#this story is actually three years old i just never bothered posting it lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

avyssoseleison · 3 years

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Mafia son!Dean x Bodyguard!Cas | 1.6k

The slight up-tilt of his chin may be promising, but the set of his shoulders sure isn't. Because, straight and strong enough they may look they are slim, almost slight, in contrast to the shoulders of Dean’s former bodyguard. Comparatively slight, anyway.

In any case, they are gonna get Dean killed, quicker than anything else, that's for sure. His new bodyguard’s body will drop faster than the bodies of his predecessors, either because he won't he strong enough to hold himself in a fight or because he might just be good enough not to go down, but still not strong enough to also protect Dean, and then be killed by John afterwards. Whereas the others ones – the five guys who were ripped to shreds one way or another while trying to protect Dean this year alone – were all bulk and brute, this guy is understated, almost elegant. For all that Dean knows, his grace might be deadly – but it also might not.

Regardless, Dean doesn't want him as his bodyguard. Doesn't want him around him day and night, watching over him like a hawk and looking out for something he might be unable to do anything against. He doesn't want him to die because he caught a bullet for Dean or maybe took a knife to the guts, like the guys before him. Doesn't want him to allow Dean to be captured again or die because he runs his mouth too much.

Maybe John can set the guy up as a sniper or a counselor; something out of the line of fire might be more suited for someone like him. He could still be around the mansion, still be of help to Dean – just in a different way.

“Dean.” His father's deep, impatient rumble stirs him from his thoughts as he reaches the foot of the stairs of the main hall, and directs his gaze from the bodyguard-not-to-be towards John, who is standing right next to him and has been talking to him and instructing him for the past few minutes without so much as glancing Dean's way. Now, John is glaring at Dean, probably annoyed by his absentmindedness, and beckons him to come closer with a single slant of his eyes.

So, Dean goes. Without dragging his feet, although he feels like it, he straightens his back and marches up to John and the other guy, whose eyes are now fixed on him. Some dark, inexplicable part of Dean’s being revels at that, rebels against that, and compels Dean to drop his gaze – not in response to John's, but to that guy's – and that's... the opposite of everything he has ever learned. The opposite of what he is and what he should be.

Which is why he narrows his eyes instead and gives him a once-over that hopefully conveys every ounce of derision he has been able to muster up in the brief amount of time that they've shared the same air. When he comes to a halt, it’s close enough to his father to be considered obedient to his command, but still out of reach from that other guy.

“Yes, sir?” Dean asks as soon as both of his feet are firmly upon the ground, and he thinks he can see one of the bodyguard's eyebrows twitch at Dean's address just so. At that, Dean raises one of his own in a challenge. Maybe keeping him far from the mansion and the family might be a good idea, after all.

“This is Castiel, your new bodyguard,” John states curtly, as if Dean didn’t already know that. As if he hadn’t been told by some of his own confidants. “He has been screened and searched thoroughly already, so will start right away. As someone who has been trained in close combat and weapons for many years, I expect him to be more useful than your last bodyguards.” The corners of his mouth lift up the tiniest of bits. “If not, that is his own loss. If you are harmed in any way, he won't be paid – and if he dies because of his own incompetence, his relatives won't receive any compensation.”

“I have no relatives to compensate anyhow,” Castiel replies, in a monotone way that suggests this isn't the first time he has mentioned this. But Dean doesn't focus much on what he says, rather than on the how. Because for someone who, still comparatively, is rather slight for a bodyguard, his voice sure is deeper than any of those that came before him. Not just deeper, but more authoritative, richer, darker -- sexier, for sure.

It sends a small shiver up Dean’s spine.

“I don't want him,” Dean growls suddenly, so that he doesn't sputter. At once, all of him feels tense, on edge – and the amusement in the face opposite of him only aggravates that.

“Oh?” Castiel asks, that same amusement also tinging his voice.

“I don't want him as my bodyguard,” Dean asserts once more, well-aware of how stubborn he sounds.

“It doesn't matter if you want him,” John says, “because I already appointed him as your bodyguard, and that’s final.”

“But, Dad,” Dean objects, “just look at him! How the hell is he s'pposed to protect me any better than the other ones could? You know that all the other ones died 'cause they shielded me, and the last one 'cause he... was too weak. Why would you expect him to be any better? You know how Alas--”

“Son,” John cuts in, deep and dangerous, “I won't have any discussions on this. As I already said, he is well-trained and better than any of your former guards or you could ever hope to be. You surely don't want me to tell him to demonstrate how skilled he is first-hand? See how efficient he is when it comes to breaking an insolent jaw?”

The dark glimmer in John’s eyes is familiar. It shows that it’s a promise, not just an empty threat, that he won’t hesitate to have Dean thrashed right here and there, should be not shut the fuck up and do as he’s told. It’s just as scary as it was when Dean was just a kid -- when John still dealt out those kinds of punishments by himself, instead of having his underlings do the dirty work for him.

Humbled now, Dean dutifully drops his gaze as he feels the fight ebb out of him and heat sting his cheeks. “No, sir,” he says, quietly.

He usually doesn't step out of line like this, especially not in front of strangers. But, something about this Castiel just riles him up. For a reason he can’t put into words, he doesn't want him as his bodyguard, feels like he should fight back against it. Weirdly enough, he also doesn’t not want him around -- he just doesn’t want him in the line of fire. Which makes little sense, seeing as that would be his job and Dean doesn’t even know him, but it is what it is.

Though, like John said, that’s not his call, anyway.

Despite expecting Castiel to maybe chuckle or show any other signs of pleasure in the way Dean was reprimanded for his sake, he reverts back to his earlier stoicism. He watches Dean, albeit only briefly, and then looks at John as he speaks again.

“That's what I thought. So, get him acquainted with your rooms now. He has only been given a rough overview of the mansion, as he doesn't need to know the blueprints, so he doesn't know the structure of your part of the building yet. Show him everything he needs to know, and then come down for dinner. Zachariah will be our guest tonight.”

“Yes, sir,” Dean says, still not quite looking up at him.

John once more sniffs at that, nods towards Castiel, who nods back almost imperceptibly, and then steps away. Without another word and accompanied by the heavy sound of his boots, he leaves the room and Castiel and Dean to themselves.

Dean feels the flush persisting on his cheeks, and finds his fingers to be curled into fists. He doesn't even remember consciously forcing them into their rigid form, and he wouldn't dare to lift a finger against his father, anyway.

So, he loosens his grip, shakes his head, shakes off this conversation and his own defiance along with it, and blinks up at Castiel, who is watching him intently. Staring at him, in fact, silently and inscrutably, as if searching for something in Dean’s shamed face.

Dean can’t stand that heavy gaze on him.

“C'mon, then,” Dean says with a shrug devoid of ease, resolutely looking towards the door that leads from the main hall to the part of the building that belongs to him. He will be safe there, for the time being. Both of them will be. From John, from bullets, from each other perhaps, once Dean can tell him to just stay in one corner and leave him alone. “I'll show you my rooms.”

Castiel moves as Dean does, already in tune with the few steps that Dean makes away from him. For a moment there, he lifts his hand as if wanting to reach out, maybe to touch Dean or pull him back from his hasty pace, but he does no such thing.

Instead, he falls into step beside him, a warm presence by Dean’s side, a shield against the brute force that just left them behind.

“I am looking forward to it,” Castiel replies with a weird, almost warm inflection to his voice, and, strangely enough, it doesn't sound mocking at all.

#miriam writes #destiel #deancas #mafioso!dean #bodyguard!cas #spn #fanfiction #this story is actually three years old i just never bothered posting it lol #i only gave it a light edit because i mostly just wanted to get it out of my drafts so some parts might not flow so nicely #anyway enjoy #abuse cw

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bunnykawa · 4 years

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what are you doing, step bro? (sakusa x f. reader)

summary: To your parents, Sakusa was the greatest son. To you, he was the best big brother you could’ve ever asked for, but you could only find that out with a little force.

a/n: i literally just started college so i won't have much time to write but i have some stories in my drafts that'll be posted in awhile lol. should i open requests for haikyuu drabbles since they're short but still entertaining?? idek i feel like no one is reading this rn LOL but if anyone is reading this, lmk ;)

(edit: I HAD TO REPOST THIS CS IT WASNT SHOWING UP IN TAGS so sorry if you already liked this post)

warnings: 18+, incest, mentions of drugging, mentions of somnophilia, mentions of parental neglect, noncon/dubcon/rape, sakusa is a dirty pervert i just don’t know how else to tag this, degradation, slight manipulation

"(Y/N), this is your new big brother, Kiyoomi," your mother said, holding tightly onto your small shoulders as you stood in front of her.

"You can refer to him as your nii-san from now on." Locking eyes with you was an older boy with long black wavy hair, two moles on the right side of his forehead, and a white face mask on the lower half of his face which blocked his nose and mouth. How odd, you thought. You could tell he was disinterested with how his eyes were blank as he stared at you.

That was the first time meeting your step brother, Sakusa Kiyoomi.

Being four years younger than Sakusa, you two never really got along. Of course you had to respect each other, but there was nothing to really talk about other than when his volleyball games were or unfulfilling small talks. Sometimes he would make snide remarks, asking if you even showered when your hair was only slightly messy or if a smart word ever came out of your mouth when you stumbled over your words. Sometimes he was just mean to you in general to the point where you would cry. You always tried to ignore it, though. That was when you were younger. You couldn’t help that you weren’t that smart and he was your nii-san after all. Your parents would brush it off.

You celebrated his victories together, only because you had to. I mean, you were the younger sister of one of the nation's top three aces in high school volleyball. There was no way your parents wouldn't celebrate. He was their pride and joy.

Smart, athletic, incredibly attractive — everything you felt like you could never live up to.

Your own biological mom so obviously and painfully liked him more than you.

Before you even entered high school, Sakusa was old enough to move out and go to college where he continued to play volleyball. When he visited during the holidays, you still wouldn't have decent conversations with him. He would still insult you. It even made you cringe when you had to call him nii-san. Why address him as your older brother when he didn't even act like it?

But you dealt with it because you had to.

Fresh out of Itachiyama Academy, you're focused on studying for entrance exams for colleges in your area rather than what would happen if you ever had to see Sakusa again. But, you were expecting to see him very soon.

Gentle knocks are heard from outside your door and before you can respond, your mom is already opening it.

"(Y/N), Omi is coming today and he's gonna be here for a week. I have to go to the grocery store to buy food and I'm gonna run other errands so it's gonna take awhile," she says, leaning her head into your room. You respond multiple times with "okay" so she can leave your room sooner.

Textbooks and notebooks are strewn across your bed with you on your stomach, trying to cram as much information in your head as possible.

"That means I might not be here in time for when he comes, so you have to open the door and greet him," she adds.

"What about dad?" you ask with a grimace. The most you would do is say hello and scurry back into your room.

She rolls her eyes at you. "He's working late again. You know that, (Y/N)." With a sigh, you agree and she finally leaves your room after bidding you a "goodbye."

You can't remember the last time you saw Sakusa, but it was probably almost half a year ago. Ever since he left for college, your parents were even more distant towards you. They probably felt like they didn't need to worry about you because you weren't doing anything important.

When Sakusa came over, he barely acknowledged you and you were okay with that because it meant he wouldn't be bothering you.

But that didn't mean his blank stare wouldn't catch your attention whenever you came out of your room to eat or use the restroom. The atmosphere felt...very odd around him. You couldn't necessarily come up with a reason why.

Suddenly, you hear knocking on the front door. It had to be at least an hour or two since your mom left and the thought of who was waiting at the door made your stomach churn.

"Nii-san is here," you mutter to yourself as you got up to open the door. Right as you open the door, Sakusa was staring down at you with the same blankness in his eyes from before with his usual face mask. His hair was shorter than you remember.

Mindlessly, his eyes seem to scan your body before returning to your face, making you feel self-conscious. You were only wearing black spandex shorts and a loose tank top. Subconsciously, you rub your arm and step back to make space.

"(Y/N)," Sakusa acknowledges you in a deadpan voice. It's no surprise to you.

"Hi, onii-san. How are you?" You try so hard to be polite, but Sakusa seemed to have a naturally dominant energy that overwhelmed your senses, even if he also seemed to have the personality of a jar of mayonnaise. You step aside so he can come in. He wore gray sweatpants and a black windbreaker that was zipped up all the way. As soon as he makes it inside, he removes his face mask, stuffs it in his pocket, and starts unzipping his jacket.

"I'm good," he hums, "Where's mom?" He places the backpack he was carrying on the couch and takes a seat as you close the door.

"She's out doing errands and dad is working. Do you want some tea?"

"Yes, please. Make sure you wash your hands before you do. Thank you," he said. You walk into the kitchen, muttering "germaphobe" under your breath at his extra request. Unbeknownst to you, he watched you from his place on the couch as you walked around the kitchen, pulling the tea kettle out of one of the bottom cabinets and looking for cups. His gaze followed the outline of your ass in those tiny shorts that hugged your bottom tightly.

"What college are you planning on going to, (Y/N)?"

"I'm not sure yet, but I'm applying to the college you're going to and three others," you replied from your spot near the counter.

Sakusa actually perks up at your answer. "Oh, cool. You'll love it there if you get in. Only if, though. You're not the brightest."

You couldn't help but let your face fall in a frown at his seemingly small comment. Quickly, you compose yourself and brush off his remark. You got the water boiling in the tea kettle and reached high for the teacups that were sitting on the top cabinets. Your stepdad definitely put them up there.

A presence looms close behind you, which makes your whole body automatically freeze and tense up. A veiny, bulky arm reaches up easily to grab the teacups while another one snakes around you to pull your tank top down as it was exposing your stomach. You're not sure if you're imagining it, but you definitely feel something stiff brushing up against your back.

"You need to be careful. Don't wanna hurt yourself, do you?" Sakusa commented, leaning forward so his mouth was right next to your ear. A blush found its way onto your cheeks from feeling him so close to you.

He usually hated being so close to people. What was so different today?

"R-right," you stuttered, "Thank you, nii-san."

Confrontation wasn't a strong trait of yours.

You guess that moment was when it started getting really weird between you two. You still had small talks from whenever he would actually see you come out of your room, but you wanted to avoid him as much as you could. However, that was hard when Sakusa insisted that you drank tea together every night and, of course, your parents insisted, too.

Your nii-san wants to spend more time with you, they would say excitedly. Better late than never!

Maybe if he was showing the slightest bit of interest in you, your parents would finally care about you. So, with much hesitation, you started drinking tea with your step brother every night. Sakusa even made the tea himself so his poor little sister wouldn't tire herself out with carrying that heavy teapot.

You're still not sure if you're imagining things, but the tea tasted different from how you made it. And you swear that the tea didn't make you so sleepy after drinking it until he started making it.

"Come here," Sakusa would say with a smirk, "Onii-san will take you to bed."

You would pass out before you even made it to bed, but every morning you woke up with sticky thighs, only blaming it on sweating while you were sleeping.

Until one day, you didn't drink all the tea that he made you. You still fell asleep, though. Your brain was hazy enough to make you lose consciousness as he helped you up from your seat in the kitchen.

Sakusa laid next to you on your bed. You were placed on your side so he could slide under the sheets right behind you to press his hardened length against your ass. This was his favorite part of the night. He spent a few minutes playing with your cunt to make it slick enough for him to let his cock break through your walls.

You barely stirred awake. Didn't even move an inch as he caressed every part of your body, from your soft nipples to the sensitive nub between your thighs.

He pushed the elastic of his sweatpants down to his thighs quickly. His cock hit your ass before settling between your folds. A satisfied moan leaves his lips when he feels your wetness coating the top part of his shaft as he rubbed it against you. He hooked his arm around one of your legs so that you were spread open enough for him to fuck you and rub your clit at the same time with his other hand.

He wanted that sweet nectar completely coating his dick. He remembers the way you tasted and how you came on his tongue the night before, despite being blacked out from the little pills he would dissolve in your drinks. You tasted so clean and smelled so fresh. It was impossible for your nii-san to control himself around you.

And when did your ass look so good? God...Sakusa couldn't believe he never noticed how cute and well-shaped you were. You weren't that little girl he met when you were both kids. You were pushing adulthood now. Still pathetic looking, still too shy, still small around him, but fuck, he definitely would have pushed you over the counter the first day he came over and fucked you until you were crying and gagging.

He continued rubbing circles onto your clit and letting his cock soak up your juices. Gently, he positions the tip at your entrances and pushes in slowly.

"There you go," he whispers in your ear, "I know it's a little big. Don't worry."

He manages to fill you up all the way, making him groan. Your walls were tight around him. He thrusts in and out of you carefully, salvaging the feeling of your slick interior.

But you didn't drink all the tea, which means that you could wake up earlier than he expected.

Sakusa didn't expect you to wake up now.

You stirred slightly as you regained consciousness. Although your eyelids were heavy, you tried to force them open only to be met with darkness.

"Mmm," you croaked, rubbing your eyes. The odd feeling of being filled up suddenly made you wake up more. "W-what's going on?"

"Fuck," Sakusa muttered from behind you. You felt a hard chest pressed against your back and...a hand on your pussy. No, something inside your pussy. And that voice was so familiar.

You quickly whip your head around when the realization dawns on you. What the fuck is happening? While your eyes adjust to the dark room, you see two familiar eyes staring straight back at you. He stopped grinding his hips against you for a moment as if time stopped.

"...Nii-san?" you hesitated. His breathing was heavy and he stayed silent.

"Nii-san, what are you doing?" you asked in a panicked voice. You quickly tried to get up from your position, only to be held down by Sakusa’s muscular arms. His hand wrapped itself over your lips to prevent you from screaming.

“Be a good girl and stay quiet, (Y/N),” he whispered. A muffled scream tries to escape your lips. He continued to fuck you slowly, leaving a burning feeling in your walls. The same sore feeling that you would sometimes wake up to within the past few days.

For a moment, you pry his fingers off of your mouth. "I don't understand...Why are you...?" You yelped in surprise, horror, and pleasure as he delivered a sharp thrust from behind you. The smack of his hips against your bare ass made you cringe and feel so disgusted with yourself. Nii-san is actually inside me.

"My poor little sister," he chucked darkly. He suddenly wraps his arm around your knee tighter and forces your legs wide open, your knee almost touching your chest. Instead of putting his hand over your mouth to shut you up, he kneads your breast. His hands were so large.

"You think you can walk around the house looking like a little slut in those tiny shorts?" He stretches you open with his hard cock with slow, yet hard, thrusts. It left your mouth agape, but no sounds left your throat except for small squeaks that you couldn't hold back. "You stupid bitch. Just as dumb as I could remember. Fuck, you don't know how much I wanted to bend you over and fill you up with my cum like the stupid, desperate slut you are."

He was satisfied as you were barely fighting him. All you did was desperately search for something to hold onto and bite your lip because you were so scared. His words were painful. "Look at you. A waste of fucking space, only good as a fuck hole. Didn't even realize she was getting drugged and getting fucked every night because she's so fucking stupid."

Weak. That was all your brain was telling you, mocking you, as Sakusa didn't stop moving against you and insulting you. This wasn't the first time. It just so happened that this time you were able to wake up.

"I-I..." you stuttered, "I'll...I'll tell mom and dad." The sheets were gripped tightly between your fingers. "I'll tell them- mmmm...what nii-san has been doing to me..."

"If you tell mom and dad, they wouldn't even care," Sakusa said in a patronizing tone. The way his hand was caressing you made you wanna cry.

“They would!”

"Mom and dad don't even treat you like a daughter, (Y/N). When was the last time they told you they loved you?" Even if his question was rhetorical, your mind went completely blank. You can't recall a moment where they ever told you they loved you.

"B-but, this isn't right! You're not supposed to be doing this," you argued. It was a surprise that your mind wasn't completely clouded by how big his cock was and how his thrusts felt almost hateful.

"You think they would choose your side? You'd be ruining your own life. Maybe you'd ruin mine. And it'd be. All. Your. Fault." With each syllable, his movements became sharper. "You don't wanna betray your nii-san by saying something, do you?"

"You love your nii-san, right?"

You do. You love him so much, even if you tried to avoid him and he never said a single good thing to you in your whole damn life.

Because you have to love him.

You stopped gripping on the sheets to the point where your knuckles were turning ghostly white to brush away the tears rolling down your cheeks. Your body shook, from both crying because of Sakusa's painful words and how hard he was fucking you. The pleasure building up in your core was overwhelming you, making that intense feeling of having to pee forced out of you.

Hearing your sniffles and small cries, Sakusa pulls you even tighter against him, but doesn't stop his relentless thrusting. It turned him on even more. He pushes your hand to brush away your tears for you, like good big brothers should.

"It's okay, (Y/N). We both know mom and dad don't love you."

A loud cry erupted from your chest. Maybe if your parents cared about you, they'd be running to your room to save you the second you started crying. But, no. Sakusa was basking in the fact that you were hurting on the inside. After years of negligent silence, you were finally letting it all out.

"But nii-san loves you," he said with a smile.

Although his words seemed to stun your entire being, you manage to choke out a "What?" Like it was the first time someone ever told you that they love you.

His torturous thrusts almost distracted you. Fuck, why did it feel so good to have your step brother fucking you on your side like this?

"I love you." He sweetly grabs your face so you can turn your head to look at him. There was a pounding in your ears coming straight from your chest. A warm feeling spreads throughout your stomach.

"You...you love me, nii-san?"

"Of course I do." He was actually smiling at you, "If I didn't, would I be inside you right now?"

His face didn't seem so blank anymore. Sakusa never ever smiled at you. Hell, he never really smiled in general. Someone actually loved you. Holy shit. And he was even pounding away at your insides like you were a fuck doll.

Is that why he's so mean? Was he just trying to hide his feelings for you this whole time? You could die laughing right now. His cock felt so damn good rearranging your guts against your will yet you were struggling to accept it.

Your cheeks naturally puffed up in happiness as you smiled so brightly at him. The flip switched in your brain so easily. Without another word, Sakusa kissed you passionately, because he knew you would let him continue to ravage your body. Your hips began to buck from the pressure building up in your lower half and you starting pushing your hips towards him, welcoming his length inside you. It felt like you needed more of him. More of his love.

Love me.

"Nii-san," you gasped against his lips. His movements never faltered, which you figured was from his amazing athletic ability and stamina.

"Be a good little sister and cum on my cock," he coaxed. He could tell you were so close to cumming from how tightly your precious cunt was hugging his length and how you were squirming against him. You were both slick with sweat. As you started squirming more violently against him, Sakusa tightened his grip on you.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whined desperately, “Nii-san, I’m gonna cum!” You grabbed his arms and pushed your fingernails into his skin, making him hiss from the sudden pain. With a firm grip over your mouth, he muffles your screams. Satisfaction settled in your stomach as you exploded all over his cock. Your sweet juices trailed down your thighs onto the bedsheets.

As much as Sakusa wanted to, he couldn’t fill up your insides and see your hole dripping with his cum just yet. He quickly pulls out of you and lets his seed shoot onto the bare skin of your ass. The shock of your orgasm left your thighs trembling, your skin wet, and your eyes drooping.

“You’re the best little sister.”

You would’ve replied, but you could barely form any words as you lost consciousness again. When you woke up the next morning, you were fully dressed and cleaned up, with no stickiness between your thighs like how you used to wake up.

Sakusa actually cleaned you up this time. You felt your heart melt and butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

Everything seemed to go back to normal between you two, with the same small talks and not really seeing each other often, but he always had a knowing smirk on his face whenever he saw you.

Whenever his eyes would trail up your body to meet yours, you could feel a warmth in your stomach spread all throughout your body which forced you to look away quickly. Whenever he insulted you, you would feel your thighs press together. Whenever you caught yourself admiring his features when he replaced his face mask for a new one, you smiled softly to yourself.

When it was time for him to leave, you couldn’t help but let a few tears shed. He was all set to go, with his backpack on and his mask covering his face.

“Hey, don’t cry, (Y/N),” he cooed, wiping your tears away, “You know I won’t be gone forever.”

You sniffled, “I know. I just hate being here alone.” Well, not necessarily alone. You just hated being ignored and neglected just because you weren’t your brother.

“If you manage to get into my college, you can move in with me. How does that sound?” You instantly perk up and dry your tears with your shirt.

"Really?!” you asked with excitement. You imagine all the things you could do with your nii-san without your parents in the picture. You could go out together, hold hands, share kisses, just about anything. He could even fuck you whenever he wants.

These thoughts about your own step brother would've made you feel sick before.

But that was before you knew Sakusa loved you. Now, you couldn't help but ask your mom when the next time your nii-san would be coming to visit. While you were waiting for his next visit, you studied hard.

College would be so much fun with your nii-san with you!

Part 2

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selfwriting-sugarquills · 4 years

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70 Fred Weasley headcanons in celebration of 700 followers:

(plus an extra one, for the heck of it lmao)

You guys, thank you so much for 700 followers! I appreciate every single one of you and writing for the twins has been such a blast so far, much to the thanks of all of you <3

Find the 70 George Headcanons: Here

Fred has always been really good at sleight of hand stuff, as a kid, he could do card tricks with ease, steal baked goods from his mother’s kitchen and later on since his allowance wasn’t exactly anything to brag about, he’d steal sweets from honeydukes' on Hogsmeade trips, with the help of George, he’s not proud of it but in his defence, he was a stupid teenage boy at the time.

Fred is incredibly competitive and will hold onto anything you challenge him to for way longer than you might think. He’s definitely the type to “race you” anytime you’re headed to herbology, care against magical creatures or Hogsmeade together.

As the man himself said in the deathly hallows, Fred doesn’t like the idea of a big grandiose wedding ceremony, he’d prefer something more low-key and simple, where the focus is more on having fun and celebrating instead of neat seating plans and meticulously chosen decorations. Some flowers and booze will do, he’ll provide the fireworks - In essence, he only needs his S/O and the rest he couldn’t care less about.

George may be better at cooking, but Fred makes a damn good pancake and he will forever pride himself on that.

Fred is the more jealous, overprotective twin. He’s aware of this and tries his best not to let it go to his head but he can’t help it.

Fred snores, I’m pretty sure it’s canon that both twins snore, but Fred is louder and, as mentioned in my last headcanon post, a very heavy sleeper meaning it’s more difficult to get him to wake up so he can stop, your best shot is trying (and probably failing) to turn him over.

Fred is also a very restless sleeper, he’ll toss and turn, and occasionally dream about quidditch. I’m saying you might want to be aware that he might confuse you for a bludger in his sleep, don’t worry though, he’ll always apologise profusely and make it up to you with a lot of kisses (and maybe a bit more than that, if you’re keen ;))

Fred has an extensive caffeine addiction, which is unfortunate cause he’s quite hyper already but he can’t function properly until he gets his coffee in the morning, and then again in between lessons/at lunch and then again late in the afternoon. Sometimes, if he needed to write an essay that was due, he’d drink coffee at like nine pm. He knows he won’t be able to sleep because of it, please, Y/n, he’s accepted his fate.

I personally always imagined the twins as having ADHD, idk why it just fits their characters. Fred is for sure the more outwardly fidgety and intrusive, this gets less and less with age, as it does for a lot of ADHD people, his inability to focus remains the same though.

Fred loves being outside, he’s the first of the Weasley siblings to suggest a game of quidditch or just going outside for walks, hide and seek in the woods near their house. He absolutely loves taking his dates on walks in parks or at the beach and when he has kids he plays with them in their yard, building snowmen etc.

Fred probably suggests at some point that the whole family should go camping, and he’s actually really fun to camp with. He’ll tell the best scary stories by the campfire.

In regards to children, Fred wants a lot of kids. Like at least three but would be willing to have more if his s/o wants to. He just really likes the dynamic of a large family since that’s what he’s used to.

Fred’s favourite flavour of sweets is anything sour, the sourer the better, because of this he can handle it really well and he loves handing people some of his ridiculously sour candy and watching them squirm.

He also really likes spicy food, he’s a bit of a daredevil so don’t challenge him to eat anything because he will eat a whole chilli and nearly die.

You know he’d be really casual about it too, lol, like sweating and crying but just leaning on the counter like “*pant* what? hot? no not at all *deeeeep breath* I can ha-aw-rdly taste it!”

One thing about Fred is that he’s oddly squeamish, like seeing his brother’s ear blown off isn’t so bad (if you don’t take into account the emotional trauma that is), but a needle for a blood sample or a vaccine? oooh, he’s gonna need a big juice box and a cookie and his s/o’s hand to hold if he’s gonna make it through. He also has a thing about leeches. One time at Hogwarts they were mentioned in a lesson and he thought he was going to faint the entire time.

Fred’s broken five bones over the years, four are from quidditch: his left arm and two ribs, and then the other arm from trying to do an elaborate stunt on the stairs in the burrow and falling down two flights.

Fred loves to sing karaoke (because I cannot get that damn clip of James singing karaoke out of my head) though he particularly enjoys doing a very poor job on purpose.

Fred is such a good liar that on several occasions he’s given presentations in school and gotten good marks for them despite having bullshat his way through the entire thing.

Like seriously, he’s that guy in the group project who only looks at the slides like five minutes before the presentation and then just turns on a full charming newscaster voice on the professor to the point of them being genuinely convinced (albeit a little confused) that what Fred’s saying is true.

This is also why Fred loves playing card games like poker: he’s really good at bluffing.

Speaking of poker-face, he’s really quite good at teasing in public (if you’re into that sort of thing *wink*) because no matter the dirty deeds he might get up to under a table, his face remains as regular as always (safe for a little smirk to his lover every now and then)

Fred always wanted to learn an instrument, he thought it’d make him cooler when he was a teenager, as an adult, he just really wants to recreate that clip of the trombone-playing dad with the sunglasses, or maybe serenade some cows with jazz or something.

Fred was never a big fan of the uniform thing, so he always tried to make it his own, whether that be tying the tie differently, or having his sleeves rolled up; it’s not much but you gotta take what you can get when you’re literally dressed the same as everyone else.

Fred might make fun of his dad’s interest in muggle things but secretly he loves it too. He has spent a lot of hours in the shed with Arthur, assuring everyone that it was just to have some quality time with his dad but he would still pay close attention when Arthur explained things to him.

Fred had a whole business of selling candy from Honeydukes’ and joke products from Zonko’s to second and first years before he and George started dabbling with their own products, he could get you a butterbeer too but it’ll cost you an extra three galleons.

Fred really likes glitter, George has a thing for lace, anything that glitters on his s/o makes Fred weak. If you want to get your way just put on some glittery eyeshadow or lipgloss and watch him spin.

Since he loves things that glitter and gleam he loves buying his s/o jewellery, he loves seeing them wearing them as little tokens of their relationship.

Did someone say slight possession kink? oops not me

Fred is incredible with numbers, this is pretty much canon and has been explored but I’m just amazed at this boy’s wit AND intellect. I have a slight headcanon that if he ever goes on a proper first date with someone where a bill is involved, he impresses his date by calculating the tip after just a glance.

Even if Fred has a longstanding reputation of not caring about school, when he has kids he does want to help them with any coursework over the summer and Christmas breaks, he’ll even study up on his old books just to be able to help out in any classes he didn’t take/didn’t pay attention in.

Fred would, in general, be an amazing father. He’s goofy and playful most of the time, though he’s serious and incredibly caring whenever his kids are in a bad mood or have problems. He knows that he’s not the most outwardly emotional of the twins but he makes sure his kids know they can always talk to him about anything.

Fred is incredibly messy. His room is usually a cry for help and he only cleans it when it gets to the point where it distracts him from focusing on work.

No worries though, his S/O doesn’t have to do all the housework for him, he’ll do it. He just needs to be reminded that he needs to every once in a while.

Fred has a really bad temper, he doesn’t know where he gets it from but he tends to get angry easier than George, though Fred is better at letting it out so it doesn’t continue to bother him.

His bad temper does mean that he used to brawl more with siblings as a kid, and it wasn’t unusual to see him with scrapes and bruises as a kid, much to Molly’s dismay. Fred didn’t mind though, he thought it made him look tough.

Fred is more likely to get caught sneaking around because of his brash nature, he tends to forget just how quiet you have to be to avoid Mrs Norris in the corridors.

Fred is certainly not an early bird but his favourite time of day is, in fact, the morning when the sun’s coming up. He only knows this because of Wood’s ridiculously early quidditch practices but there’s something about the way the world looks when it’s bathed in soft golden light that just hits different to Fred.

Fred is a great team player, as much as he seems like he’s more selfish than George, if it’s regarding a team activity (like quidditch or a battle of sorts) he’ll completely lose all focus on himself and only try to ensure other’s safety and victory. This is also why he plays as a beater, he’s not afraid of getting hit at all when he’s focused on getting the bludgers away from his teammates.

So if his s/o ever needs it, he’ll be there to help with anything: Needs to take a day off from work to take care of his sick s/o? no problem. Needs to stay up with his small child because his s/o is exhausted and needs rest? On it. Something as small as carrying groceries or books, making a cup of tea when the other is busy or doing the dishes is all on the list of things that Fred will happily do for his s/o, and often without having to be asked, he’ll just do it.

Fred’s boggart is seeing his family members and/or his s/o hurt beyond what he can save. Essentially his worst fear is being helpless when he needs it most.

One of those times was when George lost his ear. The first night when George was lying practically unconscious on the couch with blood everywhere was the worst night of Fred’s life, he truly felt so anxious and helpless and angry that he vomited and ended up passing out next to the couch after staying up till sunrise watching his brother like a hawk.

He didn’t just sleepwalk when he was younger, he also often experienced nightmares, it’s only George, Molly and Arthur who remembers anything about this.

They got less and less the older he got and he assumed that he’d never be bothered by them again until after the second wizarding war and the battle of Hogwarts.

I don’t like to headcanon that he dies cause he didn’t and that’s final lol. I do, however, headcanon that Fred still gets hurt, since everyone in the explosion beside him seemed to sustain minor injuries, I just think that to even out with George losing his ear, he hurts his leg and needs a lot of retraining/a walking stick. I think that’d be a more fair/unfair ending for Fred who’s always full of energy having to have to adjust to living slowly for a little while (not permanently, I couldn’t do that to my boy).

The boy has anxiety sometimes, ok. (just let me project for a second)

He didn’t know how much tension he usually holds in his body until he drank alcohol for the first time and felt his entire body loosen up and was like “huh this is new.”

He doesn’t use alcohol to deal with it though, he prefers just talking to George about whenever he feels is stressing him out and that helps. A massage from his s/o to loosen him up doesn’t hurt either.

Fred prefers to talk to his dad about his problems more than he prefers to talk to Molly, generally.

His favourite body parts on his s/o: Shoulders, hips, hands.

He loves to kiss, just in general, but he also loves kissing his s/o’s nose, forehead, neck, shoulder, etc. as little gestures of affection.

He def. has a bit of a size kink, he loves being taller than his s/o.

If Fred could have any pet he wanted, he’d probably want a dog, the bigger the better. He doesn’t think he has the time for a pet though.

It was his idea to start breeding pygmy puffs, it’s the closest he’ll get to having a pet.

I don’t know why but I feel like when Fred and his s/o are expecting and his s/o goes into labour he just panics. loses it, drops the binkie as we say in Denmark: Freaks the fuck out, if you will. He’s definitely the pacing and wringing his hands together type, though he probably tries his best to keep himself composed and chill during the whole thing whilst simultaneously hyperventilating.

Fred doesn’t cry often but he sure as hell wept with pride when he held all his kids for the first time.

Despite the notion that the twins often slip in a joke version of a sweet treat or something similar amongst the snacks at parties, Fred is strongly against tampering with drinks. He knows the connotations it holds and he doesn’t want anyone to be afraid they’d put something in it. If he wants you to test out their truth serum or a love potion, he’ll just ask you flat out and if you don’t want to, he’s not going to continue asking.

Most of the detentions Fred has gotten from Snape come from times he’s spoken back to him when Snape’s been giving another student a rough time. He doesn’t regret it one bit.

If you ask Fred what his proudest accomplishment is, he’ll probably say that it’s having had enough restraint to not punch Umbridge in the face every time he saw her.

On the note of Umbridge. It wasn’t her detentions with him that got his blood boiling, it was when she punished little kids (a la Nigel) for doing practically nothing, he understands that to an extent and by comparison, setting off a bunch of fireworks inside a building would harbour a harsher punishment, but making twelve-year-olds bleed for running in the halls or playing music or just doing things that twelve-year-olds will inevitably do, is something Fred doesn’t understand. That year pretty much any kid younger than him, or anyone who was too afraid to stand up for themselves, became Fred and George’s little siblings, and they’re very protective older brothers. Umbridge can vouch for that.

He struggles with a lot of insecurity in his relationships, he always puts on a front of being extra funny and outgoing when he’s in a new relationship because he’s secretly afraid that the way he is isn’t good enough and that eventually, his s/o will see through him and leave because they don’t like the softer, more serious side of him.

Fred is the godfather of all of George’s kids but is also the godparent of Hugo, Lily and Lucy.

Fred loves business meetings, he sees them as a good challenge to practice his smooth talk.

Fred spent his first salary from the shop on the most expensive bottle of champagne he could find and a new suit.

Fred tried to get into whiskey, feeling like it’d make him a cool business owner type of man, so, with his second salary, he went out and bought a fancy-schmancy bottle of whiskey and the whole getup with a bottle and some cool glasses, and then invited Lee over to try it with him and George.

They did not like it. Fred thought it tasted like what he imagined gasoline tastes like so they mostly used it as decorations, not having the heart to mix it with something.

Fred doesn’t necessarily like PDA, it depends on what you mean. He likes being secretive. Pulling his s/o into an empty classroom, nook, hallway, secret pathway etc where anyone could wander in at any time and snogging her senseless is one of his favourite things to do.

Fred knows how good he looks in his quidditch uniform and will absolutely use it against his s/o. (they’re gonna get spicy from here on so read with caution if you're in public)

Fred prefers giving more than receiving oral.

He has a lot of energy, did you not think that would rub off (no pun intended) on his sex drive? He can go pretty much any time and place, and typically last at least two rounds.

Also, his favourite position is having you on top. Okay, I'm gonna stop now.

#selfwriting-sugarquills 700 follower celebration #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley headcanons #fred weasley fanfiction #weasley twins #weasley twins headcanons #hp headcanon #harry potter headcanon

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wellimaginethat · 4 years

Text

Pity Party: Chapter One

Pairing: Crockett Marcel x (female) Paramedic!Reader

Requested?: Nope! I just decided to write little birthday one shots to celebrate my birthday, lol

Word Count: 1922

Author’s Note: So this is one of my four birthday stories written due to my birthday having been last Wednesday. This one will be a short series because apparently I love writing little series when it’s Crockett, lol. Also, this is my attempt at a slow burn...usually I just jump right into it or something, but this time I am going to actually try to write a slow burn...let’s see how that goes, lol

Trigger Warning(s): Spending your birthday alone, being sad, drinking alcohol, slow burn

Disclaimer: I don’t owe nor am I affiliated with any of the Chicago shows, I just like to play with the characters

Summary: You were bummed to be spending your birthday alone, but your coworkers at the firehouse and your friends at med had different ideas, which leads you to celebrating your birthday at Molly’s and almost confronting your feelings for Crockett...

Y/N = Your Name

Tag list: Not tagging in the birthday ones because I don’t want to accidentally tag someone who doesn’t celebrate birthdays. However, if you do want to be tagged in the following parts of this series then do let me know and I will gladly tag you.

Every year as your birthday approached, you got incredibly excited only to be let down when you once again spent it alone.

You kept hoping your friends would ask if you wanted to go out for a drink to celebrate, or to grab pizza, or to just hang out. But every year, all you ever got was texts or simple posts on facebook, which you hardly went on anymore.

So this year you were going to try your hardest not to get excited and hopeful, because you didn’t want to go through the same thing you had for the last few years and you really wanted to avoid the birthday depression, as you called it, when you finally realized that all you would get would be texts. Now you were okay with not getting any gifts, you didn’t really care about that or about cards, you just wanted someone to at least act like they were happy you were another year older.

And it’s not like you hadn’t put effort into planning stuff for your own birthday. In the previous years you had asked a few friends to get drinks with you, to get pizza with you, to have dinner, the list goes on. They would always say something along the lines of ‘yeah sure’ and then either forget, make other plans, or cancel at the last minute. You could understand that sometimes life happens, but it was every year and you felt like you were putting more effort into your friendships than they were.

The last straw was when you saw the three of your closest friends hanging out without you, and you figured it was time to finally move on from your old high school clique.

So you fully intended to spend this birthday alone at your apartment.

So after your shift, you went home and changed into jeans and a nice shirt because if you were going to celebrate your birthday alone, you were going to at least look good while you did so.

You went to the counter and grabbed the pastry box that held the cupcake you had bought yourself and opened it, carefully pulling the cupcake out and setting it on the counter before ripping open the package of candles and placing one on the cupcake.

You searched for about twenty minutes before you finally found some matches to light your candle. You watched as the candle burnt for a few seconds before letting your eyes fall shut to make a wish. For someone to care. Before blowing out the candle.

You pulled the candle out and tossed it on the counter to the side and pulled the paper wrapping off of the cupcake and took a bite just as there was a knock at your door.

You set the cupcake down and headed to the door and looked through the peephole to see Crockett Marcel.

Curious, you opened the door with a raised brow. As soon as you had finished chewing and swallowing your cupcake, you tilted your head and finally asked, very confused. “What are you doing here?”

That seemed to catch him off guard. “Is that any way to greet a visitor?”

You frowned slightly, your turned to be caught off guard. “I’m sorry...I just...wasn’t expecting anyone…” You told him. “I wasn’t trying to be rude, and I’m still not, but the question still stands…”

“It’s your birthday.” Crockett stated simply, glancing over your shoulder into your apartment. “And you seem to be throwing yourself a pity party…”

“Yeah well it’s my pity party, so if you don’t mind I’m going to get back to it.” You told him. “You can come inside if you want.” You offered. “I don’t have another cupcake though…”

Crockett shook his head. “No, I came to get you.”

“Get me?” You asked, confused.

Crockett nodded. “Everyone’s waiting down at Molly’s for you.”

You were still confused and now you were frowning. “What for?”

“To celebrate your birthday.” Crockett told you like it should have been obvious. “We were going to surprise you, but when you didn’t show up, we decided someone should come get you.”

“And you drew the short straw?”

Crockett frowned at you. “No, I volunteered because I wanted to be the first to wish the sweet little paramedic a happy birthday.”

You tried to fight back the smile but couldn’t help it. “Well thanks.”

“Now get your shoes on and grab a coat, everyone’s waiting for the birthday girl.” Crockett smiled at you.

You slipped your shoes on and grabbed your coat and purse before locking up and walking with Crockett, he insisted you ride with him and you didn’t argue. He opened the door for you to get in his car, and then opened the door to the bar so you could walk in first, a complete gentleman and it made your little crush on him grow that much more.

“Hey, she’s here.” You heard your best friend Sylvie quickly whisper to everyone as you were walking in, and suddenly all eyes were on you.

“Happy birthday!” They all shouted and cheered.

You smiled wide, hardly able to believe that they actually cared enough to wish you a happy birthday. As you walked in more, you were given a few hugs and a few wished you a happy birthday again in softer voices.

“What will it be for the birthday girl?” Herrmann asked when you finally made it up to the bar.

You ordered your usual with a smile and a thank you.

He set it in front of you. “On the house. Happy birthday, kid.”

“Thank you.” You told him again, this time more meaningful as you picked up the drink, trying hard not to let emotions overwhelm you.

You did a good job at keeping the emotions at bay while you talked with your coworkers - no, friends - but soon enough it was getting to overwhelm you and you had to disappear. It was somewhat easy to do, just lie and say you had to use the bathroom and sneak out the back.

However, you were outside less than a minute when the backdoor opened and closed and none other than Crockett was walking towards you.

“You good?”

“I’m good.” You breathed out, your hot breath making little clouds as you nodded to him. “It’s just that I’ve never really had anyone really care about me. At least not enough to bother making me feel special on my birthday...and then with everyone in there, wishing me a happy birthday and making me feel...loved...it’s just a bit overwhelming.” You admitted, wrapping your arms around yourself to keep the cold out.

Crockett nodded as he leaned against the wall next to you. “That’s understandable.” The two of you were quiet for a moment. “You have people who care about you.”

“Yeah...I know.” You smiled, tears in your eyes. “It’s nice.”

Crockett smiled and nodded. “Especially me.”

You glanced at him for a moment, trying not to read too much into it, and gave him a small smile. “You’re a really good friend, Crockett.” You told him softly, assuming that’s what he meant, and then you had to look away before you said something you’d regret. “I’m glad you saved me from my pity party.” You felt the need to break the silence.

Crockett smirked a bit and nodded, looking straight ahead. “What’re friends for?”

Silence fell between the two of you again and you felt like it was a tense silence and couldn’t figure out why. The cold was starting to get to you, so you looked at him again. “I’m gonna head back inside.” You told him.

“That’s probably a good idea, it’s a little cold out here.” Crockett chuckled, pushing off the wall and heading to the door. He opened it for you and let you step inside first.

“Thank you.” You said softly as you stepped inside and headed back towards the bar where Sylvie was.

“Hey, where’d you go? I thought you ditched out.” Sylvie asked with a laugh.

“Oh I just needed some air.” You brushed it off with a smile, ordering another drink and picking up your conversation that the two of you were having before you had excused yourself earlier in the night.

Until Sylvie suddenly changed the subject. “So what do you think of Dr. Marcel?” She asked in what almost seemed like a suggestive tone.

You just about spit out your drink but were able to control yourself, you looked at her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean it seems like you might have a little crush on him.” She told you. “And he seems like he might like you back.”

You frowned a bit and shook your head. “No...we’re just friends.”

Sylvie snorts. “Yeah, okay.”

“We are.” You insisted.

“Okay okay.” Sylvie surrendered. “I just noticed how he looks at you and all.” She shrugged. “But you would know, so if you say you’re just friends then that’s what you are.”

You nodded. “Mhm…”

Across the bar, Crockett was having a very similar conversation with Natalie.

“So did you tell her?” Natalie asked in an excited yet hushed tone.

Crockett shook his head a bit as he sipped his bourbon. “There’s nothing to tell.”

“You’re saying you don’t like her?” Natalie asked, raising a brow, obviously not buying it.

“That’s not what I’m saying.” Crockett told her with a sigh.

“So then why didn’t you tell her?” Natalie asked, tilting her head slightly.

Crockett sighed again and glanced over your way before looking at Natalie. “Because in her eyes, we’re just friends, and...I’m okay with that.”

“You are?” Natalie asked, not understanding why he would be.

Crockett nodded. “I’d rather be just her friend than tell her the truth and make her uncomfortable and end up being nothing. I’m happy being her friend.”

Natalie nodded. “Oh...well then...okay.” She had thought you both had liked each other and that it would be all great. Now this was just a downer.

When the end of the night rolled around, you walked with Crockett to his car and he once again opened the door for you, causing you to smile. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Crockett said softly with a smile.

“Tonight was amazing.” You were feeling the good effects of the drinks you had, making you happy and at ease. “It was by far the best birthday I’ve ever had.” You giggled. “I will forever remember my twenty-seventh birthday.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Crockett told you, glancing over with a smile as you continued to talk about how wonderful your birthday had been.

When you arrived at your apartment complex, you quickly got out of the car. Crockett walked over to you and walked you up.

“You don’t have to walk me to my apartment.” You laughed softly before stumbling into him and laughing more. “Okay, maybe you do.”

“I don’t mind.” Crockett said softly as he walked with you, after the two of you were at your apartment he looked at you. “Are you gonna be okay?”

You hummed and nodded. “Yeah, I’m good.” You smiled at him and touched his cheek. “You’re such a good friend.”

Crockett smiled at you. “I’m glad we’re friends, Y/N.”

“Me too.” You agreed with a nod, even if you were currently fighting back the urge to kiss him.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” Crockett smiled at you and began walking down the hall as you went inside your apartment.

Part Two Coming Soon

#crockett marcel imagine #crockett marcel x reader #dr crockett marcel x reader #chicago med imagine #chicago med imagines

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midnightsnyx · 4 years

Text

Consequences - Matthew Tkachuk: epilogue

summary: you absolutely hate Matthew Tkachuk so it’s just your luck when you wind up pregnant with his child.

a/n: this is the end! i don’t even know where to start! i wanna say sorry real quick for how long its taken me to post the epilogue. i just wanted it to be as perfect as i could manage for you guys!

i want to thank every single person from the bottom of my heart who read this little series i wrote and took the time to like, reblog or send me a message! it truly means to world to me and i hope you guys enjoyed reading it as much as i did writing it.

so thank you all, so, so, so much!

also, here is a poll that @hannahmb did up for me because im literally a grandma when it comes to some stuff and it’s ideas for the next series im going to write.

anyways i’ll stop rambling now lol

- allie

Epilogue

“Henry Eli Tkachuk!” You yell. “Get your little butt down here right now.”

The patter of tiny feet echos through the hallway and you watch your five-year-old slide into the kitchen, nearly crashing into the wall. He’s as clumsy as his father, which you didn’t think was possible.

He looks at you curiously, eyebrow raised and hands on his hips - the spitting image of Matt.

“Yes, mama?”

You point to a plate of cupcakes on the countertop. “There were twenty cupcakes here ten minutes ago.”

“Yeah.”

“There are only fifteen now.” You raise an eyebrow. “Do you know what that means?”

“That someone was hungry?”

“Henry.”

“Mama.”

“Who ate the cupcakes?”

He shrugs his shoulders and giggles before running off towards his bedroom. It’s possible that he ate them but there are seven other people in the house who could have. You can eliminate at least three, maybe four out of the seven which is why you find yourself calling out to your husband and his other half. Unlike Henry, Matt actually crashes into the wall when he comes running down the hallway. Though to be fair, you’re pretty certain that Brady pushed him.

“Yes, dear?”

“The cupcakes.” You raise an eyebrow, eyes darting between the two Tkachuk brothers standing in front of you. “Who ate them?”

“Not me,” Brady says, hands raised defensively.

“I didn’t either!” Matt says and you’re pretty sure that one of them is lying but then Johnny walks into the kitchen, two cupcakes in one of his hands, and is taking a bite out of another one.

“Dude, these are-”

“Johnny!” The three of you exclaim at the same time.

“What?” He mumbles around a mouthful. “They were just sitting there.”

“They are for Nell’s birthday!”

“Ellie’s birthday party is today?” He asks in confusion and you sigh, shaking your head. Why did you think it was a good idea to invite a bunch of constantly hungry hockey players to your three-year-olds party?

“Everyone, out.” You say, waving your hand dismissively. They all clear out with the exception of your husband who slowly walks towards you.

“Will you hit me if I touch you?” He jokes and you roll your eyes but let him wrap you in a warm hug. The two of you have come a long way, you’re the perfect epitome of enemies to lovers story but you wouldn’t change anything. Especially because of what you’ve gained along the journey.

“How’s the bun in the oven?” He asks and you pull away, raising an eyebrow.

“I hope you mean the baby and not Eleanor's birthday cake because I think it may have burned.”

His eyes widen and he rushes over to the oven, pulling the cake out. Luckily, you caught it in time and there’s only a little black on top that can be brushed off.

“Why didn’t you just order one from the store?” He asks, picking up a cupcake and taking a bite. You sigh, realizing that you’re going to have to make more due to the fact that everyone is eating them.

“Homemade cakes are the best.” You answer quietly and he just nods his head, not questioning the vagueness of your answer.

“Attention everyone! I found a wild child in the backyard!” Brady calls, walking in the kitchen with your toddler sitting on his shoulders. She’s laughing loudly, clinging onto his hair.

Curls as wild as Matt’s and eyes just as blue, Eleanor Ruth Tkachuk graced the world with her presence 3 years ago. After Henry, you weren’t sure you wanted more than one kid because life with just him and Matthew was absolutely perfect but you didn’t know that it could get even better until she arrived.

“There’s my princess!” Matt says, taking Nell from Brady. She happily goes with him, grabbing a hold of his hair too. You watch your husband wince but the look of pure love in his eyes when he looks at her isn’t like anything you’ve ever seen.

“Warrior Princess.” Brady corrects and Matthew nods seriously.

“Daddy, cake!” She squeals, pointing to the cupcakes and reaching towards them. Matthew spins around and starts walking away to get her attention off them. “Let’s go find nana.”

You watch the two of them walk outside, hand unconsciously resting on your belly. Baby number three was kind of an accident. You and Matt weren’t exactly trying for another but you weren’t doing anything to stop it. You both decided that if anything was meant to happen, it would. And it did, obviously but you weren’t surprised because you’re pretty sure Matt secretly wants an army of Tkachuk’s due to the number of times you’d had sex before you became pregnant again.

But it didn’t bother you, the idea of a bunch of mini you and Matt’s running around. It certainly wasn’t something you really envisioned in your future and you never realized how much you really wanted a family until after Matt.

“How’s Brady Jr.?”

You grin at Brady who’s leaning against the counter.

“Still not named Brady Jr.,” you say, starting to get the cake ready to be decorated. “But he’s doing great.”

Brady smiles and opens his mouth to say something but Chantal walks in the room, cutting him off.

“Honey, go help your father finish decorating.” She says, shooing him out of the room before starting to help you get the last of the food ready. The two of you work efficiently and in silence, something you’re used to when getting things done with Chantal’s help. You’ll never be able to thank her for everything she’s done for you since she came into your life. Being with Matt meant gaining an entire family who was the most tight-knit, caring, and encouraging family you’ve ever known.

They didn’t have to accept you as easily and quickly as they did and you’ll always be grateful for them.

. . .

Long after the birthday party settles down after the kids are asleep, Henry curled up with his head in your lap and Nell tucked in Matt’s arms, and all the adults sitting around the fire pit in the backyard, you take a minute to reflect on how much your life has changed in the last six years. Longer, if you count how long you’ve actually known Matt. You never would have guessed that this is where life would have led you, how crossing paths with Matt changed you as a person, and changed your entire world forever.

How you learned, loved, and gained so much in these past years.

How lucky you are.

“What are you thinking about?” Matt whispers, nudging you gently. You turn to look at him, his eyes warm and smile gentle.

“You. Us.”

“All good things, I hope?” He jokes and you smile, pulling him close so that you can kiss him softly.

“Always.”

#matthew tkachuk imagines #matthew tkachuk fanfiction #calgary flames imagines #calgary flames fanfiction #nhl imagines #hockey imagines #allies writing #consequences series #matthew tkachuk imagine

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mittensmorgul · 3 years

Note

(re: trad authors vs fanfic authors and the “nine levels of removal") Yes. This. Story time! I went to a book event for a well known, critically acclaimed, best selling author once about 20 years ago. He'd never done a proper "book tour" before and as a fan I was excited. Myself and other fans from a Yahoo Group (RIP) met up at the event and gave Mr Popular Author a fan art book we'd put together. He later wrote that he’d had to go off to a corner of the bookstore to hide and cry for a few minutes because he'd always thought he was writing into a void. Then BOOM, there we were, a big group of us, right in front of him, loving his work and giving him feedback (and gifts!) He’d never so much as read a review of any of his books before. The sudden realization that actual humans had read (and liked!) his work was apparently very emotional for him. Fanfic authors don’t have the luxury of that distance. And I don’t envy them for it. The feedback they get is immediate and devastating. Trad authors often won’t even get told how many copies their book has sold for the first six months after publication. Fanfic authors see every single view and kudos and comment in real time.

Yep. This.

I mean, it’s shifted a bit in the last 20 years. A lot of traditionally published authors have websites, or twitter, or other social media. Before I ever came to fandom, I was trying to go the traditional publishing route, too. Heck, a decade later I’m still on author twitter (most of my twitter is authors/publishers/agents/editors because those are the people I befriended when I first started seriously writing). But there is a sense of removall still there between authors and readers. And twitter followers and interactions don’t always equate to readers.

I mean, look at any author’s twitter, and a lot of it is just... like anyone else’s twitter.

Authors can also go look at their reviews on Amazon or Goodreads or wherever else online, and see their book’s daily ranking in sales if they really want to, but trust me on this, everyone involved in the publication of their books has probably told them not to do this. It’s not helpful in any way, unless they’ve shot to the top of the bestseller lists. Learning their new release ranks 32502905 in their genre... isn’t worth bothering, you know? And there’s nothing to do by obsessing over it.

When your agent is sending you all the good reviews, all the positive feedback, and encouraging you to finish the draft of your next book or your next round of edits, you don’t HAVE to think about responding to every comment anyone makes on your work. You’re encouraged NOT to respond. Because those reviews are NOT FOR YOU. They’re for other readers, to help them decide whether or not to make a financial investment in your already published book.

Fanfic comments ARE NOT THAT. Fanfic comments are written directly TO the author. Sure, other readers might see them, and I’ve had conversations start in comments on my fic before so I know it happens. But when a reader writes a comment on a fic, it’s generally to thank the author for the story, for having entertained them for a while.

Not all fanfic authors reply to comments, but I think the vast majority of us TRY to at the very least. Thanking the reader for reading, expressing the happiness we feel that our work has brought someone else a bit of joy (or angst, or whatever feeling we’ve inspired with our words). Or else answering questions the commenter has asked, or otherwise expressing gratitude.

It’s a DIRECT CONVERSATION, the likes of which most people will never have with a traditionally published author. The absolute ridiculousness that anyone expects the works we publish on AO3, for free, can be compared in any way to a traditionally published novel is beyond belief. The conceit that works we write-- again, for free, in our spare time, out of love for doing it-- should be as polished and free of any sort of errors as works that have spent more than a year and often more than two years going through multiple rounds of editing, proofreading, line editing, typesetting, etc. where MANY PEOPLE have scoured it for errors and yet still a few slip by here and there... I mean, HOW can anyone hold writers working on our own, in our spare time, for zero pay, purely for our own enjoyment to the same level of exactitude that we hold commercial novels? It’s laughable.

And honestly, it reaches a point where we’d rather just post the thing and move on to the next thing. I have gone back and done minor edits to some of my older works. If I’m rereading and notice a typo, I’ll fix it, for example. I once switched a character and wrote it as a different character because I felt bad about how the original character was portrayed. But for the vast majority of them I have zero intent of going back and making major edits on anything I’ve written, because I have moved on. I’m writing something else now, and maybe that will be more polished for having written the previous things with the wonky sentence structure or the awkward choice of words.

Mostly I write because I want to tell the stories that are stuck in my head. I need to get them out or they wedge in there like a big old log jam. Enough words build up that if I don’t start lining them up and pushing them out, the pressure builds up and bursts out in really inconvenient and messy ways. I’m personally not writing fanfic as “practice.” Or because I hope to some day be “good enough” to publish original works for money. I came to fandom to write fanfic so I wouldn’t have to deal with the rest of the publishing industry lol. I don’t need encouragement or approval or advice on how to improve. I just need an outlet. And if other people enjoy anything I write, that’s just a bonus to me.

(I had a publishing contract in my hands, stared at it for three days and then cried as I tore it up... I didn’t want to put myself through the publishing mill... I was already burnt out just getting to that point, and couldn’t imagine it becoming my life for years to come. It wasn’t worth it to me, and then I found fandom and AO3 and fanfic, and got all the benefit from writing with none of the angst of commercial publishing. This is where I WANT to be, this is not a stepping stone or training ground for someday becoming a “real author.” Sure, it is for some folks, but for a lot of us, this is just what makes us happy.)

Can you imagine going to a craft show where everyone has spent their time making beautiful handmade things and walking directly up to each artist and critiquing their work? Going up to a knitter and complaining that you saw a nicer hat in Macy’s the other day and pointing out everything about her hat that you don’t like? Or going to a jewelry designer and saying you prefer gold to silver, and demanding to know why they chose to inlay green stones when clearly they should’ve used blue ones?

Same vibe on critiquing fanfic in the comments. Or at the author in general. It’s just rude.

#writing is hard #fandom problems #and granted i don't tend to get negative comments or critical comments #so this dosn't really apply to my wonderful readers <3 #but just in general... I know other authors who have stopped writing entirely #after being deluged with negativity or 'helpful advice' that is in no way actually helpful #Anonymous

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zeppelin-and-unicorns · 3 years

Photo

Yesterday I introduced you guys to the Hyde family, and now it’s time to introduce you to the new generation of the Forman family!

Again, click on the thingy if you want to know more about them!

On the top row, we see Eric and Donna, and on the bottom row, we see their two children, Lucas and Hannah (there’s no hearing aid option on picrew so just imagine Hannah’s wearing one, okay?).

Eric and Donna have overall a nice marriage. I tend not to focus much on them in my stories mostly because I’m indifferent to their relationship. After s5 I completely lost interest in them, and there was a point where I didn’t even want them to end up together anymore on s7. But I do believe that they love each other and that they can end up together if given a nice storyline, which is what I tried to do.

TSG is mostly focused on Jackie and Hyde, so we don’t get a lot of details about Donna and Eric other than they’re together, married, and have children, so I’m going to give you guys a brief summary of what happened between them after the season finale.

Eric and Donna talked about everything when he came back for the New Year’s, and they decided to try again. Eric went back to Africa to finish the program, and Donna went to college. When Eric came back, he went to the same college as she did and they started living together. Donna became a journalist, Eric became a teacher, and they moved back to Point Place when they graduated.

As soon as they moved back, Donna got pregnant with Lucas. They lived in a small apartment for a while, until Lucas started running around everywhere and they bought a house across the street from Jackie and Hyde.

They did not plan on having other children until Lucas was older, but well... Accidents happen and Donna had Hannah in 1987, when Lucas was 3 years old.

About their children... they are something else, I love them so much.

Lucas, just like Dylan, has a lot of pent-up energy, but he’s also an introvert and not a prankster at all, so he uses most of his energy in sports (for Red’s delight lol). He’s really into hockey, like, really into it, and he starts taking hockey lessons from a young age.

When he’s older, Lucas joins the school’s track and field team, mostly because there’s no hockey team in Point Place High and he absolutely hates football and wrestling.

Lucas is a bulky guy, but he’s also geeky and he and his father are addicted to video games. They spend countless hours every week playing Mario Kart and Super Smash Bros on his Nintendo 64 (Eric loses every single time lol).

He’s smart, not only is he great with numbers, but he’s also great at chess. Seriously, he won countless chess matches against his uncle Hyde (who’s half-proud and half-bitter about it), and he was like, 10.

His dream job is to be a video game developer, and considering how he’s a math whiz and how he’s a great athlete, he gets a scholarship to study computer science at college.

He never gets into trouble, mostly because people are smart enough not to fuck with him. He’s quiet and not prone to violence at all, but he’s also huge and he could probably kill someone if he wanted to.

When Lucas graduates from high school and goes to college, some bullies start to mess with his little sister Hannah, but Dylan quickly puts an end to that.

Hannah is a sweetheart, she’s an animal lover and she’s probably the sweetest person from the series.

Oh, and Hannah is also hearing impaired.

One of the things that bother me a lot in the fanfiction world (actually in the whole entertainment industry), is the lack of representativity of people with disabilities. I live with people who have disabilities, it’s something I literally see every day, and sometimes I am genuinely shocked by the lack of information (and empathy) people have when it comes to that subject.

So I decided I wanted to include a person with a disability in my story, and I am going to make you guys love her.

Hannah was born healthy, she learned how to talk and she listened to things normally up until she was 5. But as she grew older, she started developing some behaviors that concerned Eric and Donna, like watching the TV too loud and not replying to them when they called her. They took her to the doctor, they found out she had severe hearing loss and would need to use a hearing aid probably for the rest of her life.

Eric and Donna were crushed (it even causes some problems in their marriage in the future), but Hannah never cared much about it, because she was too young and she could hear just fine whenever she had her hearing aids on. She’s overall a happy kid who loves playing outside and is completely in love with everything related to nature.

The Forman family has three cats, all of them were cats that Hannah rescued from the streets and begged them to adopt. Hannah’s also responsible for bringing Zeppelin into the Hyde’s lives.

She was playing outside with Dylan and Jordan when they found a cute little black puppy all alone, searching for food in the garbage. Hannah took the puppy and begged for her parents to keep him, but they already had three cats and they couldn’t keep him. Jackie and Hyde were in the same room when she arrived with the cute little puppy, and they decided to adopt him (for Hannah’s delight). The puppy was named Zeppelin (Hyde was the one who named him, by the way), and Hannah visits the Hyde’s almost every day just to play with their dog.

Hannah loves picnics and walks at the park, she loves watching the trees changing according to the seasons, she loves to stargaze with her aunt Jackie, she loves hearing Layla’s romantic stories, she loves babysitting the younger kids, and she loves spending time with her grandma Kitty, learning how to bake and how to sew.

When she grows older, Hannah becomes a vet and opens her own animal shelter.

Hannah never let her disability stop her, she’s incredible.

And again, I got way too excited, sorry.

If you have any questions about this universe please don’t hesitate on sending them to me.

Posting the Kelso’s picrews soon :)

#the sweetest gifts #picrews #eric forman #donna pinciotti #lucas forman #hannah forman

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snarktheater · 3 years

Note

Hey, d'you have any French book recs? I'm trying to work on my French, and rn I have downloaded one of my favourite book series' French translations, but I figured maybe books already written in French might work better? Also have you read the Ranger's Apprentice series? 1/2

RA's def flawed - the books' narration does like to point bright arrows at the protagonists' intelligence, and the last few books def have the tone of 'old white man trying to write feminism', although at least he's trying? - and it's aimed more to the younger side of YA, but it is still a very fun series, and I can ignore the flaws fairly easily, at least partly due to nostalgia? This rather long lol but I'm wordy.

I'll start with the second question: no, although every time the series is brought up I have to check the French title and go "oh, right, I've seen these books in stores". But I've never purchased or read them. It sounds like something I probably would have enjoyed as a teen but I just missed the mark, and these days I'm trying to drown myself in queer books, so that probably isn't happening.

As for your first question, geez, I haven’t read a French book in years, so this is gonna skew middle grade/YA, though that may not be so bad if the point is to learn the language. I will also say that as a result, these may read a little outdated.

I'll put it under a cut, even if Tumblr has become really bad with correctly displaying read mores. Sorry, mobile crowd.

It's also likely that old readers of the blog will have seen me talk about most of these. I don't feel like going through old posts.

One last thing: while I was curating this list I took the time to make a Goodreads shelf to keep track of those.

The Ewilan books by Pierre Bottero

(It's a testament to how long ago I read these books that these are not the covers of the edition I own, and I can't even find those on Google. I'm settling for a more recent cover anyway since it'll make it easier to find them, presumably)

There are at least three trilogies (that I know of) set in the same world.

The first trilogy is essentially an isekai (so, French girl lands in parallel fantasy world by accident) with elements of chosen one trope, though I find the execution makes it worth the while anyway.

The second trilogy is a direct sequel, so same protagonist but new threat, and the world gets expanded.

The third one is centered around a supporting characters from the previous books, and the first couple of books in it are more her backstory than a continuation, though the third one concludes both that trilogy and advances the story of the other books as well.

Notably these books have a really fun magic system where the characters "draw" things into existence. It's just stuck with me for some reason.

A bunch of stuff by Erik L'Homme

I have read a lot of this man's books, starting with Le Livre des Etoiles.

They also skew towards the young end of YA, arguably middle grade, I never bothered to figure out where to draw the line. They're coincidentally also using the premise of a parallel world to our own (and yes, connected to France again, the French are just as susceptible of writing about their homeland), but interestingly are set from the point of view of characters native to the parallel world.

It also has a very unique magic system, this one based on a mix of a runic alphabet and sort-of poetry. I'll also say specifically for these books that the characters stuck with me way more than others on this list, which is worth mentioning.

This trilogy is my favorite by Erik L'Homme, but I'll also mention Les Maîtres des brisants, which is a fantasy space opera with a pirate steampunk(?) vibe. I think it's steampunk. I could be mistaken. But it's in that vein. It's also middle grade, in my opinion not as good, but it could just be that it came out when I was older.

Another one is Phaenomen, which was a deliberate attempt at skewing older (though still YA). This one is set in our (then-)modern world and centers a group of teens who happen to have supernatural powers. I guess the best way to describe it is a superhero thriller? If you take "superhero" in the sense of "people with individualized powers", since they don't really do a lot of heroing.

...I really need to brush up on genre terminology, don't I.

The Ji series by Pierre Grimbert

This one is actually adult fantasy, though it definitely falls under "probably outdated". It is very straight, for starters, and I'd have to give it another read to give a more critical reading of how it handles race (it attempts to do it, and is well meaning, but I'm not sure it survives the test of time & scrutiny, basically).

If I haven't lost you already, the premise is this: a few generations ago, a weird man named Nol gathered emissaries from each nation of the world and took them to a trip to the titular Ji island. Nobody knows what went down here, but now in the present day, someone is trying to kill off all descendants from those emissaries, who are as a result forced to team up and figure out what's going on.

I'm not going to spoil past that, though I will say it has (surprise) a really unique magic system! I guess you can start to piece together what my younger self was interested in. Which, admittedly, I still am.

Once again, this one also has a strong cast of characters, helped by rich world building and the premise forcing the characters to come from many different cultures (though, again, I can't vouch for the handling of race because it's been too long).

The first series is complete by itself, though it has two sequel series as well, each focusing on the next generation in these families. Because yes, of course they all pair up and have kids. Like I said: very straight.

A whole lot of books by Jean-Louis Fetjaine

OFetjaine is a historian, and I guess he's really interested in Arthurian mythos especially, because he loves it so much he's written two separate high fantasy retellings of them! I'm not criticizing, mind you, we all need a hobby.

The former, the Elves trilogy (pictures above) is very traditional high fantasy. Elves, dwarves, orcs, a world which is definitely fictionalized with a pan-Celtic vibe to it. The holy grail and excalibur are around, but they're relics possessed by the elves and dwarves with very different powers than usual. Et cetera.

Fetjaine also really loves his elves (as the titles might imply), and while they're not exactly Tolkien elves, there's a similar vibe to them. If you like Tolkien and his elf boner, you'll probably like this too. And conversely, if that turns you off, these books probably also won't work for you.

This series also has a prequel trilogy, centered around the backstory of one of the main characters. I...honestly don't remember too much about it, but I liked it, so, there you go, I guess.

I said Fetjaine did it twice. The other series is the Merlin duology, which, as the title implies, is a retelling of Merlin's story. Note that Merlin is also in the other trilogy, but it's a different Merlin; like I said, completely different continuities and stories.

This one is historical fantasy, so it's set in actual Great Britain, and Fetjaine attempts to connect Arthur to a "real" historical figure...but, you know, Merlin is also half-elf and elves totally exist in Brocéliande, so, you know. History.

Okay, that's probably enough fantasy, let me give some classics too.

L'Arbre des possibles et autres histoires - Bernard Werber

Bernard Werber is a pretty seminal author of French sci-fi and I should probably be embarrassed that the only book of his that I read was for school, but, it is a really good one, so I'll include it anyway.

It's a novella collection, and when I say "sci-fi" I want to make it clear that it's very old school science fiction. It's more Frankenstein or Black Mirror than Star Trek, what we in French call the anticipation genre of science fiction: you take one piece of technology or cultural norm and project it into the future.

It has a pretty wide range of topics and tones, so it's bound to have some better than others. My personal faves were Du pain et des jeux, where football (non-American) has evolved into basically a wargame, and Tel maître, tel lion, where any animal is considered acceptable as a pet, no matter how absurd it is to keep as a pet. They're both on a comedic end, but there's more heartfelt stuff too.

L'Ecume des Jours - Boris Vian

(no cover because I can't find the one I have, and the ones I find are ugly)

This book is surrealist. Like, literally a part of the surrealist movement. It features things such as a lilypad growing inside a woman's lungs (and, as you well know, lilypads double in size every day, wink wink), the protagonist's apartment becoming larger and smaller to go with his mood and current financial situation, and more that I can't even recall at the moment because remembering this book is like trying to remember having an aneurysm.

It is also really, really fun and touching. Oh, and it has a pretty solid movie adaptation, starring Audrey Tautou, who I think an international audience would probably recognize from Amelie or the Da Vinci Code movie.

I don't really know what else to say. It's a really cool read!

Le Roi se meurt - Eugène Ionesco

Ionesco is somewhat famous worldwide so I wasn't even sure to include him here. He's a playwright who wrote in the "Theater of the Absurd" movement, and this play is part of that.

The premise of this play is that the King (of an unnamed land) is dying, and the land is dying with him. I don't really know what else to say. It's theater of the absurd. It kind of has to be experienced (the published version works fine, btw, no need to track down an actual performance, in my humble opinion).

The Plague - Albert Camus

You've probably heard of this one, and if you haven't, let me tell you about a guy called Carlos Maza

youtube

I'm honestly more including this book out of a sense of duty. The other three are books I genuinely liked and happen to be classics. This book was an awful read. But, um. It's kind of relevant now in a way it wasn't (or didn't feel, anyway) back in 2008 or 2009, when I read it. And I don't just mean because of our own plague, since Camus's plague is pretty famously an allegory for fascism, which my teenage self sneered at, and my adult self really regrets every feeling that way.

Okay, finally, some more lighthearted stuff, we gotta talk about the Belgian and French art of bande dessinée. How is it different from comic books or manga? Functionally, it isn't. It really comes down more to what gets published in the Belgian-French industry compared to the American comics industry, which is dominated by superheroes, or the Japanese manga industry, which, while I'm less familiar with it, I know has some big genre trends as well that are completely separate.

The Lanfeust series - Arleston and Tarquin

This is a YA mega-series, and I can't recommend all of it because I've lost track of the franchise's growth. Also note that I say "YA", but in this case it means something very different from an American understanding of YA. These books are pretty full of sex.

No, when I say YA I mean it has that level of maturity, for better or worse. The original series (Lanfeust de Troy) is high fantasy in a world where everyone has an individual magical ability but two characters find out they're gifted with an absolute power to make anything happen, and while it gets dark at times, it's still very lighthearted throughout, and the humor is...well, I think it's best described as teen boy humor. And it has a tendency to objectify its female characters, as you'll quickly parse out from the one cover I used here or if you browse more covers.

But still, it holds a special place in my heart, I guess. And on my shelves.

The sequel series, Lanfeust des Etoiles, turns it into a space opera, and goes a little overboard with the pop culture reference at times, though overall still maintains that balance of serious/at times dark story and lighthearted comedy.

After that the franchise is utter chaos to me, and I've lost track. I know there was another sequel series, which I dropped partway through, and a spinoff that retold part of the original series from the PoV of the main love interest (in the period of time she spent away from the main group). There was a comedy spin-off about the troll species unique to this world, a prequel series, probably more I don't even know exist.

Les Démons d'Alexia

Something I can probably be a little less ashamed of including here.

Some backstory here. The Editions Dupuis are a giant of the Belgian bande dessinée industry, and for many, many years I was subscribed to their weekly magazine. That magazine was (mostly) made up of excerpts from the various books that the éditions were publishing at the time; those that were made of comic strips would usually get a couple pages of individual scripts, while the ongoing narratives got cut into episodes that were a few pages long (out of a typical 48 page count for a single BD album). Among those were this series.

For the first few volumes, I wasn't super into this series, probably because I was a little too young and smack dab in the middle of my "trying to be one of the boys" phase. But around book 3 I got really invested, to the point where I own the second half of the series because I had canceled by subscription by then but still wanted to know more.

Alexia is an exorcist with unusual talents, but little control, who's introduced to a group that specializes in researching paranormal phenomena, solving cases that involve the paranormal, that kinda stuff.

As a result of the premise, the series has a pretty slow start since it has to build up mystery around the source of Alexia's powers, but once it gets going and we get to what is essentially the series' main conflict, it gets really interesting.

Plus, witches. I'm a simple gay who likes strong protagonists and witches.

Murena

There was a point where my mtyhology nerdery led me to look for more stuff about the historical cultures that created them, and so I'd be super into stuff set in ancient Rome (I'd say "or Greece or Egypt" but let's face it, it was almost always Rome).

Murena is a series set just before the start of Emperor Nero's rule. You know, the one who was emperor when Rome burned, and according to urban legend either caused the fire or played the fiddle while it did (note: "fiddle" is a very English saying, it's usually the lyre in other languages). He probably didn't, it probably was propaganda, but he was a) a Roman Emperor, none of whom were particularly stellar guys and b) mean to Christians, who eventually got to rewrite history. So he's got a bad rep.

The series goes for a very historical take on events, albeit fictionalized (the protagonist and main PoV, the titular Lucius Murena, is himself fictional) and attempts to humanize the people involved in those events. Each book also includes some of the sources used to justify how events and characters are depicted, which is a nice touch.

It's also divided in subseries called "cycles" (books 1-4, 5-8 and the ongoing one starts at 9). I stopped after 9, though I think it's mostly a case of not going to bookstores often anymore. Plus it took four years between 9 and 10, and again between 10 and 11. But the first eight books made for a pretty solid story that honestly felt somewhat concluded as is, so it's a good place to start.

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anothertastelesstetrahedron · 3 years

Note

Descole headcanons maybe 👀

Did someone say Descole? 👀 I’m just gonna put the whole thing under the read more cut, since this ended up being a very long post - and I mean looooooong - like almost 3000 words long. Major spoilers for most of the games - mainly the Descole Trilogy (looking at you AL), but there’s also one UF one.

Des has terrible handwriting. I just think it would be funny if that's the one thing he cannot change about himself while impersonating someone else. He can manage faking signatures, but free writing as someone else? He has to try very, very hard to get that (nearly) right. Tbh for most of his roles that’s also hardly a problem, so he doesn’t bother.

He dehydrated/had a heat stroke at least once while in full costume. There must be a reason why Raymond tries so hard to make sure the AL gang takes water bottles, sunscreen and so on with them. Des has no self-preservation instinct (unless having Raymond around counts as Des taking care of himself?) He also probably almost died in Monte d’Or due to the heat.

Des beat up those guys who hurt Layton in UF. Listen, no one is allowed to hurt his bro except for him.

The first thing Des did after AL was visit Umid - after getting the much needed medical treatment. Because I absolutely love their interactions he promised to do so. It would be funny for him to show up in full costume as well.

Des eventually got used to Kietz (because the cat is now living with Raymond and Des. You cannot change my mind about that) At first he hated Kietz. Des is basically the old cat in the Bostonius that now has to get used to the new one lol

I know it was just the writers having no idea about Des’ backstory in LS but I still can’t stop thinking about how Hershel felt that Descole (in full costume) was familiar. So what if young Hershel Bronev actually liked to dress up in a costume similar to the Descole one? And that had left an impression on young Theo...

I also still cannot get over the fact that Des knows how to make Layton the perfect tea. Well, he had Raymond make it, but still. How does he know what kind Layton likes? Theory one: Layton’s taste hasn't changed from when they were kids. Theory two: He stalked observed Layton’s tea-drinking activities. Maybe he even posed as a waiter sometimes to find Layton’s favourite tea.

Des had kept track of how Layton was doing for a long time. He also was very close to introducing himself a couple of times. Obviously he never did. One reason why he decided against it was certainly to keep Layton away from everything. Des had given him the chance to live a peaceful life, so he obviously didn’t want to risk that. But that’s not all to it. Though Des hated himself for even feeling that, he was a bit jealous. It’s not that he regretted his decision from back then, but he still couldn’t help feeling that way. Plus, Hersh was a reminder of his past life. So while Des had his family that was another reason why he didn't approach - though in the beginning, he had actually thought even more about talking to Layton. However, Des had really tried to let go of his revenge and thus also his past - so Layton couldn't be a part of Sycamore's life. And if that wasn’t bad enough, he also couldn't help but think about their father whenever he looked at Hersh. He knows that’s not fair, but it’s what it is. The same way he thinks about Bronev whenever he sees his own eyes in the mirror. After his family’s death and after he became Descole he stopped approaching Hersh altogether and kept his distance. Not only because, again, he wanted to keep Layton out of all of this - even more so than before, because Des had already lost his family again, so losing Hersh was not an option (I write even though Des tried to kill Hersh himself hjasdjd)-, but also because he was afraid of how disappointed Layton would be were he to find out about all the things Descole had done. Des feared that he’d hate him.

Relating to one point in the previous point, Des absolutely hates mirrors. His reflection is bearable while being dressed as Descole, but he still avoids them like the plague. Even more so as AL Desmond. He also absolutely hates it when someone compliments his eyes - the thing he hates the most about his appearance.

Relating to that, I know Des’ glasses are just for show, but what if they are optical glasses nevertheless? Like, he cannot stand seeing clearly (especially since he ran into Bronev a couple of times and he absolutely doesn’t want to see that guy’s face). Maybe it’s also to help him distance himself even further from the others - especially Layton(?).

Des only possesses one photo of his family. It had been in his wallet when they died. I am just gonna assume Targent blew up his house, leaving Des with almost nothing. As much as he wishes to have the photo with him at all times, it's far too dangerous to do so while being Descole. Maybe Raymond keeps it safe? Or Des just keeps it in Desmond’s office? Maybe that was one of the things he actually liked while being Desmond again, at least he actually could carry the photo around this time.

Des lies a lot (obviously) - also to himself. (This is also me just trying to make his writing make more sense, since it often seemed to me he was written by 4+ people who didn't tell each other what they’ve written). I am thinking of that one bonus scene in MM where Des acts all empathetic towards Randall. “Just the thought of those poor parents, desperately looking for their own child.” That line does sound a lot like something Des himself knows too well… And then, one moment later, after Randall has left, Des just admits to himself that he’s just using Randall. (srsly writers??) I’m not saying that’s not right, because he’s certainly using him - no point in sugar-coating that - but he’s also very much trying to distance himself from Randall and his issues and reminding himself to focus on his goals and to not get distracted. Because Des does care. And I also think that he could have achieved his goal without Randall, but when he had learnt that Layton lost his best friend, Des tried everything in his power to get him back.

What is Des’ “true self”?

That is the one question I’m thinking about the most. It’s probably gonna get a bit complicated now… Let’s see if I can make my own words make sense (I really tried haha). For clarity's sake I’m gonna use three different names now: First, we have Des - the name I’m gonna use for the “true(est)” version of him - whoever that really is. Then we have Desmond - the AL Desmond Des “played” during AL. And, finally, there is Descole which is of course the Descole “role”.

Des has some serious identity issues - because of course he does. Descole started as a role (Des is even literally wearing a non-practical costume) that served a specific purpose. Des initially “created” Descole to have an outlet for all his rage and despair - and to get back at Targent without revealing himself. And I imagine some characteristics of Descole are things Des added, because he wanted Descole to appear a certain way different from how Des presented himself outside the costume. No one was to find who was behind the mask after all, so Descole had to act differently. Descole’s arrogance comes to mind, like that one just strikes me as not (fully) being Des himself. Des pretty much hates himself and blames himself for a lot of things. But Descole is also much more than a simple role. He’s very much a part of Des himself - it’s Des' own anger and his own feelings Descole is based on after all. Over the years, the lines between Des and Descole got more blurry. And now Des pretty much cannot tell the difference anymore between the things that make him him and the things he had just put into the Descole persona. So while Descole was initially based on parts of Des himself, over time Des truly lost himself in Descole who had become its own thing as well. Think method acting gone completely wrong - or right?

In a similar yet also opposite way, (AL) Desmond is also a role Des played during the game. Des said that he had just assumed Desmond’s identity again to get close to Layton and use him (which I don’t believe is 100% true, because I am convinced that a part of Des wanted to be saved. And also longed to see his brother again - and wanted Layton to like him), but it does make me think that Des mostly runs around as Descole. Obviously Des had kept the Desmond persona alive enough for Desmond to be regarded as a world-famous archeologist. But then again, it clearly doesn’t matter in the PL-universe if people don’t do their jobs.

I still do not know how much of Desmond is the “true” Desmond. Even if Des based Desmond on how he used to be with his family, there’s still the question how close Des actually comes to that. Memories can be deceiving and I doubt Des remembers exactly how he used to be. So maybe Desmond’s speaking style, his mannerism could be an act instead of that being Des’ true (past) self. Or which I like better, it’s a confusing mix between “lie” and “truth”. Some things are exaggerated (people tend to romanticize the past, so even with his family Des(mond) might not have been as nice as he presents himself to be as AL Desmond). Some aspects are more or less really Des(mond) and some other things are just stuff Des added to the Desmond role - consciously or not.

Let’s take this thought even further. When Des tried to leave his revenge behind and concentrate on his family, was that Des(mond) really his true(est) self? Or did Des play a role during that time as well (at least partly)? Des cannot let go. That has been shown throughout the games. So while he had tried to put Targent behind him, he might not have been able to do that completely. Thus he buried some things deep inside him and concentrated on “playing” Desmond Sycamore. Who might be the person he wished to be(?).

Long story short, I think that maybe AL Desmond is an idealised version of the Desmond Des used to be. Des acted like how he used to be while his family was still alive - or as much as possible, since he absolutely cannot let go of the pain completely. So his AL Desmond appearance could also be how he had looked like back then. I honestly do not even know if AL Desmond is the “true face” under the mask. Or if Desmond is also kind of like a “costume”. His appearance could be inaccurate as to how present Des really looks like. Descole’s character model also makes no sense. Like the hair that is sometimes visible doesn’t really look like Desmond’s most of the time after all. So is Descole wearing another wig? Is Desmond? I kind of like the idea that Des met Layton with his true appearance, so I’m on the fence here. Maybe he’s not wearing a wig, but extensions?I very much like the idea of Des appearing with his true face though… So I am kind of reluctant to have Desmond look too different from Des. Plus, Layton could have noticed if Desmond was in fact wearing a wig and that might have made Layton suspicious. But maybe Des dyed his hair a bit, and/or is wearing extensions? Maybe he actually already has grey hair, who knows. I certainly don’t.

However, I also believe that Desmond is far less of a role than Des probably thinks/admits. Over the course of the game, he might have lost himself in the Desmond role in a similar way to how he has lost himself in Descole.

Des' time as AL Desmond changed him for sure. And he does act differently as Descole after he changed into the costume than in the previous games. (I’m gonna make a whole separate post about how the German version uses different forms of politeness - and Des does speak rather … strange/different after his revelation than in other games… Again, I know that that’s just the writers being the writers, but where is the fun in that?)

Present day Des has probably no idea who his true self is anymore… Him “playing” Desmond further complicated things. Which parts did he make up, which parts are truly him? I don’t think there’s an easy answer to that… But that also makes Des so fascinating to me. I also really wonder what name he prefers after AL…

As much as I like the idea that Des himself came up with the plan to approach Layton as Desmond, I also very much like the idea that it had been Raymond instead who had suggested it. Raymond probably has to listen to a lot of Des’ angry rants. And after hearing another one about Layton seeing through one of Des’ disguises, Raymond came up with the idea to just go as himself next time. Partly also because Raymond knows Des better than anyone else and he knows how much Des longs to see his brother again - even if Des himself doesn’t admit that.

Des has acquired quite a lot of scars over the years… He does fall down a lot, so it’s bound to happen. He was probably wearing a fair bit of makeup in AL to hide some of them - in addition to his visible lack of sleep. Speaking of, I don’t think Des slept all that much during AL. He probably has nightmares that wake him up screaming. No way he could (or would want to) explain that to the others. Maybe that’s what he has been doing while he was not with the gang. He was taking a much needed nap… Or ...

… or he goes into the one room in the Bostonius that’s completely sound-proof (because that surely exists) and just screams (and cries) for a bit. In full Descole costume. He cannot bear being Desmond and being around the others at all times. He needs to have an outlet for his emotions.

Des really tried to retain his (emotional) distance from everyone in AL. I noticed that in the beginning he hardly ever said anything while I was clicking everything (and I hope believe that I’ve really clicked everything for potential Des dialogue). But he says more over time. It also takes a long time for him to talk about his family. So maybe that’s him slowly warming up to the others. Des was also probably still figuring out how to be Desmond (again). In a way, I think Desmond was one of his easiest yet also his most challenging role he ever had to “play”. No one is more familiar to him and yet also a total stranger. Plus, he had to be extra careful not to reveal too much. Can’t have been easy (which is why he needed to go scream for a bit sometimes).

He feels immensely guilty about caring for Aurora. He was especially reluctant to get closer to her, but he also just couldn't help caring for her. Because she reminded him of his daughter. He just feels very conflicted as he got more and more attached to her, not only because he knew he would eventually betray her, but he felt like in caring for Aurora he was betraying his daughter in a way… This guilt could apply to Flora as well when he eventually meets her.

One day after AL he found the Popoño he had bought for Aurora. He keeps it close ever since.

His revenge is achieved after AL, so there should be no reason for Descole to continue existing. But I don’t think Des will be able to let go of Descole right away. The AL ending shows that anyway. I feel him putting the mask back on in his last scene makes sense for him. He still cannot bring himself to leave Descole behind and he also very much still cannot bear to see his father’s eyes whenever he looks in a mirror. It would have been too sudden for him to just put all the pain behind him. Des’ revenge was basically also the one thing that defined his whole life. And Descole has been a part of his life for a long time as well - the pain and anger that led to Des creating Descole have been inside Des long before his family got killed. I can’t imagine it easy to just let go of all of that. Des is truly lost at the end of AL. He has lost his purpose, the one thing that made him go on. And he needs to figure out who he is himself. Even more so after his whole posing as Desmond again. I like to think that Des will be able to let go of Descole eventually, but that will be a slow process and not something that’s gonna happen overnight. Instead he’ll probably put on the costume fewer and fewer times until, eventually, Descole just disappears. Maybe he’ll stop when he runs out of costumes lol. No matter what, it’s gonna be a long road for Des to be able to heal… (And he should totally go get back to Layton and apologise to Layton and to a loooooot of other people and then they both go to therapy)

#well that descoleated quickly I guess...#finally answered after a long time - sorry for the wait #thank you so so much for the ask - I obviously love rambling about my dear Des <3 #I really hope this makes sense #I struggled a lot with certain parts (especially that super long Who is Des anyway? part)#headcanons aka me rambling on and on about Des <3 #I have a LOT of thoughts about him #jean descole #professor layton #professor layton spoilers #azran legacy spoilers #Descole breaks tumblr #tastelesstetrahedronthings

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jenivi7 · 3 years

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First Lines Tagging Meme

I'M SO HAPPY TO BE TAGGED IN THIS TWICE! Thank you @ink-flavored and @clyde-side !! (I almost just did this on my own too because I love babbling about my own fics...)

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line.

Now pinned and under a cut because it became a really long, really good introduction to me and my stories!

Hello!

Unnecessary and overly wordy introduction/personal musings: I love opening lines so much. When I worked at a bookstore, I used to open books and hardcore judge them on their first lines. I had barely any free time to read at that point so if it didn’t grab me in the first line or two, I put it back. The first Harry Potter book is actually in my pile of really good openers. “Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.” (Subtle alliteration, HELLO??) So I'm super excited to see if my own first lines come even close to the standards that I apply to other people lol. MY OWN MONEY IS ON NO. I have the feeling that I'm so frantic trying to get the story down on paper before the good words disappear from my head that I'm not actually paying attention to the first line. BUT LET'S SEE, SHALL WE.

So just straight up going backwards, I've written and posted TWO BRAND NEW THINGS after being away from fandom almost entirely for 10+ years! They're drabble length but they're shiny and new! <3 (All available fics are linked!)

1. Tango:

She teaches them to dance so that they can dance with her but when Atem gets that mischievous smirk on his face and pulls Yugi into his arms, their bodies spark and the dance floor smolders at their heels.

(The fic is so short that this is a full 1/5 of it but actually, I think I crammed all the good stuff right into that first line. This already might be my favorite. Like it says there in the line itself, Puzzleshipping.)

2. No Betting:

Anzu sat at the kitchen table writing carefully calculated answers onto sticky notes before attaching them to a fourth-grade math worksheet.

(Peachshipping! This one doesn't pop off until about line five so here's the rest of that bit:)

She had the same arrangement with her spouse as most parents had. When the kids were good they were hers. When they were bad, they were his. And when they were winning at games because they picked up rules with uncanny speed and read their opponents with more insight than ought to be available to a child, they were definitely, definitely his.

3. If you wanted honesty that's all you had to say (working title):

When he realized that the figure sitting under the game shop display window and smoking wasn’t Ryou, the physical body response was as though it had discovered a coiled snake not two feet away.

(This one! It's a NEW half finished(?) WIP. I actually started this one before the drabbles but wanted to finish before posting it. Then it got out of hand, then work got out of hand, then I started a couple more projects and well. I keep putting words on it though and eventually there will be a Kleptoshipper that turns into Puzzle and Tender for your reading enjoyment. Also, fair warning - don't use song lyrics as a working title. Every time I look at the document I get the song stuck in my head.)

Now we have polished up reposts of old stories for their move to AO3, where I'll basically keep my master archive. Not full re-writes but I fixed a bunch of typos and awkward sentences and they're much stronger for it. Most of these are from a pairings contest way back when so LOTS of different pairings and lots of AUs!

4. Human:

It was like a bad noir, the thought crossed both of their minds.

(Scifi AU, Rivalshipping. That one's not bad for a first line. Actually no link at the time of writing cause the re-edit is going up in like, a half hour? an hour? a half day? It's my next project after finishing this, finishing up the edit and posting it on AO3. Now with link!)

5. Blood:

Fingers through midnight black hair, whispers in his ear, touches that sizzled along the skin, awakening nerves and senses.

(Dungeonshipping, Pegasus x Otogi, vampires AU. Oh that’s a nice first line! <3)

6. Crazy for You:

The keys are too large and too heavy for the doctor more used to more modern facilities but she doesn't say anything, just follows the orderly as he pulls the large door open.

(Manipulashipping, Anzu x Marik, Psychward AU. Still one of my favorites from that era. Big bold warning though, THIS ONE CONTAINS NON-CON)

7. Finality:

“What are you doing here?”

“Saying goodbye.” Bakura’s translucent arms swept across the graveyard. “Is this not an appropriate place for it?”

(First two or so bits of dialogue as the first first is a generic question. You can tell this is one of the really old ones just by that but it's a sweet, sad little Tendershipper that still has a special place in my heart.)

8. Pieces of You:

Glitter caught the light, leaving shimmering trails in the air as it got everywhere.

(Glittershipping, Anzu x Kisara. Another one that's special to me. Kisara is my girl and my first writing muse. <3)

9. Cambodia:

“It was summer of fifty three...”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute, it can't have been fifty three. You might be that ancient but I'm not. It must have been sixty three.”

(Jiishipping. Yes. Sugoroku x Arthur. HEY, IT CAME UP IN THE RANDOM DRAW FOR THE SHIPPING CONTEST OK. And my writer's brain hasn't backed down from a challenge yet... Another one that takes 4 lines to pop off but it's a good start. Actually, here's the rest of the bit just because I cannot get enough of these two bickering:)

“What do you mean it must have been sixty three? You don't even know what story I'm trying to tell.”

“Am I in it?”

“What?”

“So you're deaf now as well as daft? AM I IN IT?”

“Of course you're in it, y'old coot. Don't know why I'd tell a story without you in it when both grandkids are sitting here.”

10. Coffee and Cigarettes:

"Cigarettes and coffee? That's not a very healthy lunch."

Mana crossed her legs and took a refined sip of her own coffee even as her company was not.

(Mischiefshipping, Mana x Thief King Bakura. Oh this one I'm actually sad that it doesn't immediately sparkle in the first line cause it's one of my absolute favorites of everything I've written. And I think it's the only time I've ever written Mana but I LOVED IT AND HER. Oh no! I lied, I've written her at least one other time though I don't think that one quite captures her sheer chaos energy like this one does.)

11. A Million Missed Chances:

Somewhere along the line, someone made a choice.

(This one. THIS ONE. I think this is by far the most epic idea I've tackled. I still don't know if the sheer scale of the thing came across in the actual fic but in my head it was massive and I remember pounding away at my teeny tiny laptop late at night because the whole thing hit me maybe a day or so before the story was due for the pairings contest. We only had a week to write each fic and my really good ideas never came to me before the very last minute. T.T Conquestshipping, Mai x Valon.)

12. A Fear of Falling:

She drove.

Like she always did when something bothered her.

(Oh the first chapter on this is also one of the really ancient ones. Like one of the very first things I wrote. That first chapter really shows its age and is a little shaky but the others are better and the last one is what fits into the chorological order here. Polarshipping, Jou x Mai. One of my very first ships. Probably THE first actually <3)

13. What Our Creators Make Us:

"Well, well." The match flared, scattering dark shadows until it was blown out and the only light that remained was the red glow from the cigarette end. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

(Psychoshipping, Marik x Spirit of the Ring Bakura. With a bit of Bronze, Angst and Tender in the follow up. Old but I'm ridiculously proud of it, hence it's place in the master archive. Ahaha you can tell how old it is though by how clever I think I am. I thought it was funny to make my audience figure out who was talking and not reveal the characters for a good fourth to third of the fic. Ahhhhhhh. Sorry about past me.)

14. A Revolution of the Spirit:

It wasn't fair. It just wasn't.

That they were close was understandable (you don't get much closer than sharing headspace) but that even now, after deals were made with gods, endless arguments, compromises and the ultimate guilt trip that he had only been a teenager when he willingly sacrificed himself for all of humanity, things she had only half seen and only partly understood even though they had all been there to witness, that even now Atem continued to invade Yugi's personal space as though he belonged there got on her nerves.

(Woah Nelly! That third sentence should probably be three, four and five. Even if I just split it in half we'd continue the pattern of things popping off in the fourth line. I think that's one pattern that's emerging! A really good bit takes me about four lines to set up and deliver! Oh, the challenge was Revolutionshipping, Anzu x Atem, but the fic is actually Spiritshipping, Anzu x Yugi x Atem.)

So confession time, I haven't been out of fandom completely, I just hadn't written my own standalone stories in a very long time. There are a few (ok ok more than a few) long-running rps that @miss-moberg and I have been adding to on and off over the years. I can't resist throwing in a couple of these.

15. Cafe!

The door shut behind them with the soft click of the latch and the exhale of a breath long held.

(This opening line was from December of 2020 when we rebooted a very old Prideshipper and that is a damn good opening line if I do say so myself. I can definitely see the difference now between the newer works and the older ones. I've gotten better, she's matched me pace for pace and eventually something will be finished, I'll work up the courage to ask permission to post it and the whole internet will get to see how brilliant the two of us are together.)

16. Treasure Hunt!

"Ryou, I think you're going to regret letting me tag along on your adventuring this time." Yugi didn't bother turning away from the airplane's tiny window to see if his seatmate was paying attention. He was more thinking out loud with his friend playing the role of a convenient sounding board. "Because I think this trip is the only thing I'm going to talk about ever again."

(One more from RP because it's got that fun, four line punch that we've discovered is a pattern for me! Opening entry is from 2017.)

Also, in truth, my count is a little off when I say I'd been out of fandom 10+ years. I've been away from YGO for that long but I did spend a brief stint in Homestuck where I read a ton of fanfic, flirted with a couple group RPs and even wrote a tiny bit. 9 years without writing a new fic isn't as impressive as saying ‘over a decade’ but it is a little more accurate.

17. What You Will:

In the land of fair Illyria, along a small, sandy stretch of its rocky shore, a ship has come to ruin and one lone woman lies still as death among broken wood.

(The beginning of a Homestuck/Twelfth Night crossover that I'm still determined to work more on someday. It's only got a single chapter but it's magic though now I'm concerned about not being able to recapture that. Not a bad first line though. The style is so different it took me reading it a couple times before going, oh yeeeeeah, that's pretty good!)

18. Relentless:

You pull him to the deck and then across it by the remains of his shirt. Let him say one last goodbye. His ship pillaged, his crew murdered, his hands bound behind his back and at your mercy.

Funny word, that. Mercy.

(The first line is pretty decent but there's that four line combo again! Five but I could basically fix that with a comma. Featuring the troll ancestors Mindfang and Dualscar because every time Hussey introduced new characters they were instantly my favorite.)

19. Black:

There is dark and there is dark and there is dark and then there is black. She is black. Licorice and coal. She is hate and resentment and everything that tastes bitter, the kind of black that coats the tongue like oil, drips down the back of the throat and keeps going.

(Oh wow. Am I allowed to say that about my own work? A Terezi/Vriska drabble that I'm putting as much here as I think I can get away with because it's so good that it fucks me up a little going back and reading it.)

And here it gets tricky because I think the more recent of the old, old fics are in the Drabbles and Shorts collection on ff.net and I can't see a post date. So I'll just pick a good one to end on.

20. Two Princes:

It was inevitable as the rising of Ra's chariot after a long night, as the flooding of the river banks every spring, and Atem always knew that Yugi's kiss would be as warm and gentle as the evening breeze in the summer that brought relief from the scorching day. It was.

(How about the final honor going to more Puzzle/Blind? This probably has the strongest first line of its era. Actually I'm not sure when it was written. It was just hanging out in my writing folder and, thinking about it, I probably wrote it when I was fading from fandom the first time around but still trying to hang in there. No wait! That’s too sad, we can’t end on that! Lets add one more to the list for the sake of personal narrative!)

21. Linger:

The world doesn't need him anymore. It doesn't need his sword and it doesn't need his pen.

(A tiny Princess Tutu afterward that I wrote for myself. Nice one-two punch in the opener. Also it rounds out the personal story that accidentally developed here with a line later in the fic, "Words, however, never stray far from a good writer..." Like, wait, stop. Past me, how did you know T.T)

Did that take a sudden emotional turn for anyone else or was that just me. Can I offset that a little with an honorable mention? Let’s do that while I collect myself. Here’s one more.

Honorable mention: Ryou and the Thief

There was a storm gathering and too much magic in the air. Much more than occurred naturally and magic at this level was never a good thing.

(I can’t have a list of things I’ve written without having Ryou and the Thief on it. If you click on this one though, BEWARE, it’s old, it’s silly and it has a ton of explicit gay sex that… would be written very differently if we were handling it today I’m sure! This is the first RP @miss-moberg and I ever did together and our excuse to Gemship and Puzzleship turned into us running the boys through a whole adventure based on the Osiris myth. It’s the longest thing I’ve ever completed and I’d still consider it kind of my legacy.)

And that’s the last 21(+1!) stories that I’ve written!

The clear winner of best first line for me is 15. Cafe! It’s short, elegant and manages to contain a whole mood even without the context of what’s going on and who’s involved. (Spoilers: It’s Seto and Mokuba making an AU escape from Gozoboro.) Close second is Tango, the most recent story. It’s neat to see just how much better I’ve gotten and also really cool to see that even if the first line itself doesn’t contain a punch, it’s usually because there’s a nice, strong idea being set up and delivered in the first four lines (or so). What a pleasant surprise!

AND WOW, this whole tag thing didn't need to be so long! Or personal! Seriously, if you get this tag from me the challenge is only to list the first lines to 20 stories and maybe try to draw one or two conclusions from them. You all thought I was joking when I said I loved talking about my own writing! But actually, I guess it’s fine like this as I ended up using it as a way to re-introduce myself. Like, "Hey, I used to live here a long time ago and oh my god I love what you've done with the place!" Rather than being someone who's just popped up out of nowhere a few weeks ago to creepily bother all your best of the best creators so....

^///^ Hello!

Thanks for letting me ramble!

Tags! I think I've seen most of the authors I follow do this already but on the off chance you haven't been tagged yet: @elexica (checked your blog to see if you'd already done the tag and saw that you're another person returning to writing fanfiction after 10+ years. Same! Hello!!), @danieco, @draconicmaw, @nedjemetsenen (has someone tagged you already?) and two shots in the dark, @miss-moberg and @edmondia (I'm so sorry you two. T.T Please feel free to block me forever.) And please, anyone else who wants to babble about their own writing! Do this, it was so much fun. <3

#ygo #yu-gi-oh #yugioh #yugioh fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #jenific #so many ships #so many characters like woah #not half bad for a retrospective if i do say so myself #thank you for coming to my ted talk #tag game #first lines tag

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vhs-ghost · 3 years

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My third (and final) fanfic for the Headless fanfic contest! What were the Sleepy Hollow residents like in high school? Well, Matilda will tell you! I really hope to write more about them in high school! I wrote SO many notes on it lol and i have a LOT more ideas!

The Washington Irving High School Yearbook

Ichabod knocked on the old door briefly before letting himself in. “Hello?” he said to the dimly lit witch’s shop. Katrina Van Tassel had insisted that Ichabod see Matilda, the town witch, for a tarot reading. Ichabod was a very skeptical man, but he was also a very smitten man, and he couldn’t say no to Katrina. He didn’t believe in magic, or the supernatural, or anything like that. He was a man of science. He was very smart when it came his studies, but he was a bit clueless otherwise. For example, he set himself on fire while cooking. Multiple times.

“I’ll be out there in a minute!” Matilda’s annoyed voice called from farther back in the store.

Okay!” Ichabod called back. He decided to poke around the shop while he waited. There were many odds and ends lying about. He wondered how much of it was for aesthetic and ambiance, and how much she actually used. There was a large horoscope tapestry on the wall, and tables and shelves were covered with crystals, tarot card boxes, books, candles, incense, and other witchy stuff like that. It also smelled quite good, like lavender and woodsmoke. He started to walk around, and his bodyweight made the floorboards squeak. He picked up a crystal point, that was much heavier than it looked, and promptly put it back down. He picked up an astrology book and began to thumb through it, not really taking note of it’s contents. As he glanced over the pages, another book poking out of the pile caught his eye; the Washington Irving High School Yearbook, year 2008. He tried to carefully pull it out from the stack, but the pile of books fell to the floor anyway. Matilda hurried in.

“Ugh, what are you doing??” she whined, looking at the pile of books now on the floor.

“I- I’m sorry. I, um-“ he stammered, and then looked at the yearbook in his hand. “I was trying to grab this,” he said, lifting the book sheepishly.

“What did you wanna look at that for?” she asked him, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Well I just happened to see it in this pile, and now I’m curious about how you all were in high school,” he said, hoping to not make her any more angry. “Was this your senior year?”

Matilda softened, but only a bit. “Yep. Here, I’ll show all the people you’ve met. It’s always fun to see what someone looked and acted like in high school. More to make fun of them for.” She opened the yearbook. The spine cracked after not being opened for many years.

She first pointed to a picture of a pretty girl with red hair. “Let’s start at the beginning. Here’s Ramona when she was Ramona Birch. So before she was Mrs. Eugene Trousers and before she was running definitely not a cult with him. The two of them were the pride and joy of the drama club, imagine that,” she said sarcastically. “They were talented, though,” she added.

She moved on. “Now here’s the most important one.” She pointed to a younger picture of herself, looking even more goth and spooky than she did now. She had mall goth vibes. “Look, it’s ME! Wasn’t I adorable?” She did not wait for Ichabod to answer, and pointed to another picture.

“Oh look, it’s Brom,” she said with a roll of her eyes. He basically looked the same. “His first name is Abraham, but he’s gone by Brom even since he was a kid. It definitely sounds cooler, and Brom always wants to be the coolest guy in the room.” She paused. “He used to be a real jerk back in the day, until Kat flipped her lid on him, yelling at him in the hallway, asking him what his problem was. It was SUPER funny, watching him go all pale and stammer, but it worked, and he’s been less of a jerk, but kind of still a jerk, ever since. But hey, character development; we love to see.” Ichabod nodded, taking this information into consideration.

She flipped ahead a bit. “Hm, Diedrich. He’s been making annoying songs about our personalities since he could talk. In high school, he was the kind of dude who’d bring his guitar to class, to every party, everywhere. I mean, he still does that now, but in high school, it was even more douchey.”

She pointed to another picture, of a girl with bold style and pink streaks in her hair. “Lucretia moved here a couple of months in to senior year to live with her aunt, who owned Storms Inn. She was kind of mysterious in school. Still is, in my opinion, like she has something to hide. Anyway, she got most of the WI High senior experience, but she missed the Battle of the Bands auditions when we did that, so she had to be a judge.”

“You had a Battle of the Bands??” Ichabod asked with surprise.

“Yep. Winner even got a record deal, too. But that’s a story for another day. Anyway, Lucretia fit in well with Sleepy Hollow, and has immersed herself in the town ever since. Moving on to-” Matilda turned the page and pointed at a picture of a girl with bags under her eyes, forcing a smile, “your uptight boss!”

Ichabod looked uneasy. He didn’t want to gossip about his boss.

“Eh, she was uptight then, and shes uptight now,” Matilda said. “Douffe was also hella burnt out back then. See those eyebags?” Ichabod nodded. “She also used to drink coffee like water. She always stretched herself too thin. I guess she learned though?”

She continued to scan the page. “There’s Brad, or as you might know him, Officer Meinhof.” She rolled her eyes. “He was super gossipy, and always getting us outcast kids in trouble. Kinda nice, kinda not.”

She turned the page. “Ah, the package deal!” she said, pointing at three pictures in a row; Tripp Stevens, Calvin Stone, and Blair Sullivan. “The Babes have always been inseparable. They even tried to all be in the same photo, but no one was having that. They’ve always been fun. Having class with them was always an experience,” she said with a bit of a laugh.

She ran her finger across the page, pointing at Eugene Trousers. “Look, it’s Mr. Not a Cult Leader! He was annoying, and his mom was the drama teacher. Despite his obnoxious theater kid attitude, drama club was actually pretty fun.”

“You were in drama club?” he asked.

“Yeah, it was that or suspension. We did Beauty and the Beast. It was pretty cool. I’ll dig out the poster to show you next time.” Ichabod nodded, actually very invested.

She turned the page, and her eyes lit up. “Ooooo look, Ichabod! It’s Kat Van Tassel!”

Ichabod blushed at her name. Matilda proudly laughed at his nervousness. She continued, “She was super popular, but also very rebellious and opinionated too. I think that’s why everyone likes her; she hella down to earth.” She paused, “Also I’m not being sarcastic. She’s just a really cool person. We’re still friends kind of, but she and I used to be a lot closer,” she said, sighing wistfully. Ichabod looked at her pensively. She snapped back from her nostalgia, looking back at the book. “Anyway..”

She pointed to two pictures. “Here’s the Van Winkles, Rip and Judy. They could not have been more different from each other,” she said with a laugh. “Rip was super smart without trying, but also a super slacker. He was always falling asleep in class and coming in late. Amazing choreographer though. And Judy was super studious and ambitious. She also changed her last name to Gardenier a couple years back. I don’t blame her. Van Winkle is uh, quite the last name. Anyway, they were cool. Rip and I were always good friends, and Judy was nice enough.”

She scanned the page. Her eyes landed on a picture, and her cheeks turned the slightest tinge of pink. She talked fast, “And here’s Tom. He was an outcast like me. He liked to set stuff on fire. Some things never change. He was cool. He is cool. Um-” Ichabod noticed her change in demeanor, but didn’t say anything. She’d just get mad at him if tried to bring attention to it. She pointed to one more picture, not lingering on Tom much longer, even though she wanted to.

“Aaaaand, here’s Verla.” She looked exactly the same as she did now. “I don’t know what her deal is, and it bothers me. I think she’s a haunted doll. Or 500 years old. Either way, she’s weird.” She paused. “Here, I’ll show you some more pictures from stuff.”

Matilda flipped to later in the book, pointing at candids and group shots. “Here’s some pics of drama club.” Ichabod was enthralled. “And here’s a pic from Battle of The Bands-“

RING. An alarm on Matilda’s phone rang as she pointed to the page. She looked down at the phone. “I’ll have to continue with the history lesson later, my dude. I’ve got a tarot card reading appointment to do now,” Matilda said, standing up. Ichabod tried to protest, but she stopped him, “Sorry, I can’t cancel… again. I need the money. But look,” she pointed out the shop window across the street. “Looks like Kat just left the post office. If you go now, I’m sure you can catch up with her.”

Ichabod turned, and did in fact see her. “Well, thank you for all of that,” he said. “I definitely want to hear more about your high school days later.”

“You will,” she told him.

“Bye Matilda,” he said, reaching for the door. He paused. “That was actually pretty fun, hearing about your high school days. Again, thanks.” She nodded back to him, and he rushed from the store, catching up with Katrina. Matilda continued to straighten up the shop, waiting for her next customer, and wondering what kind of high school stories she’d tell Ichabod in the future.

#i have so many stories i wanna tell of them in high school!#also I totally ship Matilda/Tom simply because Lenore/HG is the best ship #HeadlessSeriesFic #shipwrecked comedy #headless series #my fic

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hopevalley · 3 years

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Season 8, Episode 11: Changing Times

Well, as it turns out, my second Covid vaccine kicked me down hard. After sleeping for quite a long time, though, I’m tired of sleeping and ready to try and get this write-up done.

Surprisingly, or...perhaps not so surprisingly, I don’t think I have that much to say about last night’s episode. I think we’re just too close to the finale for me to feel “safe” in guessing/hoping for anything in particular.

Let’s hit up the plot points like before:

The Triangle

Carson & Faith

Rosemary’s Purpose

School District Problems

Jesse’s Disappearance

The Triangle

I’m probably one of the few people who liked Nathan who felt like the whole beginning scene was super weird and uncomfortable. Homegirl held his hand for one second in the last episode and now she’s going to warm his serge by the fire (while he just stands there awkwardly??? He could have done that himself while she got him some tea or something idk) and then dress him???

I think we’re meant to see that as her going back to...I don’t know...old habits die hard or something? But she was barely married for any time at all and it’s been three years since Jack died. No way would she be so far into those old habits that she’d fall back into them with Nathan lmao.

Like, it’d be a REALLY GOOD PLOT for a character who had been married for years and lost a spouse (cough Abigail cough) but considering the circumstances it felt like a cheesy fanfiction! I wanted to like it, but I just felt weird about it. Tonal whiplash out the wazoo.

Especially when we had to watch Lucas drive by and see Nathan’s horse at Elizabeth’s house.

Lucas sadly watching Elizabeth talk to Nathan was also awkward, but at least it gave him the courage he needed to break things off with her.

You’d think I’d have a lot to say about the triangle, but I’m saving all of that for some kind of...post-season discussion. Who is she going to pick? Nathan seems like the most logical writing choice, but it could yet be Lucas. I genuinely don’t care who she chooses so long as she picks someone.

Carson & Faith

I like to hate on these two a lot, so you might be surprised to know that I’m enjoying their storyline. I’ve criticized this series over and over for never bothering to portray realistic relationships and one thing I can say about Faith and Carson this season is that things actually feel...plausible.

I also appreciate how they try to tie Carson into the town a bit more: he talks to Henry and Minnie and even Lucas trying to figure things out! It makes perfect sense to me; how do you choose between someone you care about/the potential life you could make with them, and a career that you’re really and truly passionate about?

This is the most interesting Carson has been since Season 5.

Anyway, the pudding scene was genuinely funny, and a great way to break up the stress that I’m sure we were all feeling about his impending proposal. Faith’s reaction to thinking he might propose was...pretty telling. I really wish they hadn’t saved so many dangling plotlines to solve in the final episode, though. I was hoping Faith and Carson’s storyline would be fully figured out in the penultimate episode so that we could let him go (or whatever) in the season finale. It just seems to me like it would be a good, smooth ending for them.

Also, for what it’s worth, they tried doing this kind of plot with Frank in Season 5, but it was rushed and pulled out of thin air; he’d never shown an inclination toward pastoring toward dying children in the past and it was clear that they just needed to write him off the show. With Carson, this sort of plotline works VERY well; he was a surgeon, and he was passionate about it, but that passion took a hit when his wife needed surgery and she died on the table under his hands. He’s had some time to move on from that and process his feelings, so it makes sense that he’d find that passion again. I just wanted to point this out because it’s interesting how well it works for Carson and how...well, not-well it worked with Frank. I really felt like with Frank, it was just a storyline that could have been given to anyone with the same success rate, whereas with Carson they took a look at the character and what we already know of him, and built the storyline specifically for him. That’s good writing, babes!

Anyway, Carson trying to propose in the vague hope that Faith will come with him, even knowing she doesn’t want to leave Hope Valley, is pretty manipulative and awful, but it really goes a long way toward making his character feel like an actual person. Like yeah, he does actually want the best of both worlds. Do you blame him?

Rosemary’s Purpose

I know a lot of people are really into this storyline but I found it boring. The only good part was when Lee called the other desk in his office “hers.” Everything else just felt like a bit too much to come to the conclusion that she should run a paper. We already had her “advice” column in the paper and it was...amusing while it lasted, but eh. I just don’t see good storylines coming for her from this angle, especially when they went the route of her finding out she wants to start the paper back up to share information with the town. Are we really going to trust Rosemary’s integrity when it comes to writing news stories, especially when MOST of the time the things she’ll be allowed to write about are, you know, who grew the biggest cabbage? It makes me dread the potential for Round Two of Nosy Rosie.

I dunno. I used to really like Rosemary but this season’s been pretty rough on her character. Good for you for wanting to find your passion career, but most of us work so that we can eat, not for a fun way to pass the time and stay busy. :/

School District Problems

Mr. Landis is right and Elizabeth is an idiot. Sure the school board is being assholes for no reason (as if they’d care if one blind child was sitting in a classroom in one western town lol), but Elizabeth’s really going to dismiss his concerns about how she can juggle the added work necessary to teach Angela while also keeping up with everyone else?

It sucks that Angela will get left out, but Elizabeth should be working with Mr. Landis to come up with a plan to teach Angela without sacrificing the education of her other students. Better yet, she could rely on her friends for advice. Like Rosemary.

Still no apology there...

Anyway, a projected 100 new kids? That’s outlandish. The only way that will happen is if they open a factory in Hope Valley, and even then it could take years. I MEAN, WHERE IS THE HOUSING GOING TO BE FOR ALL THE ADULTS THAT WOULD GIVE YOU A HUNDRED NEW STUDENTS LOL. I think we have to assume the plotlines are connected.

I also find it hard to believe the board would care about Elizabeth being certified to teach Angela. Where else is she going to get an education? It’s 1918 in the middle of almost nowhere???

This show drives me nuts with its attempt to be a “Frontier Show” while also shying away from the characters actually being stranded/cut off from society at large. You still had unlicensed teachers teaching in western towns in this time period because nobody cared!!!

ANYWAY, if Union City was like 3 miles away I could see them trying to combine schools. But it isn’t. So.

I dunno. I hate this plotline. I feel like they stole it from a better show (Road to Avonlea, where the bigger school was just a few miles away and it made sense to consider combining the schools for a better education system for the students as one-room schoolhouse teaching was proven to be less effective) but didn’t bother to consider any of the logistics of the storyline.

Maybe it’s my passion for education and history that makes me hate it, though. I know too much to find this storyline believable. I should also mention that I haven’t enjoyed Elizabeth’s role as teacher for a very long time. (I think they suck at writing Elizabeth as a teacher.)

I’m just not interested in wherever this is going to go because I can’t imagine it’ll have a lasting impact.

The only good thing I can say about the whole plotline is that I REALLY LIKED HOW BILL CAME OUT OF IT. I think he’s the only person who knows how to speak to Elizabeth. She struggles with blunt honesty at first, but ultimately tends to appreciate it, and that’s pretty much what she always gets with Bill. Also, the scene where he shuts her down didn’t make her look stupid, either (just worried/anxious), so I could appreciate it.

Jesse’s Disappearance

I couldn’t care less about this plotline if I tried. Jesse’s gone missing in the mountains before (was it last season? I don’t even remember because I didn’t give a damn about it then either) so this felt like a multi-reused plotline...for the same character, no less.

It’s also poorly implemented. Why doesn’t anyone else care about Jesse? Why is Clara pouring her heart out to Lee while her friends are failing to support her in the slightest? Why should any of us care when we know he’ll be fine?

It just feels so forced for the sake of drama, and it’s made 10x worse because there’s too much else going on at the same time.

Also, how convenient that they have to tell us how hard-working and dedicated Jesse is to his work to force this plot to even make sense... C’mon, he has never been a particularly dedicated to work. They just needed to explain why he would have left the car so that he could be “missing.”

Boring. I also don’t care that much about their “stolen” money.

The only good thing in all of this is seeing how soothing of a voice Lee actually has.

The best parts of the episode:

Henry calling Florence “Flo” GOT ME. It was so surprisingly cute???

I love Bill, and he really came out of this episode looking great! Finally, it seems they’re done writing him as a grouchy old man who hates everyone! In this season (and particularly in this episode), he is allowed to be capable, smart, helpful, loyal, and in possession of a great deal of integrity. I couldn’t believe that guy tried to bribe the judge in town right off the bat lmao...but the way Bill handled it felt very in character—very reminiscent of him from S3 or 4. He never shuts things down immediately, preferring instead to get more information to use against his, erm...opponent. Should he need it, of course. I was really happy to see him written well in this episode.

HENRY’S LETTER FROM HIS SON. STARTS OFF WITH “DAD,” AND SAYS PS. I LOVE YOU AT THE BOTTOM. Good for Henry.

Fiona’s backstory! Finally, we get some FIONA LORE. Neat.

PUDDING HANDS CARSON.

#when calls the heart

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diavolodigitale · 3 years

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L’appel Du Vide: 00 Despicable Him

It took me a whole goddamn year to finally win the fight I fought against myself and start posting this story. I have 7 complete chapters written already but now cannot seem to find the strength to continue, so I was hoping releasing it into the world would give me a nice boost. Anyway, my friends enjoyed the story so if in reality it turns out to be bad, it’s obviously their fault, not mine ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Rhys is the CEO of Atlas and Jack's AI is back, surprise, surprise! Now Rhys is dismayed, Jack doesn't care much, and the events of Borderlands 3 are just beginning to unravel. Is there any way to fix the plot of this game? Would it be any better if Rhys had to cooperate with Jack this whole time? Well, this is your chance to find out!

Spoiler: yes, dammit, it would. Everything's better with a bit of Handsome Jack in it.

Genres: Fix-It, Developing Relationship, Alternate Canon, POV Third Person, Humor, Drama, Plot-driven (kind of? well, it has plot)

Pairing: Handsome Jack’s AI/Rhys (this is only the 1st chapter so don’t expect much yet)

Characters: Handsome Jack’s AI, Rhys

Rating: M for Mature but not in this chapter lol

Size: around 2500 words (chapter 1/11)

Rhys’s office was great. He liked to sit in his big executive’s chair and dreamily look outside instead of doing the paper work. The view was also great. Well, kind of.

What did not seem so great, however, was the war he had been recently dragged into by the Maliwan corporation. He didn’t like being involuntarily involved into global affairs, especially those that had something to do with fusions or takeovers. The situation his company was in was bothering him at the moment, so he took a deep thoughtful breath and continued staring into the window.

“Hey, kiddo,” said the voice of somebody who definitely could not be in Rhys’s office neither at this given moment nor at any other time. Rhys was almost sure in his sanity so he proceeded to ignore the not-uttered words, although he, for some unknown reason, became visibly shaken.

“He-e-ey,” said the voice with those familiar little notes of annoyance that would let the hearer know that the person speaking clearly didn’t like being ignored.

A half-transparent blue hand waved in front of Rhys’s face, and he totally lost it.

Still somehow managing to remain seated in his chair, Rhys jerked back and rolled right through the blue figure formerly standing behind him.

“Wha…” muttered Rhys, barely able to speak at all, “Jack? What are you… I mean, how… I mean, is that really you?”

“Calm down, Rhysie,” said Jack with the same smug expression on his face – perhaps, the only thing that was unchangeable apart from his self-confidence, principles, self-esteem, disrespect for the others, sly nature, and, well, many, many other things really. “I get it, you’re happy to see me, but gosh, have some self-respect!”

Rhys was still confused, so after a few seconds of silence Jack felt the need to add, “Of course, it’s me”.

“But I thought you’re…”

“Dead? Gone? Dead and gone?” Jack clicked his tongue three times. “I thought, you knew me better, Rhysie. I thought, you’d welcome me with your arms wide open. Are you not happy to see me?”

“I am,” Rhys started nodding zealously and clenched his fists tight, hoping that Jack wouldn’t notice he was shaken. “But I don’t understand. What happened…”

“What happened was a mistake. I was gone for a while, but now I’m here to stay.” Jack leaned towards Rhys’s face and smiled. It was in no way an amiable smile. His glowing eyes reminded those of a vulture watching his prey. He already started to smell fear in the air.

“And where exactly is here?” asked Rhys with the last glimmer of hope fading from his voice. More than anything now he wished for the story not to repeat itself, but it was not like he had a choice or something.

Jack only tapped on Rhys’s temple with his index finger and leaned back. Rhys didn’t feel the touch but the gesture itself made him uncomfortable. He knew what it meant, unfortunately.

Jack jumped onto the table of the CEO of Atlas and crossed his legs and arms, waiting.

Rhys swallowed loudly. This was not great at all. He was sure his head was clear from this phantom and there was nothing to worry about. He was sure he would never again be convinced to go against his nature and pursue the world domination. Or any kind of domination. He was sure, but whenever it came to Jack, he was a defeatist.

“This can’t be true. I don’t believe you came back. I must’ve hit my head or I’m just seeing things…” Rhys’s voice quavered in disbelief when he spoke.

“Now-now, honey, no need to worry so much. You know I don’t like it when you wince, it makes you look older. Seeing me here must make you feel sorry for what you’ve done, but you should know that I don’t hold any grudge. Actually, I’m kida proud of you, you know. It only proves I was right all along,” said Jack roguishly. His manner of speech made his words sound benign, as if he was forgiving sins during the confession. Rhys was still not buying it.

“I did what I had to, what you made me do! If anything, it was YOUR fault, YOU betrayed me, so don’t you try making ME responsible for everything! I don’t know what kind of mind game this is, but I know you can’t be here.”

As Jack opened his mouth to yet again say something pricky, Rhys, still sitting in his chair and tightly gripping its arms, yelled at top of his lungs, “Begone! Begone, foul apparition!”.

The apparition sat on the table, sandbagged and with a dropped jaw, for a few moments and then uttered “Wow. Just wow. I’ve always known you’re weird, but this is just… wow. Are you on drugs or something? I’m not judging, you just seem really… deranged? I wanna say deranged, but I’m not sure it’s the right word.”

Rhys snuffled resentfully and looked at Jack with a brooding expression on his face. “You won’t go?” he asked, not really hoping anymore.

“Nope, kiddo. Everything’s gonna be just like the good old times – me as a hero and you as a… as a… I dunno, a less attractive sidekick?” Rhys quietly sighed, holding his head in his hands. “We’re gonna hang out, kill bandits, save the world, and I will always, always be at your side. I’ll make sure of that.”

“I killed you, Jack. I destroyed you. I ripped you out of my body, tore you apart and threw you away from my memory. Nothing’s gonna be the same anymore, you know that.”

“No, Rhys, I was killed by some OTHER goddamn crappy bags of… ugh, I’m not even gonna bother with that. You and me just had a misunderstanding. Often happens between two forceful promising personalities, like between me and the previous Hyperion CEO. Oh, wait, no,”–Jack scratched his head and furrowed his eyebrows–“no, I killed him, that’s a bad example. Anyway, you know what I mean.”

“I smashed my fucking arm to get rid of you! You,”–Rhys pointed his cybernetic finger at Jack–“are the only one who is insane here if you think that’s nothing. We both know what we did, Jack. Whatever you want, I’m not helping you. The last time I tried, you took control of me and tried to end my life.”

Jack’s expression turned from stolid to menacing as fast as gray clouds cover the sun and it starts raining in summer. He wanted to be good, he really believed that he did.

“Why do you always have to be so stubborn?” he hissed at Rhys. “I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want me to. No matter how much I don’t want to admit it, I’m dependent on you, you little whiny coward, so do me a favor – be a good boy and listen to what daddy has to say. You kept your eye implant, didn’t you? Don’t even try arguing with me, I know you did. It was your decision to leave it be, so it’s you who brought me here. I’m grateful for that and I promise not to be nasty. No taking over bodies and no homicidal tendencies. Well, at least when it comes to you, pumpkin.”

“…Okay,” fumbled Rhys. Even though he didn’t believe this was really the case, he knew disputing with Jack never solved anything anyway. “Although… I didn’t really use the chip afterwards. I don’t know how you’ve found out I had kept it, but I surely wasn’t that stupid so as to put it back into my head after what you had done. I really want to know how you’ve managed to–”

“We all have our secrets, Rhysie. But enough about me, let’s talk about you.” Jack gave Rhys a wink. “How’ve ya been? Must admit, I fell out of the loop and now need an update,” he said petulantly. Now he was idly looking around as if he had lost all interest in what was happening.

Rhys decided to let go of his worries for now. If he couldn’t make Jack talk, his only option was to gain his trust once again and find out how he survived. Or if he did at all. Just be composed, not the worst scenario you’ve ever been in, he said to himself.

“Um, actually, I’m great. This is my office and… We’re doing fantastically if you disregard the fact that we’re at war with Maliwan and currently I am occupied with this new–”

“Yeah-yeah, okay, what was there about a war? I don’t remember Maliwan scum being at least somehow dangerous. How did you even manage to mess this up?”

Rhys stood up from his huge chair, arms akimbo, eyes disdainfully narrowed, and went on with his story, affronted and even a little peevish.

“As I was saying, I’m working on a new plan right now. At this point I’m pretty fed up with Katagawa, this new CEO of Maliwan,”–definitely peevish right now–“Oh, in fact, I just hate him so much!”–now even irate–“The day he murdered all his siblings, he just mobilized his fleet and went straight to my planet! Who in the right mind does that? Could’ve sent a message at least. Anyway,”–Rhys hid his hands into his pockets and sunk back into his chair, having lost all his righteous anger–“he wants our corporations to merge, to fuse, as he says, to become one.” The irritation on Jack’s face was becoming more distinct with every word Rhys said. “He wants me to sign the deal and share my developments with him, can you believe it? That greedy bastard!”

“Proposals like that don’t just come out of nowhere. Seems like he’s been watching you. This Katagawa guy, what does he offer you in return? Money, contacts, tech?”

“Himself, I guess,” said Rhys without any second thought.

“What?” asked Jack contemptuously. He was already close to seeing red. Rhys forgot how it worked with him.

“He said we would become partners, but I think it’s all lies to make it seem pretty. I suspect he will simply take control of Atlas and our new shiny guns, and all my work will be wasted.”

“I see, no one can trick our Rhysie,” said Jack, grinning. “Thank god, at least some good news.”

“That’s right!” said Rhys, perhaps, more enthusiastically than he should have. “No one,” he added more quietly. Except for you, you snake, muttered the inner voice inside his head.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something this whole time. Funny how I really haven’t been here for long, but you know. May I?”

Jack’s incisive manner of speech was absent, so Rhys took his guard down for a moment, getting the feeling that this conversation was like one of those they used to have before – unbraced and at times even innocuous.

“I know what’s on your mind, Jack,” he said, heartfelt and certain.

“You do?” Jack undoubtfully seemed surprised at his interlocutor’s insight.

“Yes. I’ve noticed how you look at me and I know exactly what you want to ask.” Rhys made himself more comfortable in the chair, crossed his legs and sat straight, in a more business-like manner. “This,”–he made a vague hand gesture around the area of his mouth–“is a siege mustache. Shh, let me finish, you can’t say anything I haven’t heard about it before. My troops love it, and as a good commander, I do what I can to boost morale on the battlefield. Of course, I don’t go out there, but they are happy enough when they see my hologram. A-a-and, now you can talk. I guess. If you want to. By the way, I don’t care if you hate it, it’s my face so–”

“You know what? I love it. Love it. Never thought I would say that, but I am saying it right now, so here you are. The second rule of a successful boss – do what the fuck you wanna do with your face. The first one is murder the previous boss, of course.”

“Really?” gingerly asked Rhys, who, in reality, had never heard anything good about his poor moustache.

“Really. But I must upset you, Rhysie. This is not what was bothering me. You see, there’s this other little thing, pretty close in its significance to your moustache.”

“Oh,” uttered Rhys nonchalantly, “what is it?”

“Hyperion. What’s with it? What’s with MY Hyperion, Rhysie?”

At the sound of that very word Rhys hunched in his chair and felt as if he was reducing in size under Jack’s cold gaze.

“After what had happened… the Helios was destroyed and everything collapsed and…”

Rhys sat silent, not able to go on, and this was the last thing he should’ve done. Jack was not in the mood for such a behavior.

“Look me square in my fucking translucent eyes, Rhys, and tell me – what is with my Hyperion?” yelled Jack.

He still sat on the table quite far from Rhys, but it seemed like the room suddenly shrunk and he was right in front of him. Jack was a ghost, a phantom, not able to do anything, not able to inflict any damage or even touch him, but Rhys sensed the danger. No matter in what form, Handsome Jack was still Handsome Jack.

“I don’t know. I guess, somebody took control of it after I left. The weapons are still being manufactured, but I didn’t bother to find out who was the next in line after Helios was… after I destroyed Helios.”

Rhys exhaled loudly and averted his eyes from Jack. Oh, yes, making Jack angry is much easier than making him proud, how could I forget, he thought.

“I see. I didn’t doubt for a second you would do that to infuriate me. Believe it or not, this is the first time I’d rather be disappointed. But you know what? It doesn’t matter now. Now we’re bonding,” Jack sucked the air through his teeth, “now we’re rebuilding what was destroyed like a family we are. Isn’t that great? Look at us, two best buddies exchanging the latest news.”

“And you promised not to be nasty this time...?” Rhys made a feeble attempt to save himself and remind Jack about the terms under which he was allowed to accompany him.

“Yes, Rhysie, and you know damn well I keep my promises.”

And he did. But only when he promised to kill somebody.

#Borderlands #Borderlands 3 #Tales from the Borderlands #Handsome Jack #Handsome Jack's AI #Rhys #rhys strongfork #Handsome Jack x Rhys #fiction #fanfiction #fix-it #alternate canon #drama #humor #romance #L’appel Du Vide story

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bigskydreaming · 3 years

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Have you seen Linkara's review of The Dark Knight Returns? He goes into why the view of Robin as a soldier, popularized but by no means invented by Miller, is so dangerous.

I have not, but I need to refresh my memory before I go check it out because I’ll either agree with it or be infuriated by it and I can’t remember which just at the moment but would like to before I restart that argument ten years later.

LOL, so like, I knew Linkara yeeears and years ago. We were both regular posters on Gail Simone’s messageboard on CBR like fifteen years ago, maybe longer. Pretty sure we even met in person a couple times at Gail’s annual SDCC breakfast meetups, but not sure. I do know for sure though that he and I were both involved in a three way argument about this very topic with another guy.....I just can not remember if he was the one who agreed with me or the one we were both fighting with about it, LOL. I THINK we were in agreement as while I wasn’t like.....as pro-DC as most YABSers were given that it was Gail’s board and I mostly hung out at the X-boards and just swung by YABS once a week or so BECAUSE I couldn’t stand all the ass-kissing that went on at that board so that DC writers and artists would hang out and post regularly, LOL, like I’m pretty sure I remember Link as being one of the less....vehement of the pro-DC camp.

(Tbh, one of the biggest ways in which I disagreed with Gail on stuff is I UNDERSTOOD her feeling a need to be civil with other DC pros even if she didn’t like them personally, I just....couldn’t manage the same and didn’t feel any desire to try. Like for example, not sure how many people know who Ethan van Sciver is, but he’s a long time high profile DC artist, best known for his GL stuff.....but he used to hang around YABS pretty regularly. EvS is ALSO a haaaaaardcore conservative, Trumpian, and all around terrible person. And he always was.

Like he’d play it civil back then but his opinions were downright hateful on a variety of topics, particularly towards marginalized groups, but he was good at picking just the right moments to half-assedly walk something back the second he took something ‘too far’ - so like, the end result was he said it and everyone saw and remembered, but before anyone could react he’d drop the mea culpa card and be like oh I’m sorry I know that was out of line, I was just caught up in the moment and it’s all good cuz this is all friendly debate anyway right? We’re just talking here.

And he’d pull this crap all the time but because he was a DC pro, people would let him get away with it and warn people off coming down on him so he didn’t feel unwelcome at the board. Now the painfully ironic twist here is that shockingly, totally unexpectedly.....fast forward to about five or six years ago where good old Ethan burns a shit ton of bridges and decides well why not make things a dumpster fire for everyone in my vicinity....and he became the driving force behind a bunch of alt right comic book fans starting their own weak ass version of Gamergate, only called Comicsgate. It never was nearly as....big...as Gamergate was, but it was still ugly. And the thing is, Ethan sicced his sycophants on other industry pros he’d worked with over the years but always disagreed with on politics.....like really let the ugly fly....and most of these pros included Gail as well as a bunch of the other DC professionals from back in the YABS days.

Because thing was....that was literally WHY he’d hung out at YABS so much back then, despite being so far in disagreement with most of the progressive leaning board. He was always just interested in stirring shit up, he never actually had the slightest interest in debate or seeing the other side of anything....he just knew how to play the right cards to get the right people to come to his defense and cool things off rather than run him off, in the name of keeping things civil and such...all so he could start it all up again a couple weeks later.

And this is literally why that kind of thing doesn’t work for me at all. Because he wasn’t really that subtle even then, most people knew all along exactly what he was doing, and letting him get away with shit that would have gotten anyone else banned purely because he was a industry pro just meant that his opportunities to subject anyone in his vicinity to just vile, hateful shit ended up more protected than all the marginalized posters on that board who didn’t come to it to see his shit but had to constantly listen to it anyway because people were more interested in making excuses for him than making it comfortable for everyone else.

And in the end, he ended up turning on the very people who’d protected him from everyone else ripping into his hateful viewpoints with the directness they merited. Which just. Sigh. To me just smacks of a whole lot of unnecessary years spent putting up with his barely veiled bullshit until he didn’t bother even veiling it anymore....even though the reality is NOBODY was ever buying into his veil of it in the first place and we all knew what was right behind it all along. Anyway. Not that it matters LOL, but good old Eth, was one of the primary reasons I decided not to go into comics when I had a couple of opportunities come up, as I decided to focus my efforts on Hollywood at the time instead. Lmao, I figured if I was going to have to keep my mouth shut about coworkers whose opinions I vehemently disagreed with in the name of professionalism, I might as well focus on the profession that would pay me more money to keep that to myself. Look, at least capitalism is useful when ADHD and trying to pretend to be decisive about life choices.)

Long ramble nobody asked for aside, like I said, I can’t remember Link’s take on this particular topic but it’s likely the one I agreed with for the most part. My own take has always been that Miller sucks and if he said it chances are I said he was wrong because he is about everything and my religion is people saying so and by people I mean me. My religion’s also big on self-actualization. Not sure what else, I did just make it up and I think I’ll probably just stop there so I don’t accidentally make it a cult.

But yeah. I mean, maybe it’ll surprise people given how critical I am of the abusive elements of canon, but I’ve never applied the child endangerment/child soldier argument to sidekicks. It’s obviously not that they don’t get hurt in these stories and even traumatized, it’s not that they’re NOT in danger as kids....it’s just why I put such an emphasis on it being their choice to fight crime and be heroes and NOT something that Bruce or any other mentor or parent pushed them into.

Because this is one of the reasons why death of the author more often than not just doesn’t work for me. Authorial intent matters. Readers are always free to interpret a text however they want, regardless of authorial intent....but IF a writer has a specific intent behind a narrative choice, chances are most interpretations that refuse to align themselves with that viewpoint aren’t really all that RELEVANT to the story the writer was trying to tell in the first place.

Don’t get me wrong. Those other interpretations can still exist. They’re allowed to exist. People can abide by them all they want. But if someone’s takeaway from a story is a deliberate choice to read it entirely different from the story the writer intended it to be.....like, their interpretation is all well and good, but it’s not actually at all a RELEVANT commentary on or review of the story the writer was actually writing. They’re not actually saying the writer did a poor job of telling the story or was wrong in how they did it....because they’re not actually talking about the story the writer was actually telling.

Thus their commentary on it exists. But it’s just not that relevant. Because nothing in it even CAN offer an opinion on how else the writer could or should have written that story....because the story they ARE talking about isn’t the story the writer was even interested in writing.

Now, there are some times when authorial intent DOESNT matter. And when criticism of it is entirely fair and earned even if it’s of something the writer didn’t consciously or deliberately write into their story at all. But these things are almost ALWAYS unconscious. Unlike what I was just talking about, where the writer was very consciously writing the story a certain way for a reason, and thus people who aren’t interested in reading the story the way it was written to be read just can’t offer up a commentary that says anything useful or meaningful about the story that was actually written...the flip side of this is when the writer puts things they don’t intend into the text, but still are very much there all the same.

And this sort of thing applies to things like micro aggressions or racism, homophobia, sexism....things where a writer didn’t sit down intending to be offensive or alienate their readers but still put in things that they don’t think to view as offensive due to their own privilege and lack of experience EXPERIENCING the microaggressions that marginalized readers might be all TOO familiar with and thus can’t avoid reading into a passage where the writer might not have INTENDED harm or offense, but delivered it all the same. Because they didn’t think to put it into their story, they weren’t TRYING to....but they didn’t think to avoid putting it in there either, even if it’s because they didn’t know to until it’s pointed out to them that it’s there.

And this also applies to when the writer puts into their story, via whatever viewpoint they’re writing from, things that herald from their own viewpoints, how they view the world, even in terms of unconscious biases or expectations....but things that readers can still interpret as something they vehemently disagree with, even if the narrative seems to condone it. Because a lot of these viewpoints are things where the way they’re written....even just not coming out as clearly not condoning or agreeing it can effectively be read as tacitly condoning it.

So to apply all this to the idea of child sidekicks and child soldiers:

They’re not one and the same, and thus treating them as one and the same or interchangeable is IMO an inherently flawed perspective that doesn’t ever have anything USEFUL or RELEVANT to the stories that most people are trying to tell with child heroes and sidekicks.

With the notable exceptions of Miller, Ennis and certain other writers who by their own admission usually aren’t even trying to write about superheroes but rather deconstructions of the genre as a whole.....the vast majority of comic book writers, even the ones I dislike LOL, aren’t writing about child soldiers when they write characters like the Robins. Because CONSCIOUSLY, with INTENT, they’re already trying to write something completely different:

Child heroes and sidekicks are almost universally written to be child (although to be really fair, for the most part they’re largely teen) empowerment allegories. They’re youth power fantasies.

They’re stories about kids, about teens, getting to be the ones to save the world. About kids who don’t need adults to save them because they save themselves or their friends. Kids saving other people, other kids, grown adults. Stories about child HEROES are written as metaphors of hope for the future and the promise of the younger generations, or power fantasies where kids who feel helpless and powerless in their own lives can read these stories and vicariously imagine through the characters the idea of one day having the power to save themselves or other people, what that would be like, what they’d do with that.

But here’s the important part, and why people interpreting these teen and kid heroes as child soldiers doesn’t really offer relevant commentary to stories that are written to be allegorical youth power fantasies, regardless of authorial intent or death of the author....

And that’s because the key ingredient here, the thing that’s not really up for debate or open to interpretation....is that these stories can ONLY ever be allegorical.

Because like I said before, child heroes and child soldiers are not the same thing. There simply IS NO REAL WORLD EQUIVALENT for child and teen heroes as comic books style them.

And that’s why the fact that with most every child hero in comics, no adult makes them be a hero. They choose that for themselves, it’s almost universally characterized as a self-determination or empowerment moment rather than one of coercion like Miller likes to characterize it. His choice to characterize Bruce essentially drafting Dick as Robin to fight alongside him does nothing to provide commentary on any other superhero story, no matter what he’s told himself or his fans, because his story is the only one where Robin was drafted!

You can’t condemn narrative choices that nobody but you has actually written and then act like you’re saying something about any narrative other than your own fsjsjfshfzgzfhgs.

And you also can’t claim that you’re just seeing in the text something that’s inherently there and the other writers didn’t just see to avoid like I was talking about being a valid critique....because what’s being commented on there isn’t anything that was written unknowingly. Other writers consciously wrote the same things as Miller in terms of a child engaged in all that violence....but they deliberately wrote those moments to be metaphors of a kid that gets to save themselves and other people and CHOSE that, which is inherently opposed to the interpretation of a kid who is ONLY in harm’s way because he was forcibly drafted by a more powerful figure or force who cares neither what he wants or if he gets hurt.

These two ideas are mutually exclusive. They can not coexist in the same narrative because a character can not be powerless and self-empowering about the exact same specific choice. And thus anything that’s said about one of these narratives is inherently unable to say anything that’s relevant about the other....because the other is not written by its writer TO BE the kind of narrative that particular commentary is dissecting. It’s not TRYING to be that narrative, so no review of it can possibly say how flawed it’s execution is of an idea it’s not actually trying to execute.

And the differences between child heroes and child soldiers are not just limited to choosing that or being drafted and these other differences are equally key.

The biggest being that child heroes can not be seen as ‘basically’ the same thing as child soldiers.....UNLESS you are also perceiving adult heroes as basically the same thing as adult soldiers. And not even law enforcement or police or temporarily deputized or whatever else you want to spin it as....SOLDIERS, specifically. You don’t get to bring up something as charged as child soldiers and then get vague with your terminology when the close scrutiny that brings to your analogy stops working in your favor.

If sidekicks are child soldiers then you must in conjunction view adult superheroes as soldiers. And not in the abstract one man war on crime way Miller likes to consider Batman in his attempted deconstruction of superheroes. ACTUAL soldiers. If there’s no room in your comparison for child heroes to differentiate from real world child soldiers, there’s no wiggle room for the adults either.

And again, except for Miller, Ennis and specific others who by their own admissions are not TRYING to view superheroes the same way most other comic writers are, but fail to see that genre conventions are largely interpretive and thus seeing room for different interpretations of superheroes isn’t actually a commentary on how other people see and write those same heroes....like except for these select few, most writers are not writing superhero soldiers unless they’re Captain America or Captain Atom. Yes I know there are other superhero soldiers but let me be pithy. Even those aren’t really the same as their real world equivalents.

See, real soldiers don’t make distinctions about whether or not they’re willing to use guns. Their personal views on killing are not prioritized over whether they’ve been told to use lethal force to accomplish their objective. They have a chain of command. No matter the rationalization, they pledge their loyalty to singular nations and the aims and objectives of those specific nations over the abstract of acting in defense of the whole world.

Now again, maybe that applies to Captain Atom, but for the most part can you say the majority of comic book writers are TRYING to write Superman, Batman, Green Arrow, Wonder Woman etc through that lens? No. So while Miller really thinks he said something when he wrote his Batman with guns, fighting in the Middle East, killing people left and right, none of that actually ‘showed’ people that at the end of the day, Batman is no conceptually different from a real world soldier like. No all he actually did was write his own take on Batman, and said look, he’s a gun toting murderous asshole, huzzah I have deconstructed the modern superhero!

Like. Shut up Miller. Honestly.

But seriously. Superheroes do not have a real world equivalent and neither do child heroes. Even when it comes to nonpowered ones like the Batfam, they’re still deliberately written in a larger than life, four color perspective that requires a suspension of disbelief at the front door. We ALL know and understand that they aren’t a blue print for how to go out and be a real world vigilante. Even real world vigilantes exist. But they don’t look anything like the Batfam and it’s disingenuous to pretend they do for the sake of teh discourse. Nobody honestly believes that there is even the OPTION of going out one day and deciding to become a comic book style vigilante like one of the Batfam. It’s why even they’re termed superheroes despite the lack of superpowers. On a CONCEPTUAL level it’s understood that the stories being told about them require an extrahuman medium. You can not simultaneously write characters according to a mythic scale but then attempt to interpret that very writing on a real world one. It doesn’t work.

Which brings me to my final piece of this pie. Or puzzle. Idk I’ve been doing this response for awhile I forget what this is.

And that is again, the difference between interpreting a story in a way the author probably didn’t intend and understanding when a story isn’t meant to be interpreted in the way you’re trying to.

And this difference is how I can understand and reconcile the idea that it’s not inherently abusive for Bruce to allow his kids to fight crime at all, even though that would inherently be child endangerment in the real world, but at the same time, I can view him as abusive in other ways that don’t make allowances for the differences between real life and comics.

Basically it boils down to: CAN this specific element of a story be duplicated in real life or mirror a real life action or idea? Is there a direct parallel to a real world equivalent at all?

I can view Bruce fighting crime or saving the world alongside a child Robin without viewing that as child endangerment or inherently abusive, even when Robin gets hurt in the process....because there is no real world equivalent to those parts of a story. NO ONE, child or adult, is going out there and doing those things Batman and Robin style. Even the people who dress up in their own real life vigilante personas basically just do niche neighborhood things like walk people home from the bar. And even people doing real life vigilantism in terms of taking out criminals, like, that’s usually more of a personal revenge thing and not one where they’re trying to attract attention via a costumed persona. When you think real world Batman and Robin, nothing comes to mind for a reason.

And thus this says nothing inherently abusive about their dynamic, even according to real life parallels of child endangerment, because it’s not a real scenario. And thus it’s not TRYING to say anything about real life. It’s innately allegorical. It’s power fantasy emphasis on the fantasy.

In contrast, when you have something like Bruce hitting one of his kids.....no matter who the characters are, that specific interaction and the dynamic it presents DOES have a real world equivalent. That’s just parent/child abuse. And thus even if the writer didn’t intend for it to be interpreted that way, it’s still a valid interpretation. If it looks like a parent hitting their child, you can call it a parent hitting a child.

Batman and Robin fighting killer mind controlled plants together? Can’t happen. I’m not going to call it child endangerment when it’s not a realistic scenario and not meant to be, and I’ve already been presented with a valid alternative interpretation of this being a child empowered to help save people alongside his superhero father. There’s no point in condemning a dynamic that CANT be translated to a non allegory in real life.

But Bruce hitting his son? A father no matter how good hearted normally, being affected by extreme stress or grief or something else that makes his behavior take a turn for the worse and reach a point where he physically lashes out even if he never would have in the past? Nothing remotely allegorical about that. That story has too many real world equivalents to dismiss as having nothing to say about abuse in real life. Even if the writer didn’t intend for this to read as abusive because they were thinking of how much worse Dick has been hurt fighting alongside Bruce and never held that against him even though technically it was Bruce letting him get hurt....doesn’t matter. That interpretation still requires viewing through a lens that can’t exist in reality. No kid can ever excuse a parent hitting them by thinking of how much worse they got hurt taking down their local mob together and if he didn’t blame his dad for that cuz he wanted to do it to help people then how can he blame his dad for hurting him in a moment of anger? Umm. Doesn’t track see? They’re not the same thing at all.

Or another one that really bugs....I’ve heard people defend shipping a Robin while underage with an adult by saying if they’re old enough to make the choice to risk their life and have that choice respected, they’re old enough to choose who they want to be with. Umm. No. That’s not just apples and oranges that’s genetically modified grapes and seventeenth century cannonballs.

That logic doesn’t apply because neither of those things is the underage character choosing ANYTHING. They’re fictional. Everything they choose is just what their writer wrote them choosing. But again, one of those choices is one that an underage reader CANT choose in real life and have respected by every adult in their life, and thus will never have a bearing on their life as anything BUT an allegory they have to interpret and translate into something actionable they can apply to their life and choices. The other choice is them being written as presented with an option that’s actually a textbook real life grooming technique and something abusers use to justify the relationship they’re trying to cultivate with a minor by saying aren’t you mature for your age, aren’t you old enough to know what you want or to do this or that in which case you should be old enough to make this choice?

See the difference? Putting on a cape and going out to fight robots? Not directly applicable. Saying yes to the grown man saying he wants to have sex with you and thinks you’re old enough given this other choice you’ve made that highlights your maturity? That’s a choice that can be presented both to a Robin or a real life minor, but a writer justifying that choice for that Robin by saying well he’s already previously made this other choice that has no real life equivalent.....that creates a pretty misleading interpretation to people reading that story and not stopping to think through the distinctions between what KINDS of choices the writer is presenting these characters with and then justifying via their narrative.

And while I haven’t watched the video you’re referencing, anon, I would definitely agree that this is an example of how viewing child heroes as child soldiers is....not great. Aside from being cynical, misusing the idea of death of the author and helping to validate Miller’s choices and thus ego which is NEVER a good look LOL....it also intentionally or not paves the way for putting fictional types and MEANS of harm on an even playing field with real life ones and acting like it’s all one and the same with no distinctions to be drawn. And this doesn’t actually offer anything substantive or constructive about holding characters accountable for reasonable expectations of harm, when the sources of harm have no reasonable equivalent and thus only exist in the medium of being a youth power fantasy in which the child involved is fictional and can’t truly be harmed, with the harm done the second the scene ends and where the character can be back in fighting form the very next scene. Thus the only lingering element there IS the power fantasy.

Nope, all it actually does is muddy the waters in the REVERSE, and make it so it’s actually easier to justify or rationalize types and means of harm that DO have a real world equivalent, but by pointing to examples from a fictional medium and emphasizing the fictional character’s lack of being harmed while de-emphasizing the fact that the writer has full control over depicting this in a solely positive light that doesn’t ALLOW the fictional character any angle from which to voice that this CAN result in harm when not written for fictional characters according to a writer’s specific intent.

And that’s that about that. My opinion: you have it.

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dhwty-writes · 4 years

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I've had 'Just give me a reason' by pink stuck in my head all day lol, I humbly offer it as a song prompt if it sparks anything :D

“If it sparks anything”... Fam, I just astralprojected back to 2013 and my first kiss! I had a lot of fun with it (although I got a bit distracted midway through, I’m sorry!)

I also couldn’t decide whether I wanted to do a post-mountain fix-it fic or a modern AU, so you’ll get both! Here’s the angsty one (that’s way longer than expected) :)

Read on AO3

The unfairness of it all as he staggered down the steep mountainside was overwhelming. Twenty years of his life for... what exactly? For nothing at all!

Over half of his measly human life he'd spent trailing after that grumpy... horse's arse of a witcher. He poured his heart and soul into a song cycle just to change Geralt's undeserved horrible reputation! (And to get rich, of course, but that was neither here nor there.) By rights he should claim ten percent of Geralt's income, but did he? No, of course not!

He'd never asked anything in return. Nothing but company, a friend, a tiny bit of affection even. Not love, of course. He might be delusional and a hopeless romantic, but not that much of an imbecile.

He knew Geralt loved Yennefer and that the affection was mutual. It was pretty much obvious for about anyone who saw them together. And Jaskier wasn't just anyone. He and the witcher shared just about anything — food, coin, clothes, beds sometimes, when it was cold or there was only one room left. And, though the witcher denied that fervently, Geralt talked in his sleep sometimes.

Jaskier had discovered that one freezing night in a tavern in Kovir, when he'd woken up because he was uncomfortably warm. Additionally, to the heap of quilted blankets they laid under, Geralt had draped himself over him, too, clutching him tight against his chest. 'Cute,' Jaskier had thought, 'Geralt's a cuddler.'

But then he had started talking, and it had been torture of the most exquisite kind. Most of his ramblings were unintelligible, but those he could understand were unbearably sweet. "Don't go," Geralt would say whenever Jaskier tried to move away. Or "C'mere" and tug him closer to his chest. There were plenty of "Y'smell good"s and, on one memorable occasion an "I love you". None of them were meant for him, of course. But, oh, how he wanted them to be.

Jaskier had fallen for Geralt the moment he'd spotted him in that tavern, grumpily nursing his tankard of ale. He'd been absolutely smitten as soon as they walked free from Filavandrel and Geralt smiled at his "Respect doesn't make history" nonsense, thinking he wouldn't see. They had travelled together for the better part of a month, before destiny had parted them again. At an inn at the crossroads Jaskier had stolen a pretty lad's virginity and Geralt had ridden off into the sunset, not knowing he had stolen Jaskier's heart in turn. 'Good old days.'

Only that they weren't good anymore. Jaskier heaved a sigh that sounded more like a sob than anything else. What had previously been a rose-and-gold-coloured fantasy of a memory, seemed now rather dull, truth be told.

After a few weeks going their separate way, Jaskier had heard of a witcher near Hagge and gone to seek him out. They had travelled again, on and off. Most of the time it had been him, who had actively looked for Geralt, tracking down rumours about white-haired monster hunters. But not always.

Right before the whole child surprise ordeal, it had been him performing in a tavern and Geralt barrelling inside, interrupting him mid-song. "Jaskier!" the witcher had shouted. "There you are. I've got a contract, come with me?"

Or that other time in early fall. He'd gotten himself a comfortable place for the winter in the home of some noble lady, who he'd been entertaining with music, poems and other uses of his silver tongue alike, when one early evening a servant knocked on their door, quite adamantly insisting there was a visitor for the troubadour. His host had been none too pleased when he'd gotten up and dressed to greet a witcher of all people. "What the fuck were you thinking, bard," Geralt had growled, "not showing up all summer. I thought you were dead."

All in all, Jaskier had thought that his affection was, at least to some extent, reciprocated. And now this.

After twenty years the moment he'd dreaded had finally come. Twenty years of lavishing Geralt with love. Geralt, the person who'd been told he couldn't feel, mustn't feel. Twenty years of shouting his adoration to the heavens, to finally be told that it was unwanted.

To borrow Geralt's words: "Fuck." He needed a drink.

~*~

Geralt of Rivia was an idiot and he knew it. The revelation had dawned on him almost instantly after his foolish outbreak. Well, not entirely instantly. He had a feeling, at the very least, although he hadn't expected the bard to take his words literally.

He hadn't been able to get rid of him with his gruff exterior before, so he hadn't thought he would now. The realisation that Jaskier was truly gone dawned on him, when he reached the base of the mountain a few days later and the bard was nowhere to be found.

Roach was still there, as were Geralt's bags. Their content wasn't. After twenty years of carrying frivolous outfits, chewed-on quills tattered notebooks that smelled of lavender, they were uncomfortably light.

"Fuck," Geralt said quietly. He didn't know why, but some part of him had hoped to find Jaskier there. 'Where he belongs,' his brain supplied unhelpfully. He frowned deeply, trying to rid himself of that thought. Jaskier wasn't some kind of possession to be owned.

But when he settled down for the night that evening, the forest devoid of any melodic chattering, of joyful laughter, of life, he knew it was true. Jaskier might not belong to him, he mused as he crawled into his bedroll. 'But he belongs to my side all the same.'

Somewhere along the twenty years of companionship — gods, was it truly twenty years? It was nothing for him, but such a long time for humans, who aged so fast — Jaskier had managed to firmly worm himself under Geralt's skin, to the point where there was something missing now that he was truly gone.

Geralt slept terribly that night. When the sun rose the next morning, he set out on another hunt. Not for a monster, that time, but the best thing destiny had ever given to him, that he had chased away with his brashness.

The scavenger hunt led him halfway across the continent, until he stumbled into another tavern on the coast of Temeria. Jaskier's trail hadn't been too hard to follow. Apparently, his friend had been fucking and drinking his way through three kingdoms.

And the bard looked as if he was doing a good job of adding a fourth one. He was more than just a little tipsy, sitting rather than standing on the stage. An agonised look passed over his face when he saw Geralt. He wanted to rush over and pull him into a hug, but then Jaskier started singing and the witcher was just frozen in place. It was the most heart-wrenching ballad yet. It took him only about three lines to realise who it was about. 'Fuck,' he thought.

All his instincts told him to flee. He wasn't prepared for this. He couldn't do this. But Jaskier had seen him already. No getting out of it now.

So, he shouldered his way through the crowd Jaskier always attracted and tried to hide in some secluded corner of the tavern. It took incredibly long for the bard to finally finish his set, and even then he made no attempt to seek Geralt out. Instead, he languidly leaned onto the bar, flirting with the barmaid behind it.

He barely suppressed a growl. 'Fine,' he thought and got up to confront his mistakes. He slammed his tankard down next to Jaskier, scaring the barmaid off in the process. "Jaskier," he greeted him.

"Oh, great," he sneered in response. "There goes my bed for the night."

"Hmm," he answered and ducked his head. "I'm sorry."

"What, for chasing off my newest conquest? I fucking hope you are!"

"No, Jaskier," he answered honenstly. "I'm sorry for what I said to you."

"Hmph, you need to do a lot better than that," he said and reached over the bar for a bottle of strong-smelling liquor. He poured himself a glass and knocked it back. Without pause he continued: "Because you know what? I'm fucking angry, Geralt."

"Do we have to do this here?" he hissed. They were attracting glares. Never a good thing for a witcher.

"No," Jaskier admitted and stood up. Bottle in hand he walked towards the stairs. "You're paying for the room."

"Sure," he grumbled and flagged down the innkeep. By the time he had managed to acquire a key, Jaskier had already dragged himself upstairs and drained a good portion of the bottle.

Geralt snorted and unlocked the door, but didn't comment on it. "What I've been trying to say-" he began, and was promptly interrupted:

"How about trying to shut up?" Jaskier hissed and kicked the door shut. "How about trying to listen to me after twenty fucking years?!"

"Jaskier, what I said-"

"This isn't about what you said! Don't you understand? What you said is only the tip of the figurative dragon mountain. I thought you actually liked me! I thought we were friends."

'Shit,' Geralt thought and ground his teeth. "Hmm."

Jaskier laughed hoarsely. "Oh, great. That same old story again. Why am I even bothering...?" He drank straight from the bottle, swaying a bit on his feet.

"You're drunk," he tried to say as neutrally as possible.

"And you're shutting me out again," he countered. Neither of them were wrong.

"I don't know what to say," Geralt tried.

Jaskier wasn't impressed: "Evidently." He made no attempt to follow that up with anything.

After a few moments of silence, Geralt realised that it was his turn to try and fix this mess with words of all things. "I can't sleep," he tried. "Not since you left."

"Poor you," Jaskier mocked cruelly. "I can't either."

"I can't sleep without you," he tried again. "It's cold. I'm dreaming. And when I wake up I'm alone. Roach is a horrible conversationalist and my camps are too big."

Jaskier put the bottle down slowly, gaping at him.

"I walked the path for decades without you and it was fine. It's not anymore. I can't do it any longer. And I guess... I guess I was scared." The words weren't any less intimidating once he'd finally said them. "You said I talk in my sleep?"

"You do."

"I don't. It's been beaten out of me in Kaer Morhen."

"So?"

He closed his eyes as tightly as he could. It was stupid, he knew. Childish, even. But he couldn't look at Jaskier for this. "So, I meant it. Every word of it."

No reaction.

"Please, Jaskier, I need you to forgive me."

"Give me one reason and I just might." He could hear him come closer. "Say it," he demanded. "Look me in the eye and say it."

It took him every ounce of his discipline to open his eyes and look at Jaskier, barely two feet away from him. "I love you," he said quietly.

"Louder."

"I love you. I've loved you for years, and it scared me, so I couldn't let you know. Witchers aren't supposed to be scared, and that scared me even more, and-"

The rest of his words was silenced by Jaskier's lips. The bard practically leapt at him, snaking his arms around his neck and pulling him close. "You're an idiot," he said when he pulled away. "A fool, a nitwit, an absolute imbecile. The stupidest man alive!"

"I am," he agreed, looping his arms around his waist.

"Why, oh why, do I have to love you of all people?"

"You love me?"

He laughed a teary laugh. "I do, I do. For years and years. How didn't you notice?"

"Because I'm a fool," Geralt said and kissed him again. He just couldn't resist.

"I'm still angry," Jaskier informed him.

"That's alright. But you don't hate me?"

"Far from it."

"And when I wake up on the morrow, you'll be there?"

"Yes," Jaskier promised with another kiss.

Geralt couldn't help but grin. "Good."

#my writing #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #the witcher #geraskier fanfiction #the witcher fanfiction #prompt fill #post-mountaion fic #angst with a happy ending #i'm sorry if the ending's a bit wonky #heart-of-a-rose #look i've got an ask

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