to real dating.

There are a lot of apologies. There’s even more apologies because they discuss this with the rest of the class. Obviously for now they keep the ‘Mari and Adrien are Ladybug and Chat Noir’ thing secret, but they make up a half-truth of how they found out from Ladybug

There’s some debate about what to do about Lila

Pretty much everyone is ready to throwdown after hearing about how much she’s been doing behind their backs.

First thing Alya does is take down any posts involving Lila on the Ladyblog and making a new post explaining it

They also manage to talk to everyone else in school and warn them about Lila before she can even catch wind of all this

And someone just so happens to inform the teachers that perhaps they should ‘call Lila’s mom and discuss how much school she’s missing from all this ‘traveling’...’

Everyone forms an Adrien Defense Squad that is determined to keep Lila a good five feet away from him at all times.

At first, Lila literally doesn’t know what hits her

all of a sudden, everyone is ignoring her at best. The rest are glaring at her.

People don’t even apologize when they drag Adrien away from her

no one’s interested in her latest stories

The Adrien Defense Squad is also a Marinette Defense Squad, making sure that Mari has at least one person with her so that Lila can’t corner her and retaliate

her mom shows up to yell at her about how Lila lied to her about the school being closed and how she lied to the school about being traveling

Lila tries to save face around her classmates, but they’re like ‘yeah we already know’.

Of course Lila ends up Akumatized.

I mean what else is new?

Since she’s willingly an Akuma, she has pretty much complete control over her actions.

Idk what kind of Akuma she is this time. Maybe one with an actual hypnotic voice or something?

Anyway, she goes nuts. Eventually, Lila goes to far. Maybe it’s something she does or says, maybe it’s something someone accuses her of and she confesses to, either way it’s probably something involving Adrien.

At this point, suddenly, Hawkmoth recalls the Butterfly.

Lila doesn’t notice at first, just keeps going. She only notices when she’s suddenly tackled to the ground and tied up

Everyone notices how different it is, how aware she was compared to the other Akuma Victims who didn’t remember anything

They realize she was willingly Akumatized

The butterfly, however, is still there.

Lila pretty much confirms that she was willingly Akumatized when she demands it come back to her.

However, the butterfly just hovers in front of Ladybug.

Ladybug has squared up and is ready to punch a butterfly, but it doesn’t do anything.

Through a series of charades with the Butterfly…. Somehow… anyway, they learn that Hawkmoth recalled the Butterfly because he had no idea how terrible Lila was, and while he might be doing some shitty things, he has a lot of limits.

After Ladybug purifies the Butterfly and fixes whatever damage Lila caused, we have the aftermath

Lila is dealt with on several levels. The biggest thing is that even though Hawkmoth says he will no longer work with someone like her, she is to be taken out of the country just in case.

They don’t deal with Hawkmoth just yet, but he takes a break because Gabriel needs to do some parenting.

Everyone recovers from Lila’s bullshit and sorts out all the lies she told

Mari and Adrien continue dating in peace. Mostly.

Until someone decides to take up that ‘allowed to makeout with Heroes’ clause.

Overall, it’s a ‘Happily Ever After’ thing.

#miraculous ladybug #ml salt #salt turned to sugar #fake dating au

533 notes · View notes

orihara-infobroker · 4 years

Text

Seclusion Day Eighteen

“Oh come on! That was so cheap!” Izaya protested as Akabayashi jostled him, using the distraction to execute a series of attacks in the game they were playing.

“Gotta learn to focus better,” Akabayashi responded, laughing as he scored a win. Izaya huffed and shifted further away from the redhead as the next round began.

“I was trying to be nice to the rookie but since you’ve decided to cheat…” Izaya pulled out his cheapest combos, forcing Akabayashi’s character into a corner.

“What the hell was that?” Akabayashi retorted indignantly. “That shouldn’t even be allowed!”

“What shouldn’t be allowed is playing video games when you should be working,” Shiki observed as he appeared in the doorway of his office with his coffee cup. “If you’re any louder, my neighbours are going to complain.” He made his way to the kitchen to refill his mug.

“If they haven’t complained about Izaya yet…” Akabayashi responded as he mashed the controller buttons, attempting to redeem himself in another round. Izaya prodded Akabayashi’s thigh with his foot.

“Your trash-talking needs work. How are you going to beat all the kids in online gaming if your worst insult is that I’m loud?”

“Is that what I was supposed to be doing?” Akabayashi responded with a grin. “If you really want insults…”

“How about you keep your insults to a minimum, along with the noise? I have work to do, even if you two don’t.”

“You say that but you’ve already done the daily call. You’re really not required to do anything else. It’s not like you’re on a clock.” Izaya threw his hands in the air as he won the third round. “Yeeeessss! Suck it, Mizuki!” Shiki moved behind Izaya and tugged his head back. Izaya grinned up at him and offered up the controller. “Take a turn.”

Akabayashi grinned. “Call it a coffee break.”

Shiki sighed and let Izaya go, pulling out his smokes as he joined them on the couch. “What else do you have?”

Izaya grinned and moved to the stack of games that had arrived that morning, along with the game system. “Borderlands? We can do co-op.”

“Sure.” Shiki lit his smoke and grabbed the controller as Izaya switched out the games. “Too bad it’s co-op only.”

Akabayashi snorted. “Should switch our team meetings to Overwatch matches.”

Izaya settled on the couch between them with a snicker. “So you can watch Aozaki fail to figure out how to play?”

“Yep,” Akabayashi replied.

“You do realize that Overwatch is team-based, right? So if he sucks, we all suck?”

“I’d take a loss to watch him fail.”

Shiki eyed Akabayashi with mild disdain. “Nice to see where your priorities are.”

“You know…” Izaya mused. “Japan doesn’t have any teams in the Overwatch League.”

“The what?” Akabayashi asked.

“Esports?” Izaya replied, rolling his eyes. “You keep saying you know what the kids are into and you don’t even follow esports?”

“And you do?”

“Of course not. Who wants to watch a bunch of Koreans play video games on TV? I don’t watch sports either, for the same reason. It’s boring. But I do know about it. It’s a fascinating shift in social dynamics.”

“Look what you did, Mizuki,” Shiki accused the redhead with a long-suffering look.

Izaya stuck his tongue out at Shiki before continuing. “Fundamentally, all of the sports we enjoy watching are rooted in skills that could be considered necessary. Physical strength, the ability to protect ourselves and murder our enemies or dexterity based skills that reflect the ability to hunt, as an example. What little tactical thinking there is tends to be relegated to the coaches or one or two members of a team and almost always revolve around battle. Video games provide an entirely mental arena and are heavily stigmatized as not being real sports even though they tend to have very similar rule structures.”

“They’re games, not sports,” Akabayashi commented. “Haruya stop stealing my shots… Have you played before?”

“Nope. I have good hand-eye coordination. Maybe if you had two eyes you could keep up.”

“Oooooo low blow!” Izaya exclaimed with a laugh. “But what is the difference between a game and a sport? Is it solely the physicality?”

“That is the definition,” Shiki replied.

Izaya wrinkled his nose at the answer then shrugged. “Well, yes, but pretty much everything else is the same. Yet society encourages only sports as valuable. The mental skills required in playing games is less valuable than the ability to throw a ball or tackle an opponent. I mean, look at the struggle in the yakuza. The old men who believe that brawn is the answer are clashing with the younger men who believe that intelligence is the future.”

“Different generations, different thinking,.” Akabayashi shrugged. “Haruya, stop camping. Why am I not surprised you picked a sniper?”

“Just like no one was surprised you chose the soldier?”

“Exactly. Esports is fascinating because it shows a change in what society values.”

“I don’t think it does,” Shiki countered with a slight smile. “I think that intelligence has always been valued, at least in our culture. Intelligence doesn’t lend itself to easily entertaining forms of showmanship, however. Sports is an easy to watch, easy to interpret show of physical prowess. Watching shogi, on the other hand, simply looks tedious to those who don’t understand the nuances of the game or lack the attention span. Watching people show off their quick-thinking and mastery of team-based tactics in a video game is far more interesting than watching two old men play shogi.”

Izaya paused to look at Shiki with a slight pout. “You just subverted my argument!”

“Was it an argument?” Shiki replied with a smirk.

“Tch. Your point is… valid.” He admitted reluctantly. “It’s still fascinating to see the shift in societal perception. Video games were considered a waste of time, something that only kids did, silly and pointless. Now they are being viewed in a different light. Being a ‘gamer’ is becoming normalized instead of embarrassing and nerdy. People can now become professionals at playing games, just like athletes.”

“How profitable is it, though?” Akabayashi asked. “I don’t imagine it’s that good a job.”

“The League pays $50k US annual salary. Plus the prize pool depending on how far they get.”

“$50k?” Akabayashi shook his head surprised. “That’s more than some salarymen are making. Haruya, you should consider changing careers.”

“Do I look like I would enjoy sitting in front of a computer playing games all day? Besides, I make more than $50k.”

“You know what would be an even better idea?” Izaya asked with a grin. “Awakusu sponsored Overwatch Team! I bet you could totally sell Mikiya on the idea. Yakuza sponsored esports. Just think of the team names you could come up with.”

Akabayashi and Shiki exchanged a look.

“The Tokyo Ninjas?” Akabayashi suggested.

“Tokyo Samurai,” Shiki countered.

“Predictable.” Izaya criticized.

“You’d probably name the team with a cat reference.” Akabayashi teased.

“Tokyo Neko?” Shiki snorted.

“Doesn’t really flow. You could just call them the Tokyo Yakuza. One of the teams is called the Outlaws, after all.”

“Ah yes, I’m sure that wouldn’t cause problems at all.” Shiki chuckled.

“It’s just a gaming team. No one will think anything of it.” Izaya insisted with a grin.

“He’s probably right,” Akabayashi agreed. “They’d just think it was a media thing.”

“Not only are you a wealth of information,” Shiki told Izaya. “But also a wealth of strange and terrible ideas. How much would that even cost?”

“Around $30 million.”

“Somehow I don’t think Awakusu has that kind of capital to invest.” Akabayashi laughed. “Maybe Medei could do it.”

“Too bad. Guess you’ll just have to stick to your life of crime.”

“I think we’re good with that,” Akabayashi replied with a laugh.

“Agreed,” Shiki seconded.

#fanfiction #durarara #akashikizaya #playing video games #instead of working #silly fluff #haven't done anything for this in a while #wanted to do my regulars #sorry!#my writing

16 notes · View notes

risingsouls · 3 years

Text

Conversations: 2

[The next in this self-indulgent series I guess I’ve decided to go through with after all because I’m weak for them and their dynamic.

This actually took a turn that I didn’t expect that made it better so there’s that at least.

So, enjoy my bs if you’re so inclined! :D]

“Hold still, damn it!”

Nabooru scoffed and met his glare, shifting once more to find a comfortable position on the stool she perched on. “I barely moved! You want me to stop breathing?”

“Tch, it would help.” Vegeta dipped his fingers back into the salve she had provided him--some concoction the Gerudo healer had created in their assimilation on Earth and effective in speeding up the healing process according to Nabooru--and applied it to the nasty burn blistering on her side. “It would mean I didn’t have to deal with your ribs expanding, anyway.”

Nabooru bit her lip to stifle a hiss, the sudden cold and the sting of Zana’s ointment doubly uncomfortable on her wound. One she shouldn’t have sustained at all if she had just been strong enough to stave off Vegeta’s blast. Instead, she had to abandon that course and dart to the side to avoid taking the ki wave head on. She could still feel the sear of heat in her side as the cascade of purple blew by her. It crashed into the ground feet away and sent her flying, and she landed in a sprawl several meters away. At least he hadn’t refused to continue their spar after that.

She draped her arm over her head as opposed to holding it out in front of her to give him room to work. “I told you I could handle this myself,” she huffed, picking at the loose bit of fabric on the roll of bandages with her free hand. “I’m used to dressing my own wounds.”

“What I saw looked incompetent.” He shot her another glare, though it was marred by the hint of a smirk. “Watching you try to do this yourself was painful.”

“I didn’t ask you to stick around and watch,” she snapped back. “You insisted on that and you insisted on doing it for me. I was fine.”

Vegeta’s retort was a silent one, a less than ginger press of his fingers at the center of the burn. The Gerudo flinched away and sucked in a breath. “Valaqi voe…” She muttered a few more choice curses and steeled herself, gaze fixed on the far wall rather than her less than tender healer.

The Saiyan grunted, his ears picking up the foriegn syllables but the long forgotten translator chip in his head supplied the meaning. “Are you calling me stubborn or an idiot?”

“It’s all the same in my nat--”

Nabooru cut herself off and whipped her head around to narrow her eyes at him. She ignored the growl she got in return and the pain that shot up her side from the sudden movement. “You understood that?” It was no secret between them that neither of them hailed from this planet. With how wide the universe was, though, and how she suspected their planets were likely not in remotely the same vicinity, she didn’t expect him to understand the Gerudo language. Or had he simply guessed using the not-so-subtle clues of her irritation with him?

He tapped the side of his head. “Translator chip. I’m as surprised as you are that it picked up on your language.” In all his expansive travels of the galaxy, he had never heard mention of a planet called Hyrule, even in the tedious charting and astronomy lessons he had to endure. Someone in the empire’s retinue had apparently been there or picked up the planet’s languages somehow. “But if it can pick up the languages on this backwater planet, I suppose I shouldn’t be.”

A glance back up from his work and he found her pondering his words in confused silence, brow furrowed. He rolled his eyes. “It’s a device they implanted in my brain through here,” he indicated the scar behind his left ear, “that can translate different languages across the universe for me. Makes communicating with other races more efficient. Everyone in the Cold Empire had them in case some fools couldn’t speak the galactic standard.”

His explanation only mildly helped her understand, but it was enough. She knew asking for more would be met with outright refusal or insult. “Sounds...invasive. Convenient, though. It means you wouldn’t have to spend months learning another language, anyway. It does get tedious.”

“Precisely.” He smeared a last bit around the lower edge of the burn near the curve of her hip. He held out a hand for the bandages. “We didn’t have time to sit and learn every known language in the universe to do our jobs effectively.”

Nabooru placed the bandages in his outstretched hand. “So, you did a lot of traveling, then? Back when you worked for Frieza?” she asked, raising her other arm to join the opposite and give him room to wrap the bandages around her waist. “What exactly did you guys do for him, anyway?”

“We were soldiers and worked as part of the Planetary Trade Organization under Frieza for his portion of the galaxy.” Vegeta unravelled the bandages, and when he noted Nabooru’s once more befuddled expression, he grumbled: “An organization that traded planets, which means deciding if planets are worth trading and preparing them for said trade.”

A crimson brow arched, and her lips curled downward. “So, a nice way of describing colonization? Taking over planets for gain?”

“Yes,” he affirmed, paying little mind to her distaste of the business. Nothing she could say would surprise him; he had heard it all before from those pleading their case to live another day. Those he subjugated in Frieza’s name. He held the end of the bandage against her abdomen and began wrapping it around her waist, releasing it to use both hands when the first wraparound had it secured in place. “The Cold family had an entire empire, much of it likely acquired by forcible means.”

The tossing of her stomach that wasn’t a side effect of his calloused fingers grazing across her flesh didn’t stop Nabooru from pressing the matter further. “What did you do, then? When you went to these planets?”

Dark gaze flickered up to her face, narrowed as his bandaging slowed. He regarded her verging on sour expression, how the bridge of her nose threatened to crinkle in distaste and the firmly set frown on her lips. “Hmpt. I’m not having this conversation if it’s going to end in a lecture.”

“That bad, huh?” She winced when he tugged a touch too hard on the bandage to secure it in place, squeezing her middle. “No, I won’t lecture you. It’s, what? A few decades too late for that? Besides, I’m not exactly squeaky clean enough to feel comfortable lecturing anyone about much of anything.”

Vegeta squinted, unsure if he believed her. She had proven herself a different breed than the rest around him. While not completely moralless, she didn’t reek of someone having the same idealistic and simplistic notions of good and evil, right and wrong, that Kakarot and his friends possessed. And, despite him giving her apt opportunity, her claim to an aversion to lecturing rang true. He could care less if she decided the cruelty in his past was too much; it was the insufferable chiding that would chafe his temper.

“It usually started with reconnaissance,” he began with a tone akin to the boredom of reading from a textbook. He completed another circulation around her waist and considered another for insurance in case it started bleeding again. “We were sent to a planet to scout its potential, whether that be in natural resources or people for either soldiers or a potentially useful skillset. Raditz took care of most of that part. We then sent our report back to base and some high-ranking blow hard or Frieza himself decided if the planet was useful or not.

“If its people were deemed useful, we left the planet. We weren’t trusted to recruit soldiers or other personnel.” Vegeta tugged the bandage tight and secured it, a bitter smirk on his slips. “Probably thought we’d try to build our own army against him or something else equally paranoid, or he considered a trio of Saiyans too barbaric to handle it. Not that it mattered; I sure as hell didn’t want to deal with that.”

He tossed the spool of bandages in her lap and snorted when she scrambled to keep it there. Considering the glare she shot him, he was surprised she didn’t fire it back at him. “If only the resources were needed, nine times out of ten, the planet was purged of its people or they were kept around for labor. If the planet had no use to the empire in resources or any other marketable aspect, it would depend on what the empire did need. Sometimes that meant leaving the planet alone. Others it meant purging it anyway to build a base on it or outright destroying it. That part we were trusted with.”

Nabooru spun the bandages in her hands, considering the prince’s description of his previous career. While unsurprised, the weight in the pit of her stomach was unmistakable. She couldn’t imagine how many lives were expunged all for a tyrant’s gain. “I assume I don’t need to point out the irony in all that?”

Vegeta’s jaw tightened and he cast her a withering glare. “Of course not.” He tugged his gloves back on and folded his arms over his chest. “I thought we agreed to no lecturing.”

Rising to her feet, Nabooru stretched her spine, gritting her teeth as the burnt flesh on her side pulled uncomfortably. “Mm, I guess that was a little lecture-y...it wasn’t meant to be.” She paused and picked up the jar of Zana’s remedy and twisted the cap on it. “I mean...I don't agree with murder, but I can’t really fault you for it and not because you were doing it under someone else’s orders. You said yourself Frieza would kill you if you didn’t follow orders. Morality isn’t exactly the first thing on your mind when you’re trying to survive.”

Once more, he had the sneaking suspicion she spoke from a place of experience than simply reason. He had never considered such a point of view, his mind blurred by his one-track-minded ambitions that fueled him. Back then, it was to kill Frieza. But that did mean surviving him and playing along as a loyal servant. A useful, obedient, planet-purging slave. Though it may not have occurred to him at the time or even years later, he could not deny her logic on the matter. For the longest time, his life had been a test of survival, of making it to the next day and closer to his goal. Another that he never realized outside of dreams, both waking and sleeping.

"Partially,” he rumbled. Gloved fingers dug into his biceps. “Make no mistake: I enjoyed it. I enjoyed the power, the fear I instilled. I didn’t care how many I killed, and I didn’t need Frieza’s orders to do it. If I wanted to kill the bastard and take his empire, I needed both of those things on my side.”

Another swath of silence stretched out between the two of them. Though the Saiyan’s callous words caused her stomach to perform another series of acrobatics and the tightening of her throat to intensify, it wasn’t out of surprise or her moral compass busting under the pressure of its true north being thrown completely off. She had heard such sentiments before. Witnessed it, been a part of it, acted it out herself despite her efforts to avoid it. Endeavors she found herself near alone in pursuing so actively, compared to her peers. She couldn’t be sure they didn’t enjoy it to an extent. They all hailed from a kill or be killed world, either way, most of them warriors, soldiers. Relishing in murder or not, killing was part of the job at some point.

And hadn’t she wondered how it would feel to use her newfound power to raze Hyrule to cinders in an act of vengeance? Destroy everyone and everything because, if they weren’t openly involved in the slow strangling and then outright attack on her people, they were complicit in it? To truly complete the path their disgraced king paved for himself alone and realize their idiotic fears?

She felt the jar crack in her hand and she forced herself back to reality, relaxing her grip. Vegeta quirked an eyebrow at her, opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it. She returned to the moment before her distraction. His words. Another wise-crack. Anything but that night, Ganondorf, the past…

Then, something clicked. “ Wait. You killed Frieza though, so why did you stay--”

She felt the weight of her mistake before her mind truly understood in the brief but daunting surge in his energy, the twisting of his neutral expression into quiet anger so out of sorts with the ki spike. Every instinct in Nabooru told her to run, but she ignored every last one and stood her ground, gold eyes trained on him. Waiting for him to lash out in an attack that she would have to attempt to defend herself against. He remained still as stone, however, which only unnerved her more as the pressure in the room soared and begged to explode. She considered begging him to say something, attack her, walk out, anything at all.

And all at once the moment passed. Vegeta’s ki dropped back off to next to nothing, masked as seemed to be the common practice. Nabooru released the breath she held and leaned against the back of the couch. She chewed her lip, considering if she should continue that line of conversation and risk her house and life. Instead, she only managed a nod and an unintentionally croaked, “I understand.”

His anger boiled again, and had she been anyone else, any of the other fools that surrounded him, ashes would be all that was left of her. Not before potentially laughing in her face and explaining just why he thought she could never understand him, no matter the effort put forth. Perhaps it was the high amount of unknown still surrounding her, not enough information to make a solid assumption of her experiences, that cooled the rising inferno within him to a crackling flame. Until she proved him right, at least.

“Do you?” he hissed through clenched teeth, tone icy and condescending.

Nabooru nodded again and held his gaze, expression unreadable. “Yes,” she responded, setting the cracked jar on the side table. “I didn’t get to kill my Frieza either.”

#.:drabble:.#:: nabooru ☀#:: u7 refugee ☀#// vegeta ♅#i know the ending isn't SUPER GREAT #but i liked the weight of that final quote for them #so i rolled with it

1 note · View note