#the fact that like they DO put each other on pillars. while also being self aware those pillars are LIES. and then yet they keep | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mejomonster · 1 year

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I’m relieved to find out when i finish case 3 in silent reading the translation still has a part 4 AND extras ToT

like god i admire priest SO much. i think in many ways the writing choices in silent reading are SO ballsy. especially now that i know what publishers push toward regarding standard/norms look like all other novels don't deviate dont be brave or unique. like i know priest self published online THEN gets a print deal but like. to decide you as a public commented on author with a HUGE following where ppl buy your chapters? is gonna write THIS?

its brave i think. its brave to trust an audience to read 77 chapters of truly fucked up crime story thats main point IS TO critique the world and justice and human nature. before you get into the romance danmei readers most wanted. to make readers both feel bad for and terrified of a little girl. to remind readers every poor immigrant with a bad life who dies is a TRAGEDY and a horrible loss that society has too much allowed. to remind readers that the justice system fails to bring many people closure or help.

(babes below the cut turned into a MEGA meta on zhoudu and their completely different views on the world)

and THEN of course the LEADS priest decides to write arcs for in this. its ballsy to write a lead the other lead thinks might be capable of being a killer. to write a man objectively with as many red flags as. fei du as THE lead. like? think of 2ha and the people who hate mo ran too much to try it even just hearing of mo ran lol. fei du objectively in some ways is HARDER to empathize with and view as 'an ordinary relatable man'. mo ran when you take that hes been abused is mainly just a kid who wanted to help people typical xianxia hero style and gain power for revenge on REALLY cruel people in a really cruel Fucked up world he lives in thats painted as so much worse than our real earth world.

fei du? well he outwardly is pretty so i guess like the strangers he meets people tolerate that. but the little we get of our past lets us know he killed animals with his hands (and again its as BRAVE a writing choice as the lead in kdrama Flower of Evil who’s raised by a serial killer and trained to be like him and unable to empathize with others and he fights so HARD to be a good person but he’s no one’s definition of a safe guy to trust - but somehow he met his wife and had a daughter and loves them so dearly and he IS and has always been a good man and good kid who went through awful stuff because people were afraid of his inability to emotionally connect and his abused background). Fei du is like HIM. Fei Du self harms to an intense degree, trying to curb impulses trained in him from a young age and a natural propensity mixed with a raising teaching him and Hammering into him that death is the only absolute to feel comfort in. He could’ve become a murderer, an abuser, in the sense of his father pushing him toward it and so many things could’ve affected it - like luo wenzhou simply being not there. Fei du is fighting before anything else, himself and his own fears about himself and who he is and who he even wants to be ultimately. Mo Ran gets cursed and becomes an evil emperor, and without that was a brute revenge okay-with man (and a black lotus trope so honestly more tolerable as a violent rage fest reading-norm wise). But fei du? is just an ordinary modern man working in an office who thinks it would be nice to choke someone and watch them break down hopeless. Who’s probably felt and thought everything su luozhan did (now i’m losing track... there’s things to be said for mo ran and his abuse making him cruel and lash out like fei du and su luozhan too...but moving on for now). fei du is a realistic ‘monster.’ or an almost one. he’s a man who if taken for all he is, much of society would want removed and taken away, or see as an inevitable evil of a rich man who can’t be stopped by most. he’s like Flower of Evil’s lead and the bad rich kid who lashed out and killed people, combined into one.

priest makes him understandable, because priest is amazing at writing very good characters and depicting them and showing their nuances and evolution. and also because luo wenzhou loves him unconditionally. luo wenzhou chooses to love the hurting child, and in doing so comes to see fei du for all the multitudes of value he has as a person, for the treasure he is in ALL of himself with the bad and the good as a whole. (sort of like Flower of Evil main characters sister always loved him and saw him as her little brother needlessly hurt by the world, or the wife who eventually realized the man she loved was part of it and is real its just hes more than she knew before - luo wenzhou is both in one). and because luo wenzhou can see him, all of him, and love and appreciate all of it even EVEN when it horrifies him? even when he thinks and knows its beyond the scope of acceptable or normal, even when he’s hearing fei du lose himself in a viewpoint of the world that is so FAR from luo wenzhous ability to understand or view it. luo wenzhou STILL thinks - how do i reach out so we connect and meet halfway, even if i have to wade into that dark and try to understand, even if i have to explain the regular world like its fantastically rare and incomprehensible to him until he gets how other people like me feel. luo wenzhou thinks: no matter who he is, in fact with ALL of who he is, i’m going to go up to fei du and connect to him, we are going to eat and be okay, we are going to carve out a life together and feel whole and safe and connected there. and so for all fei du is, when we are given luo wenzhou’s fathomless endless care for him it’s impossible not to also open our hearts to fei du. to assume no matter how different he is from us or feels things, or how inhuman or whatever, he’s a an amazing individual and worthy of being understood and accepted into our care too. because luo wenzhou’s viewpoint is hard to fight. even if we think luo wenzhou were wrong, if we didn’t get sucked in, we can’t fight the fact luo wenzhou unconditionally feels this and it won’t change, it will drive the story.

there’s the choice priest made, to make an ‘ordinary’ enough hero of a story (a policeman - legal official solving crimes - who is almost superhero like in his original desire to help people and bring justice, who still ignores wounds and tries to be Larger than Life and do More than the average man, trying to save even with his very real human faults of a nepotism parentage and a short temper in his youth and a naivety he had to lose). he’s old but not jaded, he’s realistic and skilled now but still driven to give out justice, still hurts in his heart when he can’t help someone enough. and it all kicks off with a kid named fei du, and luo wenzhou wanting to heroically bring him justice and closure and save him like Superhero savior of the Cosmos young luo wenzhou did... and failing. failing. failing and having the realization he WILL fail people, legal justice is sometimes impossible or has dead ends and horrible things happen with no resolution and no one saved, and still wanting to care about fei du, wanting to do his best to help him even when it will Never ever be enough. Fei du will NEVER be saved. can not be saved. the damage has already been done (and after the basement scene, luo wenzhou realizes even into adulthood, even once fei du’s dad was in a coma, luo wenzhou still couldn’t even protect fei du from Himself, yet another way luo wenzhou can never be that Cosmic Superhero, not even that local guardian to one single boy, he loves fei du unconditionally and that does NOT mean he’ll ever be enough to protect him or undo the damage).

but luo wenzhou tries anyway. and its in that trying, that is so worth it. it’s not the outcome, its the act of trying, the ‘ceremony’ and how it means he cares. how it means he views fei du as worthy of it (and he really views by extension so MANY worthy of it who he also can or can’t help to varying degrees, and it rubbed off on fei du, because now hes the kind of man who also finds it awful a poor young man named He zhongyi dies and is willing to go to any lengths to try and get justice for him, for any particular person). Anyway, the point is luo wenzhou is an understandable hero typical of his story type. His heroics are the super-detectives who want to save everyone, his failings are the cops like Lee Dong Sik in Beyond Evil who take their small tasks seriously and are aware they may never save their world or Do Enough and justice can fail but they’re still making Their Choices every day, their baggage and damage and aged lessons coming along. He is an ordinary enough choice for a lead. His most remarkable trait in my mind, that makes him stand out, is his decision once upon a time to care about fei du unconditionally. its a choice a parent makes when they adopt, a bodyguard makes in a fantasy tale when they decide to dedicate their life to their ruler, in a realism grounded story like Silent Reading real life red flags just usually keep such a decision from being made.

Take Flower of Evil - its normal for the wife to be suspicious her husband is a killer and investigate it before ultimately picking his side. Take Beyond Evil - Juwon is younger and has fucked up, but Lee Dong Sik makes fucked decisions he doesn’t expect of the younger, makes the choice to cross lines he feels the younger shouldn’t and maybe no one should but he’s too far gone to quit his path now. Luo Wenzhou sees fei du, the teenager, making death threats and you can’t abandon your own kid. But it’s not his kid, its a stranger like su luozhan who’s killed something, lashing out and feeling unlike other humans and without any real parent who gave them unconditional love (maybe fei du had his mom once a week when she was alive but with health issues and spousal issues and dad’s nonstop threat of a presence on them, fei du was not getting that secure unconditional love environment). its a stranger completely, and luo wenzhou just decides to love him anyway.

So why’s he a brave writing choice? to use a character like luo wenzhou who does decide to love someone like that unconditionally. before the romance even starts. he’s not fei du’s family, he’s not fei du’s mentor until he Chooses to be, he’s not fei du’s lover when he makes the decision or long time spouse (like in Flower of Evil), he’s not a man who’s got enough shared experiences to understand fei du’s perspective (in fact it terrifies luo wenzhou the gulf there is between each other’s experience and view of the world). but luo wenzhou, the man that he is, chooses to love fei du unconditionally.

it makes sense for his character of course, because priest is good at writing characters. while luo wenzhou fits the relative norm for his genre, it also makes sense his particular life leads him to a choice i rarely see in these stories. He’s an idealistic naive rash ‘hero’ rookie cop. He sees a child cope with the death of his mom and his world shatter, look at him with an intense resolve that BEGS Luo Wenzhou to BE the hero that can give fei du justice. Luo Wenzhou, the rookie who think himself Hero of the Galaxy, has been dealing with petty crime and this is one of (or possibly the FIRST) time anyone has given him the responsibility and Ability to attempt to serve justice on this scale. This is his first opportunity to SOLVE a possible murder, GIVE someone closure, and truly change their life on such a scale. Of course heroic-dreaming Luo Wenzhou, thinking himself important and inhumanly capable of anything to help someone, takes up that look fei du gives him and decides “then I will give you the justice you need. I will resolve this for you.” A character like him? what other choice would he make.

And fei du is both the first time the world gives him the chance to be the Big Hero Savior he wanted to be, and the reality check that he can NOT be that Hero. That such a heroic feat is impossible, is unreasonable, is not something anyone will be able to live up to forever without fail - especially him, who turns out is lacking much of what he needs to succeed. But even if he had ALL the tools to succeed: even if Luo Wenzhou had ALREADY been a Captain, with rich influential and politically powerful allies, and had been able to legally adopt fei du and take actual political action against fei du’s dad? Even if he HAD all that, luo wenzhou would not have been able to save fei du - from the pain of his childhood, from the loss of his mom, the mystery was too hard to be solved at the time (or luo wenzhou of stubbornness i believe would’ve found a way to solve it), or from fei du’s own self hatred and self harm (just given how privately fei du keeps part of himself - he kept so much from luo wenzhou and probably always would’ve).

So even with everything, Luo Wenzhou would’ve failed. And at least failing then, as a rookie, he learned he WASN’T superman, he wasn’t infailable and Enough to save people inherently, and took the experience that he’d have to WORK and struggle and fight every single TIME to truly try and save people with him as he was promoted and gained power. That failure made him a better savior for future victims he’d help: because he’d be self aware that failure was possible, and helping others was going to be a struggle and require All his dedication every time, and is never a guarantee.

Luo Wenzhou picking fei du changed their lives. He failed fei du (and always would have) and in doing so it made him a better person to help people moving forward. and in the moment he chose to try and save fei du, an impossible thing with no Real Guarantee (as Luo Wenzhou would learn later and not ever promise so freely with certainty again), fei du DID see him as a savior. As a hope. As the first guardian angel in his life, the first belief that ANYONE outside of himself could help him. Could fix anything in his life - could explain why his mom who loved him would choose to leave him, could explain if it was his own fault for not loving her ‘enough’ or being too monstrous or if it was someone else’s fault, who could take his father to justice for the awful things he’d done when to fei du his father was the god of his world able to kill and do anything and make fei du do Anything no matter how awful. For the first time, fei du truly had a hope in something able to HELP him. And Luo Wenzhou failed. And fei du experienced both a temporary believe in the kind of “justice is served to the evil, help is provided to the innocent” that children usually simplistically learn at first but he never did (because his father didn’t teach him that but that the predators do what they want). and then experienced a cold harsh horrible shock that it WAS a lie, that the person telling him to believe it - luo wenzhou - was wrong. that fei du’s view of the world was “correct” and the false hero he’d believed in, luo wenzhou, was a fool who believed falsehoods and couldn’t do anything real. that no one Could help fei du.

and yet. despite all that. despite that failure shaping them both. it also tied them together. for all luo wenzhou failed, he still decided Inexplicably to be responsible for it. Instead of taking the loss, he went on to keep helping fei du. Caring. With Tao Ran as a contrast, its clear how excessive those actions were compared to the norm. Luo Wenzhou dragged Tao Ran into helping him take Fei Du after school, so fei du was rarely left alone in an empty house, into taking him out for food so he’d eat when the help at his house didn’t cook, these are all the acts of a godfather or a makeshift caretaker. They’re more than a responsible police officer should’ve ever gotten involved in a victim’s life - the most luo wenzhou should’ve appropriately done, was maybe call child services and insist and fight that no matter ‘how rich older master fei was’ the child still was in an enviornment that needs either an after school program for some socialization and social support, or a caretaker to move in, or if at all possible to get to live with a different guardian. But Luo wenzhou, knowing what’s appropriate, couldn’t abandon that ‘idealic heroic’ persona he learned failed and was unrealistic, still trying adamantly to be it for fei du. Even failure after failure. He would’ve adopted fei du probably, possibly, if the person he’d been fighting for custody against hadn’t been so filthy rich he’d have never had a chance. (never mind the legal issues im sure would keep him from getting custody, but the intent was there). He took fei du in as much as possible for their circumstances, then expanded that to full on parenting. To checking fei du’s report cards, to making sure he ate right, to checking on his healthcare, to commenting on his dating life as he grew up into a playboy partier, to insisting he pick a career, to worrying how he adjusted when his dad died and he had to take the business, to giving him gifts for birthdays and just cause (both secretly and also full on remembering his birthday when others didn’t), to the simpleness of scolding fei du like a regular teen caught cursing when he’d threaten violent, the simpleness of taking the Extreme-ness of fei du’s worse personality moments and simply saying ‘well whatever fucked up stuff you did or want to do, come sit down and have dinner, come on and join me.’ i care about you. lets eat. i accept you into our little family of two no matter what, and every meal is a ceremony reminding you this is permanent and secure and always here for you.

luo wenzhou can’t save fei du as a child, can’t save him as an adult from himsel, can’t save him throughout of a great many deal awful things. but he can give him a safe stable eternal home in the both of them, that is always ALWAYS there. always opening it’s doors, always mobile and coming to fei du when he feels isolated and abandoned and like he doesn’t even belong to the same world, it exists everywhere. it’s his. its a thing he never had before luo wenzhou. but it exists now. and it is THAT which luo wenzhou can provide.

He can’t save fei du from the many horrors of the world, from the monsters within himself. But he can give fei du a home that exists no matter what horrors exist or happen, a home that fei du will always belong IN no matter how monstrous he is, no matter what he’s done or what happens.

Maybe once upon a time the end of the week with his mom, had been the closest fei du had to that kind of ‘home.’ Some safe place where he was loved even with everything different about him, with the fucked up views his dad pressed on him, with the way he felt different from others and uncomprehending of the world. His mom, fleetingly, would be there with the house made ready for him, would be happy to see him and simply be with him.

Luo Wenzhou carved out a home for him after that, when he lost that, and made it permanent. It exists nonstop, always, whenever fei du is with luo wenzhou. waiting for fei du when they’re apart, always open for him to return.

wow i got distracted in zhoudu dynamic stuff lol. back to whatever the point was... priest writing brave. so. while i love all of zhoudu’s very grey area roles filled up and overlapping dynamic. i think the above portion explains well WHY it makes sense for them. Why their dynamic makes sense it would happen, from luo wenzhou’s perspective. why luo wenzhou would choose to do it, and how it would end with him and fei du connecting deeply.

Because that’s the kind of man luo wenzhou is and that’s where he was in his life, in the perfect place to make 1 single heroic Ideal decision and fail, but still feel too attached to actually quit and cut his losses. He could never cut the loss that was ‘failing fei du.’ he had to keep providing the only consolation he could, a home for fei du, even if he could provide nothing more. To Luo Wenzhou he will always be Fei Du’s very mortal and flawed Guardian Angel who couldn’t move heaven to save him or help him, but still took the job as his life’s work. And to Fei Du he will always be that very mortal Guardian Angel who lied that he was Strong enough when he wasn’t, when angels don’t exist and he was just a man, when justice doesn’t exist only this lying flawed incapable Luo Wenzhou trying to act like there is still justice. But to Fei Du, flaws and all, it’s still his Guardian Angel despite it all. In his world there are no angels, no true heroes. But this person is trying to be one, in Fei Du’s fucked up world where none exist, anyway. Luo Wenzhou is still trying to be one for him. And that’s worth something because it has MEANING, the choice to try to be an angel in a world with NONE means something, its the effort that counts. It’s the ceremony of doing it, the act, that means everything. (As luo wenzhou’s final lines in i think chapter ~79 hammer home).

Their dynamic makes sense, for them. Of course it’s where they’d end up, how they’d develop. How they’d get so enmeshed and close and Bigger Than People to each other (both symbolic Roles to each other while being gravely aware their symbol is actually just a flawed human who will never live up to it). To Fei Du, Luo Wenzhou will always be a Guardian Angel and that IS just a weak human who will fail the job. To Luo Wenzhou, Fei Du will always be his charge to Save, even though saving him is impossible, even though he’s failed for 7 years, even though fei du will never let him and both of them are More Than Aware this mission is impossible. Luo Wenzhou knows fei du is not a charge, was never one - or only one for the first time until Luo Wenzhou first failed.

Fei Du is a grown man who has done bad things, horrible things to himself, who views the world so differently from Luo Wenzhou his morality might not even be able to compare with his, who is a man he can’t fully understand but tries to reach out any try to anyway. Every single time. What a brave choice. To be commited to unconditionally loving someone and trying to understand them, even painfully knowing you never will. We may truly never be able to understand another person completely. But in these two’s case, they truly have such different internal worlds, it is a painful point for them both that they really never will exist in the other’s world and grasp it fully.

Fei Du is brave too. He knows Luo Wenzhou is an ordinary man, who belongs to the world most people understand and accept as reality. He knows he’ll never understand Luo Wenzhou, will always see some of Luo Wenzhou’s beliefs as lies or falsehoods most people seem to believe or assume or operate based on that Fei Du will never ever understand or connect to or operate under unless he tries very hard to force himself to act unnaturally. In a way, it is like an Angel loving a Demon. In reality they both realize they’re not an angel and devil - Luo Wenzhou realizes he’s painfully human and incapable, Fei Du doesn’t see himself as a demon he just thinks all humans are truly this way or walking-corpses unaware of it and Luo Wenzhou is another deluded soul lying to himself or simply way too uncomprehending to ever see the ‘truth’ of the world the way Fei Du is Only capable of seeing it. But Fei Du sees his own awareness as monstrous, in that it makes him a monster to those ordinary people and their entire world framework. And yet to Luo Wenzhou, he’s not a monster for it, just another flawed imperfect person like Luo Wenzhou is. They put themselves into the Roles of Angel and Demon, while knowing its partly untrue but unable to stop living that way when it comes to each other. Fei Du can’t help seeing Luo Wenzhou as an angel, in the warped way he’d view one in his world - a deluded hero who’s incapable, but still the closest thing to any angel in Fei Du’s world could exist. Fei Du can’t help seeing himself as a Demon, even though it’s normal to him he can’t shake the awareness its how he’d be in Luo Wenzhou (ordinary people’s) framework of the world. And then they meet in the middle somehow. And somehow even existing in different realities cause they perceive the world SO differently, Fei Du somehow catches a glimpse of himself in Luo Wenzhou’s worldviews: an innocent. An ordinary man. Not a demon, not even different from others. But someone who could and DOES exist in Luo Wenzhou’s world where people who are hurt deserve justice and people attempt to give them it, where cruelty is not the norm and not comprehensible to the masses. Fei Du isn’t compatible with that world - he’s not comprehensible to them. But somehow Luo Wenzhou can look at him, and place fei du into that world. And for the moment they’re together Fei Du EXISTS in both worlds. Is brought into the world outside his, that he can’t be part of or relate to or understand, and see as if he’s like Luo Wenzhou almost. And he wants to be one of the people providing justice to those who are harmed, one of the people who views cruelty outside of the norm and combats it. Could he do this, view things this way, if Luo Wenzhou didn’t connect their worlds by being connected to Fei Du?

And in contrast, in Fei Du’s world the cruelty is the norm, there is no one innocent only those harmed and those self aware enough they also cause it. There is no justice, only an attempt of power and control until the inevitable death. People like Luo Wenzhou cannot exist. In Fei Du’s mind, people like Luo Wenzhou can at most only be struggling helplessly against nature, hurting themselves by prodding other violent people, giving no justice because there’s no way to give it, just struggling to fight for an outcome that is impossible to provide. But because its Luo Wenzhou, Fei Du’s worldview shifts to accomodate him: Luo Wenzhou is a pathetic man fighting for an outcome that can never occur... but he keeps trying anyway. And because he’s Fei Du’s personal angel, even though angels can’t exist here in fei du’s view of the world? Fei Du almost wants to believe maybe there’s worthiness in someone trying anyway. To be like an angel. To do what nothing in his world does, want what can’t be achieved in his view of the world. And that’s where their worlds connect. Where Fei Du’s world connects to Luo Wenzhou’s and lets a sliver of Luo Wenzhou into his as something Possible. And is that why Fei Du wades into the water of doing work like Luo Wenzhou? Is that why he cares when a son dies and leaves a mom behind. In his world to care is illogical and pointless and has no use. But Luo Wenzhou IS in Fei Du’s world, and he cares. So Fei Du feels like... maybe he’ll care too, even if it is useless. He’ll let himself care still, like Luo Wenzhou cares.

There is use in the ACT of caring. Even if it changes nothing. There is worth in the act of caring, even if it fails to save anyone or stop harm. Is that one of the themes of Silent Reading I wonder... its certainly a theme of these two’s relationship.

It’s the point of Luo Wenzhou trying to explain to Fei Du what their connection is. It’s the connection of their worlds - Luo Wenzhou in our usually normally accepted one, and Fei Du in his hopeless one. It’s also the connecting point of their personalities - through knowing each other they’ve both developed a level of caring. Caring despite finding it cannot save, cannot stop the awful things that have happened and will later.

And so we get to a point where Fei Du cares about Luo Wenzhou, even though Wenzhou failed him and still does. Even though Luo Wenzhou will never fully understand him or the world he exists in.

I never realized just how wholly separate their concepts of the worlds they exist in were till I wrote this damn.

>>I keep losing the point in zhoudu meta lmao. Anyway back to priest. What I am impressed by (among many things), is priest writes that kind of dynamic as mentioned above. The ‘normal ordinary hero’ type Luo Wenzhou who can never connect to the kind of person/world Fei Du exists in, and vice versa. But somehow they meet halfway and see through the keyhole of the other person’s world anyway. Take one step in, while still being unable to enter the other’s world and abandon their own. It’s impossible. But it is. Because they choose to do it, no matter how impossible it is.

And its this relationship that outside on paper on some novel summary is the tags idk older/younger, rich/gruff, cruel/heroic whatever. When I walked in once upon a time, with the impression from a tagged summary it was going to be a cold genuis with a fascination for analysing cruelty, and a heroic gruff type combatting him and helping him ‘grow a heart’ I did not expect this kind of deep relationship dynamic i actually got. I didn’t expect a relationship that’s part caretaker/child, part opponents striving to fight yet it’s to connect their irreconcilable worlds, part lovers who were already closer than usual lovers before the romance even enters the picture. I didn’t expect 7 years of failing each other, but still being unconditional care there. Fei Du is not just a ‘cold genius’ he’s given the traits of a man from a world where he sees himself as the ordinary monster of it, and he will never ‘grow a heart’ and come to see the world like Luo Wenzhou (I’m 70% through the novel but i don’t think he will). And Luo Wenzhou for all his physical actions is not a gruff man with a ‘warm heart’ a la some sweetie pie emotional warm hero. He was an idealistic idiot who got a reality shock he wasn’t Superman, who grew into a realist. He is a guardian angel who is not actually an angel and KNOWS he isn’t but can’t stop himself from trying to be for Fei Du, the first and only time he tried to be one, refusing to quit this mission even though it’s been lost a million times and it’s painful for both of them for him to keep pretending he’s an angel instead of a man. Luo Wenzhou’s warm emotional ‘hopes and ideals’ don’t touch Fei Du and ‘change him’ (although Fei Du trying to understand Luo Wenzhou’s pov at least does open him up to witnessing Tao Ran’s idealism and kindness even though he finds it naive).

While their failures with each other certainly change them, they don’t actually change the core of each other - they are permanently too distinctly different people who see the world in an incompatibly different way. Growing up with Luo Wenzhou certainly influenced Fei Du’s behaviors, and gave him a peek into seeing the world differently, but he still ultimately exists mainly in his own world. Even with shared experiences together now, working together, it’s not shifting Luo Wenzhou into a person who sees the world as inherently cruel and monstrous like Fei Du, and its not shifting Fei Du into seeing justice as natural and possible. In some couple stories the worldviews would gradually mesh as the shared experiences grew - but no, not with these two.

The beauty of their relationship is they Will exist in their separate worlds, their incompatible worldviews and interpretations of it. But they still connect. They still carved out this space of a home together, that exists in both worlds. That has a window to each other’s worlds where they ask the other to explain what that unimaginable window’s view means, how the hell the other person is interpreting it because they don’t see it the same way. This shared home, that lets them concieve of a world where the other person can and DOES exist in their world. Fei Du sees himself as a monster in a world where it’s natural, and where angels don’t exist let alone just heroes - but Luo Wenzhou is in his world. Impossibly. He’s there, he’s part of it, he’s relentless, and he always will be. In Luo Wenzhou’s world, Fei Du exists and is just as inevitably part of it as Luo Wenzhou is. Even though Fei Du can’t conceive of existing in Luo Wenzhou’s kind of world - luo wenzhou sees Fei Du WITH him there, dragging him in by refusing to accept that Fei Du couldn’t be there.

Fei Du’s heart (in my prediction anyway lol) is not going to grow 3 sizes and decide justice is possible, is expected, and he’s an ordinary person who thinks like the others and feels wronged when he’s not given help and doesn’t instinctively think cold things. But Fei Du’s heart, despite himself and knowing Luo Wenzhou lied about being an angel in Fei Du’s world where none exists and failing him, holds a permanent space for Luo Wenzhou. A permanent part of him lets itself open the window to what Luo Wenzhou sees, and even though Fei Du simply can’t understand it, he lets the wind come in. Lets the idea drift through his own world: that for all justice is impossible, try to fight to do justice anyway. Try to conceive that people deserve it anyway, even if there is no way they do. Just humor the idea. Try anyway. It’s okay to try, even if the result will fail. Luo Wenzhou tries anyway, so you Fei Du can indulge in trying too despite it all. Fei Du’s heart has Luo Wenzhou in it, broken through the window and bringing the breeze, residing warmly in it and bringing all the ‘idealistic-fictional’ warmth from the world ‘other ordinary society thinks’ and decorates. Brings warm cooked noodles, shrimp, sweet candy so sweet its better than Fei Du’s world but here IT IS. Brings hope and determination and belief that doesn’t exist in Fei Du’s world, but here it is, in residence in his heart, with good smells that make him hungry, that taste like nothing that’s supposed to exist. And Fei Du thinks: its a lie, it can’t exist, it can’t be this good, it can’t be permanent... it must be an illusion or something that will crumble later. But its Luo Wenzhou... so Fei Du tries indulging the temporary goodness anyway, even if it WILL crumble. Like how Luo Wenzhou will still fail. Even so, even though this is nicer than any dinner in his world with his mom and dad had been, so much nicer he believes it impossible and a lie and just as hard to rely on as trying to grab the wind. He’ll still sit down and accept it for the experience it is. Because Luo Wenzhou brought it and said it was their home. And even if it makes no sense, somehow in their shared point of connection - this place where their worlds can almost overlap? It’s worth it to try. It’s the act of trying that’s important, not the outcome later. Not what’s possible or impossible. But that here, they can coexist somehow. That they tried very hard to carve out this home right here. They can be brave enough to believe the other sometimes about their other worlds, even if they can never move into the other’s. Try to go on faith on the other person, and try out the other person’s way of living in their very different world, even though it makes no sense.

It’s a love story about yes, being seen as all of who you are and still loved unconditionally (something often appealing in fiction romance). But also like. Its this heavy reality of No, actually, you will NOT ever be seen completely and understood completely by another person. We are not Fei Du and we are not usually seeing the world and it’s ‘laws’ as so drastically different as him. But like him, when we meet people even as close as we may become, as much as we share, another person will truly never see and feel exactly as we do. Words are imperfect, people’s past experiences and personalities are all different, people can’t read your mind and see your history and feel your emotions. There is no perfect fullproof way to get someone to truly understand you completely. And that’s okay. You can be loved, you can connect, even when that’s true. There is worth in making connections, even if we will ever only be understood imperfectly, only partly be able to view the world or something the same way. Even if someone can’t understand why X is that way about you or why you can’t believe Y the same way they do (even when you try your best to). There is space in all of us to find a way to still love whole heartedly, to choose to Try to understand. There is power in choosing to try, and keep choosing to, even though it’s an impossible endeavor to ever fully accomplish. Like Luo Wenzhou, we choose anyway. Like Fei Du, we realize there’s worth in just the act of trying. Even if we are never fully seen, can never fully grasp the other, there’s care there. The care builds a space for us to connect. A space for us to feel close enough, safe and loved.

#silent reading #lb #meta #zhoudu #zhoufei #WELL this turned into a mega zhoudu meta and character analysis #character analysis #i will say though. damn.#i think this is true of many (possibly all of priests works but i havent read all) of priests novels #is that they really CAN be delved into analysis wise as works of literature #Silent Reading alone? It has a LOT to say about society and justice and our expectations we're raised on #versus how society really acts. versus the unique ways individuals VARY WILDLY in their perception of it #which i didnt even go into in this meta. but in a Literature Class that'd probably be the main theme.#but then also? fei du and luo wenzhou really ARE doing something so unique with their dynamic that's worth discussing #the fact that like they DO put each other on pillars. while also being self aware those pillars are LIES. and then yet they keep #functioning as if both aware the other are only human AND still putting faith in the pillars they put them on #the fact that in this story the two NEVER reconcile their worldviews into one shared one more or less. which usually happens in these #stories of different ppl. think Goodbye My Princess or Love and Redemption or The Untamed - those different ppl #end up experiencing things that help them come to understand each others pov and perspective of the world.#but the thing is lwz and fd will NOT compromise or change their core world view understandings. lwz just CANT see the world #as inherently monstrous and cruel and kindness as so fleeting and impotent. its against his entire belief system and experiences and #against who he IS. and fei du just Cannot see the world like the ordinary masses. let alone like luo wenzhou who #when young saw himself as the pure idealistic super Hero. to fei du a man like luo wenzhou just Cannot exist and succeed or and just IS #wrong. but their choice to connect anyway is a bridge between worlds. they cant even see eye to eye. but they can choose to connect anyway #despite it.#and internally grow hope and awareness and motivation. even if their worlds remain the same

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kunikiiida-kuuun · 1 year

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BSD Anime vs. Manga

S4 Episode 7 & Chapters 59-61

This is mostly going to be a compilation of the ADA moments, focused on Kunikida in particular, since Bones seems to freely pluck out parts from his characterization that takes away a lot from his personal arc. They have done it before, but in this arc, where each detail sensitive to his entire arc, I find it is quite a shame they were excluded.

Here are some moments that didn't make it to the anime, or simply didn't translate well into the episode because of a number of reasons.

A short disclaimer: I've never written any kind of analysis posts or even theories so I'd say this is more of my personal thoughts rather than a very objective comparison, since I hold Kunikida and the ADA very close to my heart. Buckle up for a really long post because oh boy, I have a lot of thoughts.

1. First signs of despair

(BSD Chapter 59)

Quite contrary to how Kunikida is perceived as emotionless, among all the characters in the room, we get a close up into his mind and thoughts first. They have been just declared as national criminals, and Ranpo, the most vital pillar of their agency was just shot and presumably out of commission. The all-knowing Ranpo who has gotten them out of trouble numerous times has been cut off. They sit there in shock as the realisation sinks in. They have no way out. Kunikida looks at his notebook, pondering out loud, "Is this where...my ideals come to an end?"

2. Kunikida retaliates back

(BSD Chapter 59)

This is one of the sides of Kunikida we may rarely get to see. While he is a character with a strong moral compass compared to the other BSD characters, there are moments when he prioritizes to protect himself and would go to any lengths to to prevent harm to his comrades, sometimes at the cost of his own well being. He wouldn't kill anyone, but should the circumstances call for it, he wouldn't hesitate to remove that obstacle. This is similar to how he shoots a little kid who was firing at him and Atsushi in the cannibalism arc. However the circumstances are entirely different in both scenarios. At that time, his inner conflict was more evident, since the children had been lied to, and instructed to shoot and didn't know any better. He had to protect himself and Atsushi. Over here, he is more or less wrongly being accused, which would explain his actions.

Before this, there's also a gentle look that passes over his eyes, as he reminisces about working along with them, and the fact that they see him as an enemy now.

I do however, appreciate that in the anime, his voice is softer, and not rude or mean to the soldiers they just defeated.

3. Remorse

(BSD Chapter 60)

Just as they are able to escape and catch their breaths, Kunikida is immediately filled with remorse for his actions. There is the special emphasis on the "light in the eyes" that Kunikida refers to, something which is very important to a character in Harukawa sensei's art style. He struck down a person, who was someone just like him, someone who was simply holding up his own ideals for the "good" of the nation, something Kunikida himself resonates with. He questions the justness of his own actions, and is in an inner dilemma about everything he stands for. Despite his "tough" exterior, Kunikida is inherently a person who is deeply vulnerable. He puts up his walls, but these walls even seem to break too easily, caused by his own self doubt.

This internal conflict is completely missing in the anime, and while it may seem inconsequential to the overall plot, it takes away a lot of impact that comes ahead. There is a lack of a dramatic pause that this scene gives, as the horror sinks in not just for us, but our characters as well.

4. Ray of hope

(BSD Chapter 60)

Before everyone, especially Kunikida sinks into complete despair, Kenji speaks up, starting on a completely unrelated and seemingly pointless note. He offers everyone some rice balls, surprising everyone.

(BSD Chapter 60)

Kenji is just such a precious boy. Kenji's logic is eating = happiness so by offering the rice balls, he's literally saying "please don't feel dejected!! I want you all to stay healthy and be happy!!"

Kunikida tries to reason, initially feeling that Kenji was making light of the situation. But Kenji is clearly having none of it and stops him immediately. We unfortunately missed this absolutely hilarious scene of Kenji shutting up Kunikida by shoving a rice ball into his mouth LMAO.

In hindsight, as I rewatch the anime, Kenji's speech is a nice optimistic boost in very Kenji fashion, but it comes across as a touch too happy go lucky in the anime and you can't deny how much more impactful it is when instead of just a random speech, he's purposefully uplifting everyone's spirits.

He isn't just being optimistic and is aware of the grim situation. He understands that he would need to use his ability for the obstacles they may face ahead and forgoes eating the rice balls (as Kenji cannot use his skill if his stomach is full). That's when even Kunikida realises that he is being serious. He understands how everyone feels, and reassures them, essentially saying that the agency will get through, rebuild, and continue on their path no matter how many difficulties come their way.

I have to say, this moment here is even more touching with his backstory that was recently revealed a few chapters ago. Kenji actually comes across as very mature for his age with his outlook on life and his kind and humble nature.

There is an immediate change in Kunikida's demeanor after this. He acknowledges Kenji's words and bites into the rice ball, accepting his 'unique' way of encouraging them with gratitude. And hereforth emerges the leader within Kunikida. I'm working on another post related to Kunikida and his role as the future ADA leader, but Kunikida is truly a people's leader. He spurs into action when he has the trust and support of his comrades and is the most confident when backed and reassured by the ones near him.

Unfortunately I find that this moment completely fell flat in the anime. They included Tanizaki's line about being criminals and it's in response to that that Kenji gives his speech which isn't bad per se....but doesn't give the same impact as the manga. They added some sparkles ✨ as he was speaking which made it a tad bit animated whereas in the manga it seems like the sun is shining on him...which makes me wonder how the anime would've looked if they actually showed a progression of time instead of just sticking to twilight hues...

5. Just your friendly neighborhood terrorist gang...

(BSD manga chapter 61)

And here is the most iconic and probably the greatest scene of all times, which was only partly animated. I'll let this one slide, but imagine how much funnier it would have been if they did include the first part. The fact that they are being pursued right now as the most wanted criminals, and how every second is extremely precious to them if they want to escape safely, and yet, Kunikida would steal someone's vehicle only after confirming they have an insurance for it (and letting them go if they don't).

Even him choosing to take a private vehicle rather than public transport to avoid jeopardizing other's lives...Kunikida is just so good. I love him so much you don't understand 🥹💕

6. Comprehensive personality analysis by Jouno Saigiku (Kunikida edition)

Okay sorry this is just me being salty but like....did they seriously give us an extended fish eye cut for this entire scene??!! I was so shocked I couldn't even focus on the weight and symbolism of the dialogue. I get the fish eye potential of this scene but like why....just why.

It's such a pivotal revelation about Kunikida, not just to us, the audience, but even to Kunikida himself, his deepest and innermost thoughts and fears laid out in the open like that. Jouno tears him down effectively, making him question himself and his ideals.

This part makes me crazy emotional in the manga, because the whole thing about Kunikida's ideals is that it actually weighs so heavily on him that he doesn't really realise that he is crumbling under the pressure of it. Deep inside, he is aware about the futility of pursuing them, as seen from how he admits it himself in Chapter 40 to Katsura, but instead of letting go, he keeps pushing himself. His ideals are not for others to follow, but something he demands of himself, in order to create a better world. And if the people whom he wants to protect are taken away, his ideals would come to an end, hence he'll be "free" from the heavy burden of his ideals.

Reducing all of this into a mere fish eye moment....bones I will remember this 😭😤

However, I do appreciate that they added a scene of Kunikida shielding Yosano from Tecchou, a nice parallel to when Yosano takes a bullet for Kunikida. It was just very heart warming to see all of them protect each other. There's also a small panel that was not animated, one where Jouno kicks Kenji out of the moving car and asks Kunikida and the others to go ahead, and there's a look of uncertainty and despair that passes on Kunikida's face, another instance of his internal conflict not included.

(also what is with all of Kunikida's enemies reading up on him and studying him?? Like I'm no different from these guys tbh I get it, I'm obsessed with him too but back off will ya...🙄)

I'm only considering this fan-made video by cocoa as the true anime scene because wth were they thinking 😭

Additional thoughts Episode 8

Kunikida's final answer

I would recommend going and reading the full manga for better reading experience, but in case you're feeling too lazy, I included the screenshots. I'm mostly satisfied with how this part was animated, but here are some of my thoughts about it anyways. Looking back to this chapter in the manga, it's definitely much more dramatic than its counterpart.

There's a panel where they just show him with his back hunched all alone as he ponders over what Jouno said which is really neat. The look of horror that passes over his face as he sees Kenji being stabbed is much more dramatic. In the anime, Kenji being stabbed was even more horrifying, and obviously more realistic of a reaction than him just going "huh?" as if it was nothing much.

There's even a panel of Kunikida gritting his teeth, until he realises what he needs to do. I loved the way he swung off the helicopter in the anime, it kinda lives rent free in my brain ngl. When Kunikida jumps off and kicks Tecchou, there's a close up of his face, full of determination and light in his eyes... it's just so beautiful because he's no longer hindered by self doubt. This light in his eyes remains the brightest in all the three panels.

While originally I was under the impression that this would be a very sad scene, the anime and the choice of music made it seem more of a heroic moment instead, which the more I think about, the more I feel was a good choice. After a series of unfortunate events and near death situations, Kunikida is faced with the choice to either give up or save everyone. His choice to sacrifice himself was one stemming from his role as a leader and also, most importantly to protect anyone else from getting hurt. This is also his firm answer back to Jouno's words, that he would continue striving for his ideals, even when sacrificing his own life.

And also, spoilers alert: he doesn't exactly die, so I think it was alright if they didn't make it too dramatic or melancholic. Still made me cry buckets nevertheless lol.

I'm not very good at character analyses so I would recommend reading this one over here. It's one of the best character breakdown I've ever seen for Kunikida and they have covered this part of the manga as well!

Of course, another amazing explanation of this scene is by Asagiri-sensei themselves, which you can find here.

Yet another deleted scene...

Kyouka decides to go save Atsushi

(BSD Chapter 63)

If you're curious about when Kyouka decided to go and save Atsushi instead and how they concealed themselves so well in that hole, here's an extended explanation in a flashback that was skipped in the anime. It's no surprise this was deleted, and I was pretty much expecting it as it's not that important of a detail. The most significant part of this scene of course would be the sheer determination in Kyouka's eyes to save Atsushi. I think it is a neat parallel to Atsushi back in s1 who insisted on saving Kyouka, even after Kunikida told him not to. In both instances, Kunikida tries to protest, but eventually relents and acknowledges their will and determination, lending them his aid. The anime also kinda missed giving us a cool render of that page in which Kyouka stands heroically before the military when she comes to save Atsushi (unfortunately I'm unable to add the image because of Tumblr's ten image limit...sigh).

Final thoughts

I've said this before, but I understand that anime has time constraints and other production matters that I'm unaware about, but the number of details that were removed while not surprising, was surely disappointing. My major problem was mostly with episode 7 with how rushed it was. By removing the build up, there's a certain lack of emotional depth in a number of scenes. There are many who did not find the episodes fast paced and rather consider it quite alright considering the theme of the arc, which is totally valid. However it's natural for manga readers to go into the anime with preconceived ideas about how they think the scene will go down. I'm personally just a little sad because firstly, Kunikida is my favourite character and secondly, I think he's one of the best written characters in all of BSD. He is one of the core characters in BSD, so I'm obviously disappointed that many of his parts just get removed since he's not one of the greater "fan favourites".

Of course, I have to give the anime credit where it's due. The animation is amazing this season and the voice acting is simply phenomenal. The OST is also pretty good and I desperately want that track they played for the hunting dogs introduction. They've truly given their heart and soul for this season, and I couldn't be happier as a BSD fan!! I'm super excited for the upcoming episodes!

Welp that's all from me! Thank you for coming to my ted talk! This was initially going to be just a simple compilation, until I started talking and couldn't shut up. I'm really grateful for anyone who reads this. Thank you very much!! If you've come this far, please do drop a comment because I'd love to hear your thoughts!!

Lastly, please go read the manga if you haven't already! Who knows, maybe you'll find some other missing detail of your favourite character!

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cactusjuiceisquenchy · 2 years

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Just finished the MDZS novel it was amazing and I loved it but I kinda wanted to pitch in with my thoughts on jiang cheng since he seems really widely contested in fandom. Spoilers for the whole story btw.

Now while reading I kept being struck with a sense of familiarity in regards to the Wei/jiang relationship. Now I was in deep a few years back in the She-RA fandom. And the more I thought about it the more I think a lot of the analysis behind catradora can apply here.

Now catra and jiang cheng are very different characters in a multitude of ways but where I think they are really similar is some of their characterization and especially in their values.

Both are very prickly, sarcastic type characters who have difficulty expressing their emotions and making friends but also carry a deep loyalty to those few they do hold dear. Both are also unfortunately saddled to self-sacrificing hero types who would do anything for the greater good.

This leads them to become incredibly divisive because once they feel betrayed by that person they considered their ride or die—they react strongly, harshly, and often in ways borderline unforgivable. Catra almost destroys the fabric of reality and jiang cheng like, murders Wei wuxian and the wen clan and also every trace of both for the next 13 or so years.

But even then, even with the horrible things they do to our protagonists, they are often the most relatable characters. And I think the reason for this is their values. In the end, catra and JC will always always put themselves and those they care about before everyone else.

Catra and JC start each of their series relying on adora and WW as their main pillar of support and friendship. They are such unfriendly unlikable people they don’t really have any other peers with whom they have a good relationship.

At the beginning of the series, Catra literally only has Adora and would put her before everyone else. She holds onto the promise adora made to her to always be by her side like a lifeline. This is paralleled by WW and JC. Jiang cheng puts his clan above everything else and considers WW his basically brother (ie family ie above outsiders). He also takes WW’s promise to always be his right hand man INCREDIBLY seriously considering it a symbol of WW’s loyalty to both himself and his clan. As such, neither can really understand it when adora and WW choose to leave them. To people like adora and WW, they would help literally anyone who needed it, regardless of personal cost. Where catra and JC save their acts of goodness for those they love, adora and WW offer their kindness freely and without discrimination, often very much at their own expense.

Caring so much for these self-sacrificing idiots becomes painful in and of itself. Throughout MDZS, every time Wei wuxian puts himself in danger in their youth—it’s jiang cheng who becomes the most upset. I’d have to reread for more examples but notable are after the wen chao cave debacle and of course when Wei wuxian decides to turn his back on the whole cultivation world and align himself with the the wen clan survivors.

It’s stated that JC blames WW’s saving lan Zhan in the cave on the death of his parents. And I want to explore that almost unreasonable leap of logic a little more. Because it really is illogical. Sure maybe WW caught the attention of the wen higher ups a little early but it was clear they were coming for lotus pier sooner or later. And when they are older and JC confronts WW about it he asks, why would you save HIM. Why would you put Lan Wangji over your safety and by extension the entire jiang clan. He’s doesn’t blame WW for his parents deaths (mostly), he is mostly hung up on how WW could possibly value LW, a boy he barely knows, enough to nearly die and also put the jiang clan at greater risk. He doesn’t understand WW’s intrinsic urge to help whoever he can as much as he can and in fact, feels that this cheapens WW’s loyalty to himself and the rest of his family. If he really prioritized the jiang clan he would never get into such a situation that puts the jiangs in a more vulnerable position. No matter who needs saving, it can’t possibly be more important than self preservation and personal loyalty.

And this is a sentimentJC is never really allowed to express. He’s constantly told the opposite, in fact. He is constantly bombarded by others telling him Wei wuxian perfectly embodies the clan’s founding ideology. He’s free spirited, he is simply attempting the impossible. WW is constantly touted as the ideal jiang, when jiang cheng is the one who would never fail to put the jiangs first. But even so, I don’t think that’s really why he became so resentful. He clearly cares about WW so much— spent countless sleepless nights to save him from the cave, stood up for him against his mother, got captured by the wen clan and had his core destroyed to save him— but still constantly has to live with the fact that WW has a hero complex the size of the titanic. And while everyone always emphasizes his jealousy, I think that this—WW’s disregard for his own well-being in face of perceived injustice is what angered JC more. All he wanted was for WW to focus on his family first and disregard others as less important. But at least back then, he was there. If WW wouldn’t value himself and the family then JC could be his constant reminder. He would become the sect leader and WW would be his number two and maybe then, in such a vital position would WW start putting the jiang clan first.

So when WW gives up everything and goes to burial mound and leaves the jiang cheng for who are also ostensibly strangers, it is a deep betrayal. He would even prioritize the fallen wen clan, the enemy, over his personal ties, the jiang clan. He promised to stay by his side. Throughout everything, even though it hurt when he’d help others without a second thought, at least he had some reassurance that WW would always consider them first. That he’d be his right hand forever. The jiang clan’s twin prides to match the Lan’s twin jades. But, for a few disadvantaged people, WW was willing to give all that up. Once again Wei wuxian put others over himself and even cuts ties with the jiang clan, like JC was probably terrified would happen all along. So even though he knows WW is cutting ties to save the jiang clan face, and at this point still deeply cares about him (brings Yanli to visit, let’s him name Jin ling, etc) he still resents it, and by proxy resents WW. As soon as everything goes to shit and WW is gone—he can’t help but feel anything besides that anger and hurt and spends 13 years extremely cranky and volatile. Without Wei wuxian around to speak for himself jiang cheng begins to look back with an increasingly distorted and narrow, firmly rooted in his own head version of events. Obviously WW never cared about me or my clan and if he valued us over lan wangji my parents wouldn’t be dead, if he valued us over the wens he would never have defected and my sister wouldn’t have had to die protecting him. And his promise, the one thing JC held onto as proof of WW’s loyalty— was broken just like that. There was a time JC believed WW would always be by his side. Forever his right hand man, his twin hero. Why is jiang cheng so mad at WW? Why does all that hurt and resentment build and build and build? Well it’s for the same reason catra loses her shit when Adora leaves her for the rebellion. The same reason reason she cannot fathom how adora can care about some people she just met and barely knows enough to abandon her.

To catra, the rest of the world could burn so long as she and adora were okay. To Jiang cheng, so long as his sect is okay the rest of the cultivation world could fuck off. But adora and Wei wuxian constantly break that bubble. They are loyal, yes, but that loyalty isn’t exclusive. They just can’t let the world burn, if someone else is in danger or needs help, they can’t help but do what they can to provide it. It’s a character pairing practically oozing with conflict and the promise of hurt feelings.

In the end, these relationships are so juicy because each of these characters are exactly what their counterparts need. The selfish to balance the selfless. The self preservation where there is next to none. They are duos stronger together than apart and so their almost inevitable separation hurts so much more.

#mdzs meta #mdzs wei wuxian #mdzs jiang cheng #she ra spop #catradora #meta #catra meta #jiang cheng analysis #character analysis #mxtx novels #mxtx meta #mxtx analysis #mdzs analysis #shera analysis

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letrashbag · 9 months

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Alright, I've been looking at all the queer crap, so Imma rant about that today. (I also accidentally reblogged a Nimona post on here instead trashlikesmedia so oops, but you can see where I started.)

Labels suck but I need them so there. I consider myself asexual, I came to this conclusion last summer. I've never been in a relationship, never really had any crushes. I always joked about how I had a crush on this guy in like 3rd grade and he liked my best friend (who I didn't actually like but that's a different story), and I've never loved since, but like it's true. I haven't. I always had this idea that I just hadn't met someone worth crushing on. I would ask people how they got into relationships and they'd always be like "just be yourself, one day the right guy will come along and it'll all work out" which was not helpful at all. My younger sibling is queer and they kind of introduced me to a lot of different identities and ideas, and it just kind of grew from there. It all started with me acknowledging the fact that I didn't want to sleep with women, and I felt the same way about women as I do about men, so I'm bi? pan? ace? It took a while to get comfortable with it, but now I'm here confidently ace.

Then the romantic side of things got tough. I've been on exactly one date (it was terrible, I did not like the guy and he did not put in a lot of effort and it was so uncomfortable), and I've only ever really had one crush on a guy and it was such a weird experience, that I couldn't figure out what was going on. (that was actually last summer and part of me realizing I was ace was being excited to hang out and talk with him but physically recoiling when I even thought about kissing him), so romance was not my thing. I do identify as aromantic, because it's the label that most closely matches my feelings and experiences, but I still feel like it's not right. I don't know if it's because I genuinely am alloromantic, or because I so desperately crave romance.

The big deal of it all is that I grew up in a not great family environment. My parents hate each other, especially my mom to my dad. They have been outwardly antagonistic towards each other for as long as I can remember. (I think the only reason they haven't gotten divorced is because it would be too expensive and my mom doesn't want to lose my dad's paycheck.) That contrasted really sharply with all the romance I would read about and see in movies and stuff. I'm a big reader and I have always loved romance. So I grew up with this reality of a terrible relationship and a fantasy of a perfect romance. I constantly worried that I would either settle for a terrible relationship because I thought that was realistic or end up alone because nothing matched my standards. Now, I don't know if my aromantic feelings are just because I'm scared of relationships and all of that nonsense or if I'm just genuinely not attracted to people. It keeps me up at night. At the end of the day, I just vibe and hope that everything works out.

In regards to gender, boy howdy do I have feelings. Cause like, gender isn't real, it's a social and cultural concept that people cling to because they like order. This is not invalidating trans people, gender and body dysmorphia is a very real thing and associating your identity, experiences, and sense of self with a gender and/or sex is normal, whether it aligns with your gender assigned at birth or not. My sentiment is more about the way society views gender as 1) a binary that aligns perfectly with sex and 2) an inflexible and constant pillar of identity that comes before any other identifiers. This is where I got beef. At the end of the day, your personal experience of gender is just that, personal. It's a part of who you are, but it's also influenced heavily by the way society views gender and gender norms, that's inevitable. My personal feelings are just complicated. I identify as a woman and use she/her pronouns because it's easy, not because I feel particularly aligned with the female gender. I'm not uncomfortable being perceived as a woman, but I also just don't care. Gender just isn't something that I consider important to my identity. I am me, I love these things, I do these things, these are my opinions. Y'know? (It probably doesn't help that my sense of self is also just wack, but whatever.) Something that I am uncomfortable with is being viewed as a woman before being viewed as a person. I have always called myself an actor, not an actress. Cause what's an actor? Someone who acts. What's an actress? A woman who acts. Why should part of my identifier clarify that I am a woman? That just doesn't make any sense to me. This view is rooted in my feminist ideals as well, as I've always been an advocate of getting rid of gendered job titles, seeing as the masculine form is almost always the default. However, I can't help but correlate the feelings. I just want to be a person, not a woman. Most of my hesitation in reaching out to and looking into the genderqueer community is just imposter syndrome probably. I don't care about being a woman, I don't feel gender dysphoria, people on the street probably aren't going to hate crime me for not aligning myself with a binary gender, so why should I try to claim any of this. Maybe it's just me making up excuses and pretending to be queer so I can feel cool or special. Maybe all the queerphobes are right and I am pretending to aroace and nonbinary so I can fit in with all the cool kids without actually having to date a woman and transition. I know that's a messed up view. Everyone's experience with gender and sexuality is extremely unique and no one will fit into a single box. I'm allowed to have these feelings without hating myself. It's just hard and scary. But c'est la vie.

On a lighter note, I love the asexual pride flag, it's so pretty, and I love the aromantic pride flag, it is also very pretty. But the aroace flag isn't that great. The colors just don't itch my brain the way the asexual and aromantic flags do individually y'know?

Long post, but I got's lots of feelings. I'm sure I'll make a bunch of posts about queerness, it do be a thing, but this was a good way to get my base feelings just out there.

#lgbtqia+#queer #aroace #asexual #aromantic #genderqueer #confusions #i don't know man I'm trying #this is why I like Nimona so much #“But I'm not a girl...I'm a shark.”

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tawakkull · 1 year

Text

ISLAM 101: Spirituality in Islam: Part 55

Wijdan (Conscience)

Part 2

According to the Maturidis, along with whatever we have, including our free will and power, we are created beings. However, both human power and free will are of two kinds:

1. The universal will 2. The particular will

The “universal will” is a potential power of will or choice, created together with ourselves and inculcated in our being. It is an established pillar of the mechanism of conscience, whether we use it or not, and it is ready to use. Our use of this potential power for any activity is described as the “particular will.” We can also call using our potential willpower for a particular activity our “intention,” “tendency,” “resolution,” or “choice.”

The perfect, requiring, or essential reason (raison d’être) for the occurrence of any action is the execution of human intention or inclination by the Divine Will and Power. Both Will and Power are essential to the Divine Being and beyond our capacity for comprehension; both the human universal will and particular will are each only a particular manifestation of Divine Will, the former being created by Divine Power and the latter having only the nominal existence that was endowed on humanity by its Creator.

From the earliest times of human existence, many people have supposed their partial will to have a certain creative power like Divine Will and Power; therefore, they have regarded themselves as free and powerful enough to be able to do whatever they wish. This has caused them to deviate into ways of misguidance as far as associating partners with God. Many an arrogant man, many a tyrant, and many a lord of power have come into and departed from this world, leaving behind some cursed traces in people’s memories. However, there have been many others who, although belittled by others, have comprehended and admitted their innate powerlessness and poverty, and thus have relied on Divine Power; these people have been favored with extraordinary accomplishments. They continue to live in our hearts as people of blessed memory, encouraging us to put our present plans into action and energizing our hopes and expectations for the future.

What this historical fact teaches us is that it is the Divine Power Which both brings us and our actions into existence, and equips us with certain special capacities. That infinite Power is not, as some assert, an inactive Power Which created the universe with whatever is in it and then entrusted its operation and maintenance to certain laws or forces. Rather, it is the Power Which does whatever It wills, Which existed eternally before all else came into existence, and Which will continue to exist eternally after the death of everything. It is also this self-existing and self-sustaining Power Which maintains everything else. While some of those who are unable to comprehend this essential truth or follow it, being partly under the influence of the deterministic-seeming operation of the universe and their innate powerlessness and neediness, have swerved into fatalism, others, intoxicated with a favorable turn of events and their apparent accomplishments, have been so arrogant as to suppose themselves to be the creators of their actions and therefore have attributed all of their accomplishments to their own supposed powers and abilities. However, humankind stands at the junction of the body and the spirit, the heart and reason, capacity and favor, the observation of necessary rules and the fulfillment of requirements and belief in and full reliance on the Creator of those rules and requirements, and free will and dependence. Humankind is different from all other creatures, being both effective and affected, free and compelled, and a possessor of heart and reason, yet in need of mercy and help. Humans need Divine illumination, and when they turn to God to be illuminated, they are illuminated. With their very being, humans are restricted, never being able to transcend the limits that have been placed on them. For this reason, those who are immured in fatalism are attributing wrongdoing and injustice to God, knowingly or unknowingly; while others who suppose humans to have absolute free will and power to be able to do whatever they will are deifying humanity. The people of the middle, straight way neither accept fatalism nor regard humans as having sufficient absolute freedom or power to do whatever they will. On the contrary, they perceive human innate powerlessness and poverty as a truth-speaking witness of the One of infinite Power, and regard their wishes and will as favors of mercy from the Divine Will. Ever conscious of their restrictions, they are representations of constraint and neediness, but thanks to Divine Mercy they have a certain degree of free will and power. The people of the middle way believe that all favors and accomplishments are from God. However, they also believe that in order to be able to receive these favors and be honored with accomplishments, they must do whatever falls to their share as responsible beings. Such people never forget that they will be treated by God according to their tendencies, choices, and actions.

We always try to follow this way of thought, creed, and action, and regard ourselves as the doers of our actions, called “the actions related to human free will,” deeming it harmless to say, “We have eaten; we have drunk; we have slept; we have sat down; and we have stood up; and son on.” Nevertheless, we also believe that the essential or primary cause and creator of all our actions is the sole Creator of everything. Like all other secondary causes, we are also a veil before His acts. It is our creed that matter is inactive, all secondary causes are unconscious, we are beings desiring and doing, and God is the sole Creator. Those who regard their free will and tendencies or wishes as the origin and primary cause of their actions have always suffered deviations of thought and creed. When they see that their wishes and demands are not fulfilled, they are not able to save themselves from going to the opposite extreme, thus drowning in fatalism and despair. It is absolutely true that God Almighty is the All-Compelling and the All-Overwhelming, Who can absolutely do and have others do whatever He wills. But this does not mean that He does not consider the free will He has bestowed on humanity. In addition to being the All-Compelling and the All-Overwhelming, He is also the All-Merciful, the All-Compassionate, the All-Just, and the All-Wise.

The people of sainthood have perceived human free will or willpower along with inclination, intention, and resolution in the attainment of such virtues as truthfulness, trustworthiness, purity of intention or sincerity in faith, performing religious deeds, being pleasing to God, and striving to exalt the Religion. They have always considered it in relation with the commandments and deeds that pertain to the other world. They have regarded a life of deviation, in which one pursues worldly gains in return for religious deeds, spends one’s life in worldly expectations, and contaminates one’s projects and endeavors with ostentation, hypocrisy, and even by associating partners with God, as forms of disrespect toward the willpower endowed on humanity and insolence toward God Who has given it.

Those endowed with knowledge of God are grounded in rational proofs at the beginning of their spiritual journey; they always follow the Divine Speech—the Qur’an—strictly at every step, and try to attain knowledge of God. These are considered to be the initial attempts required by being endowed with willpower. One who is able to maintain these inclinations in this direction is called “the one willing,” or “the willing one.” As a result of continuing in this direction, God opens the willing one’s eye of the heart to look toward Him. This is the stage where “the willing one” becomes “the willed one.” That is to say, an initiate who tries to “find” the True, Ever-Constant One in this degree of endeavor is loved and desired by the residents of the heavens, and becomes a focus of God’s attention.

In the same way that willpower is a tendency, endeavor, and resolution, it is also an important means for reaching God when it is honored by a feeling of attraction toward God and a feeling of being attracted by Him. Through the value attached to willpower by God Almighty, a person lives in the world as if living in the Hereafter aided by resolution, endeavor, and steadfastness. Without expecting or aspiring to any pleasures, be they material or spiritual, he or she transcends normal human dimensions, being one who has renounced all else other than God. Once a person is intent on the true goal—this is what he or she can do—in the first step the spirit is freed from heedlessness by God’s will and help, and reaches the horizon of wakefulness. He or she spreads “his or her prayer rug” on the ground of repentance, penitence, and contrition; begins breathing piety, righteousness, and abstinence; inhales truthfulness, and sincerity; acts with self-criticism and self-supervision, and finally advances toward the peaks of reliance, surrender, and commitment.

Using willpower in this way means committing oneself and all one’s deeds and plans to God Almighty in full submission to Him. An initiate submits their will first to the will of their guide, and in the words of the Master of creation, upon him be peace and blessings, experiences “revival after death.” While engulfed in temporary annihilation in the rays emanating from this horizon, they find themselves in a deep experience of absolute annihilation under the intense manifestation of Divine Will. If we call this state “annihilation in respect of will,” the following experience of self-transformation may be called “subsistence through willpower.” In the view of an initiate who has reached this point, everything created, which the theologians call “realities of contingency,” seems non-existent, and the person observes nothing but “the Truth of All Truths.” The words, “O God! Renouncing all my desires and aspirations, I only seek whatever You will and are pleased with,” is what those who pursue this horizon utter frequently.

These are the Divine favors that come in return for directing willpower to endeavor, faithfulness, and sincerity. Those who are still at the beginning of the journey cannot experience them. Awareness of willpower as an important means to reach God is the first step or mansion on the way to God. An initiate in this mansion is usually occupied with gaining knowledge and pursuing proofs of Him. In the second step, initiates combine theoretical knowledge about and proofs of Him with spiritually experienced knowledge of Him and they begin to feel light pouring down into their eyes and hearts. At the third step, they are exhilarated with the observation of their hearts in the horizon of Divine Attributes. If they are able to take a further step, they direct their telescope of “secret” to the horizon of Divinity and start to experience “amazement” and “passion” according to their capacity.

Some Sufi scholarly guides who view willpower only from the perspective of endeavor and resolution maintain that first the heart turns toward the All-Sought One with faithfulness and sincerity. This requires steadfastness in using willpower in the right direction— regular worship, doing righteous deeds, and avoiding all evil and sins. While the initiate is advancing in this way, they begin to feel attraction toward and are attracted by God. This is the point where the initiate begins to suffer no hardship in fulfilling their duties. When the breezes of nearness to God begin stroking the spirit, the initiate finds themselves enveloped by unbearable feelings of love and yearning. Without being able to resist any longer their exuberant desire to meet Him, they sigh with utterances at every breath: “My liver has been roasted; / Is there no cure for my suffering?” Such a hero, who has fulfilled all the requirements of having willpower to the greatest degree possible, even forgets love, and begins living in absorption. Even if they are together with the Beloved, they dream about Him and burn with longing for Him. One who has not tasted does not know; one who has not experienced does not understand; those who have tasted do not relate their experiences, and even if those who have tasted it do say something, people do not believe what they say.

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hansoulo · 3 years

Text

whisper scarcely breathing

part four of “Pillar of Salt”

Pairing: Boba Fett/Princess!Reader (she/her pronouns, no Y/N)

Warnings: NC-17, NSFW, explicit language, mentions of canon-typical violence, fluff, hurt/comfort but without the hurt, bathing and/or being bathed, choking, female-receiving oral, loss of virginity, unprotected M/F intercourse

Word Count: 6.1k

Image Credit: (x) by @/365filmsbyauroranocte, not meant to be a representation of the reader

A/N: this one is for the boys with the boomin’ system 😩💦

༓ series masterlist ༓

The datapad that you’d left in the garden was thrust back into your possession one morning by the hurried hands of a maid. Truthfully, you had forgotten all about it. The mind, when faced with matters as pressing as the press of a mouth, tends to forget about inconsequential objects.

You’d never met the girl standing in front of you before, and she avoided your eyes while passing over the small screen. She seemed eager to be rid of it. You couldn’t say you blamed her. “‘S yours, miss. The bounty hunter said you’d lost it.”

Did he, now?

“Thank you,” you replied sincerely, careful not to let the datapad drop to the floor as you tucked it back into the deep brocade of your gown pockets. You didn’t have the wherewithal at first to ask her when he’d found it or found the time to return it. But you also didn’t have the common sense to keep your mouth shut. “Could I ask when he gave it to you?”

The servant ducked her head. “This morning, your Highness. I- I was in the loading bay when they left, think he was tryin’ to get a hold of you but didn’t have the time, told me- told me to keep quiet ‘bout it.” A bob of her throat signalled a nervous swallow. “Princess.”

Poor girl, you thought to yourself absentmindedly. Boba probably scared her half out of her wits.

“Really, I can’t thank you enough.” You touched a soft hand to the servant’s shoulder in an misguided attempt to soothe. She returned the action with a nervous smile, eyes still downcast and trying not to shy away.

You never realized how afraid they all were. Of you.

The realization made your tongue tangle in your throat, tripping over some lie about a fever and champagne-induced amnesia as explanation for your exchanges with a man so ill-acquainted.

Hopefully, the maid didn’t make a habit of gossip.

Hopefully, you stopped making a habit of Boba Fett.

⫸———————————————— ⫷

A chaincode, a datapad tracking number, and the rest of your life flashed in backlit neon. You silently cursed yourself for not putting an opening passcode on anything, including the datapad that you now held with slightly tremoring hands.

In your defense, it’s not like it held anything of interest. Mostly just holonovels and some pictures of things you found intriguing enough to want to paint or draw.

But now there was a thing of veritable interest stuffed into a new folder titled “Your Highness” and glowing in galactic basic.

BF-18378-3263827

You stared at the numbers until they morphed into a strong, stern-featured face, muddy in your imagination against the ink night invading your bedroom. Boba left his tracking number there for you. If you wanted to, you could use them to message him or comm him or leave a holoprojection message. Whenever you wanted. Right now, even.

When did he even find your datapad? Why he found it (and why he returned it with the aforementioned numerical contraband) was probably a more apt question.

There was quite a lot to think about. Best to take stock of the present moment, lest you lose your head and go completely mad. As if you hadn’t already.

The facts repeated themselves in a half-conscious mantra, screen slipping out of your hands and onto the pillow beside your head. Facts. Facts were good. What were the facts, again?

Boba Fett was arguably the most dangerous bounty hunter in the galaxy.

Boba Fett was not much of a talker.

Boba Fett was a piss-poor dancer.

And Boba Fett was an unfairly good kisser.

The beginning three points held little negative sway, with the first adding much more appeal than it should, the second a welcome relief, and the third being… sort of endearing.

It was on the last point that your mind lingered the longest.

You didn’t even realize you’d copied numbers into the screen’s communications system until its microphone crackled to life.

One breath, two breaths, stuck in your sleep-thick throat. No words from either side yet. Did you get the tracking code wrong? Maybe. Maybe.

Maybe you were dreaming already, imagining the wind outside to be the quiet, husky inhale that sounded from the other end of the receiver.

“Not falling asleep are we, princess?”

Your eyes shot open. “No. No, I’m…” the words croaked themselves out as you fought down a yawn, “I’m awake.” His low chuckle. “I called you didn’t I?”

“That you did,” Boba assented. Quiet amusement colored his accent. “And you called because…”

“I wanted to,” you said simply, without room for teasing. You were too sleepy to be ashamed of admitting you sought out his company, as foolish as doing so was. No use in hiding what both parties knew to be true.

He let out a noise of soft approval and it rumbled a pleasant sunburst between your ears. “You seem to want a lot of things, don’t you?”

Makes me want… want…

Want what, Princess?

Want you.

You can have me.

The memory snaked a fever flush down your neck, over the still-tender skin and lightly mottled marks. Boba was remembering it just as well as you were. You knew he was.

It gave you a rush, a weird sort of power trip. Because as stupid as you felt doing this, wanting this, he wanted it too. Enough to let your hands thread through his hair and around his arms, then to the scar above his left brow and across his mouth. Enough to let you do it again at the risk of being caught. Enough to leave you his tracking number, like you were two teenagers trading love letters and not legal adults with judgement better enough to do otherwise.

You stayed on the comm for two hours, and only went to sleep because Boba threatened to cut your link off if you didn’t.

⫸———————————————— ⫷

It had been almost five standard months since the first time you’d spoken. Typed words continued to be exchanged under your covers, day after day, night after night. Sometimes you’d fall asleep talking, peppering him with questions about his ship and his job until your throat ached with the effort of keeping yourself awake. Sometimes you did more than talk.

He never fell asleep. Never seemed to sleep, period.

What a strange man. Strange, dangerous, interesting man.

You often missed each other by a hair’s breadth. Courtly flurry and galactic bounty hunting didn’t make much space for private conversation. Boba was still taciturn. You were still naive.

And yet…

You liked him. He listened when you talked about botany and painting, neither of which you imagined interested him. He was arrogant and cocky and insufferable sometimes, but he listened. He told you about his job and regaled your sheltered curiosity with lurid, gory details. He told you about his father.

And one day he somehow, miraculously, had a set of Nabooan watercolors left for you in the garden.

Biting down a juvenile grin with every new message, you watched the quiet ping! of the datapad.

Hello

are you busy?

In a way

how so

Had a brush with Hutt’s rancor

poor thing

Don’t get soft on me now

wasn’t talking about you

Very funny

I’m very, very sorry

Should be. The bastard nearly tore up my flight suit

… show me?

⫸———————————————— ⫷

BF-18378-3263827 HAS ATTACHED 3 FILES

⫸———————————————— ⫷

HOLOCALL DURATION: 02:45:35 HOURS

SAVE CALL RECORDING? PRESS YES/NO TO CONFIRM

Your damp hands tremored.

YES

⫸———————————————— ⫷

Six months, four days, and 20 hours. That’s how long it took for you to see Boba Fett again.

You’d started to think the entire ordeal was a mirage, an illusionary experience your brain conjured up for you as a one-time brush with what your life could have been. Who it could’ve been with.

But you did see him again. Foolhardy, reckless, and unplanned.

You didn’t listen to his explanation about having to leave in the morning, taking some third-rate bounty as an excuse to come back to Quas Killam for the first time in what seemed like ages—practically eons since his mouth had last been at your neck. He appeared on your bedroom balcony near midnight like an apparition, mounted by a still-burning jetpack that shut off with an arc of smoke.

You’d been sleeping, albeit fitfully, and woke the minute his knuckles rapped against the glass. You didn’t remember ever telling him where your bedchambers were, but given… everything… you couldn’t say you were surprised he knew. When he crouched down to shed the helmet, it made a soft thump on the plush carpet.

And then you kissed. And kissed. And kissed.

Boba’s fingertips dragged fire across your prickled skin with every pass. Whose breathing was whose didn’t matter. It was hard, heaving, and shared. Eyes closed, lips raw, every part of you dizzy. Dizzy.

The sneeze that left you was loud enough to knock his forehead against yours. Hard.

Feet stumbling until your legs hit the bedspread, you let your weakened knees carry you down into a sitting position atop the covers and tried to catch your breath. Boba only chuckled, seemingly unperturbed by the mild injury.

Of course your body had picked today to come down with a cold. And of course you’d forgotten to tell him.

In your defense (you seemed to do a lot of self-defending these days) you didn’t know Boba would be coming tonight. When you asked him a week ago—the last time you’d spoken—he’d said “soon.” Whatever “soon” meant, you hadn’t anticipated it being now. Your rumpled nightgown and deteriorating personal hygiene was evidence enough of that.

The day had passed in fitful naps, with you waving away all attempts at help until the servants who usually tittered about decided to give you a wide berth until tomorrow. They’d left the door locked and your curtains drawn, thank the gods.

“A hello would’ve been nice,” you mumbled. The lingering taste of him in your mouth mixed with the bitter medicine that you’d forced down a few hours ago.

Boba didn’t answer at first, only stalking forward with his silhouette glowing in light of the full moon. You brought your knees up to your chest to make room for him to stand in front of you. Every movement was bathed in slowness, in the reverence of caution and night-time silence.

His gloved hand brushed against your chin and tilted it upwards, thumb rubbing a small circle into your jawbone as he moved your face in one large grip. Left, inspecting a swollen mouth and puffy eyes, then right. Up to see the column of your exposed neck. Down to meet his bare, dark face.

He kissed you again, more gentle this time. “Hello.”

A soft whimper left your throat.

Oh, you hated it. Hated the way you sounded when he touched you, small and pathetic. Needy.

The balustrade doors were still open, and this fact was made known by a particularly biting gust of silver wind.

“You’re cold,” the man standing close to you noted with a deep downquirk of his mouth. Boba never had to conceal anything; his helmet did that for him. But when it was off, every thought flickered past his face in evening technicolor.

Your hands paused in their run up your arms to hold petulantly at your elbows, covered only by the thin fabric of your shift. Goosebumps rose against your neck with a new breeze and you fought down the urge to shiver. “M’not.”

“And stubborn.”

You glared at him, but it held no real venom.

“I appreciate the concern,” you sniffled again and your body trembled slightly. “But I’m the picture of health. I really have never been—” here you sneezed rather violently, crumbling any remaining sense of composure and making the final words thick with congestion, “—any better.” Boba hooked two strong arms underneath your knees and around your shoulders. “Wh- what are you doing?”

“C’mon,” Boba grunted and lifted you to his chest in one swift, easy motion. “Up.”

“I’m already up,” you grumbled, a headache you’d thought was all but gone now throbbing from the quick movement. Armor pressed to your cheek and you let yourself go pliant, curling up into Boba’s broad chest. He smelled nice. Like the outdoors. The real outdoors—not manufactured gardens or stone courtyards. No, dangerous things. Like deserts and leather and guns.

You queried him as he walked in long strides across the room. “Where are you taking me? Should have you—” another sneeze burned your airways, “—have you arrested for treason. A high crime or misdemeanor of some sort, kidnapping royalty...”

He only scoffed, shifting your slack body into his one-armed grip when he arrived at the entrance of your adjunct refresher. The door opened with a soft click. “You talk too much.”

Your head rolled back to face him, pressed so close already that the attempt made you cross-eyed. “And you,” a polished finger jabbed lightly at his chest plate, “are up to no good.”

You were only joking, but Boba didn’t deny it.

Green was your favorite color, even before you met him. It was the color of gardens. Of mint leaves. Of insects and jewels. Of him.

Gods, he was beautiful. Did he know that? Would he ever believe you if you told him? He was achingly, painfully, humanly beautiful. It hurt like needles.

The man set you down to your immediate protests. Funny how quick you seemed to change your mind. “Don’t whine,” he chided when you did just that, pushing you forward by the small of your back.

You walked into the refresher confused, that same confusion compounding when Boba strode over to the marble bathtub in room’s center with a surety that belayed the fact he’d never once stepped foot inside here. Were all bounty hunters this self-assured? Or was he just so full of bathroom bravado that your sprawling floor-plan didn’t faze him?

Whatever the case was, said bounty hunter was now crouched down on the tile floor and twisting the tub faucets until they sprayed out a gush of hot water, quickly filling the room with heady steam.

“Hot water helps.” A still-gloved hand dipped an inch into the filling tub and deemed it acceptable. “The steam’ll clear up those sneezes of yours. And the headache.”

“How did you know I-” your mouth opened and closed before you realized you didn’t do a great job of hiding your symptoms. Maker knows you looked a sight, all mussed and tired and sticky with cold sweat. He should make a run for it now, you half-joked to yourself. He’s only ever seen me stuffed into a corset and done up half to death.

He got up with a grunt and turned back towards you. Beskar and durasteel and tactical fabric suddenly made you feel, for the first time in your life, underdressed. “‘S not hard to tell, princess.”

“Oh,” was your only response as you pushed off the sink counter, fisting the fabric of your nightgown in an unconscious display of hesitancy.

Boba’s heavy boots made for the door.

It was probably just to leave you some semblance of privacy, but you panicked, not wanting to be left alone now that he was finally here. “Wait!” you burst out, reaching a palm onto his shoulder before he could exit. “Wait. Can— can you stay?” Of course he won’t stay, you dolt. He probably came to sleep with you, not babysit you. “Please?”

Both of his hands curled into themselves when he turned back to you, their leather squeaking in the tight flex. Then, they released limp by his sides. Each word was carefully measured, slow-simmering like a pot about to boil over. Like a trigger finger twitchy on a blaster. “If you want me to.”

You answered with a bobbing nod and a swallow. “I do.”

⫸————————————————⫷

Boba Fett had long since forgotten he was a man. Instead, he was armor. He was a code, a set of strict (albeit grey) morals, the steadfast honor he’d been imbibed with from the years with his father and then the years of tearing emptiness after.

Bounty hunters had no time for attachments. They couldn’t afford to humor every batting eyelash with more than a self-serving flirtation, and he’d had his fill of those already. He’d overflowed his cup ten times over with shallow pleasantries and quick release.

But those days were long-gone. Had been for years now. Now he was practically puritanical.

Had been, anyway.

He didn’t like thinking of himself as impulsive, wanting to leave the trait behind in his younger years but not being old enough to shake it off completely. But he wasn’t impulsive anymore. He wasn’t.

You were going to destroy him.

Low-ranking royalty on some Imperial-occupied factory planet; sheltered and pretty. You had the brightest eyes he had ever seen and a temperament that took no prisoners, and you were going to destroy him.

Boba thought you’d make him leave, but you didn’t. You wanted him to stay and told him so.

So he stayed. His armor was peeled off in your presence for the first time— carefully placed on a chair in your bedroom—and he walked back into the refresher to see you untying your flimsy nightdress like it’d done you a personal wrong.

When it dropped beside your feet, it took every ounce of self-control Boba possessed to stop himself from eating you whole.

He heard you kick it to the floor (his eyes had since been very determinedly fixed on a fascinating piece of groutwork near his left foot) before you stepped into the bath, sighing in a way that made breathing a work harder than it should’ve been.

His looking away wasn’t a request on your part, you didn’t seem to mind either way, but he didn’t trust himself to do otherwise. Not until the sounds of splashing had subsided somewhat, signalling your stilled motion. “Boba?”

Now there was permission to walk. Look down. Right foot, left foot. Right foot, left foot. Right foot, the clawfoot of the bathtub. He had reached his destination.

A wet hand tugged at his belt loops and he finally allowed himself to look, meeting the sight of you sitting bare in the clear-blue water with legs pulled up to your chest. The arm not touching him was roped around your calves. Your chin rested on the wide, curved lip of the tub.

If Boba had any self-respect, it had been snuffed out the first moment you opened your mouth, six months ago in that cavernous palace hallway with your failed attempt at bravado. It was haughty, short-lived, and adorable.

Maker, you were beautiful. Did you know that? Would you ever believe him if you told you? You were blindingly, effervescently, humanly beautiful. It hurt like needles.

The position of your chin forced your lips into a slight pout. As if you needed another weapon in your arsenal of ways to make him question his judgement. “Could you bring me the tray on the counter?”

Of course he could. He could bring you anything you liked. He would bring you a rancor, a dozen rancors, a fucking sarlaac if it meant you would smile all soft-like the way you just did when he answered yes.

Boba Fett, mercenary feared farther than he would ever live to travel and hunter too expensive for the Imperial payroll, was now a bath attendant. It was torturous in its sensual irony.

The tray was brought over in short order, cluttered with tiny vials of Maker-knows-what and bars of who-knows-how. Individually they probably all smelled nice, but crowded together the heavy scents only made his head spin. He set the tray down on the floor with a rattle and held up each mystery soap for your inspection. No. No. No. No, not that one. Gods, you were picky. No. No. Yes, please.

You were Miss Manners tonight apparently.

“It’s floating archidia,” you told him, mind running through an endless backlog of plant indexes as he handed over the soap. You sounded clearer now, less congested and more alert. Needed to drink water, though. “The flower that this is made with, I mean. Native to the planet Nubia, rumored to have euphoric properties.” You snorted and ran a thumbnail along the bar’s waxy edge, bringing up a curled pink piece. “Whatever that means.”

“Do you think it does?”

“Have euphoric properties?” you hummed, considering it for a moment. “Maybe. But maybe it’s just wishful thinking.”

“Wishful thinking,” Boba parroted.

The meaning of words can change when they’re repeated. Neither of your minds were on flowers.

His jaw tensed when you reached your other hand to his forearm, baring the rest of your body to the dim orange of the refresher lights’ night settings. The water rippled, warm now instead of steaming, and your fingers curled around the scarred skin of his wrist. “Take off the gloves,” you echoed, your voice suddenly desperate and distant as you traced over pale leather seams. “Please.”

He had refused the first time simply to toy with you. You weren’t used to being told no, and it showed. But he let you take off his helmet in a moment of thoughtless self-indulgence, scratching the part of his subconscious that itched to be touched, stroked, held. Shedding the helmet in front of someone else didn’t really mean anything in an honorable sense—at least not to Boba. Nothing tied him to the habit except a desire to keep himself and his motivations unknown. It was easier that way. Less messy.

He acquiesced. "Since you asked so nicely."

Wrinkling your nose, you guided newly-bare palms to knead gently at your shoulder blades. The skin there was soft and warm, pliant under his sandpaper touch. "Keep mentioning it and I'll go back to being difficult."

The soap made foamy bubbles across your back, over your arms and the velvet slope of your hips. Fingertips ghosted through the space between your jaw and ear, where he remembered sucking in a soft bruise.

He liked being known by you.

⫸————————————————⫷

You clambered out the tub with all the grace of a baby krugga deer and about as much shame. Which is to say, none at all. The subsiding cold had left you tired, bones like jelly and mind sloshing its thoughts around with no real order. Boba was here. Had stayed. Was standing in front of you now, watching tiny water droplets trail down your feet and letting you balance on his arm to keep you from stumbling.

A towel was wrapped around your shoulders. The press of his hot mouth against your forehead followed close behind. “Go sit on the bed.”

For some reason, you didn’t mind listening to him this time. Chalk it up to moldable exhaustion, you thought. Definitely not the fact that his voice sounded especially nice tonight, or any number of other questionable reasons.

He was going to ruin you. Or you would ruin yourself. Any way it was construed, Boba would play a part.

Still only in a towel, you drank the stale tea that sat on your bedside table and watched in mild interest as the mercenary’s shadow emptied out tepid bathwater with the thick glugluglug of the drain. It washed down soap and all your shared secrets.

Was it wrong that you still wanted him? More, now that he’d done this for you? Now that it wasn’t just cruel kisses and groping hands? What sort of a person did that make you?

Your mind whispered it when Boba walked back towards you. Someone lonely.

He helped you slide a new chemise on when you asked him to, quick and steady over the thin linen ties. I bet you do that with all the girls, you’d teased. No, he answered simply. Just you.

He was going to ruin you.

“Do you have to go yet?” you asked quietly and climbed under the covers. They were green today. Life enjoyed coincidences like that.

Boba crouched down on the floor beside your lying figure and shook his head. A wide fingertip smoothed away the crease between your brows. He was doing lots of touching. You were not complaining. “Not ‘til morning.”

“You might as well then,” you mumbled and lifted up the embroidered blankets with a sleep-slack hand. “No one’ll bother us, I promise.” you answered the empty air, too heartsick to comprehend any possible insinuations and too tired to realize the fingers tracing your brow bone had paused. “I told them all not to come back until tomorrow.”

His shirt and pants were shed in an unceremonious pile. You were already half-asleep when he climbed into the other side of the bed, slotting his legs against yours like puzzle pieces. Two question marks curled into each other, his chest to your back and his lips brushing your head.

“Goodnight, princess.”

⫸————————————————⫷

You were dreaming about him.

He was the burning sun that every single one of your thoughts had orbited around for the last six months and now he was invading your subconscious, dream-talons taking the form of dark hands rubbing soft circles against you and then invading your open mouth.

In your dream, Boba touched you softly and not at all, a tease even in your self-serving imagination.

Then you woke up, and it wasn’t a dream anymore.

Two thick arms encircled your waist with a grip unyielding in their strength. They’d pulled you impossibly close, pressed up against his sleeping body until every ridge of his muscled stomach could be felt against your back. Something else was against your back.

Your head reeled in its effort to sludge through the fog of sleep and reach the reality of masculine hips. They shifted in an unintentional grind against your legs until you couldn’t bite back the gasp that bubbled out from your voicebox, the sound quiet, keening, and lost in the shuffled sounds of fabric. It was still dark out. The water-clock in the corner of your room read 01:25:02.

You hadn’t put on anything underneath the new chemise. Why bother, when he’d already seen everything? Your body had grown to be a thing for display, a clothes-hanger and object to be prodded by strangers, and you’d long since rid yourself of any precocious modesty.

But this was different.

When Boba touched you, it wasn’t to sew flowers in your hair or drape a sash over your chest. It was simply to touch. The thought made you light-headed with newfound embarrassment, wiggling in his grip until you turned to face his sleeping form.

All the heavy things he carried on his shoulders during the day were gone now. His bottom lip pillowed out when he slept and he looked younger, the perpetual downturn of his lips now settled below the black hair at his temples. You felt a sticky sort of fondness settle in your chest.

“Boba,” you whispered, two hands placing themselves on his tanned cheeks. They traced the divots of scars and premature lines with all the reverence of worshipfulness.

“Mmm,” his voice rumbled with eyes still closed. A warm mouth kissed the side of your palm.

“Boba,” you repeated, more desperate this time but not knowing what you were desperate for. The space between your legs already knew what it wanted, hot and pulsing with a familiar dampness. Traitor.

“What do you need?” The question wasn’t accusatory, nor annoyed at your waking him. It was known that he would give you whatever you liked. Eventually.

You. Just you.

“I don’t,” you huffed, the fabric sticking uncomfortably to your now overheated body as you squirmed, “I don’t know.” Lie.

“Think about it and tell me,” he whispered, eyes opening in their dark, heavy-lidded expectation. The moon and stars suspended outside offered light enough to see the smirk on his face. His skin was the color of burnt earth and of gods. Somewhere, far away in the canopy of carefully pruned trees, a single lark let out its warbled cry.

There was an old adage about being like a lamb to the slaughter. You’d never touched a lamb. Never seen a slaughter. But somehow, you knew it was true.

This lamb, dumb and tender-hearted, was willingly sacrificied.

"I...'' the word left you in the arc of your exhale, one whoosh of air that rattled your chest already wracked with fevered tremors. "I- want you to-"

"You want me to what, pretty thing?" His voice was low, dangerous. It made every part of you want him more. "Say it."

You weren't used to cursing. It was never tolerated and you barely ever heard it, but you'd learned enough to know what he wanted you to say. Which word he wanted to hear, and what it'd mean he would do.

"F-fuck. Me." you choked out, biting your lip to muffle the embarrassment of having to speak it out loud. The word was filthy and raw between your teeth. "Please?"

⫸————————————————⫷

You were dying. Possibly had already died. Were ascending up or barrelling down, you didn’t care as long as his wet mouth stayed between your legs and never, ever stopped.

Wide hands cupped at your skin and kneaded wherever they could reach, simultaneously rough and supplicating. Every pass of his tongue was enough to make you feel possessed. He was killing you.

“Good. Good girl.” he said against your swollen skin when your hips arced off the bed, your spine and toes stiffening for what seemed like an eternity during the damp lightning finish. It sounded like a growl, animalistic and vibrating. A burning, sweet hurt.

Some people call it “little death,” a lady’s maid once whispered underneath her hand in a giggle. “Little death?” you repeated incredulously. That seems a bit dramatic, don’t you think?

You understood now.

Boba didn’t let up, never once letting his touch waver even as you buckled and swayed, all sense lost and all sensation compacting. “Another,” he ordered. Your body listened, bending to his touch without complaint with eyes rolled back into your head.

You were dying.

⫸————————————————⫷

Boba let you lay against him in the downturn, rubbing mindless shapes into the bone of your wrists as you struggled to breathe. Your neck was cradled in one of his broad, bronze palms. It gave one tiny, imperceptible squeeze. An accident. A test.

You pawed at the hand resting heavy on your nape until it moved to leave completely, but was caught instead by your fingers and guided—slow and curious—to cup at your bared throat.

“Dirty,” the man noted in a dark rasp and rolled over to face you. There was a slight smirk in his voice, but that could’ve just been your imagination.

“I don’t see you...” your voice trailed off into a wheeze as Boba’s thick fingers pressed into the sides of your neck, “—see you complaining.”

He kissed you. And kissed you. And kissed you. An eternity was spent opening the seam of your mouth while he choked you softly, baring your pulsating soul with only your bedroom walls as witness to the present depravity. The air was filled with begging and grunting—simple noises that stuttered and left your sheets ruined.

You wanted more. You couldn’t help it.

His chuckle morphed into a groan when you reached down to touch him with widening eyes, squeezing him curiously after pulling down his boxers. “You’re a brave little thing,” Boba noted with a hint of greedy pride. “Never done this before, have you?”

Your own hands served as poor substitutes all these years. You shook your head no.

“D’you want to?”

Of course you did. This was the only thing you wanted. The only thing you would ever want, over and over until your body turned to dust under him. A million grains of fizzy, burning blaster powder. A million comets passing by a supernova.

You nodded and tucked your face into the space between Boba’s shoulder and neck, rolling onto your side and hooking a leg over his hip. Your chests met, damp with sweat as cool air flowed over bare skin. The covers had long since been pushed aside. “Safe,” you said in a heady moan over the shell of his ear. “Implant.”

Thank goodness for modern medicine.

⫸————————————————⫷

It hurt a little at first, but most of the discomfort melted away as he whispered to you, sweet and cloying praises alongside filthy things that you’d be hard-pressed to repeat in public. They wove together in an endless stream of baritone vowels, lapping over each other like ocean waves until everything was a gyrating, syrupy playback.

He let you move against him, mouth open and sloppy against your temple when you whined at the stretch. The hands at your back didn’t push. Only placated. “I know, I know,” Boba assured you with fingers rubbing sympathetic desire into your flesh. It would bruise, but you’d come to like the marks. Your hips bucked at their own accord when he pressed up against something tight, the friction burning a bright, numb spark. “Slow down,” he mumbled into your hair, “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

Never in your life did you think this was how it would be. Your first kiss, more of a battle than it was a kiss, served as fuel for the expectations of your first time. Never in your life did you think he would be the one telling you to go slow.

It was for your sake, you knew that. But it was still surprising.

You huffed and bit the shell of his ear in childish revenge, blowing a puff of air where you knew it would tickle. Boba only growled and tightened his arms around your waist, rocking into you slow and deep. “Don’t tease,” he warned.

The new movements robbed you of the ability to speak until all you could do in response was lift your head from where it had rested on his shoulder, meeting impossibly dark eyes in lust-addled vision as a building pressure colored the entire world in shades of black, red, and green.

In a moment of complete and utter lack of propriety, you leaned forward, smiling like a woman deranged, and pressed a kiss to his nose.

Boba came undone the same minute you did. It was a rush of wet, rocking pleasure, spreading like thick webs of lighted fire from inside your blood and out to fill the room with quiet devotion. Panting, bursting, close, messy. You’d never felt so whole.

Your foreheads met and you went cross-eyed trying to look at him again. That’s all you wanted to do. Look at him. Uttered underneath his jaw, where the skin was smooth, was your finishing admission. “I love you.”

You didn’t say it to hear it repeated. It was just to give it a shape. Make it concrete. Said more to yourself than him, really.

But Boba did repeat it. Over and over and over. In the tangle of your arms. I love you. In the kiss to your breasts. I love you. In the towel brought between your legs. I love you. In the settled silence of new sleep. I love you, I love you, I love you.

⫸————————————————⫷

The watery light of dawn melted through heavy curtains and you awoke, body weighed down with lead and gold. Sweet soreness had made its home in your muscles and you were loath to get up, but the man you’d been using as a pillow had very rudely left his post.

“I have to go,” he said, already awake and standing sentry by your bed. You raised your head up from the pillows in groggy protest to meet his blurry figure. If you squinted, there were three of him standing there at once.

A shake of your head rid your vision of the doubles, leaving the lone man. He kissed you—quick and dirty, with tongue—and squeezed your exposed breast, prompting a low moan to tumble from your mouth before he slipped his blaster into the holster at his hip. It wasn’t even 6 in the morning and you were thoroughly debauched. What a scandal, you thought (not for the first time) with passing amusement. A bounty hunter and a princess.

Watching in a dim haze as Boba finished strapping on his amor, you tracked the reflection of the sun in the metal’s lazy movement.

He leaned over you. “I’ll be back soon.” Soon. What did soon mean? Another kiss, slow and careful on the bow of your mouth. One more on the slope of your forehead. For luck, you supposed. Whether it was for you or him didn’t matter much. “Promise.”

Slowly, as he climbed out onto your balcony and was gone with a flash of jetpack light, you wondered if it was a mirage; a dream, maybe. The entire night a hallucinatory haze, a figment of your overactive imagination and reckless romanticism.

But the towel left discarded on the floor and the pulsing ache between your legs was very, very real.

#boba fett x reader #boba fett/reader #boba fett fanfiction #boba fett x you #boba fett fic #boba fett oneshot #boba fett imagine

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sokkastyles · 3 years

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In your last post you talked a lot about how Zuko respects Iroh. Could you give some examples of that? Because I'm feeling like Zuko doesn't really respect anyone, he (understandably) has an ego and thinks he's above everyone, even if he's working on

It is such a shame that Avatar: The Last Airbender (2005) was cancelled after two episodes.

Lol, now that I've got that out of my system, I'm gonna assume you aren't just a troll and treat this like you actually want a serious answer, because it gives me an opportunity to meta about Zuko and Iroh's relationship.

I would say that the Zuko we are introduced to has a pretty big ego, yeah, and thinks he's above everyone else. He's incredibly disrespectful to most everyone he meets, including his long-suffering uncle. When I started the show I knew through cultural osmosis that Zuko would get redeemed, and from the first episode I was like "alright, I'm ready to see how the show is gonna make me like this asshole." I especially did have a negative reaction to the way he treats Iroh in the beginning, because Iroh is one of the first characters I loved. I also was sympathetic to Iroh because I'm an adult, and an adult who works with kids. If any of my students said to me some of the stuff that Zuko says to Iroh I'd be like, yeah, okay, detention for you young man.

It's also pretty clear from early on though that Zuko's ego comes from a deep insecurity and low self-esteem. That doesn't make the things he does any better, and yes he is incredibly disrespectful to Iroh, especially when Iroh contradicts him about his mission. That's also related to his deep insecurity and trauma surrounding his father, of course, because Zuko needs to believe that he can win back his father's acceptance to cope with what his father did to him, but that doesn't excuse it.

He says some incredibly nasty things to Iroh. In the first episode we see him respond angrily when Iroh won't teach him more advanced firebending, and Zuko responds, as he does several times, by trying to imitate his father's brand of coercion and intimidation. Iroh is like, not impressed, and he puts up with a lot of crap from Zuko but he also doesn't let it get to him because he's a responsible adult and he wants to support Zuko in the way he can. Which also means telling him off sometimes because dude.

Zuko thinks Iroh is lazy and a failure, and resents the fact that Iroh is keeping him from what he says he is "more than ready" for, and tries to bully Iroh when he doesn't get his way, but then we see in the third episode, "The Southern Air Temple," Zuko's fight with Zhao. We see that for all Zuko's complaining about Iroh's teaching, he does what Iroh taught him to do, he sticks to his basics, and he wins. Iroh says that Zuko is honorable and we see that Zuko appreciates Iroh's support. It's also implied by the way Zhao mentions humiliating Zuko in front of his uncle that Zuko wants Iroh to be proud of him, that it's obvious to Zhao how close they are.

Another example of the show letting us know that Zuko cares more about his uncle than he lets on is when he threatens to leave Iroh behind in "Winter Solstice" but then comes back for him to find him gone, and goes out of his way to search for him, even setting aside his hunt for Aang. Zuko fights the earthbenders to save Iroh and Iroh compliments his form, to which Zuko says Iroh taught him well. This episode does a lot to develop Zuko as a character and his relationship with Iroh because not only do we see that Zuko cares for his uncle, but that, contrary to his rudeness and dismissiveness in episode one, Zuko does respect Iroh as a teacher and a bender.

There's a lot of examples like this where Zuko says one thing but does another, because Zuko is a character who, at the beginning of the story, carries a lot of cognitive dissonance and guards his real feelings about things. His relationship with Iroh is an example. This isn't very surprising because it's pretty common in child psychology. Especially with kids who have been abused, they will rebel against an authority figure and push back in any way they can to see if they can find a breaking point. Iroh's endlessly patient and supportive but solid and firm presence is something Zuko is not used to and doesn't know how to deal with. But it's very clear that Zuko relies on Iroh as a father and mentor, even when Zuko doesn't realize it yet.

"The Avatar State" in another episode that shows how much Zuko relies on Iroh. At the beginning of the episode Zuko is sitting apart and it's implied that he's not happy with Iroh relaxing and getting a massage, but Zuko also opens up to Iroh about his feelings about his father. Zuko also is dismissive and rude to Iroh again in this episode, criticizing Iroh for collecting shells and also insulting Iroh when Iroh contradicts him about going with Azula, but then Zuko is happy when Iroh goes with him to Azula's ship, and we get that flash of the image of Ozai with his hand on Zuko's shoulder. This tells us that Zuko sees Iroh as the kind of mentor figure that he wishes his father were, even if, again, Zuko doesn't quite realize this yet. There are many other examples like this where Zuko is frustrated by not getting Iroh's approval on something because he wants Iroh to be proud of him. Like when he steals the teapot and gives it to Iroh and Iroh is not interested in stolen items. Zuko's clearly hurt by not having Iroh's approval, which is a big part of why he left Iroh, and Iroh knows that Zuko is struggling to find himself but also still needs his support.

Then you have "Bitter Work," the lightning bending, and Zuko's look of total admiration when Iroh is bending lightning and teaching Zuko a move that he invented himself. Like I said before, it's clear that Zuko respects Iroh as a powerful bender. This is also echoed in that scene in the book two finale when Iroh is about to breathe fire and Zuko has this look of "wow my uncle is going to beat you so bad this is going to be great!"

There's also a lot of little stuff in the Ba Sing Se arc that show that Zuko respects Iroh and values him as a mentor figure. He lets Iroh do his hair for his date with Jin! It looks terrible! Zuko has no idea how to behave on a date so he's like um, uncle said to give you this coupon! Look how smart my uncle is! Of course the culmination of that arc is Zuko's fever and his awakening which gives him a renewed respect for Iroh, and he actually makes an effort to show Iroh how much he values him. He still betrays Iroh in Ba Sing Se but it's not the "I hate you and you smell!" thing that the play portrays it as. One of the reasons Zuko was so confused there was because he felt like his uncle was telling him contradictory things, and he couldn't reconcile his uncle's wisdom with what he'd been taught to believe by Ozai.

But it's finally losing Iroh as that pillar of support that makes Zuko truly realize how much he does value his uncle. It still takes him a while to get there, and he again pushes back against Iroh when Iroh won't talk to him in prison and blames him for his own internal turmoil. But when he does finally get there, it's such a slap in the face to Ozai that Zuko on the Day of Black Sun tells him to his face that Iroh is his real father, that Zuko is going to fall to his knees and beg for Iroh's forgiveness, because Zuko has realized that Iroh is the one who really deserves his respect. Not only does Zuko tell Ozai that he, in fact, did not teach him anything about respect, but the respect Ozai tried to get from his son through cruelty and control is something Zuko will freely give to Iroh.

Then Zuko spends the next several episodes constantly talking about how great Iroh is, how much he misses him, how good he is at making tea and telling jokes, how wise he is, and what an ass he, Zuko, had been to him. He follows Iroh's advice and humbles himself because Iroh always said he didn't think things through enough, he works hard to make himself into someone his uncle would be proud of. Then when he does meet Iroh again he asks for forgiveness, but he says that even if Iroh won't forgive him he would try to make it up to him. He's completely humbled himself and it's so satisfying because it's the fulfilment of their relationship arc, and you can feel the love and respect that these two characters have for each other. And it's directly meant to contrast with what Ozai said about respect, because Ozai is full of shit.

And then Zuko just like automatically assumes that Iroh will be the Fire Lord and Iroh's like "Zuko did you forget that you are the crown prince?" And Zuko, bless his heart, is like "but I made so many mistakes."

I'm sorry, but if you're gonna keep arguing that Zuko, at this point, still "thinks he's above everyone else" then you are just being willfully obtuse.

Not to mention the fact that Zuko's crowning moment as Fire Lord is him giving a speech about how he wants to serve others, to heal the world, and even the applause and praise that he, in the beginning, wanted from others is something he doesn't accept. He tells everyone that Aang is the real hero. And Aang is a hero but like, Zuko is a hero, too, by showing heroic qualities like being selfless and humble and caring towards others. And then his last scene is not him as Fire Lord, but serving tea to everyone dressed in Earth Kingdom clothes.

And who does he serve tea to first? Uncle.

#zuko #iroh #atla meta #ozai

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chokemeanakin · 3 years

Text

Misunderstandings - Anakin x fem Reader (angst +fluff)

Masterlist

Thank you for the request @artiza-n ! 💕

Wc: 6.4k

Summary: Anakin and reader get sent to Naboo to guard Padme and Clovis during a debate and some misunderstandings ensue. Mostly jealous angst, some fluff at the end— happy ending bc we all need that right now.

Gif from @swprequels

“I still don’t understand why they need both of us,” you grumble, rubbing sleep out of your eyes as you walk out of the cruiser. The day is hot on Naboo, but grey and cloudy with a promise of rain later. The humidity makes your skin sticky, worsening your irritation.

“Think of it as a vacation,” Anakin pulls the luggage from the transport cubby, setting it on the ground beside him. “You watch over Clovis, and I’ll handle Padme. It should be a breeze.”

“Exactly. Which is why I don’t understand why they need both of us.”

You had just gotten back from a long and grueling siege on Pontoon, another one of those vast, endless desert planets in the Outer Rims. You’d really much rather be sitting in front of an air cooler right now, resting your tired bones and trying to forget the taste of sand.

“These are two very important Senators, Y/n,” Anakin waved off your attempt to help him with the luggage. “If anything happens to them at this debate, the Senate will lose important advocates for peace and the end of this war.”

You knew this, of course you did. Not that you’d completely agree with his statement-- Clovis always seemed a little shady to you, his morals seemingly scattered all over the place. You guessed that’s why the Council sent you, a simple marksman, to guard Clovis while the beloved freedom-fighter Padme Amidala got the most powerful Jedi to ever exist.

“Besides,” said Jedi nudged you, lips curling into a teasing smile. “Don’t you want to spend time with me?”

Of course you do. Between the war and separate guild or Council missions you’d both been sent on, neither of you had time to even breathe in the others’ direction for months. The only reason the Council was able to wrangle you onto this cruiser was because Anakin was going to be there. Not that you’d even be able to spend much time with him during the day, although you were aware that you’d be sharing a room in between the Senators you’d be protecting at night…

You and Anakin meet the Senators at the hull of the ship. They walk down the ramp side by side, heads held high and hands clasped in front of them. Their movements are smooth, like they’re gliding on water, and the heat doesn’t seem to bother either of them.

“Master Skywalker. Y/n. Thank you so much for being here, it is so courageous of the both of you to be looking out for us,” Padme stands before you, beautiful as ever in one of her many extravagant, expensive gowns. The headpiece woven through her hair sparkles in the midday light, the warmth of her eyes capturing the rays of the brilliant sun. “However, I must say that I hope your services are not needed. I’d much rather this debate go by smoothly than have any dangerous interruptions.”

“I can assure you, we’ll take care of any problems before they arrive. Leave the dirty work up to us,” Anakin returns her smile, charming as ever.

Anakin shoots you a glance and then follows her away, carrying multiple bags of luggage in each arm as Padme shows him where to put it. For such a small woman, she seemed to pack heavy. Unfortunately, this leaves you and Clovis to stand alone together, an awkward stillness settling before you.

“Um, Anakin has your luggage,” you yawn into your arm, gesturing to his receding form with the other. “I’m Y/n, and I’ll be your bodyguard for this debate.”

“You?” Clovis doesn’t smile, instead he scans you up and down with hawkish eyes. “You’re such a small thing. What could you possibly be able to do to protect me?”

It’s not said unkindly, but it still irks you. Your eyes narrow and you bite back a nasty retaliation for the sake of diplomacy. “You’ll find I’m pretty good with a blaster. The best, actually, according to the Jedi Council. That’s why they have me work with the Generals in the war.”

“Are you a General yourself?” Clovis begins to walk, heading toward the senate building. You follow at his side.

“Not exactly. They offered me the title, but I declined. I’m more of a freelancer, and once the war ends, I’ll go back to taking odd jobs. Besides, there’s no use in having an army if I don’t know what to do with it.”

“Humble. That’s admirable,” Clovis’s mouth tilts into something of a smile. “I, myself, could never turn down an army. Or the status, for that matter. You could be holding a lot of power if you pushed your way with the Jedi Council, you know.”

“My way?” you questioned. “I just told you, I don’t have a way--”

“And that’s your flaw,” he mused, chin still pointed up, never quite looking at you. “How curious-- your Jedi counterpart seems to have stolen all the ambition.”

You roll your eyes. You never had a thirst for power, or status, or influence, or any of that. Your power came from behind a blaster, when your focus was trained on a single target and your finger was glued to the trigger. One simple twitch of a muscle, and you could end a life from miles away. That was your power, and it was all you needed.

He is right about Anakin, you have to admit. He was always looking to be better, not just for himself, but for the good of others. You love that about it, in fact it’s one of your favorite qualities about him. Sometimes, though, you wished he could see that he didn’t have to try so hard all the time to believe he was enough.

The blast of cold air that hits you as you enter the senate building wrenches you out of your thoughts. It whisks away the perspiration that had built up on your skin, cooling your body and calming your mood almost magically. The sounds of your collective footsteps tap along the glossy marble floor, echoing throughout the empty chamber.

“Aren’t you going to ask what we’re doing here?” Clovis leans against his podium, marked with a nametag spelling his name. Next to him is your seat, and on Clovis’s other side is Padme, followed by Anakin on the end. A cold dread fills your veins, just now realizing how boring tonight’s debate is going to be.

You sigh inwardly, tracing the engravings of your nametag with the tip of your finger. “My job isn’t to ask questions, it’s to observe.”

“Well, observe away,” he pushes himself off the podium. “Although I don’t think it will be very entertaining.”

He’s right. You sit in your seat, legs crossed on top of your podium as you inspect your nails. It’s been three hours since you’ve arrived, the sun is setting, and all Clovis has done is stroll around the debate room, muttering to himself and pondering through his position. You’re bored out of your mind. Pulling out your holocom, you wonder if Anakin’s situation is any better.

“Y/n?” he picks up a long moment after you send the call, and his face projects blue before you. It’s loud where he is, and his eyes are looking at something else.

“Where are you?” you question. He sounds like he’s a party, but you know that can’t be true. “Where’s Padme?”

“She’s with me,” Anakin tilts his head, signalling that she’s sitting in front of him. “We’re at a restaurant getting dinner. I was just going to ask-- did you and Clovis go somewhere to eat yet?”

You drop your legs from the podium and lean in close to the com, speaking quiet so Clovis can’t hear. “No, he’s barely said a word to me since we got here. He’s been walking around the debate room all afternoon, just talking to himself.”

“You think he’s nervous for tonight?”

“Maybe,” you spare a glance at him. He’s staring at the domed ceiling, as if he’s counting the pillars coming out of it. “Or maybe he’s just psycho.”

“Oh, Clovis knows what he’s doing,” a femine voice interjects. Anakin’s eyes shoot forward again, immediately smiling as Padme speaks. “His pre-debate ritual is long and gruelling-- I should have warned you. He’s simply getting into his headspace, that’s all.”

“How long does it usually take?” you mumble.

“It shouldn’t be much longer. Make sure he eats beforehand, otherwise he’ll be crabby during the debate. And trust me, you don’t want to have to handle a crabby Clovis.”

Both Padme and Anakin laugh at this, and you force yourself to smile along. “Yeah, I’ll go see what he’s up to now.”

“Good,” Anakin says, momentarily drowned out by an uproar of cheers behind him. “We should get going, too. Padme needs to get dressed for the debate. See you soon.”

Anakin ends the call, and you’re left wondering how exactly the topic of dressing Padme came up.

Shoving down your irritation and self-pity, you pocket your com and stand from your seat. Clovis’s head whips toward you like you had pulled a blaster on him.

“What?”

“It’s getting late,” you stretch your arms over your head, working out the kinks and aches from sitting so long. “I was wondering if you were hungry at all.”

“I can’t eat before a debate,” Clovis looks almost angry for a second, and then he glances down at his watch. His expression smooths into one of urgency. “Ah, we should head to the apartments. It’s time to get ready.”

The night is still warm, and the sidewalk drips with a rainstorm that you missed while you were in the senate building. The fresh air is nice, though, and you breathe in the smell of sweet flowers and savory restaurant food. The grumble in your stomach is hard to ignore, but you know you’ll manage.

Clovis leads you all the way to his suite, the temporary apartment that sits in conjunction with yours and Anakin’s, and Padme’s on the other side. Staying in this apartment complex made more sense rather than finding separate housing units, as keeping everyone together would aid in ensuring their safety.

Padme’s mansion would have been a nice stay, you think, but these apartment sweets are also quite luxurious. You walk into the master bedroom to find a formal, dark blue gown laid out for you on the bed. Next to it is a rumpled space where you assume Anakin’s suit had been, but instead there’s a note and a box.

Padme wanted to get to the senate building early, so we’re probably going to just miss you. Too bad, I won’t get to help you into this sexy blue dress. Maybe I can help you out of it later.

You laugh softly, smoothing your thumb over the inked-on smiley face before finishing the note.

I’m not sure if you had time to get anything to eat, so I got you something while we were out. See you soon.

You don’t need an “I love you” scrawled into the paper in order to know he wanted to add it. That would have been too risky, and there was no way you’d be able to make an excuse if anyone were to find it. Still, you rip up the note and throw it in the trash before opening the box underneath. Your nose is instantly filled with the smell of food, still warm, and you sit next to the blue dress, digging in unceremoniously.

You scarf down as much of the food as you can and then store the rest in the fridge before getting to work on making yourself presentable. You have to look put together, yet not so much that you stand out. You slip a couple of silver clasps into your hair and do your makeup, opting for a bold lip color because you don’t have much time to do anything fancy with your eyes. You’re running short on time-- you know this because of the knock on your door, and then the irritated sound of Clovis:

“Y/n, we have to leave now or we’re going to be late. You know how bad it would be to arrive late to this event?”

You stand in front of the mirror, desperately reaching behind you to grasp at the zipper of your dress. It would be so much easier if Anakin was here to reach it for you, but you make due and quickly pull it up. The dress is form-fitting and flows down into a puddle around your feet. A bit long, as you opted not to wear heels in case something went awry, so you bunch the skirt up in your fists and jog to the door.

“My apologies,” you open the door to find Clovis, now dressed in a pristine black and white suit with his hair gelled back. “I was making sure I had my equipment all in order.”

Clovis ignores your excuse, eyes instantly moving to take in your figure. You could swear they blow open wide for a fraction of a second before he composes himself, clearing his throat and masking his approval with his usual grim expression.

“You clean up quite elegantly. Now, we should head to the lobby, the limousine is waiting for us.”

…

You’re not sure what the point of a limousine is, as the walk from the apartment buildings to the senate building is 10 minutes tops. Probably for formalities, you decide, as Clovis helps you out of the vehicle. The building that had been vacant only a couple hours earlier is now swarming with Senators, all dressed in lavish, extravagant gowns. Everyone is holding a flute of some sort of drink, and they congregate in small groups, making small talk before the debate starts.

Clovis wastes no time with socializing, and beelines for his seat.

You hang back, searching the crowd for Anakin. Without heels, many people tower over you and it’s hard to focus with the deafening sound of chatter filling your ears. But you’re trained for this, have spent your whole life blocking out the unnecessary, so you hone into your patience and scan the crowd closer.

There.

You’d recognize that head of golden-brown curls anywhere, even if it was tamed down for this event. He’s standing tall among the Senators, eyes gleaming bright as he engages a whole crowd of them in some wily story. He and Padme look at each other and laugh, his hand on her shoulder and her hand finding his waist. Your blood suddenly turns hot, and you push your way through the crowd to make it to them.

If you could, you would march right up and pull him away from all those greedy stares. They’re practically drooling all over him, and Padme’s hand is still on his waist. But you know better-- you can’t let anyone know you and Anakin are familiar, so you stand at the edge of the crowd, meeting Anakin’s eye.

You glare at his face, then at Padme’s hand, then back to him. His eyes narrow into a warning, extremely fleeting, and then he continues on charming the crowd. You know what he wanted to say-- it means nothing. It doesn’t stop the heat from blossoming in the pit of your stomach, the irritated glare you shoot Padme before looking down.

Way to stay under the radar, you think, slipping away from the crowd and deciding it’s better to keep your eyes on Clovis than get angry over a move on your boyfriend that was probably innocent.

Clovis is sitting at his seat, still as stone, surveying the crowd before him.

“You nervous?” you take your seat beside him.

“Not at all.”

“Good. You’ve been preparing all afternoon, I think it’d be ridiculous if you still doubted yourself.”

“You… have faith in me.”

“Of course,” your eyes softened at the vulnerability in his statement. “You’re a powerful Senator.”

He huffed, the crack in his green eyes immediately cementing over. “I know.”

And, there he is. Back to being gruff and dismissive.

It’s quiet for a moment longer, but you’re okay with that. Small talk is not an interest of yours either, and you’d much rather sip on the flute of drink that a servant had given you than join the crowd on the floor.

Unfortunately, you have trouble wrenching your eyes away from Padme and Anakin, who are still surrounded by drooling Senators. Padme looks like an angel, dressed in a floor length gown spun out of gold thread that you’re pretty sure came directly from the sun. It shimmers and sparkles as she moves, standing out like a beacon of light among the rest of the room. She is radiant, with a matching headpiece that glitters like a chandelier, the jewels braided in and out of her chocolate curls. Even her makeup is minimal yet blindingly beautiful, with a gold shimmer staining her eyelids and cheekbones that reflect the warmth of her topaz eyes.

“She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?” Clovis murmurs next to you, so quiet you almost don’t hear it.

“Who? Padme?”

“I believe she’s taking quite a liking to the Jedi.”

Heat sparks in your blood again. The fact that even Clovis notices how handsy Padme is being… then again, it’s a known fact that Clovis and Padme have a history, and he could just be reading too far into things out of jealousy.

“You shouldn’t call him that,” you choose to ignore his concerns. “Anyone could be listening.”

“You see that smile? That’s the smile she only ever gave me. I wonder if she even knows she’s doing it…”

“Clovis, Anakin isn’t allowed to form attachments. You have nothing to worry about.”

“It’s not him that bothers me,” he admits. “It’s her. Look. Look at the way she leans into him when she laughs.”

You take his advice and… now that he says it, she does get a little too close for your liking. Every time Anakin finishes a punchline, the crowd erupts in laughter and Padme joins in, bracing herself by gripping onto his arms and grinning into his neck. He catches her, ever the gentlemen, but he’s smiling too.

It’s a little more than innocent, and you can’t tell who’s fault it is. But that doesn’t help the jealousy steadily rising in your chest.

“The debate should be starting soon,” is all you say, leaning back in your seat and scowling into your flute of drink.

The only thing keeping you rooted to the seat instead of launching out of your chair to rip Padme away from Anakin by the hair was the fact that you know you’re the one who’s going to be sharing a bed with him tonight-- not her.

You’re just hoping he even makes it back to your bed. Or will poor Padme need help with something else that requires Anakin’s doting attention?

A bell rings just on time, signaling for the Senators to take their seats. Anakin leads Padme over, arms hooked around each other, and she smiles at you as she approaches.

“Y/n, you look wonderful,” she whispers, and then slides into the seat between Clovis and Anakin.

Your cheeks burn in shame. How can you harbor such awful feelings toward her when she was so sweet? But the anger is worsened by the compliment she had just given you-- it’s one thing to be drop-dead stunning, why does she have to be so kind, too? What are you to compare?

After tonight, Anakin’s probably going to think you are so difficult-- always complaining, always tired, never as pretty or gentle or kind. You don’t have a laugh that twinkles like wind-chimes, or eyes that reflect the light like soft glowing pools of honey. If she is the sun, you are just a cold, hard, chunk of ashen moonrock.

The debate goes on for an eternity. You zone out for a lot of it, stewing in your anger and drowning in self-deprecating thoughts. A few times you’re brought to the brink of tears before you remind yourself you’re here on a mission, and throw yourself into scanning every nook and cranny for something that could be amiss. Eventually, a break is ordered.

Senators begin to rise from their podiums to stretch their legs, including Padme. She tells Anakin she’s going to the washroom, and your eyes zero in on the fingers lingering on his arm as she leaves. You stand as well, meaning to walk a little and stretch your legs, and Anakin follows you.

“Padme’s right,” he catches up to you easily. “You do look wonderful. Blue really is your color.”

You stop by the open window, breathing in the fresh air as you search his eyes for truth. Does he truly mean it? Does he look at you with that same light he had looked at Padme with? Or is he only saying it because he has to? Because he’s used to complimenting you because you’re his girlfriend?

“What? What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” you lower your gaze, picking at the marble stone engravings of the windowsill.

“Y/n,” Anakin lowers his voice. He’s concerned now, picking up on how upset you are. “I said you look beautiful. What’s the problem?” “No, you said I look wonderful. It’s different than beautiful.” You mean to leave it there, but can’t help but add, grumbling under your breath, “Padme looks beautiful.”

It’s immature. You know it as soon as you say it, but for some reason you can’t stop yourself. You just want Anakin to take more notice of how strong Padme’s coming on to him, to assure you that it means nothing. You know it means nothing, but you still need that confirmation.

“She does,” he says, and your heart drops. You look up at him, and he’s staring back with an intensity you can’t decipher. “She’s a Senator, Y/n, this is her debate. Of course she has to look beautiful.”

“She’s more beautiful,” the words fall from your lips and taste like poison.

“What’s this about?” Anakin’s voice is dripping in irritation. Once hearing it himself, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens them, he speaks again in a softer tone. “Why are you comparing yourself to Padme?”

Gah, even the sound of her name coming from his mouth is like nails on a chalkboard. But you decide to do the first smart thing you have all evening, and take a lesson from him. You breathe deeply and bite down on your anger before answering.

“I’m not trying to,” you admit, eyes falling from his face to trace the exposed skin of his neck. “I just-- she’s flirting with you.”

“It’s harmless.”

“I-- I know. But…”

“It still bothers you. You’re jealous.”

“I have nothing to be jealous about,” even saying this, you can hear the lie in your voice. You repeat the statement, more to yourself, trying to believe it. He’s yours-- for now. He could just as easily be Padme’s. What if he wants to be Padme’s?

“Look,” Anakin takes another grounding breath, then fits a finger beneath your chin, tilting it up to look at him. “I can see you’re trying to think rationally, so I’m not going to tell you that you’re being ridiculous. But… you’re being ridiculous.”

“Wow. Thanks.”

“You have to understand, I do not like Padme like you’re thinking. I--” he cuts himself off, eyes flitting around the room before leaning in close to whisper in your ear. “I love you.”

Goosebumps erupt all over your skin, making you shiver. His lips ghosting over your ear, the whispered promise of his devotion to you… suddenly, you feel very stupid.

“Okay,” you accept, and the bells ring again, signalling everyone to take their seats. You head on over with him, but not before putting as much heart into your next words. “I’m sorry for getting jealous.”

“It’s okay,” he gives you the first warm smile of the night, smoothing your hair down quickly before breaking off to take his own seat.

You sit next to Clovis, considerably calmer, replaying Anakin’s whispered “I love you” over and over in your head, the touch of his gentle hand in your hair. There was no need to make such a fuss, and honestly you were upset with yourself for ruining the night. You decide to make another smart decision for the night, and push away all of the negative thoughts to the deepest corner of your mind. No more, not tonight-- instead, you would focus on a way to make it up to him for being so ridiculous, and to thank him for being so patient with you.

It’s as you’re planning the rest of your night out, that you see Clovis’s knee bouncing under the podium. You know his time to speak is coming up soon, and his actions betray his mind. He’s such a liar. He is nervous.

“You’ve got this,” you tell him, reaching onto the podium to give his hand a squeeze. His palms are clammy, and he looks at you like you’ve struck him.

“I know I do,” he spits, but doesn’t move his hand from underneath yours. “It’s just pre-performance jitters.”

His next words are so quiet, you almost don’t catch them.

“It doesn’t help that I have two gorgeous women sitting next to me to witness this all.”

Now it’s your turn to look like you’ve been struck. You know he means for you to hear it, otherwise he wouldn’t have said it. Anakin seems to be thinking the same thing, as you can see him give Clovis a sidelong glance just as Padme takes the seat between them again.

“I-- um… we’re rooting for you,” you fumble. “No need to get nervous now.”

Clovis blows out a long breath, and then covers your hand that’s squeezing his palm with his other. “Thank you, Y/n. You’ve truly been so patient and accommodating this whole night. I must find a way to pay you back afterwards.”

“Oh, there’s no need--” your words are cut off as the delegates call for order, and then the debate resumes. You don’t miss the way Anakin’s back stiffens in his seat.

Clovis works up a nervous sweat in the minutes leading up to his speech, but when he gets up, he delivers it without a flaw. Everyone claps, and then Padme goes. You clap along once she’s finished, trying not to calculate if Anakin is clapping harder or faster for her than anyone else. He’s not… but you just had to be sure.

There never seemed to be any threat for the entire night, except for one instance. A young man stood by the door, eyes shifting around for a moment too long to be casual, and Clovis seemed to notice as well.

“Where, exactly, is that equipment you were speaking of earlier?”

“There’s a strap on my thigh, and it holds my blaster to it. Look,” you pull your skirt back to reveal your leg up to your thigh, where the tip of your blaster peaks out. “See, nothing to worry about.”

It doesn’t even cross your mind that Anakin would notice, or that he’d even mind.

Finally, the debate ends, and the senate room is dismissed. You let out a long breath, ready to just get out of this dress and relax in the suite with Anakin now. However, you stand to leave your seat but Clovis is in your way.

“Y/n, like I said before… I must show my gratitude for your services. Please, let me buy you dinner.”

“Oh-- Oh geez… um.... I can’t,” your eyes flit from Clovis to Anakin, who’s standing behind him. He’s got his back turned, bidding farewell to the new friends he made, but you know for sure that he’s listening. “I really need to go to bed, we’re leaving early in the morning.”

“You can come to my suite, we can order room service. They’re right next to each other… besides, you can always just stay over at mine for the night. There’s room.”

That tone. Those eyes. You know what he’s insinuating, and it sure as hell isn’t just dinner.

“Clovis, I’d love to, but I really can’t.”

“Oh. Okay.”

The green cracks of his eyes are hardening again, the soft daisies growing from them being wrenched out in clenched fists and stomped under a boot. You want to stop them from freezing over in that insufferable ice again, and decide it might be nice to humor him for a job well done tonight. After all, he was a lot kinder to you than you thought he’d ever be, and part of you likes being one of the few people on his good side.

“How about I walk back with you to the apartments? We can do that much.”

Clovis smiles, and holds out an arm. “I’ll take it.”

As Clovis escorts you out of the debate room, you turn to look back at Anakin. He’s ushering Padme out of the crowds, staring after you as you leave. He doesn’t smile, or wave, or do anything really. Except look angry.

A sudden ball of nervousness forms in the pit of your stomach. Oh no. Offering to do this was a mistake, that much is becoming clear with every step you take with Clovis latched onto your arm. You can feel Anakin’s eyes burning into your back the entire way out of the senate building, until you’re on the streets of Naboo and he’s off in a limousine with Padme.

Of course he’s going to be angry at you now. You were mad at him for allowing Padme to flirt with him, and now he’s going to think you’re making a move on Clovis to get back at him for it. Even though that’s not at all what’s happening… Oh how the tables have turned.

You’re jittery the whole walk back. Clovis tries to make conversation, but you only offer him short, clipped answers. Really, you should have shut down his advances in the debate room. No matter that you pitied him for being rejected by Padme and yourself, you should have said no. You didn’t owe him anything. But here you are, and now you are going to suffer the consequences from Anakin when you get back to your room.

“Are you sure you can’t stop in? Not even just for a drink?” Clovis asks as you make it to the top of the stairs. You turn the corner, and Anakin is leaning against your apartment door, arms crossed, clearly waiting for you.

“Uhh,” you unwind your arm from around Clovis’s. “I really can’t. Sorry.”

Clovis follows your gaze, and sees Anakin. His tone turns steely. “Is it because of that Jedi?”

“No, oh my-- no!” you feign the most incredulous expression you can, nerves growing more frenzied as you grow closer to your apartment door. “I really am just so tired. Please Clovis, I have to go.”

“Y/n, it doesn’t have to be like this--”

“You’re right,” a deep voice cuts in. “It doesn’t.”

Anakin takes the arm that Clovis refused to let go of, and slips it out of his grasp. Thankfully, for Clovis’s sake, he lets him. Anakin pushes you behind him and stands before Clovis, towering over him by a couple inches.

“It was a pleasure serving you and Senator Amidala. Hopefully we can work together again soon. Have a good night”

Each word that comes from his lips are dripping with venom. Clovis grows red in the face, and you can tell he’s trying hard not to retaliate. In the end, he decides to turn and stalk back to his own apartment door.

Once it slams shut, Anakin turns to you. You meet his eyes with the most innocent expression you can put on.

“None of that,” he hisses, and steps past you to walk into the apartment.

“Oh, come on!” you follow close behind, closing the door and jogging to catch up with him. He’s standing before the bed, roughly loosening his tie. “Anakin, please don’t be mad. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Really? How am I supposed to believe that after what happened earlier?”

“Yes, okay, I admit I was jealous of you and Padme. But I got over it! I swear I wasn’t trying to get you back for it, I promise. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Anakin pulls the buttons off his shirt so hard, you’re afraid they might break. Suddenly, he is shirtless, and so very mad, and so very tall… and muscular… and… wow…

“You can’t even look me in the eye when you say that,” he argues, stopping to stand before you. You wrench your eyes away from his toned midriff and meet his eyes, which are blazing with hurt and anger. A warmth is rising in your veins-- a different kind than earlier-- but it’s beat out with something stronger. Guilt.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, trying so desperately to ignore the heat that’s radiating off his chest. “I really am. Clovis was just… kinder than I expected him to be--”

“Was he? Was he kind when he had you sit in silence all afternoon in the senate building? Was he kind when he refused to let you eat? When he guilt-tripped you into spending time with him?”

“That’s not exactly what happened,” you cross your arms and size him up. “And you’re not totally innocent either, you know.”

“Really?” Anakin cocks an eyebrow at you, sitting down on the bed roughly. He leans back on his arms, daring you to continue.

“You let Padme flirt with you, and you never told her to stop. You could have set some boundaries, told her to back off a little...”

“And you could have told me you were leaving with Clovis before gathering your skirts and skipping away,” Anakin bites back.

“I wasn’t planning to! Anakin, please, both of us made mistakes tonight. Can we just agree on that?”

He frowns, eyes flickering over your still-dressed form. He motions for you to come closer and turn around, so you do. Gentle fingers work at the zip on your back, dragging it down to free you from the constraints. You remember the note he wrote from earlier, how he couldn’t wait to take the dress off of you, and grow disappointed at how the night had gone. This was not the context you had been expecting.

The way his hands linger on your waist, you know he’s thinking the same thing.

“Okay. We both made mistakes.” You feel his soft curls against the bare skin of your back as rests his forehead against you. You hold your dress up in the front so as not to expose yourself. “I’m sorry for letting Padme flirt with me. I should have put an end to it-- I know it hurt you to watch.”

“It did,” you whisper. “But I’m also sorry. For getting so jealous even though you never accepted her advances, and for making it seem like I was trying to get revenge. It wasn’t my intention.”

A soft “it’s okay” is kissed into your back. His hands grip your waist, turning you in his grasp. He’s looking up at you now, hair mussed up and eyes wary. “You good?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

What were you guys doing? At the end of the day, it’s you and him. Padme is out of the picture, and so is Clovis. Everything is alright, and that fuss you both put up throughout the night was virtually pointless.

Looking into his eyes, the ones you love so much and could never picture yourself ever parting from, suddenly this whole thing seems elementary. How terrible, disastrous, and ironic this night turned out. Replaying the events in your head, you find a smile begin to crack at your lips. Anakin can’t keep a straight face either, the ridiculousness of it all beginning to catch up with you both. You begin to laugh, and he follows, burying his head in your stomach as you hug around his neck.

“We must be back in training school,” you giggle, feeling his shoulders shake beneath you. “How pathetic of us.”

“Ahh,” he groans, suddenly wrenching you off your feet and onto the bed on top of him. He nuzzles his face into your neck, pulling you as close to him as possible. “Let’s just forget this night ever happened. It was dreadful and embarrassing.”

“As far as I’m concerned, I was never even here.”

“Me neither,” he presses a line of warm kisses down your neck, stopping at the strap of your dress. “Let’s get this off. Do you still have your blaster on you?”

You pat the metal strapped onto your thigh. “Locked and loaded.”

“Well, gee, thanks for telling me. I definitely didn’t want to get my head blown off.”

“Safety’s on, wisecrack,” you help him shrug your dress off, kicking it from your legs and off the end of the bed. You unclasp the band from around your thigh and distribute the blaster onto the nightstand.

“I’m the wisecrack,” you don’t miss the way Anakin’s voice deepens, attention suddenly captured by the bare skin of your body beneath him. His eyes follow the path his fingers are tracing up your leg. “Careful, or I’ll have to report that to the Council.”

“For what? Being right?”

“For creating conflict of interest on the job,” his fingers skim the soft flesh of your upper thighs, tickling their way past the curve of your hips, the dip of your waist, up and up and up… “It’s terribly naughty of you.”

His words are teasing and corny, but somehow the deeper insinuation of them still cause your cheeks to burn red.

“Anakin,” your voice is hoarse, causing your blush to deepen. His long fingers cup your chin, keeping your lips ghost over his as his other hand pulls the silver clasps from your hair. “I need a shower.”

“I can meet you in there?”

You clutch at his shoulders, bringing him forward to close that gap between your lips. His mouth is warm against yours, pliant and soft and generous. It’s everything you’ve been yearning for all night, all this time you’ve been apart. The smell of him, taste of him, feel of him— you could never get enough.

“I’ll save you a spot.”

#anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x fem reader #anakin angst #anakin fluff #anakin skywalker fic #jealous anakin #soft anakin #Anakin x fem reader smut #anakin fic

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emwritesstuff · 3 years

Text

as the world caves in | ch. 6 | bucky barnes x reader

synopsis: You are a ghost story. A former Air Force pilot who had her plane shot down by Germany in 1945, but here you were in 2023, alive and frozen in your 25-year-old body.

You haven’t seen Bucky since the 1940’s, before his fall, before you went on a suicide mission only to come back alive. You aren’t sure reliving those memories – and being a living memory of everything the man has lost – is the best for him.

But you and Bucky won’t be apart for long.

This will loosely follow the plot of TFATWS - so spoilers ahead, specially regarding episode four. Thread carefully!

masterlist | AO3

notes: The following chapter is finally here! It took me a while to revise it because I wanted the action scenes to not suck super badly, so yeah.

(warnings: mentions of death, gunshots, blood, injuries) (word count: 3K)

six: shield

You sat next to Sam as he typed in a computer and Helmut Zemo nursed his headache. Once he gained consciousness, he’d showered you in gratitude and niceties, and you were already close to knocking him out yourself.

T-minus what, four hours? The Dora Milaje would be there soon enough.

It’s he the one to break the comfortable silence, only filled by the soft clicking of Sam’s keyboard before.

“Were you ever offered it?”

“What?”

“The serum.”

“No.” Sam said, raising an eyebrow at you with an amused expression. You shrugged.

“If you had been, hypothetically, that is, would you have taken it?”

Sam’s mouth turned down, and he slowly turned to Zemo.

“No.”

“No hesitation, that’s impressive.”

You got up from the table, making a round so you could watch Zemo’s face as he spoke. He’d seen you usher Karli Morgenthau out of the factory basement, and you wondered what he had made of your actions.

“Sam, you can’t hold out hope for Karli.” His eyes met yours as he said that, and you looked away, circling a pillar and walking to be on the other side of the couch, by his feet. “No matter what you saw in her, she’s gone.”

You sighed. “You talk in absolutes. People aren’t like that, Zemo.”

He studied you again.

“And we cannot allow that she and her acolytes become yet another faction of gods amongst people. Super Soldiers cannot be allowed to exist.”

Zemo spoke with such conviction that you were sure you’d be also be harboring a bullet if he knew who, and what, you were.

“Isn’t that how gods talk? And if that’s how you feel, what about Bucky?” Sam’s eyes flitted to you, and you offered him a tight smile. “Blood isn’t always the solution.”

When Steve had talked to you about handing over the shield for the first time you were doubtful. He was grieving the loss of his own time – your time, too – and second-guessing his own claim to it.

You never stopped believing in Steve when he did. You and Bucky were war. Steve was… the end of it. And not just because of the serum. He was that since you all were small and scrawny, him a little scrawnier and a little smaller, as he stopped you and Bucky from butting heads.

For Steve, you, and Bucky as well, that shield meant everything. It meant the salvation of the world from true evil, that in the 1940’s was personified in the form of a little man with a moustache. Whoever carried it carried the responsibility of being the harbinger of that freedom. Of relief, justice, and most of all... hope.

So when Steve talked to you about handing over the shield a second time, this time to capable hands instead of a glass dome, you understood – it was time to pass the mantle to someone who was, indeed, a new beacon of hope.

Safe to say, the fact that John Walker now carried the shield you put so much importance into felt wrong.

“Something’s not right about Walker.” Bucky strolled in, seemingly in a sour mood. You chuckled, and watched as he discarded his things on the counter.

“You don’t say.”

“Well, I know a crazy when I see one. Because I am crazy.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Sam quipped, and you patted his shoulder affectionately when you walked past him to get Bucky to make you a drink too.

You swiped his jacket off the counter and hanged it neatly on the back of one of the barstools. Bucky licked his lips and shook his head as you mouthed ragamuffin at him.

“Pour me one.”

“Can you hold your liquor now, sugar?”

You narrowed your eyes at him and grabbed the glass he had fixed for himself.

“Now you pour yourself one.” You took a sip, smiling into the glass.

Bucky glared at Sam. “Shouldn’t have given him the shield.”

You shot Bucky a disapproving look. He raised his eyes briefly at you while pouring his drink, and shrugged.

“Buck—”

“I didn’t give him the shield.”

“Well Steve definitely didn’t.”

“James Barnes!” Goddamn Bucky and his hard-headed self.

Bucky looked at you like he used to look at his mother, wide eyed, like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. It only lasted for a second, his bewilderment falling into a scowl right after. Behind you, Sam chuckled.

You shook your head at Bucky, but you had no time to fall into an argument. The one and only John Walker and Lemar Hoskins were bursting in, demanding to take Zemo. Ordering, really.

“Hey, slow your roll.” Sam said firmly. “Man, let’s be clear. Shield or no shield, the only thing you’re runnin’ in here is your mouth.”

You bottomed up your whiskey, knowing whatever was to come couldn’t be good.

“Now, I had Karli and you overstepped. He’s actually proven himself useful today. And we’re gonna need all hands on deck for whatever’s coming next.”

Walker challenged Sam next. He looked eager and ready for a fight, and as much as you’d loved to keep your real abilities hidden, you figured your time out of the spotlight was running out. Bucky looked at you from the corner of his eye, relaxed stance contrasting with the tightness of his jaw. Zemo paced behind Sam, still clutching his own drink.

The moment Walker put down the shield an iron spear cut the air and lodged itself into the pilaster, separating him and Sam.

No, not iron. Vibranium.

The Dora Milaje.

“Even if he is a means to your end… Time’s up.” Ayo announced in Xhosa. You grimaced.

You sighed heavily when John decides to one-up them, too. Ayo swings the spear at his arm when he touches his shoulder and a fight breaks out. You reached for the liquor again.

There wasn’t enough alcohol in the world.

The fight was only Walker and Hoskins getting absolutely overpowered by the warriors while you, Bucky, Sam and Zemo stayed out of it.

“We should do something.”

You swirled your drink, taking a small sip. “I am. I’m observing.”

“Looking strong, John!” Bucky shouted, making you have to hide a snort. Sam exhaled heavily.

“Such a diplomat, you. Bucky…”

“I’m a lot of things, Samuel.” You shrugged, but finished your drink anyways and hiked up your sleeves.

You, Bucky and Sam all ran to take one of the Doras each. As one kicked Hoskins to the couch you stepped in front of him, blocking the hit of her spear with your forearm.

You met her eyes and tilted your head apologetically. When she raised her weapon again you twisted your body and landed a back kick to her middle.

She staggered back a couple of steps but was back at you in an instant.

Hit. Block. Kick. Another hit to your shoulder.

Even if the fight was fairly balanced, Super Soldier against Dora Milaje, you knew you had a slim chance of actually winning. You hadn’t been in a fight in years, much less with someone this capable and trained.

After blocking another of your strikes with her spear, she hit the side of your left knee. It’s your bad one.

East Berlin, 1987. You had been undercover for nearly two weeks now, tracking a lead about the existence of a HYDRA lab that was conducting experiments with new Super Soldiers.

The wind that cut through the rooftop of the building you stood on testing the very limits of the overcoat you wore on top of your tactical suit. So damn cold. You tried not to dwell on how frigid your toes were inside of your boots, instead concentrating on watching the sun slip behind the skyline.

You were waiting on a man that would give you the next lead. Intel said he would be there before you, but he wasn’t when you got there. 10 minutes had gone past the accorded meeting time, and you were starting to think that no one was coming.

A bullet ricocheted on the concrete pillar you were stood behind, and you realized why S.H.I.E.L.D.’s contact was running late. You grabbed your own pistol, still hidden by the concrete, and peeked in the direction the shot had come from.

A man and a woman, in full leather. You saw the red star etched on their left arms as they marched towards you. HYDRA.

You had two exit options, one that was across the rooftop or jumping down into River Spree. Either way, you’d have to deal with the two HYDRA agents that approached you.

You ran to another pillar, shooting at them. You hit the woman on the leg, and she buckled down. Her counterpart didn’t even spare her a look, continuing his way to you. You kept shooting, missing a few and landing the rest on the both of them, the guy barely flinching.

You didn’t understand why he wasn’t using his own gun. Maybe he didn’t feel the need for one.

There was no time for thinking. The man was onto you; swatting your gun away, blocking your punch, hitting your chest. You crashed into concrete.

The woman joined in, landing a hard blow to the side of your skull. Your eyes widened. They were just as strong as you.

Super Soldiers.

You crawled away from them, hand swatting at your leg for your knife. It landed in the woman’s throat with a squelch. One down.

The man was much stronger it seemed, you barely able to keep the fight balanced even with another of your knives. You cut and ripped, but it was like your blade was a feather on his skin.

He backed you up until the edge of the building. You could see the river below.

You groaned when he headbutted you, and you go stumbling down. The blood was hot against your face and metallic on your lips.

He stomped on your knee. Again. And again. You choked on your own agony.

His voice was all you heard before he kicked you off the ledge. You plunged into the freezing air.

Hail HYDRA.

Familiar pain laced through you, making your hairs stand on end. You cried out, nearly tumbling straight to the ground.

The clank of metal hitting the ground and a spear shot at the direction of the shield ended the fight. Bucky’s vibranium arm laid limp and detached on the ground, his expression even more perplexed than when you had scolded him earlier.

You straightened yourself up as the pain subsided. Ayo opened the doors to an empty bathroom.

Zemo. He has slipped right through your fingers while you were busy defending John Walker’s ass from the Dora Milaje.

You helped Sam to his feet as they were leaving, Ayo giving you one last stern look before leading the way out. It felt like a reminder of a debt.

“Did you know they could do that?” Sam said, looking at a limbless Bucky. The arm seemed to snap back into the right place, thank goodness for that. A failsafe, then.

“No.” Bucky rotated his arm, an indecipherable expression on his face, even for your standards.

The room was filled with tension as the three of you gathered yourselves again and John Walker sat defeated on the ground, with only Lemar to check up on him. You walked past them to get inside the bathroom, frowning at the drainage hole Zemo had made his escape through.

“I can’t believe he pulled an El Chapo,” Sam murmured.

“I can.” Bucky clenched his jaw. “Come on.”

Bucky led you through the backstreet and to the back of the building, though you weren’t sure exactly what you were looking for. A lead, maybe, but neither of you knew if Zemo had made his way all the way to the underground or escaped to the streets once he was out.

“You okay? You got hit pretty bad back there.” Sam said, looking at you. You all had taken a decent beating, but the hit to your leg had taken you by surprise. Bucky frowned.

“I’m good.” Bucky frowned deeper, and you shook your head at him, clapping Sam on the shoulder. “I got a bad knee, it’s all. Replacement cap and everything.”

Sam laughed.

“You’re 106 and have a prosthetic kneecap? Wow, you’re starting to sound your age.”

“You know what, Wilson? I think you should respect your elders.”

Sam raised his hands, still laughing. “Okay, okay. But only ‘cause I saw you kicking ass back there. Girl, where the hell have you been?”

Bucky grumbled something, and threw an arm around your shoulders.

“Retired.”

You patted his cheek lovingly, and laughed a little when you caught him fighting a smile. Sam got ahead of you, sending you a look of mischief and wiggling his eyebrows.

You urged Bucky forward, earning a huff from him as you got to Sam’s side.

Compartmentalizing was necessary. Zemo was on the loose, Walker was verging on unhinged, and there was still Karli to deal with. Whatever was going on with you and Bucky – and the insistent feeling that tugged on your heartstrings whenever you looked at him – would have to wait.

You listened to Sam’s conversation on the phone, his tone growing more concerned at every pause. Sarah. Overnight bag. Take the boys.

“What happened?” Bucky asked and you slipped from under his arm.

“Karli called Sarah. She threatened my nephews.”

Shit.

“Sam, I got a safehouse in New Orleans.” You said once he hung up. He nodded at you, and you took his phone to get his sister’s contact.

Karli was entering dangerous territory. Before, you considered her a fighter on a rightful cause, but as if predicted by Zemo, she was escalating. You feared that it was a fight you couldn’t let her win, or run free.

“Karli wants to meet. She left a contact number.” Sam’s phone chimed. “She said come alone.”

“I’m comin’ with you.” Bucky looked at you. “We are.”

“Let’s gear up, boys.”

---

You were grateful you had kept your old tactical suit inside your closet for a rainy day.

The suit was carbon black, except for the blue-grey Kevlar plating on your chest, back and upper legs. It had a faint resemblance to an armor, and the amount of impact it could absorb made you protected and difficult to take down. You completed your gear with your trusty boots and hidden knives.

Sam had changed into his wings and Bucky into his peculiar one-armed leathers.

“Damn, you look cool.”

A laugh escaped your lips. “So do you, Sam.”

Bucky cleared his throat. “We should go.”

The sky was cloudy and the air dry, and still you could feel a storm coming. You walked into the empty building, you and Bucky tailing Sam.

“Karli!”

The redhead revealed herself, standing on the second floor. Sam went to talk to her, leaving you to watch them from a distance.

Karli looked at you and Bucky there, her eyes lingering on you for a few seconds more. You realized how menacing you must have looked, the three of you in full gear, and you wondered if Bucky felt as strange about your rigid stance as you did about his.

The two of you really had changed.

“I was gonna ask you to join me. Or do the world a favor and let me go.”

If only things were that easy.

Sam looked at the screen on his wrist and turned to you in alarm.

“It’s Walker.”

A trap. Bucky was the first to leap to the ground, colliding with Karli in the process. You and Sam landed at the same time, and you hoisted Bucky up while Sam clashed with the girl.

He sent Karli to the ground with a flying kick.

“I’ll send you the location, go!”

You and Bucky leapt into the street and broke into a fast sprint as Sam took off.

“You’re fast!”

You looked to your side at Bucky, smirking. He was just a little behind you.

“I’m lighter!”

“No fair!”

“You have a metal arm!”

Bucky led you to the location Sam had sent him. Riga had plenty of empty buildings, it seemed. You were running up the stairs when a Flag Smasher jumped on you, then another on Bucky.

The guy and you dragged yourselves all the way to the top, exchanging punches. You saw his eyes widen under the mask when you landed a boot on his chest and he went flying backwards.

Taking the free time you had bought yourself, you searched for Bucky below you. As soon as you found him the Flag Smasher tackled you, hoisting your body up. You hit his shoulder blade with your elbow and he bumped into the railing, quickly turning and hanging you over the edge.

“Y/N!”

Bucky was upside down. No, that was you.

He reached for you as the other Flag Smasher had him locked in a rear choke.

“I’ve got this!”

Tightening your legs around the man, you let yourself fall, taking him with you. You crash at the bottom of the building.

“You said you had this!”

Bucky jumped to your level.

“I do!”

You stared at his scowl for a brief second before roundhouse kicking your foe and finally putting him down.

Bucky returned to you after dealing with his own Flag Smasher. He looked furious.

“You’re so fucking reckless!”

Oh, Jesus H. Christ. You couldn’t believe Bucky, wanting to argue.

“I am fine! It wasn’t that high.” You huffed. “We have no time for this, James. Let’s go.”

You ran to the top of the building, Bucky trailing behind you. He caught a flying knife right before it lodged itself on your face. He glowered at you as if to say you don’t got this.

Not sparing him a response, you busy yourself with fighting another of the Flag Smashers, this time a woman. It was like all you needed was a little warming up, because you’re clearly in advantage as you blocked her punches and grabbed her torso, slamming her into the ground next.

You looked up. John Walker was staring at you.

He didn’t have much time to dwell on whatever he saw, one of the men coming from behind and immobilizing him.

Karli screamed as she ran towards Walker. She was in it for the kill. Hoskins tackled her before she could do it. All you could make out was the blur of an altercation.

Lemar Hoskins slammed into a pillar with a crack.

Your stomach churned.

Everything stilled as Walker ran to his partner, desperately trying to get him to wake up. He slumped sideways, his head lolled down.

He was dead.

Karli and her group took advantage of the tumult and ran, her shooting one last look at the rest of you as they took off. You couldn’t let her get away this time, though, so you immediately go into pursuit.

You shot one look behind you, seeing Bucky and Sam follow you as you whizzed through the streets of Riga. You’re the first to get to the square, making your way to the middle of the crowd hastily.

Walker stoop upright, holding the shield over the body of one of the unmasked Flag Smashers.

It was broad daylight; there were dozens of people around you.

The city was silent.

He was dead.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x y/n

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nugnthopkns · 3 years

Text

take the sadness out of saturday night

word count: 2.8k

warnings: insinuated fem!reader, a couple of curse words, alcohol consumption, vaguely described feelings of inadequacy

recommended listening: chinatown | bleachers featuring bruce springsteen

a/n: will i ever write anything more than 3k? probs not. also this baby is completely self indulgent but i don’t even care

All you want to do is sleep. Or drink an entire bottle of wine. Maybe both.

Graduate school is a lot harder than you expected it to be. You obviously weren’t naïve enough to think it be as easy as your undergrad, but you didn’t think it would be like this. It’s competitive; with people doing whatever it takes to get ahead. You’ve almost had your thesis topic stolen twice. The workload is also incredibly different. Gone are the days of small tests and assignments: everything relies on your thesis paper being of the utmost quality. You feel like you’re drowning in the middle of the ocean.

Today was the worst in a succession of terrible days. On the way to campus you dropped your coffee but didn’t have enough time to get another one. The conditions didn’t get any better once you reached school. Your lunch got left behind on the kitchen island and your advisor didn’t show up for your meeting, putting you another two weeks behind schedule. To top it off, you left campus later than usual and caught in the horrendous Philadelphia traffic. By the time you reach your apartment complex you’re thoroughly exhausted and two seconds away from crying.

How you can afford your current lodging is beyond you. Tuition is waived by the university, which certainly helps, but you’re mostly relying on loans. It will be a bitch to pay off in a few years, but you don’t have any other option. The building isn’t ridiculously flashy, with semi-outdated furnishing, but it’s in a central location that anyone in Philly would kill for. Every day you wake up grateful there isn’t an eviction notice on your door; though you’re very careful to pay rent on time. Only the small lamp in the entryway is on when you unlock the door, but you keep it that way. Kicking off your sneakers and haphazardly hanging up your jacket, you shuffle into the bedroom portion of the studio. The pyjamas tucked under the pillow are calling your name, and it feels so good to free yourself of business casual clothing.

The next stop on your mad-dash around in order to plant yourself on the couch as quickly as possible is the bathroom. You scrub your face vigorously, knowing you’ll pay for it in a few days when a breakout appears, but you can’t find it within you to care. It feels so good to be clean and in control of a situation. The kitchen is where you meander to next, filling the largest glass you can find with rosé. A bag of candy is grabbed as well, and then you’re tucking yourself into the corner of the couch and piling on the blankets. You open Netflix and briefly debate what to watch before deciding on something you’ve seen a million times before that won’t require your full attention.

Half an hour into the film you get hungry, but with no ambition to cook for yourself. Take out it is. You place an order at your favourite sushi joint and lazily return your gaze to the T.V. The scene on the screen no longer appeals to you, so you dig around the cushions to find your phone. It’s been a while since you’ve called your mom and you know she’s been missing you; truth be told you miss her a resounding amount. Philadelphia is a long ways from home and you can’t afford to travel often. Not being near your pillar of support is definitely wearing on you. She picks up on the fifth ring.

“Hello?”

A tear slips out at the sound of her voice. Yours catches in your throat slightly, and your response is garbled. “Mom,” it breaks at the end, and the tears quickly turn into a waterfall.

“Oh honey,” she sighs, chest filling with pain at your apparent despair. “What’s the matter?”

You sob for a minute or two before it subsides enough for you to actually speak. Through hiccups and sniffles you detail your horrible week, and the one before that for good measure. Your mom stays silent, listening with intent, and the one sided conversation eventually turns into you fretting about how you feel inadequate in your academic community and how you can’t picture a future. Only once you’ve ran out of words does she speak, negating the argument put in place by your imposter syndrome and doing her best to inflate your ego.

“You’ve earned your seat at the table Y/N,” she says with conviction. “I know it doesn’t feel like it, but you deserve to be there. You’re cut out for this; no one is more passionate about their work than you.”

Another hiccup slips past your lips as you respond. “Thanks Mom.”

You don’t have to see her to know she’s sporting a smile. “We’re so proud of you honey, and always will be. No matter what you decide to do. Hell, you could move to Peru to become an alpaca farmer and your dad and I would be the happiest parents on Earth.”

The comment is meant to make you laugh, citing the time you called her during your undergrad to inform her you were dropping out and moving to the Andes. It works. You can’t help it, and have to admit it feels good after days of negative feelings. She distracts you further, recounting a story about your youngest brother’s recent baseball game that ended with a trip to the hospital after an unfortunate sliding incident. You wince at the mention of the basemen’s cleat colliding with his ankle, and chuckle when she talks about Connor singing showtunes in the recovery room. The story swapping continues, and it brings comfort. If you close your eyes you can envision yourself sitting on your mom’s bed, hiding your face in a pillow when anything embarrassing happens.

A knock at your door ends your conversation, and the sadness slowly trickles back into your bones. “Mom, I’ve gotta go. The delivery person is here.”

“Okay sweetie. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Having lost track of time, you’re wildly unprepared to pay for your food. “One minute,” you yell in the direction of the front door, praying the person on the other side heard you. You root around your wallet for the appropriate amount of cash before sliding across the floor and unlocking the door handle. The person standing there is not in fact a food delivery service worker, but your neighbour from across the hall, holding what you presume to be your dinner.

“Nolan?”

To say you’re shocked is an understatement. Though you’d go as far to say the two of you are casual acquaintances, he’s never shown up unannounced on your doorstep. Most of your interactions take place in the elevator or hallway, and you’ve only been inside his apartment once when you left your keys in your advisor’s office. Being a professional hockey player means he typically isn’t around a lot, but you had learned from a friend he’s spending the season sidelined by an injury. He still hasn’t been around a lot from what you could tell.

His low rumble catches you off guard for a millisecond but it doesn’t take long to adjust. “They, uh, sent it to the wrong door,” he mumbles, holding out the bag to illustrate his point.

“Fuck,” you swear. “Sorry. How much do I owe you?” A ballpark figure is in your brain, but you aren’t above throwing in a few extra dollars for the inconvenience. No one wants to receive their neighbour’s food.

Nolan shakes his head profusely and shoves his hands in his pockets when you try to slip the money into them. “It’s on the house,” he shrugs. “Think of it as an apology for being a shit neighbour these past couple of months.”

“You’re a great neighbour Nolan. I have no complaints.” He returns your smile but doesn’t speak. An awkward tension fills the air between you, almost as if each of you is waiting for the other to talk.

“Well I’ll let you –”

“Would you like some company?”

The question stops you dead in your tracks. A look of bewilderment must appear on your face because Nolan starts blabbering. “It’s just that you looked upset when you came to the door, like you’ve been crying. I can also see the nearly empty bottle of wine on the counter and that’s never a good sign.” He pauses for a second to take a breath before blurting out a final sentence. “And there’s a game tonight and if I don’t distract myself from it I think I might die.” Ragged breathing punctuates the sudden stoppage, and when you look up to meet his eyes you feel a sense of desperation.

Without saying anything you open the door wider and retreat into the unit, hoping he gets the hint. It takes him all of two seconds to follow you, quickly darting across the hall to lock his door. You’re at the fridge when he returns, and turn around to ask him what he’d like to drink.

“It seems like an alcohol kind of night,” you chuckle. “What are you having?”

He looks at you sheepishly and rubs the back of his neck. “Could I have a glass of that rosé?”

You nod and gesture for him to pass you the bottle. “Never pegged you as a wine drinker,” you comment as you fill his cup.

“Travis teases me relentlessly so I don’t keep it at the house anymore. Can only drink it in private.”

At the mention of his teammate’s name you understand. It’s exhausting to fit into someone’s mould of you. “Your secret is safe with me.”

The two of you migrate to the couch and once again become shrouded in silence. It’s comfortable this time, as you nurse your glasses and watch the skyline. Just having someone by your side is enough to quell the upset you’ve felt all day. You wonder why you hadn’t sought Nolan out sooner. It seems he’s been in a similar situation; having terrible days and feeling alone. Conversation only comes once he realizes both your drinks are empty. Nolan opens the fridge to find one more bottle of wine; a cheap, fruity one that’s meant to taste like a cooler. It’s strawberry flavoured, which equal parts thrills and disgusts him. He’s thrown back to his first high school party, when this was the only alcohol he could get his friends’ older sisters to buy him.

“I feel like I’m sixteen again,” he laughs, not bothering to fill his glass. Instead, he swigs from the bottle before reaching over the back of the couch and placing in your lap. You follow his lead, drinking directly from the vessel.

“Don’t judge me,” you huff. “I like the way it tastes.”

Nolan gazes sideways at you before dropping his voice to a near whisper. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

In a streak of boldness that came from god knows where, you place a hand on top of his. He doesn’t retract but doesn’t push forward either. You’re too scared to do anything else, and soon retract your hand and place it in your lap. “So,” you cough. “You need a distraction?”

☀☀☀☀

One comedy special turned into three, and it’s safe to say both you and Nolan are feeling exponentially better than when he knocked on your door. The alcohol flowed until you ran out, but neither of you are drunk. Perhaps tipsy; most definitely content. It’s so nice to enjoy someone’s company without the pressure of maintaining a perfect appearance. Nolan must feel it too, because he slowly begins to open up, talking about his career and ambitions for a life after hockey. You sit quietly, much like your mother had done hours before, as he describes his frustration with the migraines and how he yearns to bond with his teammates.

“I’m just so scared this is it, that I’m done,” he hiccups.

You tentatively shuffle closer to him, looking for signs that he’s uncomfortable. Once you’re squished beside him, shoulder to shoulder, you take yet another page from your mother’s book. “If tonight is a good indicator of who you are, then you, Nolan Patrick, are going to be just fine. Seems to me that this is nothing but a bump in the road. You’re destined for greatness.”

He smiles, possibly the first completely real one he’s given you all night, and it reaches his eyes. “You really think that?”

“Absolutely. Wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t believe it to be true. You see, in my line of work, truth is of the utmost importance.”

At Nolan’s incessant prodding you talk about school, your thesis, and what you hope to achieve. It doesn’t sting the way you thought it would, possibly because you’re speaking to someone who’s completely enamored with the topic. Academia clearly fascinates Nolan, though he makes it clear he has no interest in joining the community. The only way you can describe the feeling of explaining everything to him is refreshing; he asks insightful questions about your research and isn’t bogged down by the technicalities like so many of your fellow scholars. When you’ve exhausted all you can say and Nolan’s ‘poked’ holes in all of your theories, he gets a serious look and turns so your body is framed by his.

In this position there’s no denying how attractive he is. Of course you’ve always found him easy to look at when you passed in the halls, but knowing him as intimately as you now do makes you realize how much you like him. “Come to a game with me?” he asks.

Your rhythm is once again thrown off by the man in front of you. “A game?”

Nolan nods enthusiastically. “A game. I’ve been meaning to go to one for a while, but I can’t find the courage to go alone. The next home game is on Tuesday, but we can obviously go to another one when it fits your schedule. If you want to come, that is.”

He’s yet to be this excited about hockey all night, and who are you to deny your newfound friend something he wants so badly? “Tuesday’s perfect Nolan.” He pumps his fist in happiness and you giggle at his antics.

“I’m so happy I could kiss you.” It slips out before he realizes, and the shock on his face lets you know it was an accident.

“You can if you want.”

You’re surprised at your own boldness, but don’t have much time to read into what the statement could mean because Nolan’s leaning in to rest his forehead against yours.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The moment his lips touch yours it feels like a homecoming. He’s gentle but firm, letting you know he doesn’t want this to be a one time thing without saying anything at all. Nolan brings to you a sort of warmth that settles in your chest that makes you truly content with how life is going. You lose yourself in him, letting your heart steer the ship. He never waivers from you, only pulling back slightly to card his fingers through your hair. They settle at the nape of your neck and make shivers tingle your spine. You’re impossibly close, but you wish it would never end. After what feels like a millennia you break apart, chests heaving slightly from the lack of oxygen.

You can’t find the words, but you know you never want to be without Nolan again. All the anguish you experienced earlier feels light years away after a few short hours of truly knowing him. It seems that he’s on the same page, because Nolan makes no effort to remove himself from the situation. In fact, he seems perfect content to never move again: arm comfortably around your shoulder as he places a chaste kiss to the crown of your head.

“So is Tuesday a date now?” You squeak, voice small. You’re worried you’ve ruined the moment, but he cuts off your overthinking with a squeeze your bicep.

“It’s whatever you want it to be,” he replies, and you know he means it.

You can’t help yourself and slot your lips against his once again. “I’d like that a lot. There’s one condition though: I want to meet Gritty.”

Nolan’s laugh echoes off the walls and sounds like the sweetest melody you’ve ever heard. “Think I can manage to pencil you in to the schedule. It has a soft spot for me.”

As he reaches for the remote to put on highlights of the game that’s well over, you shuffle to rest your head comfortably in his lap. Your fingers find his and lazily combine. Nolan mumbles something you don’t quite catch, something about a play Travis made, but you hum in agreement anyways. He’s most likely right. Your eyes begin to droop, and as you fall asleep you forget why you were even sad in the first place.

☀☀☀☀

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longitudinalwaveme · 3 years

Text

The Man in the Mirror

Sam Scudder, the costumed crook known as the Mirror Master, accidentally swaps places with Dr. Samuel Scudder, the heroic Mirror Master of a mirror dimension and a man who is everything he isn't: a beloved hero, a skilled optometrist, and a devoted husband and father.

Sam never went to medical school, and knows he isn't exactly a good role model for kids. Dr. Scudder, for his part, isn't particularly thrilled to be stuck behind bars for the crimes of his counterpart. Can the two men find a way to reverse the switch, or will each be doomed to live out the other man's life?

Dr. Samuel Scudder, an optometrist who had achieved much greater fame as the Mirror Master, had visited a number of alternate realities over the years. Not only was traveling to alternate realities part and parcel of being a superhero who helped to save the world, but he also had stumbled onto dozens of them as the result of his constant experimentation with the Mirror Realm. However, this particular trip had gone disastrously wrong. While he was no stranger to accidentally transporting himself to alternate dimensions, he had always been able to transport himself back to his own reality with little difficulty. This time, it was as though the Mirror Realm had closed part of itself off. While he was still able to use it to traverse across this dimension, when he had tried to transport himself back home, a wave of energy had ejected him from the Realm. For all intents and purposes, he was stuck in this dimension.

Dr. Scudder would have been dismayed to be stuck in any dimension other than his own, of course, but in most of them, he would likely have had access to resources that he could use to get himself back home via another route. This reality was far more problematic, because, as he had abruptly discovered when he had been arrested for escaping prison only a few minutes after his arrival, his counterpart in this reality was a criminal. Since he and the criminal Samuel Scudder of this dimension were physically identical, the authorities had naturally concluded that he was his counterpart and had sent him to prison in his counterpart’s place. Now that he had been mistaken for his counterpart, Dr. Scudder’s options for getting home were very limited. He couldn’t exactly go looking for help while locked up in prison, and the fact that everyone would assume that he was the Samuel Scudder of this dimension meant that few people were likely to believe a word he said, especially about something as unlikely as him being from another reality. If this had been the work of his counterpart, Dr. Scudder had to admit that the man was brilliant. Who better to get locked up in your place than someone who was for all intents and purposes your identical twin?

“Dinner, Scudder.” The voice of one of the prison’s guards broke Dr. Scudder out of his reverie. The man shoved a tray into the cell.

“Thank you, sir,” Dr. Scudder replied quietly. His counterpart probably wasn’t nearly so polite to the guards, but he saw no reason to be rude. The guard looked a bit surprised, but didn’t say anything as he walked away. Once he was gone, Dr. Scudder started eating the food and quickly discovered that yes, prison food was as bad as reported. In spite of the taste, however, he ate all of it; growing up on Skid Row, never knowing where his next meal might be coming from, meant that he never wasted food, no matter how poorly it tasted.

Once he had finished his meal, he started to look around the cell to see if he could learn anything about the habits and personality of his counterpart (other than his obvious criminal tendencies). The absence of mirrors basically confirmed his suspicion that his counterpart used the same mirror technology that he did; it was likely intended to prevent any escape attempts...and was woefully inadequate for that purpose. It wasn’t just mirrors that allowed access to the Mirror Realm; any reflective surface would do. Short of locking him in a cell with no light, which seemed morally questionable at best, the only way to prevent this universe’s Samuel Scudder-or Dr. Scudder himself, for that matter-from escaping would be to spend more money than the prison’s budget likely had on technology advanced enough to counteract the effects of the mirror tech. Both he and his counterpart effectively had the power of instant teleportation; containing them was almost impossible. Dr. Scudder had never been more glad that his mother had caught on to the addiction problem he’d developed in high school after...after...no, not thinking about it-than he was right now. The amount of damage he could have done if he’d fallen into crime like this Samuel Scudder apparently had was immense.

Further perusal of the cell uncovered a scientific tome about the nature of light that had evidently been borrowed from the prison’s library, an old JSA comic book from the same source (Dr. Scudder couldn’t help but smile at that; he’d always loved those old comics and had a pretty substantial collection of them), a picture of his counterpart with a man who strongly resembled George “Digger” Wiggins, the head of Wiggins’ Toy Company, and a mostly-complete pack of cigarettes. At the last, Dr. Scudder groaned. It had taken him several years to kick his addiction to smoking; he definitely didn’t need the temptation to fall off the wagon now. He quickly shoved the cigarettes back under the cot and, fairly certain that he’d found everything of interest in the cell, started leafing through the comic book. He was delighted to find that it was a story that he actually hadn’t read before, and was soon lost to the world, swept up in the adventures of his boyhood heroes.

****************************************************************

Sam Scudder had broken out of prison a number of times; it was, after all, practically a prerequisite for any self-respecting supervillain. However, while his grand escapes had often gotten his name in the papers, he had to admit that being greeted by a cheering crowd shortly after breaking prison was new.

“Mirror Master! Mirror Master!” Bewildered, but never one to turn down attention and applause, Sam waved to the crowd. The cheers and applause got louder, and a couple of children ran up to him.

“Mr. Mirror Master, sir, could we have you autograph?” one of them asked.

“Uh...of course, kiddo,” Sam replied. He was still a bit perplexed by the situation, but it was starting to seem oddly familiar. He signed both kids’ papers, and they beamed.

“Wow! This is the biggest thrill of my life!” the other kid exclaimed as they excitedly ran back to a woman Sam assumed was their mother. And then it clicked. He’d been in a situation very like this one before, shortly after his initial discovery of the Mirror Realm. He had discovered a mirror reality of sorts where the Flash was a crook and his own counterpart, this universe’s Mirror Master, was a do-gooder, and had been mistaken for his counterpart by a couple of kids when he had gone to that reality in order to further a plan to defeat the Flash. Clearly, he had ended up in that reality again...but this time, he had no idea as to how it had happened. He had entered the Mirror Realm in order to transport himself closer to one of his hideouts….and when he had emerged, he had been surrounded pretty much immediately by this crowd.

Whatever the reason he had ended up here, though, he’d need to be going. As much as he loved the limelight, he had far too much to do in his own reality to stick around in this one. After signing a dozen more autographs and agreeing to have his picture taken a few times, he bade the crowd good-bye, entered the Mirror Realm, and headed back to the path he usually took to return to his own reality...only to suddenly be violently ejected from the Mirror Realm. Luckily, he wasn’t deposited back in front of the crowd, but it was still worrisome (and a bit painful). It seemed that, for whatever reason, the Mirror Realm was blocking his path back home….which meant that he was stuck in this reality. Sam groaned. The last thing he needed was to be stuck in a reality where everyone would think he was some pillar of the community or something.

The only bright spot to this mess (other than the fact that he wouldn’t have to dodge police or the Flash) was the fact that the Mirror Realm had at least deposited him next to a building that looked like the hideout he had been trying to reach in his own dimension, albeit much less dilapidated. He pulled the key to the building out of the gun holster where he stored it, discovered, to his relief, that it still unlocked the door, stepped inside the building, and pulled off his cowl. The building’s interior was much homier and more put-together than the interior of his hideout, but it was still pretty clearly the same structure. Before he could make any further observations, however, he was distracted by the sound of approaching footsteps.

“So, my heroic husband’s finally home. It’s good to see you again, dear. How was work?” For his part, Sam barely managed to keep his jaw from dropping open. The woman standing in front of him was a perfect replica of his high school sweetheart, Jenny Conners...but if she was calling him husband , that meant that his heroic counterpart had gotten married to his Jenny!

“Uh, hi, Jenny! Work was...work was good,” he said awkwardly. Jenny (or rather, Jenny’s counterpart) laughed.

“In other words, Officer Snart and Dr. Dillon got into another spat about whether or not Dr. Dillon is a suitable candidate for Ms. Mayor Snart’s hand in marriage,” she said. In spite of himself, Sam smiled. Insane alternate dimension where the Golden Glider was the mayor or no, it seemed that some things remained consistent no matter where you were in the multiverse.

“Sadly, that seems to be the argument that will never die,” Sam replied. Suddenly, he heard several more footsteps, and then three little girls rushed into the room.

“Dad, guess what? My team won the basketball game in gym class!”

“Do you like the way Mom fixed my hair, Dad? I can’t decide if I like it or not.”

“Hi, Daddy!”

Sam was thunderstruck. His do-gooder counterpart being married to his high school sweetheart had been unexpected, but really not too surprising in the grand scheme of things. The fact that he was a father, however….that he would never have predicted.

“I didn’t quite catch that, guys. Could you repeat what you told me a little more slowly?” he asked, wondering just how much of a tell his discomfort in this situation was.

“My team won our basketball game in gym class!” The girl who said this was wearing jeans, a t-shirt that read “Centerfield Elementary Basketball”, and gym shoes, and had her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail.

“Good job,” Sam replied, unsure of what else to say.

“I was wanting to know what you think of how Mom fixed my hair,” the second girl said. She was so like the first girl that she almost had to be her twin, but she was wearing a purple button-down and a khaki skirt, and her hair was pulled into two braids, each adorned with a purple ribbon. She was adorable.

“You look great, sweetheart,” Sam said. His own father had died when he was a baby, so he had no idea if he sounded appropriately fatherly or not. That being said, the girl beamed, so he had at least succeeded in making her happy.

“I was just saying hi, Daddy. I love you soooo much,” the third little girl said. She was clearly younger than the other two and was wearing a pink dress with “Daddy’s Little Princess” emblazoned on it, and before he could even respond, she had hugged him around the legs.

“I love you, too,” Sam said weakly, feeling increasingly lousy. Posing as his counterpart was one thing when he was plotting against the Flash or receiving the plaudits of a crowd, but quite another when he was with the counterpart of his high school sweetheart (who thought that he was her husband) and her children. He needed to get out of this situation, ASAP. Luckily for him, Jenny’s counterpart (maybe he’d just call her Jennifer for the sake of simplicity) provided him with the means to escape.

“Girls, your father has had a long day. I think he needs to rest a bit. You can tell him all about your days at dinner, but for now, why don’t you let him go to our room so that he can recover from work?” she asked. The three girls nodded.

“Thanks, Jenny,” Sam said. With that, he took off for his bedroom (or at least, where his bedroom was in his hideout) and was pleased to see that it was his counterpart’s bedroom as well. Not having to completely relearn the layout of the house was a relief. While it was much more homey and had a queen-sized double bed instead of a single one, it was still recognizably his bedroom. His counterpart even had a similar collection of JSA comics! Thrilled, he pulled one of his favorites off of the shelf and started reading it. Soon enough, his situation was temporarily forgotten as he was swept into the world of his boyhood heroes.

****************************************************

Dr. Scudder had been puzzling over why his cell, which had clearly been designed with two inhabitants in mind, had so far only held one person for a few days when two of the guards walked up to it, escorting an inmate Dr. Scudder hadn’t seen so far between them. The inmate in question was swearing quite colorfully and looked familiar, though he couldn’t quite work out why.

“Harkness, if you don’t shut it right now, we’re putting you in solitary,” one of the guards barked. At this, the inmate stopped swearing and apparently decided to settle for giving the guards a death glare instead.

“Here’s your cellmate, Scudder. Stay back from the door if you know what’s good for you,” the other guard said.

“Yes, sir,” Dr. Scudder replied, prompting an odd look from the inmate. The doctor sat down on the cot that he now sincerely hoped hadn’t been intended for the new arrival, and then the guards opened the cell door, uncuffed the inmate, and pushed him inside the cell. A minute later, the doors were locked again, the guards were gone, and Dr. Scudder found himself with a cellmate.

“Since when are you so bloody polite with the guards, Scudder?” the man demanded in a thick Australian accent. At this point, Dr. Scudder realized that the vague sense of familiarity was probably due to the fact that this was undoubtedly George Wiggins’ counterpart and the man he had seen in the photograph with his own counterpart. In other words, he was familiar with how the Samuel Scudder of this dimension ought to behave.

“I can blow this joint whenever I feel like it. Why cause extra trouble for myself before I do?” Growing up on Skid Row had given Dr. Scudder a general feel for how people talked when they were trying to be tough, but he wasn’t sure if that made him a convincing arch-thief or not. His cellmate shrugged.

“Suit yourself, mate. Where’d you put the cigarettes? I could really use a smoko.” Dr. Scudder gestured under the cot he was sitting on, figuring that this man probably wouldn’t be terribly responsive to a lecture about the dangers of smoking, and soon afterwards, his cellmate was lighting up a cigarette.

“Strewth! I needed that. Here, you have one, mate. You look like you need it, too.” He threw the pack of cigarettes across the cell towards Dr. Scudder, who caught it on instinct, then frowned. His cellmate might well become suspicious if he didn’t light up a cigarette of his own, as his counterpart had clearly never bothered to break his addiction to smoking, but Dr. Scudder had promised his mother and Jenny that he would kick the habit, and he intended to keep that promise. How was he supposed to do that and keep his cellmate from figuring out that he wasn’t who he thought he was?

“Not now,” he finally said. He knew himself. If he started smoking in this dimension, even to prevent his potentially-violent cellmate from getting suspicious about him, there was a good chance that he wouldn’t be able to stop. He was, after all, still technically a nicotine addict.

“I’ll be stuffed! You don’t want a durry?” his cellmate asked.

“I said not now!” Dr. Scudder exclaimed.

“You don’t need to get up me, mate. You don’t have to if you don’t wanna. Just not sure when you became such a conch is all,” his cellmate replied. Although Dr. Scudder had worked with George Wiggins on occasion, who had just as much of an accent as his apparent counterpart, their paths didn’t really cross often enough for him to have a full grasp on Australian slang. As a result, he wasn’t entirely sure what his cellmate had just said.

“Whatever,” he said, hoping that this rather brusque retort would get his cellmate to drop the subject. He was very relieved when it actually seemed to work.

“So I’ve been thinking. The exploding and electric boomerangs are bonzer and all, but wouldn’t it be really something if we made a boomerang that coil let me teleport like your mirror gizmos do? The bloody Flash’s gotten too good at counteracting my flying ones,” his cellmate said. After a brief period of confusion, Dr. Scudder remembered that George Wiggins had a heroic alter ego named, of all things, “Captain Boomerang”. It seemed that his counterpart in this reality used the same gimmick (and, if Dr. Scudder’s counterpart was anything to go by, likely the same name as well) and was looking to upgrade his arsenal. Since the man was obviously also a crook, Dr. Scudder didn’t want to help him in this endeavor, but he needed a way to refuse without making it too obvious that he wasn’t actually the Samuel Scudder of this reality.

“Hey, hey, hey. Teleportation is my gimmick,” he replied. In his experience, supervillains tended to be incredibly protective of whatever gimmick they used when commiting crimes, so it seemed logical to assume that his criminal counterpart would be equally protective of his gimmick.

“It’d specifically be a teleporting boomerang, mate. I’m not gonna take over your mirror thing or nothin’. That’s too weird for me, anyway,” his cellmate said. As much as Dr. Scudder wanted to protest the hypocrisy of someone who solely used weaponized boomerangs to commit-or prevent, in the case of his universe’s Captain Boomerang-crimes describing his gimmick as weird, he had to admit that there were a number of things about his tech and the Mirror Realm that he didn’t fully understand. Even when compared to weaponizing boomerangs, his tech was pretty weird. Instead, he decided to use the weirdness of his powers to his advantage.

“If you wanted to get the effect you’re looking for, you’d have to use my weird tech. It’s the only form of teleportation any of us have access to...and even I don’t really understand it fully. In the hands of an amateur, it could be totally useless, or really hazardous to their health.” His cellmate frowned thoughtfully.

“Yeah, that’d be right. Guess I’ll leave the freaky teleporting stuff to you, mate,” he said resignedly.

“The Mirror Realm isnae so ‘weird’ once ye learn its rules, ye ken. Scudder’s always been tae cautious tae really explore the place, but once you do...why, ye’ll never want tae leave Wonderland,” a third voice, thick with a Scottish burr, said suddenly. Then, without warning, a third man walked out of the cell’s sink and into the cell itself. Like Dr. Scudder and his cellmate, he was dressed in prison greys, and, given what he had just done, Dr. Scudder might have thought that he was the Samuel Scudder of this dimension if not for the fact that, beyond a basic similarity in their builds, the new arrival looked nothing like him. He was a bit stockier than Dr. Scudder was and had wild auburn hair, a black eye, and a noticeable tooth gap that was visible thanks to his mildly unsettling open-mouthed grin. Even more unsettling was the fact that his cellmate didn’t seem particularly thrilled to see the new arrival.

“Not this loon again. I don’t care what Cold says, this limey’s not the full quid.”

“I’m nae more a limey than ye, ye minger. I’m a Glaswegian, nae a Londoner,” the other man replied.

“Who are you callin’ a minger, you yobbo?” At this, the conversation rapidly devolved into an incredibly bewildering series of what Dr. Scudder presumed were Australian and Scottish insults and lots of loud swearing. Inevitably, the noise attracted the guards, who stormed over to the cell.

“Quiet in there! Do we need to...oh, no. Not again!” one of them said.

“How does McCulloch keep doing this? He never has any tech on him when he’s brought in, and he’s not an inventor like Scudder. How can he keep escaping his cell and going into other inmates’ with no tech?” another asked.

“Maybe he’s a meta?”

“Don’t be ridiculous! If he was a meta, his powers would be detected by our scanners. Dillon’s always are.”

“But how else could a cokehead like him pull stunts like this off?”

“Maybe he has help?”

“In case you two have forgotten, we’re supposed to be capturing him and taking him to solitary for being out of his cell unsupervised,” the first guard said gruffly. The last comment finally seemed to draw the Scotsman’s attention away from his argument.

“Oops! Looks like I’d better be going. Ta!” With that, the newcomer vanished back into the Mirror Realm...and Dr. Scudder realized suddenly that, as far as he knew, there was no “McCulloch” who was running around with his powers in his dimension. So where had this McCulloch come from?

************************************************************************

The longer Sam stayed in this mirror dimension, the less he liked it. He was an illusionist by trade; seeming to be what he wasn’t was practically his calling card. However, even he could only keep up an act for so long, and pretending to be his do-gooder counterpart had already been exhausting him. And then he had learned that the Sam Scudder of this dimension was an optometrist! “Fake it ‘til you make it” had been effective in a number of situations in the past, but he somehow doubted working as an eye doctor when you’d never even graduated high school would be one of them. Fortunately, his counterpart had evidently just started a week-long vacation from work when he had arrived in this dimension, so he hadn’t actually had to work as an optometrist yet, but what was he going to do if the week of vacation ended and he was still stuck here?

“Honey, are you alright? I know you’ve been really busy lately-it’s why you took this vacation, after all-but you seem like you’ve been avoiding me and our daughters lately, and I’m getting worried,” Jennifer asked as she adjusted his tie (or rather, his counterpart’s tie that he was wearing). She had informed him earlier that day that “they” (she and this world’s Sam) had planned to have a dinner party at their house today, and he had spent most of the day helping her and his counterpart’s cute kids make the place presentable for their guests (“I know she’s your friend, but she’s still the Mayor. I don’t want the house looking like a tornado went through it!”) Sam frowned.

“I guess I must have been more stressed than I realized,” he said lamely. What else could he say? “I’m uncomfortable around you because I’m not really your husband; I’m his criminal counterpart from another dimension”? Even if she believed him, the only thing saying that would accomplish would be to get him locked up in this dimension. As creepy as it felt to lie to someone who looked so much like his old flame, looking out for number one was still more important. Jennifer sighed.

“I shouldn’t be surprised. You work full-time as an optometrist and as a superhero; and then you’re also a dedicated father who helps around the house when you get home. That’s a lot for anyone to have on their plate...and that’s not even counting what happened to your mother two years ago. Therapy or no therapy, I don’t...I don’t think any of us are really over that.” Sam looked at her in alarm. What had happened to his mother? Er, his counterpart’s mother? Before he could think of a way to ask about it in a way that wouldn’t make it clear that he had no idea what had happened, Jennifer continued her thought and answered the question for him.

“I mean, we knew that the superhero life had risks before you got into it, but I never thought...I never thought that the Flash would go after a sweet old woman like her just to get to you. She...she didn’t even have a chance to run before...before-it was just like my father all over again,” Jennifer said. Once, Sam had miscalculated where to exit from the Mirror Realm, falling almost ten feet and landing flat on his back. It had knocked the wind out of him completely and it had taken him several minutes to get his breath back. Learning that his mother-no, his counterpart’s mother-had been murdered by the criminal Flash of this dimension had a similar effect. He’d already lost Jenny’s father all those years ago when….no, not thinking about it; the idea of losing his mother like this Sam Scudder had was horrifying, no matter how estranged he was from her. Amidst the horror, Sam felt a sudden appreciation for the Flash of his dimension. Having a clean-cut busybody Flash was annoying, but a monstrous Flash who murdered innocent old ladies would be way worse.

“I...I just can’t believe she’s gone,” Sam said. And, for perhaps the first time since he’d arrived in this dimension, he was telling the complete truth.

“I know. Neither can I. Do you want to cancel our dinner party? I can if you need me to,” Jennifer asked. Sam shook his head. He needed something to take his mind off what he had just learned, ASAP. All canceling the party would do was give him more time to mull over what had happened to his counterpart’s mother and...I’m not thinking about it! He had spent years not thinking about things like that, and he didn’t intend to start now.

“No. We’ve already cleaned the house and everything, and the kids’ll be disappointed if they don’t get to see the guests,” Sam replied.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

All right. In that case, we’d better get downstairs. Officer Snart’s always early to things like this,” Jennifer replied. With that, he and his counterpart’s wife joined the cute kids downstairs, and, sure enough, the doorbell rang less than ten minutes later. Sam opened the door and was promptly greeted by the bizarre sight of a man who looked just like Len Snart, but wearing a police uniform.

“Hey, Doc. Thanks for invitin’ me. How’ve you and the missus been?” he asked.

“Uh, fine. Thanks. How about you?” Sam replied awkwardly.

“Busy. Trainin’ rookie cops who think they know everything just ‘cause they went to some upscale police academy’s a pain, but what’re ya gonna do?” If there were two phrases that did not belong together in the same sentence, they were “police officer” and “Len Snart”...but then again, his counterpart was an optometrist. Len being a cop was pretty tame by comparison.

“You love them all already, don’t you?” Jennifer asked.

“Eh, they’re decent kids. Better than the batch I had last year...especially that creep I kicked off the force and arrested for beatin’ up his wife an’ kids. He picked the wrong Lieutenant to pull that crap with,” Len’s counterpart replied.

“And how are Lucy and Jackson and your foster kids?”

“They’re doin’ well, for the most part. My latest boy thinks he’s tough and he’s been givin’ me a bit of a rough time. Kid’s fifteen years old and thinks the world is out to get him, not that I can blame him after what he’s been through. Reminds me a lot of me at that age. I just hope I can do for him what Officer Frye did for me an’ my sister,'' Len's counterpart explained. Sam felt really disoriented. It was very strange to have a man who looked and sounded and acted so much like Len Snart, but was also clearly not him.

“It wouldn’t be the first kid you’ve helped through a rough patch...and if you think he could benefit from therapy, my door is always open,” Jennifer said.

“I appreciate it, Mrs. Scudder.” With that, Len’s counterpart was swarmed by Sam’s counterpart’s adorable children, who were clearly quite fond of the man. A few minutes later, the doorbell rang again. This time, there were two people on the other side: a man who was a dead ringer for Roscoe Dillon, and a woman in a very well-made pantsuit who looked exactly like Lisa Snart. Oh, right. The Golden Glider was the mayor in this reality.

“Hi, Sam! Hi, Jennifer! How are you? I’m so glad we were able to make it,” Mayor Snart exclaimed.

“We’re glad to have you here, Ms. Mayor. And Dr. Dillon, it’s good to see you,” Jennifer said. Sam waved awkwardly.

“Likewise, Mrs. Scudder,” Dillon’s counterpart replied. Much like Dillon, he didn’t make eye contact, but he did smile, something that Dillon rarely did.

“Hey, sis. How are you? Nobody’s been hasslin’ you in the office, right?” Len’s counterpart asked.

“I’m a politician, Lenny. Being hassled is part of the job. But trust me, I can handle it,” Ms. Mayor replied.

“You sure? ‘Cause I don’t want nobody hurtin’ my baby sister.”

“Yes, Lenny. I’m sure. I’m a big girl now. Isn’t that right, Dr. Scudder?” This, thankfully, was a question that Sam could answer pretty easily.

“Your sister’s a remarkable woman, Len. She can handle herself,” he said. This Len probably wouldn’t listen any more than his Len did, but it was true in both realities.

“Dr. Dillon, could I look at your tops, please?” This question came from Sam’s counterpart’s youngest daughter, whose name, as he had learned, was Samantha. Dr. Dillon’s face lit up.

“Of course, darling. Which one would you like to see first?” Soon, he and Samantha were lost in a world of their own, both apparently completely entranced by Dr. Dillon’s tops. Ms. Mayor smiled.

“I can’t wait until we have children of our own. No matter what he says, he’s actually really good with kids,” she said. While it wouldn’t have been true about his Dillon, Sam was inclined to believe her about this one. Several minutes later, with Dr. Dillon and Samantha still playing with tops, Ms. Mayor and Jennifer in a conversation about school funding, and his counterpart’s twins, Kathy and Kinsley, eagerly recounting their adventures at school to Len’s counterpart, the doorbell rang again. Sam answered it again, and this time found two men and a little boy on the other side. One was clearly Mick’s doppelganger, wearing a fireman’s uniform, and the other looked a lot like Mark Mardon, only a bit more well put together than the Mark of his reality and with a toddler on his hip. All right, he already knew Mick was a firefighter in this reality, so what weird thing did Mark do? And who was the kid?

“Hi, everybody! I brought my homemade chili!” Mick’s doppelganger exclaimed. Sam made a mental note to politely avoid it. He’d tried the chili of his Mick once, and his mouth had felt like it was on fire for a week.

“Hey, Mick! How ya doin’?” Len’s counterpart asked.

“Great! Oh, and Dr. Scudder, Mrs. Scudder...thanks for having us over!” Mick’s doppelganger replied.

“You’re welcome. Good to see you,” Sam replied weakly. He was glad that the guests were doing most of the talking. He was ordinarily a good liar, but three straight days of pretending to be someone else had worn him down, and he didn’t think he could’ve convincingly posed as his counterpart if the counterparts of the other Rogues hadn’t been doing most of the talking for him.

“My wife says she’s sorry she couldn’t make it, but she has work tonight, and well-you know how it goes. It’s just me and our little guy tonight,” Mark-but-not-Mark said.

“Oh, yeah. Julie mentioned at work that she’d be staying late tonight, now that I think about it. Guess I just didn’t think about it in relation to the party,” Len’s counterpart replied. So, Mark’s counterpart was married to a cop and they had a kid? Weird, but still not weirder than Lisa being the mayor.

“Want down!” the toddler exclaimed. Mark-but-not-Mark obligingly set the kid down on the floor, and the twins immediately ran over to him, apparently thrilled by his arrival.

“Aww, he’s so cute, Mr. Mardon!” Kathy exclaimed.

“I can’t believe he’s so big now! I remember when he was just a tiny baby, and now he looks big enough to play ball with,” Kinsley added. Mark-but-not-Mark smiled.

“He’s gonna be a regular heartbreaker when he grows up...just like me,” he said.

“Yeah, you’re a real heartbreaker all right, Mardon. You break the hearts of anyone who looks at your ugly mug,” Len’s counterpart joked. Mark-but-not-Mark laughed.

“You’re just jealous because I got voted the most handsome weather forecaster in the Midwest,” he said. Sam had to hold back a laugh of his own. He should’ve figured that Mardon’s counterpart would be a weatherman.

“So, what are we having for dinner?” Mick’s doppelganger asked.

“Italian food. I ordered it in from that Italian restaurant that’s owned by the aunt of-”

“Hiya, everybody!”

“Giovanni Giuseppi, the famous inventor,” Jennifer said. Sure enough, a small man who looked just like the Trickster, up to and including the garish fashion sense, was floating next to the partially-opened window. Sam walked over to the large window and obligingly opened it the rest of the way, and then the Trickster’s counterpart walked inside before descending and settling on the floor.

“Uncle Giovanni! Uncle Giovanni!” the twins exclaimed.

“Gio!” Mark-but-not-Mark’s toddler said.

“Hi, kids! Who wants a balloon animal?” All four children raised their hands, with Samantha even looking up from Dr. Dillon’s tops. Giovanni promptly set to work making balloon animals for the kids, chattering up a storm all the while about his newest advances in aerodynamic technology and the marketing success that the Airwalker shoes had proven to be. In fact, he was still chattering away when the doorbell rang again. Sam ran over to answer it, and was greeted by the strangest thing he’d seen all evening: Digger Harkness, with his hair combed, wearing a tuxedo.

“G’day, everybody!”

“Well, if it isn’t the toy tycoon turned superhero. How’re you doin’, Mr. Wiggins?” Len’s counterpart asked. Sam frowned. Mr. Wiggins?

“Fair dinkum, mate. Thanks for inviting me to your party, Dr. Scudder. It’s been a wild couple ‘a’ months, it has, inheriting my pop’s company and moving to a new country and all. It’s nice to know I’ve met some bonzer people since coming here,” Digger’s counterpart replied.

“I know I’ve been wanting to get to know you better. I love Wiggins’ Toys!” Giovanni exclaimed.

“And I am very curious to learn more about the man who inherited the company which created so many of my beloved tops,” Dr. Dillon added.

“Well, as you might’ve guessed, I’m from Oz. Grew up in the Outback surrounded by lots of nothing...well, nothing except kangaroos, deadly spiders, venomous snakes, and lots of cows. My family never had much quid, so it was a bit of a surprise when I got a letter saying that I was the sole inheritor of some rich Yankee bloke’s company and fortune. Turns out I had a father I never knew about. Never even got to meet the guy. Apparently he and my mum had had a bit of a fling a long time ago that produced me, and he felt guilty enough to make me his heir on the off chance that he passed. I...I’m a bit out of my depth runnin’ a whole company, but my mum didn’t nickname me Digger for nothin’. I’m gonna take the company to greater heights than my pop ever did...and what better way to start than being my own marketing campaign? I always had a knack for boomerangs, after all. Frankly, the fact that Captain Boomerang gets to help people is just a bonus,” Digger’s counterpart explained.

“My, Mr. Wiggins, that’s quite a story,” Jennifer said.

“Digger is fine, love. I’m not one to stand on formalities,” Digger’s counterpart replied. Sam, for his part, just shook his head. Just when he thought his life couldn’t get any crazier…..

***********************************************************************

“You got a visitor, Scudder,” Correctional Officer Paulson said.

“A...visitor, sir?” Dr. Scudder asked.

“Yeah. Your mother’s here to see you, goodness only knows why,” Paulson replied.

“My...my mother?” Dr. Scudder asked, certain that he’d heard something wrong.

“Martha Scudder is your mother, isn’t she?” Dr. Scudder was utterly bewildered. That had indeed been his mother’s name...but his mother had died two years ago!

“Are you sure it isn’t Jenny?” he asked. Maybe the guard had somehow gotten his counterpart’s wife’s name confused with the name of his counterpart’s mother.

“What are you going on about, Scudder? Who’s Jenny?” It was at this point that Dr. Scudder realized that his counterpart differed from him in more ways than just being a criminal and an active smoker. If the guard didn’t recognize the name Jenny, then it stood to reason that...that his counterpart had never married his Jenny Conners. While in some ways that was a relief (as it meant that his counterpart wasn’t getting himself sent to prison as a husband or a father), in other ways, it was a bit sad...because it meant that Kathy and Kinsley and Samantha, his beloved children, probably didn’t even exist in this reality. And if there was that big of a difference between their realities, could his counterpart’s mother still be alive?

“Uh, never mind, sir. I...I don’t know what I was thinking,” he said quickly.

“Then let’s go. She doesn’t get a lot of time with you; let’s not waste what little she has,” Paulson barked. With that, he led Dr. Scudder out of his cell and to the prison’s visitation room. Dr. Scudder was directed to one of the chairs, sat down, and then waited, feeling more than a little awkward and nervous. Even if his counterpart’s mother was still alive, her son was a criminal. That had to put strain on the relationship they had….and what if his counterpart’s mother was cruel and had played a part in how her son had turned out? About a minute later, the door on the other side of the glass opened, and a woman walked in and sat down across from him. Sure enough, she looked just like his mother had before...before….no, not thinking about it. Even though he knew, logically, that she wasn’t his mother, he had been utterly unprepared for the storm of emotions seeing the woman unleashed. He barely managed to pick up the phone on his side of the barrier before the tears started to flow.

“Mom...oh, mom...I’ve missed you so much,” he said weakly.

“I’ve missed you, too, Sam, and I’m worried about you. You’ve always been a smart man; I don’t understand why you insist on ruining your life, or why you insist on driving me away. You were such a good boy; I don’t understand what went wrong.” Dr. Scudder knew that this woman wasn’t really his mother, he did, but it didn’t matter. The emotions-and the guilt-that she stirred up were the same.

“Mom, I’m... I’m so, so sorry. It’s all my fault!” On some level, Dr. Scudder knew that his guilt over his mother’s death was irrational, but he couldn’t help but feel responsible for it. If he had never become the Mirror Master, his mother would never have become the innocent victim of the Flash. She would still be alive, and his children would still have their grandmother. And besides, surely someone with access to as much amazing technology as he had should have been able to keep her alive. He’d saved thousands of other people….what was wrong with him that he hadn’t been able to save his own mother?

“Sam, are you all right? I haven’t seen you get this emotional since you were a boy.” Dr. Scudder struggled to compose himself. The last thing he wanted was to distress his mother-his counterpart’s mother-but he was finding it really difficult to stop crying. In a way, he was getting the opportunity to talk with his mother one last time, something he had longed for since her death. It wasn’t particularly surprising, then, that he was having trouble controlling his emotions.

“Don’t...don’t worry about me, Mom. I...I just want you to know that I… I love you. I couldn’t...couldn’t ask for a better mother,” he finally managed to choke out. His counterpart’s mother smiled weakly.

“I know, son….but I wish that you’d show your love by straightening your life out rather than pushing me away. I know you think you’re protecting me, but all you’re doing is making it harder for both of us. I’m not worried about what people will think of me because of you, I’m worried about what you’re doing to other people-and yourself. If people want to judge me for being your mother, that’s fine...but you’ve played this game long enough. My son is Sam Scudder, not the Mirror Master. When will you remember who you are?” she asked. If Dr. Scudder ever met his criminal counterpart, he was going to be strongly tempted to punch the man. How could he put their mother through this? Couldn’t he see what he was doing to her?

“I...I don’t know, mom. I’m sorry,” he said. He wanted to promise her that her son would straighten his life out, but, no matter how much she resembled his mother, Dr. Scudder was not this Martha Scudder’s son, and he didn’t want to break her heart by promising change that his counterpart might not follow up on. His counterpart’s mother looked disappointed, but not particularly surprised.

“Oh, Sam…” she murmured, and Dr. Scudder almost started crying again. His poor mother…

“How...how have you been, mom?”

“I’ve been doing well. Work’s going well, and I’m not too lonely. I’ve got my church group, and I just saw Jennifer Conners two days ago. She’s doing well.”

“Has...has she met anyone?” Dr. Scudder asked. Hopefully, this Jenny wasn’t still pining for his counterpart.

“No, she hasn’t. She says that she’s happy with her job, and that she doesn’t need anyone.”

“She’s not still waiting for me, is she?” His counterpart’s mother just shook her head.

“I honestly don’t know, Sam. I’ve told her that she shouldn’t throw away any chance of a romantic life on the off chance that you come back to her, but I don’t know if she’s listening or not,” she said. Dr. Scudder frowned and decided to change the subject. Talking about Jenny reminded him of how much he missed his wife, and he was emotional enough as it was.

“Mom, do you remember the time I won the Pine Car Derby when I was a Cub Scout?” he asked, hoping that this was something both he and his counterpart had done. Luckily, his counterpart’s mother smiled fondly.

“Of course I do, Sam,” she said.

After an enjoyable twenty minutes taking a trip down memory lane, Correctional Officer Paulson stood up.

“All right, time’s up,” he said.

“Good-bye, Sam.”

“Good-bye, Mom. I love you,” Dr. Scudder replied. With that, he allowed Officer Paulson to lead him back to his cell.

“You’ve got a better mother than you deserve, Scudder.”

“I know, sir,” Dr. Scudder replied. He didn’t think anyone could deserve a mother like Martha Scudder-either his or the one of this dimension. When they arrived at the cell, George Wiggins’ counterpart was inside. Evidently, he had returned from his shift in the prison’s workshop. He had a noticeable black eye that he hadn’t had when he had left the cell in the morning.

“Scudder! Good to see ya, mate!” he exclaimed as Dr. Scudder walked into the cell. Dr. Scudder nodded in greeting as Officer Paulson locked the cell door behind him and walked away.

“What happened to your face?” Dr. Scudder asked, careful to maintain the “tough guy” impersonation he’d been putting on around George Wiggins’ counterpart.

“Some whacker bailed me up and challenged me to a fight. Bloody idiot thought he was tough and wanted to prove it by beatin’ up a real bushranger. I decided to let him have a go with me...and well, if you think I look bad, you should see the other guy! Next time he decides to pick a fight, he’ll know better than to mess with Digger Harkness,” the criminal replied proudly.

“First time in prison?” Dr. Scudder guessed.

“Reckon! What about you, mate? What’ve you been up to?”

“My mom visited.”

“Must be nice to have somebody who cares enough to visit. I haven’t had a visitor in prison since I left the Outback. How’s your mum doing?”

“She seems to be doing all right. It was nice seeing her,” Dr. Scudder replied. As emotional as the experience had been, it had also been nice to talk to a Martha Scudder one more time.

“She had good timing, too. You almost didn’t make it back in time for pickup.” Before Dr. Scudder could ask what that meant, he found himself pulled through the Mirror Realm and deposited him in a rather dilapidated building.

“Howzitgoan, Scudder?” The speaker was Evan McCulloch, the other person in this dimension with access to the Mirror Realm. It seemed that the mystery man had broken him out of prison, but for what purpose?

**************************************************************************

“So Cinderella married her prince, and the two of them lived happily ever after. The end,” Sam read. Samantha smiled.

“I love this story. Thanks for reading it to me, Daddy,” she said.

“You’re welcome. Goodnight, Samantha.” Sam replied as he carefully shelved the book.

“Good night, Daddy!” Sam switched on the nightlight and then turned off the light.

“Sweet dreams, kiddo,” he said. With that, he left the little girl’s room, quietly closed the door behind him, and groaned weakly. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was falling in love with his counterpart’s family, and the more time he spent with them, the more guilty he felt for not coming clean. As if to underscore his guilt, Jennifer immediately walked up to him and beamed.

“You’re such a great father,” she said.

“Well, they’re great kids. It’s not hard,” Sam replied.

“That they are. Maybe we should try for another. I mean, I’d love to have a little boy-or another little girl,” Jennifer said. Alarm bells went off in Sam’s head, but before he could react or try to change the subject, Jennifer kissed him. He wanted to return the kiss-she was, after all, as beautiful as his Jenny had been-but he couldn’t. Even he wasn’t low enough to kiss someone under the pretense of being their husband...especially not someone like Jenny.

“Jenny, no! We-we can’t do this!” he blurted out.

“What...what do you mean?” Jennifer asked.

“I can’t do this to you. I...I’m not who you think I am. I’m not your husband!” Jennifer backed away from him in obvious horror.

“Then who are you?” she asked.

“I’m your husband’s counterpart from an alternate reality. My name is Sam Scudder, and I am the Mirror Master, but I’m not a doctor and I’m not a hero. I’m a thief. I use my mirror tech to steal stuff, and I came to your reality after escaping from prison,” Sam replied. Jennifer stared at him in horror for a few seconds, and then slapped him across the face.

“I...I probably deserved that,” he said.

“Probably? You came into my house and pretended to be my husband for almost a week! Being a thief is bad enough when you’re just stealing things! You deserve a lot more than a slap, buster! How dare you try to steal my husband’s life! How dare you trick me into thinking that you were my children’s father! And where is my husband?” Jennifer exclaimed.

“I...I’m not sure,” Sam replied weakly.

“What do you mean, you’re not sure?”

“I came to your dimension by accident, and the Mirror Realm isn’t letting me get back to my own. I didn’t intentionally do anything to your husband. Trust me, I know I’m not a hero. I don’t wanna spend the rest of my life pretending to be one...but I don’t know where your husband is or how to get back to my home dimension,” Sam babbled.

“And so that makes it okay for you to pretend to be my husband?”

“No, it doesn’t….but I...I...well, honestly, I think your husband is what part of me wishes I was. Being a father and a husband and a hero...it’s not what I am. It takes a better man to do that than I am….and I wanted to convince myself that I could be that for a little while. Well, that, and I didn’t want to get stuck behind bars in this dimension and possibly never get home,” Sam explained.

“What did you do to my husband?”

“I don’t know! I told you, I don’t know! He could be stuck in my dimension, but if he is, I can’t get him back! I’m trapped here; the Mirror Realm won’t let me leave this dimension.”

“And you’re a criminal, so for all I know he could be in prison right now! Are you proud of yourself? You might have sent an innocent man to prison!”

“I...I’m sorry, Jenny.”

“Get out of my house!” Jennifer exclaimed. Sam complied, using the Mirror Realm to leave the house and travel to another one of his hideouts, one that was much more familiar to Sam than the one he had left. This building was effectively a laboratory, one that was full of mirror technology. Sam smiled weakly. The secret was out; it was time to stop pretending that he was anything like his heroic counterpart. Now he could focus on finding a way of fixing the Mirror Realm and returning to his home dimension. He could go back to being a famous criminal, Dr. Scudder could be reunited with his wonderful family, and all would be right with the world again. So why did the idea make him feel so upset? He certainly wasn’t the sentimental type.

Sam spent the next few hours tinkering with the mirror technology in his counterpart’s laboratory, trying to figure out what had gone wrong with the Mirror Realm. He was preparing to take a snack break when a red blur appeared in the lab and solidified into what seemed to be the Flash. Before Sam could ponder which Flash this was, the speedster pulled off his cowl, revealing a shock of red hair.

“Look, Mirror Master, I hate you as much as any crook, but Barry’s gone too far this time. I can’t let him do something like this,” he said, confirming his identity as the mirror version of Wally West.

“What’s he planning to do?” Sam asked.

“He said….he said...he’s going after your kids, man! He’s gonna kill your daughters to get you off his back, and that just ain’t right,” Criminal Wally replied. Sam was horrified. Killing kids was like killing old ladies. As Criminal Wally had put it, it just wasn’t right.

“Do you know anything else?”

“I think he’s planning to launch his attack tomorrow at 12 noon….but I’ve stayed too long as it is. If he finds out I told you what he was planning, he’ll kill Linda, and I can’t let that happen. Gotta run!” With that, Criminal Wally disappeared in a red blur of motion, leaving Sam alone once more.

“What am I supposed to do now?” he asked aloud. He certainly didn’t want the monstrous Flash of this dimension to kill his counterpart’s adorable children, and he wanted to be indirectly responsible for their deaths by having accidentally taken their father’s place even less….but, as much as he hated to admit it, he didn’t have the best success rate against the Flash of his own universe, and the Flash of this dimension was a ruthless murderer, one whom he knew lacked the reservations of the Flash he was familiar with. He was good at playing cops and robbers, and at evading trouble, but he doubted he would be able to survive a brutal fight with a speedster who could murder old ladies and little kids without any apparent guilt. Quite frankly, the idea of fighting the Murder Flash terrified him. Maybe it made him a coward….but he definitely didn't relish the thought of getting brutally murdered by a psychopath.

“Who am I kidding? I’m no hero. If pretending to be my counterpart taught me anything, it’s that I’m not a hero. Those poor kids….they’re gonna die, and the only thing that’ll happen if I try to intervene is that they’ll watch someone who looks like their dad get killed right before they die.” He couldn’t do anything; better to just disappear into the Mirror Realm until the carnage had ended. Sure, he’d feel terrible when it was over, but it wasn’t his fault that the Murder Flash hated Dr. Scudder, and it also wasn’t his fault that the psychopath was willing to kill kids. It wasn’t, and if he told himself that enough, maybe he’d be able to live with himself after this was over.

******************************************************************

Before Dr. Scudder could ask either the mysterious Evan McCulloch or George Wiggins’ counterpart about just what exactly was going on, several more people filed into the room, most of whom bore an eerie resemblance to his friends from his own dimension. There was a small, lithe blonde man with a mischievous smile who looked exactly like Giovanni, a beautiful woman who looked exactly like Mayor Lisa Snart, a man in a suit and strangely striped top hat who strongly resembled Dr. Dillon (if Dr. Dillon had had unsettling glowing eyes), and a tall, muscular man who could have been Mick Rory’s twin had his body not been covered in burns. More strangely yet, standing next to Giovanni’s doppelganger was a slight young man with long red hair. Dr. Scudder couldn’t be sure, but from the pictures he’d seen of the man in the newspaper, this man looked like he could be Hartley Rathaway, the sole heir to the Rathaway Publishing Company. What in the world would the son of two billionaires be doing in a place like this? Before he could ponder this question further, however, two more people entered the room, arguing loudly. One of them was probably the doppelganger of his friend Mark Mardon, and the other was, without a doubt, this universe’s version of Officer Len Snart. There was no mistaking his icy blue eyes.

“How irresponsible are you?” Officer Snart’s counterpart demanded.

“It’s...it’s not my fault, Cold! I didn’t even know about this until yesterday!” Mark’s doppelganger replied.

“How many times have I told you to be careful? I ain’t gonna lecture nobody about havin’ an eye for the ladies, but the last thing I need is to have my guys gettin’ people pregnant! It creates way too many complications...like the fact that you might wind up as a toddler’s closest living relative!”

“Come on, Cold! How was I supposed to know that Officer Jackam would get murdered by a knife-wielding maniac? That’s not exactly something that happens every day!”

“Even if she hadn’t gotten herself killed, you still would’ve owed like three thousand dollars in child support. The last thing we need is more attention from the police, and you know how much Central’s cracked down on deadbeat dads! And don’t give me any of that crap about them not coming after us for that...the mom was a cop! Which, by the way, makes you even MORE stupid and irresponsible! Seriously, a cop? What were you thinking?”

“I know what he was thinking! He was thinking that he was lonely, and that she was really hot,” Giovanni’s counterpart snarked.

“Um, excuse me, but what exactly is going on here? I’ve been in prison for a week or two, so I’m not caught up on current events,” Dr. Scudder asked, in the hopes of both cutting off the argument and figuring out what was going on and why it concerned him (or rather, his counterpart).

“Don’t look at me, mate. I’m in the same boat as you,” George Wiggins’ counterpart said. “Cold”, which for some reason seemed to be the name everyone was addressing Officer Snart’s counterpart by, frowned.

“Mardon was stupid enough to have a one-night stand with a cop and get her pregnant, and now not only does he owe more money than he has in child-support bills, but he’s also the kid’s closest living relative because the cop-Officer Jackam; she arrested you once, remember?-got killed by a crazy knife-wielding cultist,” he snapped.

“C’mon; it’s not like I knew I had a kid. If her partner hadn’t tracked me down and told me, I’d have never known about him. I wasn’t consciously missing child support payments,” Mark’s counterpart protested.

“That don’t exactly make it better, Mardon,” Cold replied. Dr. Scudder, for his part, had mostly worked out what was happening. Evidently, Mark’s counterpart and Julie’s counterpart still had had a son...but they weren’t married to each other, Julie’s counterpart had been murdered, and Mark’s counterpart was a criminal and hadn’t even known that his son existed until recently. But in that case, where was Josh?

“So...who’s got the kid?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

“Right now? Officer Chyre, the only 58-year-old beat cop in the entire police force. He was Julie’s partner, and her father’s partner, and her grandfather’s partner. Guy’s old enough that he was a rookie cop when my old man was on the force, and he wanted to adopt the kid himself. Said he sees him as a grandson almost,” Cold replied. Dr. Scudder remembered Officer Snart briefly mentioning that his father had been a corrupt police officer. Evidently, this was also true of his counterpart’s father.

“Then why bring Mark into it at all? If Officer Chyre wants to raise the child, why didn’t he just apply to have him adopted? It isn’t as though Mark would be likely to win any sort of custody battle.” This question came from the red-haired young man who looked a lot like Hartley Rathaway.

“Well, you see, there’s a bit of a catch with this particular kid. He can control the weather,” Cold replied. Dr. Scudder stared at Cold in shock.

“He can do what?” The Josh in his reality didn’t have any superpowers...and neither, for that matter, did the Mark Mardon of his reality.

“He can control the weather. When he’s happy, rainbows appear. When he cries, it rains. When he’s angry, it storms. And he’s two years old and has no control over any of it.” Cold said.

“But how?”

“At the moment, I think the working theory is that the weather wand somehow altered my DNA; that somehow its weather-controlling powers got encoded into my genes or something and were passed along to my son,” Mark’s counterpart explained. Dr. Scudder wanted to protest that a device that could control the weather was patently ridiculous, but it wasn’t really much stranger than his mirror technology, so he couldn’t. Although if sufficiently advanced and bizarre technology could encode itself in the user’s DNA, did that mean that there was a possibility that he had given his children biological superpowers without realizing it? It was a sobering thought.

“Regardless of how he got the powers, the point is, he has them now, and the only way to counteract what this kid can do is to use the Weather Wand. As a result, anybody who wants custody of the kid also needs custody of the wand….which is why I had Evan bring everybody here. Thanks to Mark bein’ a moron, we’ve got a real problem on our hands,” Cold said.

“Hey!” Mark’s counterpart protested. Cold ignored him.

“So, the way I see it, Mark has to either give up the Weather Wand, or take the kid himself. Otherwise, we’re running a very real risk that this kid’ll destroy the city or somethin’,” he said.

“Could we not simply allow Flash to deal with the weather created by the child?” Dr. Dillon’s counterpart asked.

“That might work for some of the stuff the kid can do, but probably not all of it. Like, I know he can stop tornadoes, but can he stop a hurricane? Mark doesn’t have any internal powers, so Flash can stop all the stuff he does by knocking him unconscious or getting the Wand out of his hands. The kid’s powers are internalized. They can’t be taken away from him, and, since I doubt the Flash will take to punching a toddler in the face, the only solutions are waiting for the kid’s mood to change or using the Wand. And before anyone suggests that Mark could just counteract the kid’s power with the wand without taking the kid...do you really think the cops’ll just give him the Weather Wand if he’s in prison or something?”

“Couldn’t the cops or the Flash or whoever just use the Wand themselves if that happened?” This question came from Mayor Snart’s doppelganger. Cold frowned thoughtfully.

“That’s a point, sis...but what if there's a learning curve for the Weather Wand? I know I couldn’t do all the stuff I do now with the Cold Gun back when I first started using it. If the Wand’s got a similar learning curve, the kid’s tantrums might destroy the city before they figured out how to use the thing. That kid’s a walking time bomb; playing hot potato with the only thing that can counteract his abilities seems like a stupid idea,” Cold said.

“Couldn’t he just give the Wand to whoever takes the deadly anklebiter and make another one for himself?” George Wiggins’ counterpart asked. Mark’s counterpart flushed and looked pointedly at the ground.

“No. I can’t...because I didn’t invent the wand, my brother did, and he’s dead. I followed his blueprints to make the Wand, and those were destroyed a long time ago by the Flash to prevent anyone from making a more powerful version. Without the blueprints, I’m not smart enough to build another one. And I am not giving up my Weather Wand to anybody else! How exactly can I be the Weather Wizard without it?”

“It don’t matter, Mardon,’cause you’re done as the Weather Wizard whether you give up the Wand or not,” Cold said. Dr. Scudder made a mental note to tell Mark about the “Weather Wizard” name if he ever got back to his home dimension. He’d probably think it was a cool nickname for a weather forecaster, even if he didn’t have a wand that controlled the weather like his counterpart apparently did. In speaking of that Mark, his eyes were now sparking with electricity, and Dr. Scudder suddenly questioned the validity of Cold’s claims that the man had no natural superpowers. Normal people couldn’t shoot electricity from their eyes, after all.

“What do you mean, I’m ‘done’ as the Weather Wizard?” he snapped.

“I mean that since I’m not keen on the idea of my city getting destroyed by a superpowered toddler throwing a tantrum, you’re either giving up the Weather Wand, in which case you’ll have to stop being the Weather Wizard since you’ll have no powers, or you’re taking the kid,” Cold snarled.

“Are you crazy? I’m not taking the kid! I don’t know anything about kids! And even if I was taking the kid, why would I stop being the Weather Wizard? Digger has a kid, and he’s still Captain Boomerang!” Mark’s doppelganger exclaimed.

“Digger’s kid is sixteen years old, and doesn’t have potentially city-destroying superpowers. Your kid is two and does,” Cold replied.

“Well, I’m not taking the kid anyway, so it doesn’t matter,” Mark’s doppelganger said.

“Then give me the Wand so I can get it to whoever’s gonna be using it to stop the kid from accidentally destroying everything,” Cold ordered.

“What? No! You can’t take my Wand! I need it!” Mark’s counterpart cried.

“Then you’re taking the kid?” Cold asked.

“No! Do I look like a father to you?” In response, Cold grabbed Mark’s counterpart and pulled a thin metal rod out of his left sleeve.

“Make up your mind, Mardon. What do you want more: having the wand, or not having the kid?” he asked.

“Give me my Wand back!”

“Not unless you agree to take the kid,” Cold said.

“What makes you think they’ll even let me have him?” Dr. Scudder thought this was a good question. Mark’s counterpart was a supervillain, after all.

“Three reasons. First, you’re his closest living relative. Second, you’re at least moderately competent with the Weather Wand. And third, you’re technically out on parole right now. Normally, you’d never get custody just by being on parole, but given the fact that you’ve got a kid with the potential to destroy the city, I think they’ll be inclined to give you him just to make sure that the city stays in one piece. So I repeat, what do you want more? Do you want to have the Wand, or do you want to not have the responsibility of the kid?” Cold replied.

“I want both of those things!”

“Tough. Should’ve thought of that before you got Officer Jackam pregnant.”

“Wait...if his son is powerful enough that he could potentially destroy the city, why haven’t we ever heard of him before? That seems like something that would’ve traced him back to Weather Wizard a long time ago,” Mr. Rathaway’s counterpart asked.

“From what Chyre said, his powers were dormant up until recently. About a week ago, he made it rain indoors, and his powers have been steadily increasing since then. Yesterday, when he threw a fit, it created a miniature tornado that almost destroyed Chyre’s house,” Cold replied. Dr. Scudder looked up in alarm. If the child’s powers really were increasing that rapidly, then there was no wonder that Cold wanted to make sure that his powers were kept under control.

“Then I...I guess I’ll take the kid. I can’t give up the Weather Wand. I just can’t! You have no idea what losing that sort of power would do to me,” Mark’s counterpart said.

“You do realize you’re still not gonna be able to be the Weather Wizard, don’t you? Kid that could destroy the city or not, they’re gonna be watching you like a hawk...and if you give them so much as a hint that you’re committing crimes, they’ll give the kid and the wand to someone else,” Cold asked him.

“I don’t care! The Wand is the only reason I’ve ever been anyone! I can’t give it up...even if it means I get saddled with a kid!” Befor Dr. Scudder could think of a way to ask about the potential danger of letting this man raise a child, Cold cut him off by speaking up again.

“And if I find out that you’ve been doing anything-anything at all- to hurt that kid, Mardon, you’ll have me to answer to, understand?” Cold barked.

“Yes, sir,” Mark said weakly. Cold shook his head.

“Cold, you do realize that removing Mardon from the Rogues will reduce our overall power level significantly, correct?” Dr. Dillon’s counterpart asked.

“Of course I realize that, Dillon...but Mardon’s made his bed, and now we’re all stuck lying in it. Come on, Mardon. Let’s get your kid,” Cold said. Mark’s counterpart made a sad little whine, then followed Cold out of the room.

“So, how long do you think it’ll be before Mark loses the kid and the wand?” Giovanni’s counterpart asked, sounding entirely too cheerful about the prospect.

“I give it a week, at best. Mardon’s incompetent,” Dr. Dillon’s doppelganger said coolly.

“Not with Lenny breathing down his neck. My bet is that it’ll last a few months before Lenny slips up enough to not be around when he does something stupid,” Mayor Snart’s counterpart replied. At this point, Dr. Scudder decided that he had had enough of this particular group of people to last him for a good long while, and quietly slipped into the Mirror Realm. True, he couldn’t use it to get home, but anything was better than getting further wrapped up in the apparent soap opera that was the life of his counterpart when not in prison. Unfortunately for him, the solitude of the Mirror Realm lasted for only a few seconds before it was invaded by the mysterious McCulloch.

“Howzitgoan?” he asked. Dr. Scudder almost jumped out of his skin at the unexpected sound.

“What do you want?” he asked as soon as his heart started beating at a normal rate again. McCulloch let out a disturbing chuckle.

“Ye should see the look on your face!”

“I said, what do you want?”

“Ye ken, ye don’t have tae pretend nae more,” McCulloch said. Dr. Scudder felt a sense of dread settle in his stomach. McCulloch knew.

“W-what do you mean?” he asked. McCulloch laughed again.

“Ye can knock that off. I didnae come up the Clyde on a banana boat, ye ken? I mean that ye aren’t Scudder...at least, ye are nae the Scudder of this reality. That’s right, int it nae?”

“How...how did you-”

“How did I figure it out? I’m a canny lad, I am. I’ve known since I saw ye. Scudder’s a southpaw, ye ken. Would’ve caught the cigarette pack with his left hand, nae his right. And his hair curls in the opposite direction from yours. Going intae Wonderland with ye just proved what I’d already worked out on my own, ken? You’re his literal mirror image, and but.”

“So why didn’t you tell anyone?” McCulloch shrugged.

“Didnae feel like it. So, who are ye really?”

“Dr. Samuel Scudder. I’m an optometrist. And a superhero,” he replied. He wasn’t about to tell this lunatic that he had a wife and children. McCulloch laughed again.

“An optometrist? That’s pure barry, it is! Wonderland transport ye here, Dr. Mirror Master?” he asked.

“What is Wonderland?”

“Ach, that’s right. If ye are anything like the Scudder I ken, ye have nae creativity. Ye probably call it the Mirror Realm. Pure boring name, that.”

“Then yes, I was using the Mirror Realm when I was transported here. For whatever reason, it’s been blocking me from leaving this dimension since then, so I haven’t been able to get home. I’d guess that your Scudder is probably stuck in my reality,” Dr. Scudder. Evan nodded, as though this was the most natural thing in the world.

“Wonderland does weird things like that, it does. Pure deid brilliant place, int it nae?”

“Then why has it never happened to me before?”

“Suppose it’d be because ye and my Scudder have nae used Wonderland tae go tae the same place at the same time before. Got confused, it did. That’d be why it locked ye both where ye were. It’s likely still sortin’ out it’s confusion, ken?”

“How long will it be before the confusion sorts itself out? I need to get home,” Dr. Scudder asked.

“Weeks? Months? Years? Could be decades.”

“Decades?” He couldn’t be gone that long!

“Calmy doony, Dr. Mirror Master. I can get ye home. All I need do is find the portal tae the dimension that’s the mirror of ours, ken?”

“How do I know I can trust you? From all appearances, you’re a supervillain.”

“From what ye told me, getting you back home’ll be the only way to get my Scudder back. I want him around, ken? Man’s a genius,” McCulloch. Dr. Scudder frowned. He still wasn’t entirely sure that he could trust the mystery man, but the thought of leaving his city and his family without any protection from his universe’s supervillains for any longer horrified him. He’d already been gone for nearly a week!

“All right, McCulloch. If you can get me back to my home dimension, do it.” McCulloch gave a slightly unnerving smile.

“Off we go, then. Hold on tight, Dr. Mirror Master. The trip might get a wee bit rough!”

************************************************************************

Sam checked his watch. 11:45 AM. Fifteen minutes until the Monster Flash of this dimension killed the innocent children of his counterpart. Which wasn’t his fault! It wasn’t! It...oh, who was he kidding? It was. They were going to die, and he would be responsible for it, as surely as if he had killed them himself, because, unlike the Sam Scudder of this dimension, he wasn’t even remotely a good person. He was selfish and self-absorbed, and apparently a coward as well. At his core, he was still the same weak, stupid teenaged boy; trying to protect himself from the memory of his girlfriend’s father being murdered in front of him for no reason at all by acting like he was tough. He had spent years hiding, in one way or another, from the man in the mirror, because when he looked at the reflection of Sam Scudder, he didn’t like what he saw. He sighed weakly as he absently looked into his counterpart’s bedroom through his side of the mirror that hung on its wall. Sam had never hated himself more than he did at this moment.

Suddenly, his eye fell on his Mirror Master costume, which was lying next to an old JSA comic, and he felt a sudden surge of disgust. What was wrong with him? He wasn’t just Sam Scudder, he was the Mirror Master! Supervillain or not, the Mirror Master had been based on the members of the JSA, and he wasn’t afraid of anything, not even the Murder Flash! Sure, he’d never beaten the Flash of his reality, but he’d never fought the Flash over anything nearly as important as this. With his brilliant inventions and the fact that he was keeping a bunch of adorable kids from getting hurt on his side, he was sure to win! Smiling smugly, the Mirror Master stepped into his counterpart’s room through the mirror and changed into his costume. He had gotten about five inches out of his room when he was confronted by Jennifer.

“What are you doing back here?” she said, clearly furious.

“No time to explain, I’m afraid. Madam Jennifer, you’re about to witness the greatest act of the Mirror Master’s illustrious career: the moment when I finally defeat the Flash!” Another convenient thing about being the Mirror Master was the fact that Sam could bury his emotions under the theatricality the role required.

“The Flash? Isn’t he in prison?”

“Take it from another supervillain, Madam Jennifer: we rarely stay in prison for very long.”

“Why would you want to stop another supervillain?”

“Because, Madam Jennifer, even I’m not enough of a monster to butcher children.” Jennifer gasped.

“You don’t mean that he’s…”

“I’m afraid so.” He handed her one of his mirror guns.

“If you think I’m going to abandon my house to a pair of maniacs, you’ve got another thing coming, mister!”

“That’s not it, Madam Jennifer. I’m going to meet him outside. If it looks like he’s winning...or like I’m going to betray you somehow-you can use this to protect yourself and the house and get the kids to safety.”

“Why should you care what happens to us?”

“Because I’d like to be able to look at myself in the mirror when this is done. And besides, I wouldn’t be much of a Mirror Master if I passed up the chance to defeat the Flash, now would I?” Jennifer didn’t look convinced, but she stepped out of his way.

“If you mess this up, you won’t have to worry about the Flash killing you...because I’ll kill you myself,” she said. Mirror Master laughed.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Madam Jennifer.” With that, he went down the stairs and was about to go out the front door when Kathy, Kinsley, and Samantha surrounded him.

“Aren’t you gonna tell us good-bye, Dad? You usually do when you go on a mission,” Kinsley asked. Mirror Master sighed, knelt down so he was at the girls’ level, and then took off his cowl. This was one situation Mirror Master wasn’t of much use in.

“Kids, I have to tell you something. I….I’m not who you think I am. Your dad’s a really good person, and with kids like you, I can see why, but I’m not your dad. I’m an alternate version of him from another reality, and I got stuck here thanks to an accident with the Mirror Realm. My name’s Sam. I’m a Mirror Master, too, but...I’m a bad guy. I’m not going to hurt you...you’re great kids...but I’ve made a lot of mistakes, and pretending to be your dad was one of them. I’m very sorry, and I get it if you don’t forgive me or anything. But I need to tell you something. The Flash-the really bad man your dad fights-is coming here to hurt you guys. I’m going to try to stop him. If it looks like I’m going to lose, you need to go find your mom so that she can keep you safe, okay?” he said. In response, Kinsley kicked him in the shin.

“That’s for pretending to be my dad.”

“I...I deserved that.”

“Yeah, you did. But don’t worry. If you get your butt kicked by the Flash, I’ll make sure to get Kathy and Samantha to safety,” she said.

“Good.”

“Bye, other Daddy,” Samantha said. Sam choked up.

“G-good-bye, Samantha,” he said. With that, he pulled the cowl back on, left the house, locked the door behind him, and started setting up his mirror traps. When it came to fighting a speedster, nothing was more important than being prepared.

After six minutes of rapid-fire preparation, a red blur sped into view and solidified into the Murder Flash, activating one of the mirror traps as he did so.

“Well, my Flashy foe, it’s about time you showed up. What took you so long?” The Murder Flash snarled as he dodged and vibrated through the explosion of jagged mirror shards that he had set off, then ran at one of Mirror Master’s mirror duplicates, which sent him straight into another trap, this one capable of inducing temporary disorientation.

“Nice try, Flash! I see your brain is working as fast as ever!” The Murder Flash’s only response was another snarl. He tried to run towards Mirror Master, but the disorientation caused him to land flat on his face instead. Naturally, being a Flash, he was back on his feet in another second, but it had given Mirror Master just enough time to swap locations with another of his duplicates. The Murder Flash proceeded to run into three more mirror-traps, shaking off the effect quickly but giving Mirror Master valuable time to relocate himself and create more traps. Mirror Master smirked. What had he been so worried about? This was much easier than fighting the Flash of his dimension!

“I’ve got to say, Flash, I was really expecting more out of a supervillain like you!” he crowed.

“You’re not Dr. Scudder!” Suddenly, Mirror Master found himself in the grip of the Murder Flash. He managed to use his special contact lenses to shoot a laser into the Monster Flash’s hands, prompting the other supervillain to release him and giving him just enough time to hide himself once more. Okay, so maybe he’d been wrong about how easy this would be.

“What makes you say that?” Mirror Master asked as he set up another trap.

“Because your vibratory aura indicates that you’re from another reality. What are you doing here, and where is the good doctor?” The voice sounded like that of the Flash’s, but with a cold undertone that made it very disturbing.

“Accident with the Mirror Realm. Your Mirror Master’s probably in my dimension right about now,” Mirror Master replied.

“In that case, I will make you an offer. I don’t know how you found out that I was planning to murder Dr. Scudder’s family, but it doesn’t concern you. Leave now, and I will let you return to your own dimension unharmed.” Mirror Master smirked.

“Sorry, but I have a policy against making deals with psychopathic child killers, and another policy against making deals with people who think they’re supervillains,” he said.

“Then you will die with them,” Murder Flash said. He promptly ran at another Mirror Duplicate and was temporarily trapped in a mirror.

“You see, this is what I mean! You’re a villain-there’s no doubt about that-but you aren’t a supervillain. You know what the difference between the two is?” he asked as the Murder Flash burst out of the mirror that had been holding him. In response, the Mirror Master pressed a button on the inside of his suit. An image of a disco ball appeared, spreading colorful light all across the lawn, disco music began to play, and several laser beams started chasing the Murder Flash.

“PRESENTATION!” he exclaimed. The lasers slowly started to box the Murder Flash in, and Mirror Master watched as he ran out of places to run. He had done it! He had beaten the Flash and saved the kids! Of course he had! He was the-UGH!

“Did you really think your silly trap could hold me? I can run much faster than light! All I had to do to escape was break light speed!” Weakly, Mirror Master reached for his gun, only for the Murder Flash to beat him to it and snap it in half.

“One last chance, “Mirror Master”. Your tech is gone. Now get out of my way, or I will kill you, slowly and painfully.”

“Not happening. You see, I’m a lousy person. I lie and I steal stuff and I’m not nearly the man your Mirror Master is. I’m a supervillain...but the thing about supervillains is, we never know when to quit!” With that, he forced himself to get to his feet...only for the Murder Flash to knock him back down again and throw punch after punch after punch into his face and abdomen. He was about to start wondering if your life really did flash before your eyes right before you died...when suddenly, the Murder Flash was hit by what seemed to be a solid beam of light. He shrieked in apparent pain and fell unconscious.

“Howzitgoan, Scudder?” Sam groaned. Saved by McCulloch...he was never going to live this one down. Then everything spun around, and the world went black.

When he came to, Sam found himself in what looked like a hospital room, surrounded by Jennifer, Kathy, Kinsley, Samantha, McCulloch (ugh), and a man who could’ve been his identical twin. Undoubtedly, this was the other Sam Scudder.

“Mornin’, Sleeping Beauty,” McCulloch said.

“Shut up, McCulloch.” Sam winced as a wave of pain washed over him.

“How are you feeling?” This question came from the other Sam, which made it more than a little weird.

“Like I got hit by a train,” Sam replied.

“I can’t say I’m surprised. You’ve got four broken ribs and a concussion,” his counterpart replied.

“I guess you’re Dr. Scudder. Nice to meet you, I think,” Sam said.

“And you must be Sam. I spent almost a week in prison because of you….but on the other hand, you did risk your life to save my family, so I’d say we’re even on that front. I’ve been...curious to meet you,” Dr. Scudder replied.

“Same here. So, optometry, huh?”

“A bit on the nose for the Mirror Master, maybe, but it seems to be more profitable than crime,” Dr. Scudder said. Sam flushed.

“Yeah, if there’s one thing pretending to be you taught me, it’s that I might want to consider cleaning up my act a bit,” he muttered.

“If you need a place to start, I’d suggest kicking your smoking habit and treating your mother a little better.”

“No promises...but I’ll think about it. And...I’m sorry about your mother, I guess. I don’t know what I’d do if my mother was killed,” Sam replied.

“I...I still miss her...but I actually got to talk to your mom while I was in prison in your dimension, and I think...I think that helped me work through some of my feelings. It was like getting to talk to her one last time, just like I always wanted.”

“If it helps, you’ve also got a great family. I wouldn’t almost die for just anyone,” Sam said. Dr. Scudder beamed as he put his arm around his wife.

“Believe me, I know.”

“Thanks for bringing our Dad back, Mr. McCulloch,” Kathy said.

“And getting to see a cute lassie like you smile? The pleasure was all mine,” McCulloch replied cheerily.

“You three are going to have to catch me up on what I missed after McCulloch and Sam go back to their own dimension,” Dr. Scudder said. The girls beamed.

“You’re gonna love it, Dad! We’ve never had a story as cool as this before!” Kinsley exclaimed. Then she ran over to Sam and gave him a hug.

“And that’s for saving our lives!” she exclaimed before running back to her dad. Then Jennifer walked up to him.

“I’m still not exactly happy with you...but what you did back there was pretty brave. Maybe you’ve got it in you to be more like my husband than either of us thought. You helped save my daughter’s lives and allowed my husband to have a family to come home to, so I suppose I need to thank you for that. But if you ever pull a stunt like this again, I will personally give you another four broken ribs!”

“You’re welcome.”

“I hate tae cut this little reunion short, but it’s best if we get going. Scudder and I have our own reality tae get back tae,” McCulloch interjected.

“Bye, Dr. Scudder,” Sam said.

“Good-bye, Sam. Be careful going through the Mirror Realm. You don’t want to hurt yourself worse,” Dr. Scudder replied.

“Good-bye, Jennifer. Good-bye, Kinsley. Good-bye, Kathy.”

“Good-bye.”

“Bye!” “Bye!”

“Good-bye, other Daddy. I hope you find out how to be a good guy,” Samantha said.

“Good-bye, Samantha,” Sam replied, tearing up.

“Are ye crying?” McCulloch asked.

“Shut up, McCulloch.” With that, Sam stood up (very gingerly) and allowed McCulloch to pull him into the Mirror Realm and back to his own dimension.

“Welcome back, Scudder. Things haven’t been the same without ye, ye ken?” McCulloch said as they stepped into the Rogues’ latest hideout. Before Sam could react, he was greeted by a grouchy-looking Captain Cold and a baffled-looking Mark Mardon, the latter of whom was holding a strangely familiar toddler on his hip.

“Hey, Cold. Hey, Mardon. Hello, little Josh,” Sam said.

“Hey, Sam. Wait...how’d you know his name was Josh?” Mark asked.

“And why do you look like you just got run over by a train?” Cold added.

“It’s a long story, and one I don’t think I’m up to telling at the moment. For now, let’s just say that I met the man in the mirror, and he changed me for the better.”

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m-y-fandoms · 4 years

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Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu x reader (fluff + angst) - (COMMISSION)

When I get a commission that isn’t Danganronpa related, I keep the client’s name private and switch names and some paragraphs around to fit a Danganronpa character so you all can enjoy it. This commission best fit Fuyuhiko’s personality, so here you are - Admin Kokichi

SFW, gender-neutral reader

I walked through the halls of Hope’s Peak Academy, still toweling off my scalp after a shower in the gym’s locker room. Heavily I sighed, thankful for the much-needed sustenance that was soon to come when I finally reached the cafeteria. Sport after sport, activity after activity, it really wore the body out. Hope’s Peak really stressed the importance of the Ultimate-level students honing their skills. That’s why we were there, after all. Yes, we took general education classes like any normal student, the basics like the many different types of mathematics, general art, history, government, sciences and all that, but each student in the Main Course had several hours a day blocked out of their schedule dedicated to their specific talent and that talent only. It was rigorous, obsessive, and exhausting.

At times like this, I envied those who sat down for their talent, like animators and gamers, for I, the Ultimate Athlete, was always on my feet. Not that I’m saying art and gaming don’t take a lot out of those students, I just wanted a break from physical exertion once and awhile. My brain wasn’t stimulated quite as much as I’d like. Even the other athletes, like Aoi Asahina, the Ultimate Swimmer, and Akane Owari, the Ultimate Gymnast, had one set training area, and trained one sport for long sessions during the school day. As the all around Ultimate Athlete, the administration of Hope’s Peak had me training lots of different sports and exercise methods in short bursts. This meant running across campus from the pool to the dojo, from the gym to the baseball field, from the wrestling mat to the biking trails. Every day, a different muscle was sore, but I suppose I can’t really complain. It is an honor to be selected to attend Hope’s Peak. I mean, there were hundreds of regular students paying extraordinary rates to attend, just to be mocked and berated for being Reserve Course students anyway. I was lucky to have been chosen as the Ultimate Athlete at all, considering they already had so many types of athletes here. I think the appeal of my talent was that instead of being the best at one sport alone, I was above average at every single sport there was. Well, there was no use wasting time dwelling on my burnt-out body, because immediately after lunch, I was expected back at the gym with no delay. The longer this walk took, the less time I had to eat.

Picking up the pace, I sprinted - something I excelled at - through the courtyard that connected the Reserve Course and Main Course wings for what was a well-known shortcut to the cafeteria. Reaching the other side, I slowed my pace, my eyes landing on a curious scene that caught my attention. Three Reserve Course girls - distinguishable by the ash-black of their identical uniforms as opposed to the customizable (and optional) Ultimate uniforms - were whispering in hushed tones in front of one of the cream-colored pillars of the courtyard surrounded by some well-tended flowers. They trembled slightly, a bit jittery it seemed, and were clearly gossiping profusely like the gaggle of hens they resembled. There was malice and fear in their expressions as they looked back and forth from the object of their scrutiny then back to each other to deliberate and discuss. My eyes followed their line of sight to the opposite side of the courtyard, where the pond and benches sat. Of course, it was him. How did I not notice him as I passed by from that end? I must have been in some hurry.

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu, the Ultimate Yakuza, sat on the ground leaned up against a wall on the opposite side of the courtyard, scrawling notes into a notebook in his lap. His brow was creased, fairly engrossed in his studies. I could tell he heard the girls chattering, they weren’t being subtle and weren’t very far away, but Fuyuhiko was paying them no mind.

“Do you think his dad threatens the teachers if they give him a bad grade?” A blonde gasped, as if the thought had just occurred to her.

“Probably, I wouldn’t put anything past that clan of brutes,” another plain-looking girl whimpered in reply.

I stopped to watch the situation play out, hiding behind a nearby pillar and ready to step in if it continued, as rumor-spreading bullies were something that I just couldn’t stand by any means. I knew Fuyuhiko could handle himself… err… maybe I was just being a bit nosey to be honest.

After a few more minutes of the clique getting louder and bolder with their insultingly toxic babble, I saw Fuyuhiko’s head snap up, throwing them a pointed glare. The flock gasped in unison, with looks of horror on their faces, and scrambled away past me and into the hall. I smirked merrily: now that reaction was the more typical one. I was just thinking how brave these girls must have been to be provoking a Kuzuryuu in the first place. Many people in the school, and just the country in general were terrified of them. I myself felt a bit indifferent about Fuyuhiko. He was in my home room and never caused trouble.

The Kuzuryuu Clan was the largest and most powerful Yazuka clan in the country, with ties to national governments, huge drug rings, and a hand in many influential corporations throughout the country. People knew to fear them and not to mess with them, like any gang. Fuyuhiko was the only son of the head of the clan, and next in line as its leader, but if you’d spoken more than two words to the guy, you’d see that it was wise to respect him, but there was no need to fear him. In fact, his little sister Natsumi, who terrorized the Reserve Course girls, probably was the reason Fuyuhiko’s reputation around the school was smeared by association. People saw her bitterness, her jealousy, her need to harass or threaten anyone who she felt inferior to, her horrible attitude, and probably transferred that fear over to her older brother, thinking the siblings must be similar. It was just ridiculous. If anything, he was an asshole at times, but not dangerous.

Plus, how could someone be afraid of a guy who looked like that? Fuyuhiko was both adorable in some ways, and handsome in others. His cute side came out through in his meager height, the way his pale skin blushed easily when flustered, the softness of his blonde hair, the small pout he wore at times. He didn’t even have ink yet like most Yazuka. His skin was milky and untouched. On the other side of the spectrum, he was handsome and manly in the way he spoke, the elegance of his expensive suits and ties, his intelligence, the way he carried himself, his sharp and intense gaze. I always thought it was more reasonable to be attracted to him rather than afraid.

He did have a bit of an attitude problem, but I often felt bad for him because of it. The quipping, feisty exterior he presented was clearly a coping mechanism, a method of self-defense after years of pressure to be a pillar of his family and being misunderstood by his peers. It probably wasn’t easy to be expected to watch or even perform drug deals, interrogations, or even murders - who knows? Then after all of that, you come back into normal society and get judged for being tiny with a baby face behind your back while people are scared of you to your face.

He projected the anger he was taught was normal, and used the years of being raised in the Yakuza to adapt and mold his personality. He often cursed out or blew up at others, was stubborn and hard to work with, did his own thing, and despite how well he thought he hid her, his personal bodyguard being around the corner ready to kick someone’s ass at a moment's notice deterred many potential friendships. Most of our home room were friends with him, but I rarely talked to him. I really only made myself known to a few of the quieter kids in our class like Komaeda and Tsumiki, even Peko herself at times… but other than them I mainly kept to myself.

I just wished…. he’d talk to me first. I was desperate to get to know him without the fear of feeling like I was bothering him.

Ok, so maybe I wasn’t as indifferent as I let on before. Now that I’ve given myself away, I suppose I’ll just say it:

Yes, I was a bit biased on the topic of Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu because… I had a massive crush on him.

And it was hard, so very hard to see him in class everyday, at the dorms, around campus, and not be able to make those feelings known. I couldn’t tell if it was fear of judgment, fear of rejection, fear of him just cussing me out until I pissed myself, maybe a mix of all three? But now we were alone… save for Peko, who was undoubtedly spying from somewhere close by. Why should I care what anyone thinks? I was sure he’d never tell anyone if he rejected me anyway. He wasn’t the gossiping type, and he only told people what he needed them to hear. Steadying myself, I took a deep breath and stepped out from behind the decorative colonnade. As I shakily stepped across the grass, lunch became the last thing on my mind, and I approached him. He didn’t even look up until I began to speak, cowardice lining my tone.

“H-hey,” I mumbled, towering above him like some weirdo. He squinted in suspicion, a small pout settling onto his lips as he silently acknowledged me. “Are you studying?!” I yelled more than spoke, my nerves taking hold. He rolled his eyes, holding the notebook up with one hand. I couldn’t help scanning him, taking in the way the sun bounced off the yellow fluff of his buzz cut, the way his chest heaved slowly, the cute little mole under his bottom lip. I was sweating, wondering if Peko would knock me out for getting too close, but also entranced in his hazel eyes.

“What does it look like?” He huffed, irritated by my very presence. He probably came out hime to be alone, after all. Now he had to deal with me right after those insufferable girls.

“Ah, haha, yeah, well anyway, I wanted to say that those girls were obnoxious and wrong. You shouldn’t let their words get to you. They’re meaningless. Y-you shouldn’t care about what they think. I-” I spoke quickly, nervously, and he parried my words instantly, tired of me wasting his precious time.

“I don’t give a shit what they think. Since you’re such a fuckin’ creep and were apparently watching the whole time, you must have seen me scare them off, yeah? I obviously don’t care, and I don’t need some rando to come give me a fuckin’ pep talk! What do I look like to you, some fuckin’ kid that got his feelings hurt by some bullies? Fuck those bitches and fuck you! If that’s all you had to say, get lost,” he spat, and I flinched backwards. He was feeling vulnerable, and biting back was the only thing she knew, like an abused dog lashing out at its rescuers. I knew not to take it personal, that Fuyuhiko sometimes said things he didn’t mean out of anger. I knew all of this, but I was still taken aback and thoroughly intimidated. Almost as soon as he’d snapped at me, he settled back into his calm studying, opening the notebook again. That was Fuyuhiko, a little ball of rage that could be turned on and off like a switch.

“Well, I, um-” I cut off my own words, swiftly turning on my heel and marching out of the courtyard, clutching my bag like it could save me from this humiliation.

“Fuck… I’m such an idiot.” I shook my head, involuntarily replaying my blunderous attempt to ask Fuyuhiko out in my head over and over again. Could it even be called that? I mean, I didn’t even get to the asking out part before I made a complete fool of myself and pissed him off. I was now rushing through the corridors of the first floor, trying to make it to what was my last class of the day after a very short lunch and some extremely demanding training. The gardening class was mainly unsupervised and casual, but I hated the feeling of being technically late nonetheless.

The term “class” is used loosely hime. At Hope’s Peak, each student was required to choose an elective course that “gave back” to the community or school in some way. It was thought to boost the school’s reputation, along with the student’s resume. That was the sentiment the school held, anyway. Some students volunteered at local retirement homes, some, like the eccentric Gundham Tanaka, lead clubs that tended to rescue animals and raised them. Others tutored exchange students in Japanese, some did maintenance around the school to earn the credit. I chose the gardening club, where students would break up into little groups and tend to all the plants, flowers, grass, vegetable gardens, and courtyards on and around campus. Sometimes we even took “field trips” to tend to other local greenery. I found it to be the most calming and quiet option of all the electives. There was very little human interaction, and it was satisfying to see the (literal) fruits of your labor grow.

Today I would be tending to the garden in the secondary courtyard behind the school. This one was more hidden away, rarely ever used, and that’s what I loved about it. But… as I turned the corner, my box of gardening supplies in hand, I froze dead in my tracks, shuffling back to hide behind the cover of the wall.

Fuyuhiko was sitting there on his hands and knees, pruning weeds from the garden. The coat of his uniform was discarded, and she sat in only his slacks and a button up dress shirt with a tie. He had little towels folded up as make-shift knee padding, green gloves on, and was leaning into his work with such fervor.

What?! I screamed internally, panic taking hold of me. I had been a member of the gardening club for months, and not once had I seen him on the class roster or in rotation. I’d been to every station, been assigned every task at least once, and I’d never been paired with him. So of course, on the day I was thoroughly humiliated in front of him, here he was, ruining what was supposed to be the most relaxing part of my day. I considered leaving, simply lying about my hour of gardening time on the school’s check-in portal, but something in me told me to stay. I sat there, fighting with myself, nearly collapsing with anxiety, and then he began to speak, tearing my from my thoughts:

“Now now, how are you gonna grow big and strong if you keep lettin’ these little punks fuck you up like this…?” He huffed, almost fatherly in his tone. I peeked around the corner, wondering who the hell he was talking to. Maybe this shift wouldn’t be so awkward with a third party to distract me from him, I thought, but when I hazarded a glance, not a soul was in sight, save Fuyuhiko. Taking a closer look, I noticed his calloused hands nestled around the leaf of a plant, and he tsk’d, observing the bite marks left by pestiferous insects and small animals. He was talking to the plant?! My cheeks started to warm up, my heart melting at the realization.

Fuyuhiko began to hum, then to sing softly, a lullaby of sorts for this injured little green darling. Holding my breath, I nearly crumpled against the wall, feeling my flush spread from my cheeks to rush throughout my entire body. This is so fucking cute, I thought to myself, glancing once more, perhaps a bit riskily. I was getting greedy, greedy for even a glimpse of seeing him in the state of happiness I knew he deserved. I couldn’t care less if Peko was sneaking up behind me with a bamboo sword at the ready.

When I looked, he was smiling, truly smiling. I’d never seen him smile like that before, a smile birthed out of an innocent and serene joy, and now I never wanted it to stop. There was no way I was turning back now.

I took a few steps back down the hall, then stomped loudly toward the courtyard, allowing him to save face by thinking I had only just approached. I knew I would be in for quite the sour retaliation if he knew I had caught him singing. He may have even gotten up and left. He looked up, still leaned over his plants but now dead silent as I entered, and when he realized who I was, his breath caught in his throat. Another expression I rarely saw from him: one of being caught off guard.

“Hey… so, I didn’t know you were in the gardening club? I’ve been in it since the start and I’ve never seen you.” I set down my box next to him and pulled out some gloves. I was hoping that acting like earlier never happened was the best course of action. Something can’t be awkward if it doesn’t exist, right? Luckily, he played along… or rather, just didn’t bring it up, either.

“Uh, yeah. I was hoping to avoid all the bullshit of the whole, volunteer-but-not -actually-because-it’s-a-requirement class thing altogether. I just don’t have time for this shit, but my academic advisor caught on and forced me into gardening. It was the last one with spots left open…” he grumbled, as if he weren’t absolutely loving it mere moments ago.

“Huh… and they aren’t penalizing you for, you know, losing all those points from the first few months you missed?” I inquired bravely. Maybe those girls were right earlier about his father threatening professors…?

“Nah, I guess not. My advisor is super chill. She worked something out…”

“That’s lucky…” my words trailed off, and we both got to work. The longer the silence grew, the more the awkward energy imposed itself on both of us. I could tell that he was thinking back to our earlier encounter by the way he made eye contact and quickly snatched his gaze away, the way she would open his mouth then close it without a hesitant word.

Half an hour passed, and my nerves were beginning to stand on edge. What was more daunting than being alone with your crush? Being alone with your crush who verbally ripped you a new one that same day.

Now mere inches away from him, focusing in on the same patch of flowers, we both reached for a small watering can at the same time, and our hands touched briefly, fleetingly before he snatched his own back, a shade of pink dusting his soft cheeks. He turned away, embarrassed, but I couldn’t have been more excited by the small interaction. Still, for both our sakes, I felt the need to break the silence.

“You… you seem happier - now, I mean… as opposed to earlier today…” It was time to bring up the elephant in the room. I saw his body tense up, his spine stiffen, and he turned to face me, dirt staining his forearms and a swipe on his cheek where he’d scratched an itch earlier.

“Yeah… I should probably apologize for that, bein’ a dick and all. I was just, really pissed and stressed. I shouldn’t have attacked you like that… it’s just… those stupid, loud-mouth, air-headed-” I saw his fists clench, his gloves squeaking a bit under the pressure. I continued where he left off, not wanting him to force himself to relive the gossip or the anger attached to it.

“It’s fine, seriously. I get it. There will always be assholes like them in the world. I don’t blame you for being upset. Besides, I’m sure it was weird to have a stranger just approach you like that, trying to give you unsolicited advice and bothering you by-”

“Well, you’re not really a stranger, are you? I’ve seen you around plenty of times… and you’re in my home room.” He spoke reluctantly, clearly fighting against the compulsory need to deflect and defend.

“O-oh, yeah, you are. I didn’t think you’d notice.” I felt my heart rate speed up. Of course I’d seen him many times in the back of the classroom, but I had no idea he’d given me even a first glance, much less a second one.

“Of course I noticed. Sports, right? Exercise, fitness, an’ all that?” He nodded, smirking. God, he was so hot… I didn’t know how to contain my excitement. I was trying my best.

“Yeah, exactly. Sports, exercise, fitness. That’s me.” I chuckled a bit, finding myself more and more drawn to him with every second spent in his presence.

“Shit’s cool. I can respect someone who’s disciplined and keeps in shape. I’ve seen a few of your games,” he let slip.

“You have?” I immediately picked it up, a shiver of anticipation running over my skin and setting my pores on fire. Fuyuhiko wasn’t on any of the teams I played for and his Ultimate talent had nothing to do with sports. He wasn’t the type to go watch a sports game for fun, and didn’t have the free time for it anyway.

My eyes widened slowly, and I’m sure he could see the moment I made the connection deep inside myself almost as soon as I’d made it.

That was the day I realized that Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu liked me back.

An obscene shade of red flooded onto his face and his nose scrunched up, his voice cracking as he spoke:

“Stop starin’ at me like that! The fuck’s wrong with you?!”

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champion-leon-imagines · 3 years

Text

Chronicles of Galar - Chapter 1: New friends & A Cliffhanger

This is the first real chapter of the fic. Here you are introduced to Raihan and Taiko, when you explore Hammerlocke with Sonia. Something with Leon is up to, can you help him?

It had been two weeks since you had met Leon and during these two weeks you saw each other again in person when you were visiting Professor Magnolia to begin your official start through the Galar region with your family. You met the elderly lady, the professor herself, her granddaughter Sonia and Hop, the younger brother of Leon. Back then in the Slumbering Weald you had only seen Hop briefly, but when you met again in the laboratory you got to know each other properly. Mamoru was currently away with President Rose, to whom he wanted to demonstrate a newly developed technology that would make it possible to teleport people over a very long distance. This process should be environmentally friendly and affordable, which is why the prospective professor even invited your father, Professor [L/n] from Amila, to Galar to win Rose as a financial sponsor. After all, Rose was also concerned about the environment and energy supply and with these arguments, Mamoru wanted to convince with his invention.

You, on the other hand, were in Hammerlocke with Sonia. This city was known for the fact that the mythology about the creation of the Galar region by two unknown kings originated there. Every historian visits the old "castle" in Hammerlocke for his research and of course you were also interested in finding out more about this region.

“And here you can see another mosaic. It shows a sword and a shield. These are said to have been the weapons with which the kings saved this land from disaster. Unfortunately I couldn't decipher all the cryptic letters yet, but I think the disaster had something to do with dynamaxing .. ", Sonia explained and crossed her arms thoughtfully. "Why do you think that?", You wanted to know and looked at the mosaic for a while. You couldn't figure it all out. "This shimmering reddish light, in front of the kings .. That could be a Dynamax light column, don't you think so?", the orange-haired woman asked. "Mhm. I've already heard about it, but to be honest, I haven't seen any of these pillars of light in person, so ... I have no idea. ", You answered. "You didn't? Oh, that's easy to change. The Wild Area borders on this city. We can ask Raihan to give you a little demonstration in a wild dynamax fight. " "Raihan?"

“The gym leader of this city. And a childhood friend of Leon and me. ", Sonia said and saw you stiffen for a moment. "..Is everything alright?", She spoke irritated and blinked perplexed. "Huh? Yes of course..!! Haha. I didn't even know that you knew Leon that well. ", You smiled somewhat troubled and waved her off. "And .. Raihan, Leon and you .. you were really good friends?",You asked. Sonia blinked even more and tilted her head slightly. "Err ... we are still good friends?", She said and noticed how you were getting a little tense. "And .. is there .. somehow more between you? So .. I mean .. uhm .. boyfriend-girlfriend like ..? ", you mumbled. "No, Raihan and I are not lovers.", Sonia laughed and you sighed softly, because you didn't mean Raihan at all. Now the assistant professor suddenly became aware of something. “Oh. No, there is absolutely nothing going on between Leon and me, if that worries you. ", She giggled and winked. "Uh .. Uhm why should that worry me? Haha. I've only known him for two weeks. "

"Then why are you blushing?"

"I'm not blushing at all ..!"

"..."

Sonia shook her head in amusement and cleared her throat. “No, really now. Leon and I are just friends. No more and no less. I have no romantic interest in him. And he has none in me. ", She assured you. "..."

You didn't wanted to admit it, but this confirmation calmed you down a bit and you could have slapped yourself for feeling that way ..

So after that was resolved, the two of you went to the gym to find Raihan. Though you only found the young talented trainers that Raihan had in his gym. They were practicing on the court with their Dragon Pokemon and they looked so motivated and happy. However, there seemed to be no trace of the gym leader himself, which surprised Sonia a little. “Wait here, I'll take a look around the gym. He's probably sitting around, being lazy again somewhere and playing on his smartphone .. “, the orange-haired sighed, making you laughing uncertainly. "How did someone like that become a gym leader?"

“By losing to Leon in the final cup. He scored as second and has been defending this place for 10 years while trying to take Leon's championship title. ", Sonia explained and then apologized to leave you there and look around for the idler.

Just standing around in the stands bored you after a few minutes, so you decided to explore the gym on your own. To compete against the young talents of the final gym in the Galar Challenge would certainly be an exciting experience. You didn't take part in this challenge yourself, but you definitely didn't shy away from fights.

You walked a little through the corridors and rooms, watched the trainers fight and raise their dragons with interest, and you even learned a little about Dragapult, a dragon pokemon from this region. And which, according to the information on the information sheet above the life-size statue in the 'gift shop' of the gym, was also a team Pokemon of Leon. Why does a gym need a gift shop at all, was something you preferred not to question. This Raihan guy seemed like a very weird dude, but maybe that was what made him likeable? Just as you were about to go back to the stands and left the gift shop, you saw a leg-length, green creature scurrying past. It looked like a .. Fraxure? The first evolution of the Pokemon Axew, you noticed, before a female voice got your attention. “Aaaaah don't walk into the shop again! Raihan is going to get mad ..! Hey you over there, can you please help me to catch this Pokemon? ”a red-haired young woman, around 17-19 years old, called after you. She waved her hands in panic and tripped over one of her open shoelaces while running. As a result, she fell on her bum and sighed in annoyance. "Today sucks ..!" She muttered and pouted. You blinked and saw the Fraxure curiously sniffing at one of the souvenirs, a Flapple music box, and picking it up. “Noooo, put that back! It's fragile!!! Argh, why doesn't it obey? ", The red-haired woman shouted in frustration and ruffled her own hair as if she wanted to pull it out.

You smiled and then ran to Fraxure to gently take the music box out of it's claws and pat the Pokemon over it's head. "Well, well. That doesn't belong to you.", You rebuked and the red-haired woman used the moment to run to you and pull the Fraxure into her arms. "Gotcha, you runaway !!! Thank you for your help, miss. ", The redhead thanked you, relieved. "Oh, I actually didn't do anything. And no need for formalities. We're about the same age, ”you waved off. “My name is [Y/n]. “, You introduced yourself and held out your hand to the stranger for a greeting. The girl smiled broadly and tried to adjust Fraxure between her arms to accept this gesture and shake your hand. "I'm Taiko! And this cheeky little guy here is a Pokemon from Raihan, our gym leader. But he entrusted it to me today so that I could learn how to tame dragon pokemon. ”Taiko then explained. "... It doesn't work so well, huh?", You smirked and Taiko blinked before you pointed with your finger at Taiko's stomach area. The redhead looked down and now she also saw that the dragon pokemon had already made itself independent again and tried to run straight out of the gym. "NOOOOOOOOOOO!" Taiko shouted and ran after the Pokemon, but then the door suddenly opened and Taiko fell into the strong arms of a suntanned man. You blinked and looked at the man. He wore an orange-red headband, which covered his hair except for a dark braid. In addition, he partly wore the jersey of the gym trainers and over it a thick sweatshirt, which vaguely resembled a dragon. He grinned and looked down at the redhead, whose nose was now buried in his chest. A pointed fang-like tooth protruded from this grin and he smacked the younger one on the back in amusement. "I actually thought you were training the Fraxure and not the other way around." He teased her and when Taiko looked up pouting, he pinched her cheeks and pulled them apart slightly, as if he was talking to a child. "Stop it, Raihan .."

Ah, so that was Raihan. You smiled, because that's exactly how you had imagined him after Sonia's stories. Raihan laughed and then looked at you. "A friend of yours?" He wanted to know. "Uh .. you could say so.", Taiko laughed, which made you blink. "Uhm not really. We just got to know each other because the Fraxure almost ran into my arms. ", you clarified. “Well, then we got to know each other better. Because I always make friends with everyone I get to know! So that's a warning. ", Taiko winked and you smiled. That was an extremely lively girl. Through and through sympathetic and a nice change from the other redheads you knew (Aki was a redhead) .. Not that you didn't appreciate your sister-in-law, but she was sometimes a little too serious and grown up for the jokes that you and your brother liked to hatch. With Taiko, you felt like she was a massive mood cannon. "Understood. I have no objection to that. ", You laughed then and Raihan grinned wider as he casually called the Fraxure back into the Pokeball. “Well, then I would like to introduce myself officially. My name is Raihan and I'm the gym leader of the Hammerlocke gym. ", He flirty-winked, which reminded you a bit that he tried to hit on you. "Errr .."

Taiko poked him lightly in the side, then turned to her new self-proclaimed friend, aka you. “Raihan is a playful idiot. If he tries to flirt with you, just don't take it seriously. Because he never means it seriously. ", She warned. Raihan twisted the corner of his mouth and crossed his arms behind his head. “You don't need to get jealous, Taiko. You know that you are my number 1 girl. ", He then spoke teasingly, whereupon a shoe flew in his direction. Taiko's blushing face showed anger and embarassment and she hobbled over to pick up her shoe. "Idiot.", She said and you briefly hesitated until you saw that they were both laughing with each other. That calmed you. It was just mutual teasing. These two seemed really close, you thought with a smile.

Sonia was finally back and Raihan was allowed to listen to a lecture about the obligations of a gym leader, because apparently nobody in the gym knew that the dragon tamer was simply absent for hours because he - Quote from Raihan: an important event of one of his mobile games where you had to find hidden clues in different parts of Hammerlocke. (Something like a mix of Pokemon GO and the Harry Potter mobile game that use real locations)

After that, of course, he was more than happy to show you a Dynamax raid fight in the wild area. If the wild area had not been partially closed due to a strong storm. Well then that had to be postponed. You used the time, to learn more about the history of Galar, with Sonia and also with Taiko's help and you got to know each other better. “So you come from Johto? And your mother works at Ho-Oh's temple in Ecruteak City? Then you surely have an Eevee development too, right? ", You wanted to know with interest when Sonia and Raihan got some books from the library. "Yes, exactly. I was supposed to work as a geisha, too, but .. That just wasn't my thing. I need some action. That's why I came here to Galar. You know, my family took a vacation here 10 years ago and Raihan saved me in the Wild Area. We've been in touch ever since, and when I was finally old enough to travel I came here straight away! .. Well, almost immediately. Haha. I came here when I was 14 after starting my journey in Johto. Mother said that I should first really get to know my home region before I set off for foreign regions. "

"And it took you 4 years for it?", You interrupted her with a smile. "... Well, you can count 2 years less of secret trips to Galar to hang out with Raihan. Yes. ", Taiko mumbled and nudged her index fingers together. You had to laugh gently. "Wow and you're not married yet, after all the meetings and teasing each other?" You asked. Taiko went bright red in the face and gestured with her hands in panic. "Huuh? Why do we should be married? We .. we're not a couple .. ”, the tomboy defended herself vigorously. Your smirk went wider. “You like each other alot. A blind man can see that. I was watching Raihan when you ran into his arms. That affected look he gave you. He would probably never admit it. And you also have butterfrees in your stomach when he's with you. ",You stated. “Ahahaha, you have a blooming imagination. Raihan and I are just friends. Who wants such an idiot as a boyfriend! He's always on his cell phone. And he has absolutely no sense of responsibility. He leaves the trainers under my supervision all the time and then disappears for hours .. ", Taiko sighed. "But doesn't that mean how much trust he has in you when he entrusts his students to you?" You then asked. Taiko blinked and crossed her arms. “I haven't seen it that way yet .. But .. he always shifts his work on to others. And then has fun in some nightclubs .. He's probably also dragging every chick he meets in his bedroom .. ", the redhead spoke lowly, gritting her teeth and clenching her hand into a fist. You smiled. "I don't know Raihan that well yet, and of course I don't know you either, but .. I don't think he's the kind of guy who is like that and sleeps with many women. Of course, he has a certain .. charm about himself and he also seems to like to flirt, but .. Mhm no, I wouldn't trust him to have flings. My knowledge of human nature has never disappointed me ”, you assured her. "Do you think so?" Taiko asked and her face showed traces of relief. Now you had to giggle again. “And now you've definitely given yourself away. You're ... totally in love with Raihan. "

"I'm not.."

"Who's in love with whom?" a male voice asked behind you and Taiko winced because it was Raihan's voice. You turned around and saw Raihan with a mountain of books in his arms. Next to him was Sonia, who also carried some books and eyed both of you curiously. "Ah. [Y/n] has a crush on… uh .. the Slowpoke-Guy * from the new sitcom. ”Taiko quickly made up and saw how your facial features derailed. Raihan blinked and laughed, which made him drop the books. "Really? This guy's such a troll. He's running around in a Slowpoke costume and looks totally retarded. ", Raihan laughed and was hit with a book by Sonia for dropping the books. "Err .. That was just a joke of her. We actually talked about Hop getting along pretty well with his neighbor Gloria. And we have the feeling that they are in love with each other. ", You said then and saw Taiko smile gratefully. You could have whipped your red-haired new acquaintance over, especially after this thing with the Slowpoke Dude.

"I see? Well, the two of them are cute together. But still a little too young for a serious relationship for my taste. ", Raihan thought. "Define 'serious relationship'.", Sonia interfered and Raihan looked at her with a slight grin. "Sex."

"..."

You cleared your throat and also Taiko seemed a little embarrassed by the directness of her crush. “Sex isn't the most important thing in a relationship. At that age, it's perfectly normal to have your first boyfriend or girlfriend. Apart from kissing and holding hands, nothing happens. ", You considered. "How boring.", Raihan just said and crossed his arms behind his back. “Have you ever been in a committed relationship, Raihan? As far as I know, every woman turns you down because of your stupid pick-up lines .. ", Sonia sighed, shaking her head. Raihan looked at her and looked briefly offended. “Hey, they're not stupid! My pick-up lines are great. ”, The dark-skinned man then protested. "Oh yes? Then let me hear them. ", You suggested and smiled. Admittedly, these Galar acquaintances were sometimes really crazy people, but that's exactly what you loved. You had the feeling that you will be very good friends with these people ..

"Are there any other sights in town, besides you?" Raihan grinned with a sexy wink and a finger pistol gesture. "...Seriously?"

"Wait, I have another one! When God created you, he sure wanted to show off. ", Raihan tried again. But all in response from the three women was a mutual giggle. “Oh god, the pick-up-lines are so bad. Hahaha, my little brother Kaito can do them better. ", You giggled and shook your head amused. Sonia laughed too and Taiko smiled too, but you could tell that she was slightly uncomfortable about the subject. "Okay okay. That was really bad. But maybe I'll wait for the right one for the best lines. ", Raihan countered and looked slightly to the side. You stopped laughing and then looked at him in amazement. "That hardly sounded like you at all.", Sonia stated. "Can we just change the subject?" Taiko sighed, slightly annoyed. "Sorry.", You smirked and then helped Sonia to pick up the books that Raihan had dropped.

You sat down together in a cozy cafe in a sitting area and you let the three of them explain a little about Galar's history. At least what was known to some extent.

You were very curious and inquisitive about Galar's history. You liked this region more and more and you couldn't even say exactly why. But at some point a slight commotion outside the cafe caught your attention. It seemed as if a large television team was gathered there and the flashing lights flashed through the window of the cafe like a thunderstorm.

Sonia stopped talking and followed your gaze to the window. “Oh, this is just an interview with Leon. I just checked my messaging app and it seems like he single-handedly stopped a runaway Gigantamax Toxtricity. Which is remarkable, because Toxtricity is already a serious opponent against Charizard with its G-Max Stun Shock. ", the orange-haired woman explained. “So many reporters and so much hectic pace? Leon certainly doesn't have an easy time being that popular. He can't go anywhere without being surrounded by curious fans or journalists, ” you said softly. “Yes, those are the downsides of his title. But don't worry, Leon enjoys the spotlight that's falling on him. He enjoys the fame and the many public appearances. ", Raihan said. He knew his rival and best friend well enough by now. You fell silent and got up to walk to the window and get a better look at the man at the center of this interview. Your look became a little worried, because although Leon had put on his usual smile, he looked pretty exhausted. He looked quite pale, despite his darker skin color and it seemed as if he had hardly slept recently. At least you could see his dark circles under his eyes. On this occasion you also remembered that his last message was a few days ago with the excuse that he had so much to do and at the moment didn't really know where his head was. At first you thought it was an excuse not to have to answer, but now that you saw him, he was really overwhelmed at the moment.

You were torn from your thoughts when you noticed a hand on your shoulder. You blinked and looked beside you when you saw Taiko's slightly grinning face. “Seems like our champion is very important to you. You're worried about his health, aren't you? ”The redhead asked mischievously. You knew why she was grinning like this. Now was Taiko's chance to strike back, for earlier. Because you would have to lie if you didn't think a little bit about the handsome purple-haired man since you met ..

"Nonsense. But I am a little tired. Let's move on to the history lesson tomorrow. By the way, my brother probably already misses me. After the appointment with Rose, he wanted to wait for me at the hotel to tell me how the conversation went. In any case, it was very nice to have made your acquaintance, Taiko and Raihan too. I have the feeling that we will meet a few more times. ", you smiled and then bowed politely as a farewell. Taiko grinned and gave you a thumbs up. "You can bet on it! Come safely to the hotel. Not that it's unsafe here in the city, but when it gets dark there could be strange figures walking around outside. ", The redhead warned. “Of course, I'll be careful. Anyway, I left my number for you Taiko. Just call me. See you! And thank you for the insight into Galar's history. Really interesting. ”With these words you said goodbye to your new friends. "Mmm, I wonder why she lied to us.", Sonia began after you had left the cafe. "Huh?" Raihan and Taiko looked questioningly at the orange-haired woman. Sonia then folded her arms. “[Y/n]s brother is at a long conference in Amila with Rose. Grandmother told me that, she knows every professor very well, including her father. And that means her brother isn't expecting her, you see? Why did she say that? ”She wondered then. "Mhmm .. Raihan pissed her off with his stupidity." Taiko said teasingly and Raihan then playfully put her in a headlock. "More like you shooshed her away with your intrusiveness!", He countered and the two laughed while they wrestled a little. Sonia just watched them with a sigh and then looked outside, where Leon was being questioned by reporters. "Is ... he the reason?"

To be continued..

#Chronicles of Galar #Leon #leon pokemon #pokemon leon #pkmn leon #champion leon #Raihan #Leon x Reader #pokemon #pokemon sword and shield #pokemon shsw

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