#I do not accept counterarguments

[hinalatte]

A Thematic Analysis of Chapter 2’s Killer

Drdt spoilers. Obviously

There’s a lot of people who have started liking Ace more since this episode. I am not one of those people. He’s always been my favorite character. I’ve suffered from paranoia as well, and it sucks when people don’t take that shit seriously. Just because it’s irrational doesn’t mean it’s not harmful, and just because it’s stupid doesn’t mean the person suffering from it is stupid. I related to him a lot because of that. His issues are constantly downplayed by the people around him. Either that, or they think he’s irreversibly crazy for fears he can’t really control.

But besides that, I like him because his brain is fun to pick apart. He has so many problems. It’s a genuine shame he’ll never be able to get over them. It’s not the direction I expected his character to go, but it makes a lot of sense.

All that glitters is not gold.

The title made me think that a “good person” would be the killer, but it was Ace, a “bad person.” And his victim was Arei, another “bad person.” The people who died this chapter were the cast’s “worst people,” people who were outcast by everyone else for being bullied. But this chapter also shows their human sides—maybe they were only bad people because they were never given a chance to be good, like Arei. Maybe they were pushed to extremes because nobody treated their problems seriously, like Ace. Meanwhile, the cast’s “good people” are all revealed to be worse than they seemed. That was the thematic reason behind the motive secrets. Some of the others have done things far worse than Arei or Ace.

Nico was someone most of the cast liked. They were never mean to anyone, and they were constantly the victim of Ace’s bullying. They were easy to like, or at least easy to not hate. They quickly formed a bond with Hu (because Hu seeks out people she thinks need her protection). But in this chapter, they tried to kill someone. They admit themselves that it was reprehensible. Nico is a “bad person”.

Hu was supportive of everyone in chapter 1, positioning herself as a motherly figure. She was kind, caring, and helpful. But in chapter 2, she infantilized Nico to the point that she thought they can’t speak for themselves during the trial. She let biases cloud her judgement. She derailed the trial without good reason, because she wanted to be helpful to Nico, even when they weren’t asking for her help. Hu is a “bad person”.

Levi was called a good person by Eden at the start. He’s polite, takes care of other people, and reached out to Ace of all people. But in this chapter, it’s revealed that he did all of that for his own convenience. He doesn’t care about other people. He’s a murderer. He’s a “bad person”.

Levi threatened Ace, making Ace’s paranoia worse. Nico tried to kill Ace, confirming Ace’s idea that he was going to die if he didn’t get himself out of the killing game. Hu defended Nico, confirming Ace’s idea that everyone was against him.

The so-called “bad people” are cursed to die, while the so-called “good people” are shown to have been bad all along.

And isn’t that far more interesting than showing that good people can do bad things, and ending it like that? Now all the so-called “good people” have to live with the fact that their actions led to Arei’s death, without having been Arei’s actual killer. Arei was killed by the cast’s mistreatment, negligence, and trivialization of Ace Markey.

Thematically. Not literally, of course. Ace did that.

But their culpability in Arei and Ace’s deaths, even tangentially, shows in full color the consequences of letting their flaws go unchecked.

And in the context of Nico and Hu specifically, I can’t wait to see how that impacts them in the long run. Chapter 2 was all about facing the darkest sides of some of these characters. So wouldn’t it stand to reason that Ace’s death would influence some of them (like Nico) to examine their actions more closely and try to grow from them?

I can see Nico cutting off their friendship with Hu after this. She refused to acknowledge their fault in the situation. Since Nico is an objective person, I think they’ll understand the part they played in the Ace/Arei situation, and want other people to understand it as well. They won’t want Hu’s misplaced protection anymore.

And for Hu, I have no idea where she’s going after this. After her performance in this trial, where her flaws were pointed out to her by all the other characters, is she going to reflect and change? Or is she going to regress first, especially now that Ace, who she believed to be a villain, actually snapped and killed someone?

A big theme of chapter 2 has been growth. Ace shows the consequences of not growing. He was pushed to murder because of the rest of the cast not confronting their flaws, and he himself committed the murder because he didn’t know how to change.

It’s a bit of a hopeful spin on his death, but I’ll be honest—I’m still majorly bummed out about it. His life has just been terrible and will be terrible until it ends. He’s a horrible person with blood on his hands. He’s a coward and a bully who is hated by everyone. It’s all he’ll ever be, because he’ll die before having the chance to be someone else. Nico, through the sheer coincidence of having their murder interrupted, will be able to grow and change. Ace never will. A terrible life and a terrible death for a terrible person. And he won’t be missed. Not like Arei. Not like Min. Not like Xander. People like Nico, Rose, and Eden may feel bad about it, but no one will miss Ace specifically, because no one likes him.

If you were able to change and become a better person, it only means you were a good person to begin with.

If you weren’t able to change, it means you were doomed from the start. There’s no use trying.

There’s another world where people took Ace’s fears seriously. Where they didn’t dismiss him as a joke at the start and a volatile dog at the end. He might’ve survived if that happened. No matter what David says, bad people can change, if they know how to do it.

When this chapter finishes, I might make a full thematic analysis of it. There are still a bunch of things to say. I’ll just leave this post off with: Nico survivor stocks going up! Invest now!

[tswwwit]

What are some ideas you have floating around that you don't have any plans on writing but like to entertain as a thought?

Many of them, in fact! Though they sort of vanish from my memory if I don't make a record of them, here's a few ones I jotted down when they came to mind.

For a domestic one: Bill thought he'd hate a lot of being married! Even though he loves Dipper, he thought he'd rebel against the chains of domesticity - and in some ways he still does - but one major benefit he's found is not having to be 'on' all the time.

No need to be perfectly performing all the time! No shoving around for social influence, no intimidation, or clever tricks. No commanding attention or taking up the room. Hell, there's surprisingly little upkeep! Bill can undo his tie and pick his nose and bitch about his day to someone who isn't bending over backwards to agree with him on everything. Someone who doesn't give him a weird look and sneer if he, god forbid, actually wants to sit down, read a book, drop the grin for an hour or two.

The concept in question is Bill's very first moment of great surprise. That when he isn't being the most charming, terrifying, and exciting guy in the universe, and just chilling out for like, five minutes, Dipper comes over and snuggles up to him on the couch, or wraps his arms around his shoulders and kisses the top of his head. And when Bill asks 'what was that for?', Dipper shrugs and goes 'eh, just felt like it'. It's both baffling and extremely compelling.

A short where Reincarnated Dip is Definitely Sure he's Not Gay!!! Especially not for this Hot Demon Man who is getting so close and touchy with him with his big smile and horrible wiles. Yep. Just keeping an eye on him to make sure he's not up to something Nefarious ™.

A discussion between Dipper and Bill where Dipper insists that Bill should understand this, or not do that, because, like. Y'know, Bill's a guy! There are guy things! Making Bill stare at Dipper like he's an idiot. He proceeds to informs Dipper how that's stupid for multiple reasons! First, that Bill's Not Human to begin with, his gender can't be put into a little box! And frankly, he never filled out the paperwork for his original one, come to think of it. Sure, he/him's fine, but c'mon, sapling, thinking of the whole shebang like a binary is dumb as hell. Now Dipper has to do some mental readjustment re: his own issues with masculinity/gender.

[brittlebutch]

actually first ep of Voyager where Janeway talks to Tuvok about how his family misses him is that when she says they Worry about him Tuvok contradicts her and claims that Vulcans don't do that but when she corrects and says they Miss him he accepts this and admits he misses them too; implying perhaps a pedantic difference between 'Vulcans do not Feel Emotions' (false) and 'Vulcans do not Act Out of Emotion' (accurate) -> 'Miss/Longing' is an emotion, but 'Worry' is an action one does out of emotion -> one Vulcans do; one Vulcans do not.

[i-spilled-my-soup]

hmm what did you think overall

fun to read! i can recall a handful of nice moments, will probably quote them in the future. yet i didn't consciously think of it as canon, though, just because i'm too attached to the original pjo and in every new installment some part of that is deteriorated. i liked the descriptions and the tensions and conflicts, yeah it felt bad that they were so irritated at each other but it was sort of refreshing. i skipped over some parts, because i could sort of tell where the plot was going and the actual sentences seemed like just providing the audience with a predesigned opinion on social issues.

[tawnfawn]

the fact that john price is a millennial to me is astounding. like what do you mean he's not ancient? what do you mean he's not father time?? i refuse to believe this man doesn't have the soul of some ancient terrifying deity. the rest of tf141 calls him grandpa every time his joints pop!!!! i will not be accepting counterarguments

[fanaticsnail]

Every day I wake up and think "Why is there no Childhood Friends Doflamingo x Reader fics?" and every day one of my Discord friends tell me "because Kid Doffy would literally treat Kid Reader like someone beneath him cus everything is still fresh for him" but I bring you counterarguments for the Childhood Friends Doflamingo x Reader story:

1. He meets Reader after his house gets burned down. Reader is Rosinante's age, so eight years old. It's when DQ brothers are being beaten by the thugs; kid Reader gets a bat and protects him and Rosinante from the thugs who were beating on them over bread

2. she brings them food from the restaurant her parents own - home cooked - and meets Homing & Mrs Donquixote, who encourage Doffy & Rosi to befriend her but Doffy remains careful

3. Doffy has confused feelings about Reader but she's only ever treated his injuries (the first human not to hurt him) so he decides Reader is "his human to protect" not "human to enslave" yep he has groups in his mind, little crazy baby flamingo boy

4. Reader teaches Doffy & Rosinante to climb trees. Doffy comments that's what monkeys do, but Reader teases him that whether it is what monkeys do, he still can't reach her if he doesn't climb. Doffy accepts the challenge. He doesn't take long to get the hang of it. Right when he is nearly at the top, he nearly falls but Reader grabs his hand and pulls him onto the branch. I think this is where Doffy starts having a little crush on Reader. He doesn't realise that's what it is.

5. I don't know Ace, Sabo, Luffy I know Doffy, Rosi & Reader. Sure they would not be as wild as ASL since the thugs in North Blue are probably much more deadlier than in East Blue, but they'd be good thieves.

6. Reader is so gentle with Rosi and Doffy gets jealous and says his brother is a crybaby and Reader shouldn't help him, he needs to learn on his own. Reader just blows Doffy a raspberry which makes Rosinante giggle - the first time Rosinante has laughed since their house burned down

I just think if we just put in some thought, it can be plausible for Kid Doffy to have Kid Reader as a friend in his childhood days. He'd feel challenged by a "human", someone younger than him, and want to prove his heavenly status, why he's better. Reader just nods along with it and is kind to them both. They don't do any sort of competitions, they just co-exist.

Kid Doffy is like a street cat. He bites and scratches, and tries to claw your face off, but it's cause he's been through terrible shit and he doesn't trust strangers. He needs patience and kindness.

The fic would require just some patience and kindness I think, for the childhood part of their story, so Doflamingo by the end of it considers Reader precious to him to the point he thinks he is the best person to protect her. That it's his duty. He'd probably call himself her heavenly guardian or sth in his mind when he reaches that point.

Of course, that then can turn into him becoming very possessive of Reader as they grow up (Doffy even when becoming the young 10-11 year old leader seems to stick to one headquarters in that timeframe) and his crush from childhood evolving through time from protectiveness into a wish for a romantic relationship.

Anyway, kid Doffy & kid Rosinante deserve to have a friend during that terrible time, and they both latch onto that little amount of kindness, they appreciate it a lot. Doflamingo only realises it later down the line how much it meant for him Reader supported him.

They show appreciation for that differently later. Doffy comes into the restaurant Reader inherited from her parents all the time and makes sure everyone in the North Blue knows that's his territory, and the place where his crew gathers to celebrate things. He always sends Reader gifts such as jewelry, and kisses her on both cheeks whenever he sees her, using the excuse of it being a custom in Dressrosa to his advantage. Rosinante shows his love with hugs. When he sees Reader when he's Corazon he just hugs her. He doesn't give a shit.

Also, Reader & Kid Law & Baby 5... Reader would feed them all the food and pamper them.

Doffy can't go without Reader's home cooked meals. Food is very important to him, I think, after experiencing starvation. He probably invites her to join the crew as their chef cook when they head for the Grand Line. If not...

Well, kidnapping you is always an option 🤣

(he would lie about what happened to Rosinante. either that or get completely drunk and cry in your lap, confessing everything. You know what, I like the latter. Let the big man cry. I love pathetic drunk Doffy.)

- Yandere Doffy Anon

Okay okay okay okay okay. This was gorgeous. I am in love, and all of the relationships with all of the kids, and the coddling of Rosi. Yes. Please. I love their relationship, the silent confusion in the "what is this feeling" -> it's addictive, and I love it. "My human to protect" WHERE DO I SIGN UP????

Here is my interpretation of what childhood friendship would look like with Doflamingo.

What about a young son of a celestial dragon having regular interactions with a contractually bound daughter of another celestial dragon? And then he's taken away from you by his father? Doflamingo x f!reader image.

Your parents schedule regular playdates with one another so your faces do not grow lost on you both over time. From toddlerhood, to childhood, your friendship grew with your betrothed spouse as you both read with one another, and made puzzles and sculptures together. He pulled your hair, you brushed off his glasses, he bit you on the hand, and you cried to your maid.

You are a bit stuffy and spoilt, but what child of the pinacle of society isn't? Similar to Doflamingo, it is your birthright to be treated with the utmost respect and worshipful adoration.

But your heart becomes kind.

When becoming lost in a crowd of unfamiliar faces, the kindness of a stranger who knew nothing of your face changes you from a prissy young miss to a girl spun in webs of charity and compassion.

It makes the young Doflamingo disgusted seeing you interact and thank his servants when they fix you and him lunch. Conversing so freely with the chaperone, asking questions about his children, it makes the eight year old sick. He'd rather trick them into being scolded and thrashed.

When Donquixote Homing defects, the ties that strung you together lay severed and desolate. The friendship between you forbidden, but your mind often wanders into what had become of him. You both had this unspoken hatred and the closest friendship with one another any two children could have.

Inseperable.

Until you were separated.

It took four adults to restrain you from running to him in the council chambers. Hearing Doflamingo had returned with Homing's head, you had nearly lost yours with glee at his return. When he was denied a rise in reinstating his former title, you were overwhelmed with a grief beyond your years in capacity.

Over the decades, you wondered what had become of him. Your heart had been broken when your father renounced your coupling. Each time a potential spouse was presented to you, you would shut it down with haste. Although you were only young, you spoke with such indignation regarding your disdain for such an alliance. What if this one was taken from you too? Nothing would ever match up to him.

They would never be Doflamingo, and you refused to be the spouse of anyone who didn't meet his equal. His insanity mirrored a darkness in your heart that you had since clothed in kindness. He was your absolute, the stop at the end of the line. He was yours, and you were his completely.

When Tsuru had invited you to the first gathering of seven warlords of the sea, you had no idea what to expect. No matter what you prepared yourself with, your readiness mattered not for the sight that was to welcome you in. Charity was your character, and your humility is what made you the chosen celestial dragon the world government asked to converse with the most.

Pink feathers, rosy glasses, blonde hair, and a sinister grin you had long since burried, had your chest swell and eyes flood with every emotion. Silence was all you offered in your shock, your face shrouded behind a veiled cloth you often travelled with.

You knew exactly who you were looking at, and he had no idea it was you. The way his presence demanded attention, his sinister playfulness with Sir Crocodile and Tsuru, the way he openly taunted the former Marine Hunter Mihawk: each motion captured your soul and held you hostage.

It was only when Tsuru had asked you to speak did you stifle the warmth in your chest. You knew Doflamingo would likely hold disgust for the Celestial Dragons due to their lack of restoration, and you chose to ignore him - just as he ignored you.

When your attendants removed the veil from your extravagant headpiece, the first sound to travel through the realm was a collective gasp. You were young, a woman, and incredibly beautiful. Nothing any of the seven warlords were expecting was anything amounting to a single scrap of you. And you chose to play coy to the slack-jawed blonde in the corner.

After speaking your well rehearsed speech, Tsuru thanked you with her head bowing low, encouraging the other marines to pay their respects in kind. Sir Crocodile offered you a polite bow alongside Kuma and Jinbe. Mihawk tipped his hat to you, which you nodded in kind.

Immediately rising to his feet, Doflamingo's arms hung limp as his lips lay parted and almost quivering. His hands shook, his shoes feeling like lead in lieu of leather, and he finally stood before you. Your attendants sprung up to your side, your guardians guiding their hands to the hilts of their weapons: only ceasing when you hold up your own hand to stop them.

With that same hand, you hover it in front of Doflamingo's face, guiding it in an intimate expression without ever colliding with his skin. He rises his own, mirroring your motions and causing your eyes to flutter shut. An inaudible movement of your name courses through his lips, no sounds to voice them other than a single breath.

"Time has not been kind to you, mi amor," you whisper, Doflamingo's knees buckling at the tone your voice had grown into. It was the greatest symphony he had ever heard, the voice of his childhood friend blossoming into the bloom of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

"Time saved all it's kindness for you, mi querida," he managed string together beneath his petrification.

The room was silent, all watching in awe as the most detestable inhabitant in the council chambers was brought to his knees with a single look from a powerful woman. The familiarity had Tsuru's stomach tighten, wondering if extending an invitation to you was in her best interest. Although, seeing Doflamingo behave with his absolute best manners had her lip twitch up at the corner.

He was yours again. A man who was once everything, became nothing, and built himself up to something again. And he was yours.

And he couldn't be happier to be in your presence once more. Why else would he have fought so hard to rise to the top? For mere power alone?

No. That is far too simple. He is far from simple. It was for the chance to be once again worthy to stand in your presence and kneel at your feet as an equal in potential matrimony. But would you still have him after all the time that had passed between you?

Only you held that answer.

Edit to add, I got distracted by the roast chicken and forgot to add the tag list. I'm sorry everyone.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @sordidmusings @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady

[redhoodinternaldialectical]

Thoughts on Jason Todd’s choice of weaponry?

:D an ask! Yay!

Oooh, lets see, I'll start with the crowbars because I appear to be like one of three people on the entire planet who actually likes them.

They're a tacky as fuck riff on the fact that Jason's death is central to his character. They overemphasize the manner in which he died, muddy the waters about what part of his death is important to him, and strangely cheapens the manner in which he died through the parody feel of it.

No one seems to really disagree with my analysis here, but I happen to enjoy that about them and think it's very on brand for Jason. What can I say? They're fun!

Best Quality - His Wiggles

This ultra-sharp curved blade used to be his signature character design feature, the way the white streak in his hair is now, and I'm really not sure why it didn't stick!

Best weapon he's ever had, bring it back please!!!!!

The All-Blades

hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm....

HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM...

I have mixed feelings about the All-Blades. Like much of Lobdell's work: phenomenal idea, poor execution. Giving the guy who is most known for being morally grey a set of powers that is exclusively based on moral absolutes sucks shit, I gotta be honest, and the trick he pulled on the blood blade was cool but ultimately does nothing to solve those problems.

HOWEVER

I want to love them so fucking badly. A set of glowy soul blades is a dope sicknasty off the chain concept and I wish the well wasn't poisoned with the moral implications and the restrictions to use them only on the "Untitled", a set of enemies that only exist for Jason so far as I can tell. If someone seriously took Jason down a magic based path that removed the DnD alignment chart bullshit, I would be so game to see them come back! Hell I wouldn't even insist on a better cooler design for them!

...though uh, yeah those are the least interesting magic sword designs I've ever seen tbh

Normal Ass Swords

They're alright I guess. Like, there's nothing in it really, but it's not bad?

Guns - Real Bullets

Excellent, evocative yet simple, straightforwards and to the point. It makes hella sense thematically to boot, love this for him, please give him back his pistols and miniguns and shit

Guns - Rubber Bullets

Hate. HATE. hate ick disgusting bad NO.

I just fucking hate rubber bullets, like, as a concept. I refuse to accept "non-lethal" bullets as a valid use of gun, either in real life or in fiction. Guns are for putting many holes in things very fast!!!! If you're gonna use a gun, fucking well own up to that!!! Do not play this silly ass game of pretending that you can change out the material and do the same things as with lead bullets but with the video game status effect of "non-lethal" applied. YOU ARE GIVING PEOPLE SMALL CIRCULAR BRUISES. This is still harmful, yes, ooph ouchie, but it is not even slightly a good use of a gun, you are wasting holster space, and carry weight, and the physical materials used to make it all!!

JUST USE A FUCKING STICK! YOU DON'T RUN OUT OF STICK AMMO!

My belief in his capacity to take out enemies is shattered the instant those fuckers are on panel. Maybe this ain't entirely rational, or realistic to how fights go with rubber bullets IRL, but I hate them so much on principle that I will ignore any counterargument you might have that they'd work. I will die on this hill. Rubber bullets BAD. Please stop making him use this!!

Bombs

Love it, give him more bombs forever

ka-BOOM!!!!

His Brain

This is actually his best weapon - sorry wiggly knife, you're being shunted down to number 2 on a last minute technicality! I think Jason is at his best when he's outsmarting people and making long term fucked up schemes to ruin people's lives.

He's so good at it! It's so fun to watch him do it!

Genuinely a shame that this facet of him was mostly lost after Flashpoint, though to give credit where it is due, in Rebirth Jason did ruin the Penguin's life in an impressively elaborate way, which I did really enjoy. I want to see him be a tactical deliberate menace to one person in specific again idk, that's part of why I do kinda agree that he works better as an antagonist than a protagonist - which it should be noted does not mean I think he works better as a villain necessarily, his ethics aren't what matter here - he's just had his best moments as the schemer, and it's hard to have a protagonist schemer even when you make them ethically the good guy.

I hope you enjoyed my nattering on about Jason's weapons :D thank ye again for ask!

[2btheanswertothequestion]

(part 6 of November Paramedic; part 5 is here and the AO3 version is here.)

"... and the biggest problem is that I like him. I really like him! I haven't liked anyone this much since fucking high school, and that's not comparable because I never got close to those guys. Just hopeless pining from afar."

Eddie takes a step back from the dresser. The clothes in the top drawer are in disarray, and after rummaging through them twice he must accept the shirt he seeks isn't among them.

"I admit, at first it was primarily physical," he says, slamming the drawer shut and yanking open the middle drawer to search it again. This time he pulls out the incorrect items and tosses them on the floor. "He's the guardian of my spank bank – of course I wanted to sleep with him. I would've been fine with that happening once and then never seeing him again. There's nothing wrong with that. Right?"

He turns to Gareth, who's lying in an uncomfortable-looking position on Eddie's unmade bed, spinning a pencil between his fingers like it's a drumstick. Though grimacing in disgust at the spank bank-mention, he nods. Eddie nods too, punctuating their mutual agreement.

"Right. But then I just had to go and get to know him, and he just had to be the perfect man, and I had to… ugh. Catch feelings."

The middle drawer is an equally lost cause. He moves on to the bottom drawer for the second time. He knows the shirt is there and he will find it.

"So, the good news is that I'm pretty sure I'm going to snag the guy. The worst news is that I have to tell him all my secrets, or else our relationship will be built on lies. And I- ah-hah!"

Rising from his ocean of fabric, he holds the shirt aloft in triumph before donning it. It's wrinkled from having been balled up in a corner, but that's okay. The creases add to the aesthetic.

Awesome. He's washed, brushed, dressed, and he's still got – he glances at the clock – five minutes before he's supposed to leave. Some of his nerves cool at the certainty of, if nothing else, at least he won't be late.

"Where was I?"

"You have to tell him all your secrets," Gareth says.

"Yeah. I have to tell the truth without it sounding like the creepiest thing ever. Emphasize the flattering angles. Be clever about it." Yeah. Yeah! He can totally do that. Sighing, he drags both hands down his face. "I'll need to strategize. I'm going to put distance between us while I plan my next move."

"Uh huh," Gareth says, dropping the pencil and sitting up. "But, Eddie-"

"No!" Eddie foresaw Gareth disliking the 'distance' part of it all. If he had his way, Steve and Eddie would be married already, just so Gareth could rub his essential matchmaking into Eddie's face during his best man speech. "I don't want to hear your counterarguments. It's what I'll do and I don't care what you think."

"Right, yeah, sure, that's not it," Gareth says. "It's just that curious minds would like to enquire why, if you're distancing yourself, you're 1. going to see him today, and 2. wearing your seduction shirt?"

Eddie's gaze dips to his chest, and the aforementioned shirt. It's just a normal shirt! A black and yellow Anthrax shirt, to be precise. Sure, he cut up the sides and the neck because it was too small, but that's irrelevant. It's not that revealing, just airier. His clavicles are visible but you can barely see any of his torso in it, unless he bends over and the front piece sags. But he's not going to bend over today, because his jeans are too tight for that to be safe. He glares at Gareth.

"This isn't my 'seduction shirt'."

"Yes, it is."

"I don't have a seduction shirt!"

"You do. It's that one. You only wear it when you want to show off to someone."

"You're creepy for noticing that," Eddie says, crossing his arms over his chest.

Gareth leans forward with a shark-like grin. "Oh, so you admit it?"

"No! It's not a seduction shirt!"

"All right, a 'manwhore shirt', then. Listen-"

"Oh, fuck you."

Eddie flounces out of the bedroom and through the living room, gathering keys and wallet on the way. Gareth follows.

"Listen. I'm not against you going out to see him-"

"I'm not seeing him, it's a group outing-"

"-pulling back now is stupid-"

"-that Max invited me to-"

"-and I think you should go all out and get your man. So I'm all for this. It's exactly what I would do."

Eddie pivots; Gareth almost crashes into him.

"Well," Eddie says, wearing a barbed smile. "I suppose that is how I know it's a bad idea."

Then he leaves for the hallway to put on his shoes. He tries simply shoving his feet into them, but the knot is too tight and he must untie them. Gareth leans on one shoulder against the hallway wall.

"Oh, ouch," he says. "You're grouchy today. Is it because I, while sloshed may I add, gave you an excellent opportunity to get your dick wet and you still returned home unfucked? You had Steve and his pouty lips and one size too small clothes on a silver platter. You were like a towel draped around him after a really intense workout, man. He looked willing to wipe the sweat off his junk with you and you still failed. That's sad."

Eddie, shoe dangling from his fingers by the laces and face schooled into new-sketchbook-bought-to-combat-art-block levels of blank, allows himself one raised but carefully unimpressed eyebrow.

"Are you finished?" he asks.

"Hm. Yeah, I think so."

"You're never beating the 'wanting to fuck Steve' allegations after this."

Gareth shrugs. "I mean, if he had a sister…"

"Jesus Christ."

Shoes mostly on, Eddie continues storming out of the apartment. He'd have slammed the door behind him if he didn't need to lock it after Gareth. He compromises by chucking the keys at Gareth and letting him lock the door (and slam it, if he so wishes).

Max is waiting for him on the front steps, skateboard by her feet and one earbud in; she pulls it out when Eddie passes her and pushes off the steps. She's dressy again today: dark jeans and a crimson shirt left unbuttoned and tied over a black camisole. And heeled boots! No more than an inch, but it's a big deal considering Eddie's never seen her in anything other than sneakers before. He's not under the delusion that it's his business to tell her what clothes to wear, but it's nice seeing her like this. Also, her being spruced up means his outfit won't be under as much scrutiny. He appreciates her for that.

Scrutinizing him, Max smirks as she says, "You're showing skin today. Nice."

Never mind, she is detestable.

"It's his seduction shirt," Gareth stage whispers, both hands circling his mouth.

Max scrunches her nose. "What's with him and seduction?"

"I think he just likes how the word sounds."

"It's not a fucking seduction shirt. Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Eddie stomps over to his car. "We're leaving now!"

Max jogs to catch up while Gareth laughingly waves them off and tells them to have fun on their dates.

He's wrong, though. There'll be nothing datelike about this outing, and Eddie's determined to make it so. However, in the end, it seems like he won't have to. Two minutes in and it's as unromantic as it'll ever be.

Why? Well.

"Okay," Robin says, flinging a lined notebook and a pen onto the diner table. "It's settled: Nancy, Jonathan, and El will all be home during July. And Argyle and the boys have their plane tickets?"

Because they're planning a mass reunion. The plat du jour may be delicious, but nothing beats the taste of vindication!

"Yeah," Steve says through a half-chewed bite of pulled pork. It should be gross, but it's not. Neither is his tongue darting out to lap the BBQ sauce from his bottom lip. Eddie takes a big enough gulp of his pop to drown himself; Steve rubs his back through the coughing fit. Having a mere thin layer of fabric between him and Steve's big hand doesn't really help, but Eddie will be the last person to admit that.

(Okay, so maybe Gareth had a minuscule point in this counteracting the 'distancing', but shhhhh… Eddie won't tell if you won't.)

"And Erica has permission to come over?" Robin asks after scribbling check marks next to most of the names.

"Uh huh," Lucas says. His mouth is also full, with fried chicken, but he has the decency to cover his mouth with a napkin as he speaks.

"Great. So, about the accommodations. You have space for the boys?"

Lucas nods. "My housemates will be home for the summer and they're fine with me having people over as long as we stay out of their rooms."

"Where will everyone sleep if the bedrooms are off-limits?" Steve asks, reaching for his glass. His arm, tee-shirt sleeve folded up and leaving the whoooooole bicep free to view, brushes against Eddie's and leaves a trail of fire in its wake. Thank God he wasn't drinking this time.

"There's a couch, Sammy has a futon we can borrow, and I've an air mattress," Lucas says, counting on his fingers. "We'll have a weeks-long sleepover in the living room."

"The boys are accounted for." Robin checks three of the names a second time. She points her pen at Max. "You will have El and Erica at your place?"

"Yeah," Max says, nibbling on an onion ring in an unusually ladylike manner. As if to counteract the daintiness, she's slumped in her seat, one foot on the upholstery and head resting against Lucas' arm. She narrows her icy blues at Eddie. "Remember that you'll have to be quiet. There'll be virgin ears on the other side of the wall."

"You're not a virgin?" Steve says over Eddie's indignant sputtering that he's not that loud, the walls aren't that thin, and exactly what has she been hearing anyway?!

Max ignores Eddie to roll her eyes at Steve. "I'm talking about Erica. Pretty sure she's still a virgin."

Steve's expression clouds over. "She better be."

Robin scoffs. "Seriously? She's sixteen."

"So?"

"So! You were slutting it up at sixteen!"

"Now, hold on." Steve shakes his finger at her. "I was with Nancy then, and we were monogamous."

"Oh, excuse me," Robin says in a phony voice. "You were slutting it up at fifteen."

"That's different!"

"Why? Because she's a girl?"

"Because it was a mistake, and I don't want her repeating it!"

They're both glaring, leaning so far toward each other over the table it looks like they're either about to kiss or duke it out. Eddie doesn't know which option is less appetizing. In their corner, Max and Lucas share a squirmy look that can only be interpreted as 'mom and dad are fighting.

Then Robin withdraws with a curt nod. Steve relaxes next to Eddie. Crisis averted, it seems. Still…

"I wish I'd been slutting it up at sixteen," Eddie says, mock-mournful, because nothing evaporates tension like a well-placed joke. It works, too; both Steve and Robin huff a chuckle.

"Tell me about it," Lucas says. Max straightens up to stare at him; he flounders. "Uh, tell me about it because I've never experienced the feeling and don't know what it's like."

Max shakes her head, but re-settles against him. And she doesn't shrug him off when his arm slips an inch closer to wrapping around her shoulders, so he's forgiven.

"Anyway," Robin says, tapping her lists. "That leaves Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle. If we" – she waves the pen between her and Steve – "share a bed that leaves one bed and the sofa for the others, but it'll be cramped."

"That's why Eddie is here," Max says.

As if on command, everyone's head snaps to Eddie. He clicks his tongue.

"Exploited for lodging purposes. I should have known."

Robin frowns, contemplative. "Put someone with Eddie?"

"Yeah." Max smiles and, oh. He sees what she's doing now. "Like Steve. Then there are four in your apartment, and you two in Eddie's. You're good enough friends by now to make it work."

How nefarious. Is this a coincidence, or are she and Gareth in cahoots? Do they conspire behind his back? How dare they concoct plots to improve his life against his will!

"Max," Steve sighs, "volunteering Eddie's home like this is rude."

"He doesn't mind."

The worst thing is, it's true. He wouldn't mind. Not only would he give his skimpy shirt off his back for these people. Not only is he getting queasy green at the thought of Steve sharing close quarters with his badass and apparently Pulitzer-worthy ex, his equally badass friend whom he used to co-big brother with, and a guy who's a tall, dark California hunk with hair longer and silkier than Eddie could ever hope to achieve. Not only that, but also? Just sharing a living space with Steve 'November Paramedic' Harrington?

A dream come true.

Eddie's couch is fine to lounge on for a couple of hours, but not to sleep on a whole night. But they could share his bed. And they'd have breakfast together. Exist in each other's space. He'd find out what Steve does in his spare time. What his favorite song is, if he showers in the mornings or the evenings, how he dresses when he wants to be comfy.

It'd be amazing… and it'd completely fuck with his plan to distance himself. Honestly, he can imagine two scenarios: him falling even harder and proposing marriage and permanent cohabitation within a week, or Steve unearthing the calendar by accident, calling Eddie a stalker creep, and leaving forever. He'll have to reveal himself before that.

"Uh," he says. "We can figure it out. It's a while until they'll be here, right?"

Steve smiles softly at him; Eddie's heart gallops around his ribcage, thudding so fiercely he can feel it in his mouth, and, fuck, he's blushing down to his exposed collarbones. He might propose now. Do any of his rings fit Steve? Their hands aren't the same size.

"Yeah," Steve says. "We'll find a solution."

After lunch they drive to a nearby park, to aid their digestion with a promenade (Steve's suggestion, of course). Reminded by Robin, Eddie brings up D&D to Lucas – they discuss possible campaigns while Steve and Robin spectate. Max, her boots exchanged for Nikes, skates circles around them. Every so often she'll ride close enough to call them dorks, but mostly she keeps a wide berth, alternating between zigzags and jumps and waving like a queen when they whoop and holler at her.

And then it happens.

She's ahead of them, having reached a stone staircase. Leaping onto the railing, she slides along it like a pro. But halfway she loses her balance and falls. Slamming against the stone, she then tumbles the last steps.

They freeze, a collective breath rushing out of their lungs.

Steve reacts first, speedwalking toward Max, still on the ground. Robin is babbling that she's probably fine, that she eats shit all the time and takes it like a champ.

Max rises on wobbly legs. She stumbles, sinks back into a heap.

Steve sprints.

In an eyeblink he's reached her, skidding to a stop and dropping to his knees in front of her. By the time everyone's joined them, he's examining every inch of her by prodding and poking, even as she mutters that she's fine. She's not, though. Her clothes are dusty, her hair has come loose from her ponytail, there are scrapes on her jaw and hands, and the left knee of her jeans is torn open, bright red glistening where pale skin should be. Lucas sits behind Max, hands hovering over her shoulders. Wanting to soothe but not quite daring.

At last, after an eon has passed, Steve puffs in relief.

"No need for emergency care. Knee might be sprained," he gestures to the bloody, bruised thing, "but that should be the worst of it."

"Told you," Max mumbles, picking dirt from her palm.

Steve frowns.

"You know, this could've been prevented if you wore knee pads."

"Oh, really?" she says, mockingly exaggerated.

"Yes. And a helmet."

Max pushes out her bottom lip; it leaks more sarcasm than her leg does blood. "I thought my head was fine?"

"This time! But might not have been!" Steve exclaims.

"But it was!" she snaps, matching his volume.

"Guys, please…" Lucas says quietly; they ignore him.

"I just think you should know better by now," Steve says. "I mean, you've done this for how many years? How many times have you seen others get fucked up? How many times have I told you-"

"Oh. My. God. I get it. You think I'm irresponsible. You don't have to talk to me like I'm stupid, or a child. I'm not."

"Oh, yeah? Maybe you should back that up with your actions."

"Fuck you!"

They're both screaming now. Lucas is sitting with his head in his hands. Robin has wrapped her arms around herself and is swaying to and fro in discomfort. The tension in the air is thick enough to taste. Eddie doesn't know what to say or do.

"Come on!" Steve barks. "I need to wrap your knee"

He reaches for her; she finches away and kicks at him with her good leg.

"Don't touch me! I'll walk on my own."

"You'll exacerbate your injury. I'm carrying you to my car."

"Like hell you are!"

"Max…"

"I refuse care!" She bares her teeth at him like a rabid dog. "Leave me alone!"

Steve glowers at her. His chest is heaving and his body is drawn taut, rigid with cold fury. He shoots up and marches off without another word, leaving awkwardness in his wake.

Max gets to her feet slowly, winces slipping past her clenched teeth. Lucas touches her elbow to help, but she violently shrugs him off and limps away.

Sighing, Lucas pats Eddie's back.

"C'mon, man. She'll get more pissed if we try to match her pace."

So they walk ahead, sometimes glancing back at Max and Robin, the only one allowed near her, apparently. Even then she keeps a five-foot gap between her and the human firecracker.

Steve's already by the car, with a thunderous expression and a first aid kit in hand. When Max finally arrives, he yanks open the passenger seat door for her. She sits, he cleans her wounds, and not one word is uttered. Once finished, he slams the kit shut and storms off again, stopping by a fountain some 50 yards away, hands on his hips and back toward them.

Max, face somehow even sourer, curls up in the passager seat with her arms tightly crossed. Gliding down the BMW's polished side, Lucas takes a seat right beneath her.

Robin tugs at Eddie's wrist.

"Come," she whispers. "Let's give them space."

She brings them to a bench where everyone is within their view but out of their hearing. She collapses on the wooden seat like a potato sack.

"I hate when it gets like this," she says. "Don't you?"

"Yeah." He sits beside her. "Does it happen often?"

"Not anymore. But back when the kids were actual kids, sheesh. They were easier with us than with their parents, but still. Hormones and rebellious phases. Not that we were much better. We thought we were so adult." She rolls her eyes.

"Have you known them as long as Steve?"

"No, I joined the gang a year or two late. At first, I only hung out with Steve and the occasional child, when they deigned to stick around. I'm closest with Dustin, the MIT wunderkind, and Erica, Lucas' sister, the one still stuck at home. You'll love both of them – they're so savage."

Eddie nods, worrying his lower lip. At the car, Max’s hand has slipped down for Lucas to hold, but they still seem not to be speaking. Steve is stubbornly staring at the fountain like it'll reveal all of life's secrets if he's patient enough.

"You know after our gig?" Eddie asks. "When you raced ahead and we walked and talked? We talked a lot. Overshared, really."

Robin nods. "As you do."

"Steve told me about something important that happened at your old job? He wouldn't say what, because it's about you and it's private. But I'm curious, so… ?"

She sighs while grinning fondly. "He made it sound bigger than it is. All right. So we worked this shitty summer job at a mall ice cream parlor. The uniforms were hideous. We actually had to film a local commercial for it?"

"Oh my God."

"Yeah. I think it's still circulating – I'll ask around for it. Steve will never forgive me for showing it, but it has to be seen. Anyway, it was a summer job that continued into fall. That November, it all came to an end when the mall caught on fire."

"No!" he gasps, already invested.

"Yes!" she says, waving her hands, growing theatrical. "In the middle of the day! Rush hour! There was a stampede; we were trapped in the parlor for ages. By the time we got out of the shop, the fire had spread. Smoke everywhere! I inhaled so much I passed out. Steve carried me outside and gave me CPR."

He blinks at her, jaw slack. "Holy shit. Jesus Christ."

"Yeah. I'd have died if not for him."

She shrugs as if it's nothing, merely a fun little anecdote from yesteryear. Perhaps, to her, it is. Eddie shakes his head in disbelief.

"Why didn't he tell me this? He talked about his dad being a shithead, but not this?"

"Yeah… I don't know. When it's about him, he'll happily overshare. But when it's someone else it's all 'it's not my story to tell, I need permission'. Unless he hates them – he's sooo gossipy about people he doesn't like," she says, giggling a beat before sobering again. "Anyway, I'm telling you now that it was him saving my life and keeping me alive until the actual professionals showed up with the oxygen mask."

"Wow," Eddie breathes out. He gazes over at Steve's rugged form. "He's amazing."

Robin nudges him with her elbow. "He likes you, you know."

He likes him. He likes Eddie. He likes Eddie. Eddie kind of already figured. But hearing it from Steve's best friend is still…

"Yeah," he says, ducking his head and pulling ringlets of hair in front of his face. "Not sure I'm good enough for him."

"Oh come on. Isn't that for him to decide?"

"He doesn't know yet… what I'm capable of."

"Are you kidding me?" Grabbing him by the shoulder, she forcibly turns him to look at her. "Listen: I'm judgmental and I'm not afraid to admit it. When we first met, I took one look and thought I had you pinned down. 'Check out this guy. Leather and tattoos and black black black. So hardcore and gothic-'"

"I'm not goth-"

"'-he probably thinks he's soooo tortured'. And then you turned out to be a geeky-sweet bundle of sunshine. Well done, proving me wrong. And now you're doing this?" She gently smacks his chest. "Hitting me with all your self-loathing? Get over yourself! It's not like he's perfect either. Look at him!" She points at Steve. "He's sulking!"

A fit of giggles bubbles from Eddie's throat. It's true – he is sulking. No matter how impressive or resolute he's looking, that's what he's doing. It's so ridiculous and adorable.

"Whatever you're capable of," Robin says once the laughter abates, "you deserve to be happy. He deserves it."

She sends Steve a long look of pure love. It tells Eddie everything he'd ever need to know about her, he's sure.

"Also," she continues. "I'm getting seriously sick of the pining. I know, I should be kinder because Steve endured years of me desponding over various girls, but I can't stand this."

Eddie emits a triumphant noise. "I knew it. Only a lesbian dresses like that."

Robin's chin dips to her suspenders and tartan tie. She raises her brows at him.

"You wish you had my drip."

He would have replied if he hadn't caught movement in the corner of his eye.

Max is leaving the car. Eddie observes with bated breath as she slowly hobbles over to Steve. When reaching him, he spins to face her but makes no effort to step closer. She says something. He nods, sternness carved into his features.

For a moment, they're still.

Then she sways toward him; his arms envelop her, pulling her into a full-body hug. She tucks herself under his chin while he caresses her hair.

Eddie breathes out.

"They're fine."

"'Course they are," Robin says. "Don't you fight like this with your family?"

"Yeah." Eddie chuckles. By the fountain, Steve seems to be coaxing Max into letting him give her a piggyback ride. "Guess I do."

Tag list: @rougenancy, @raisedbylibrarians, @yourebuckingkiddingme, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @emma77645, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @eddielives1986, @stevesbipanic, @the-redthread, @fandemonium-takes-its-toll, @henderdads, @gay-little-bitch, @lenore1232, @zerokrox-blog, @eddiemunsonswife, @cherrycolas-things, @ediewentmissing, @princess-eddie, @atombombbibunny, @ajamlessbaby, @dogswithforks, @grimmfitzz, @cutiecusp, @cuips-not-cute, @manicallydepressedrobot, @messrs-weasley, @madaboutmunson, @mightbeasleep, @suikatto, @brassreign, @snapshotmaestro, @courtjestermunson, @csinnamon-fox, @spectrum-spectre, @spinmewriteround, @just-super-fucking-gay, @escapingthereality, @oneweirdcryptid, @deehellcat, @misticageri, @lovelyscot, @linkydinky06, @rynnytintin, @anything-thats-rock-and-roll, @theysherobinbuckley, @freddykicksasses, @winterbuckwild, @sideblogofthcentury, @subparbrainfunction, @pemsha

------------------------------

Part 7

[tealmaskmybeloved]

Explaining the Toxic Chain Kieran Theory (and why I loved it so much)

DISCLAIMER: You CAN like how things went in canon, or you can dislike the theory entirely. All I ask is for you guys to be respectful when discussing it. The last thing I want is people getting harassed for this.

I'm aware that this isn't going to change anyone's mind on the theory, but I figured I'd do my best to at least explain why I enjoyed it so much (as well as to find other people who like the theory because it seems like they all dipped after the epilouge dropped like seriously where are yall PLEASE /lh /j)

I will also be using other people's art and interpretations on the theory, and I will do my best to credit and link every single one I use. Any art that is not credited is due to me cannot finding the original artist, and if anyone knows who drew any non-credited art can let me know and I will update this post with credit.

This is also a long post, so get ready for a lot of rambling!

With that out of the way, let's begin!

What was the theory about?

As the name suggests, this theory was that Kieran would let his desire to get stronger than the player consume him, to where he'd become another one of Pecharunt's (called Dokutaro in the game files) retainers.

There have been some variations to this, from subtle whispers of power and some manipulation to straight-up possession.

But the one thing the theories had in common was that Kieran was influenced, manipulated, or possessed by Pecharunt/Dokutaro.

Some examples I found:

Credits:

Note: Mist_the_moth's art (the one in the top right) was deleted due to Instagram's AI scraping

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

But a theory doesn't become a theory without some evidence, so let's dig deep into it!

The Evidence

(Some of this is debunked, but at the time it was considered)

1. The purple mist

When Kieran punches the shrine of the Loyal 3, an ominous purple mist is briefly shown around Kieran's fist.

This mist is also in the Indigo Disk promotional art

When the epilouge Mochi Mayhem released, the mist around Kieran's fist is identical to the one around Pecharunt's victims. While this was not known at the time, it is a pretty strange connection.

2. Kieran's Parallel to the Loyal 3

The Loyal 3 each wanted something.

Okidogi desired strength

Munkidori longed for cleverness

Fezandipiti wished to be beautiful

And at the time, Kieran wanted power. He wanted to be stronger than the protagonist.

At the time, people theorized that Kieran could have sought out Dokutaro for a Toxic Chain and Dokutaro would have given Kieran want he wanted in exchange for his free will.

Kieran would also fit to be the boy on the signboard along with the Loyal 3.

With Kieran tying up his hair at the end of the Teal Mask, a lot of people (myself included) thought the hairband would be a Toxic Chain like the Loyal 3 had.

3. The connection to the story of Momotaro

The story of Momotaro follows a boy born from a peach who befriends a dog, a monkey, and a pheasant to help defeat the evil Ogres in the lands.

The Loyal 3 and Dokutaro fit the peach and the 3 animal companions, and Kieran would be the boy in the story.

It made sense for the two to be connected in a way, as it fits the original story of Momotaro. The "boy born from a peach" concept would have been interesting, with Kieran accepting his true potential while under Dokutaro's influence or observation (depends on what fits more)

My personal idea was that Dokutaro is more of a mentor to Kieran, and have Kieran still keep his free will and self. But, say, after Indigo Disk, Dokutaro gets frustrated with Kieran not desiring to get stronger anymore, so it possesses him as a means of winning against the protagonist. That way, people who wanted Kieran to be himself (mostly) could have that, and those who wanted Kieran to get possessed could also have that. Both sides would be satisfied.

This would also solve the common counterargument I've heard where Kieran getting possessed takes away from his character development and ruins his arc, and while I do understand that, the idea I suggested would at allow for Kieran to be at fault for some of his choices, so that nothing everything is blamed on Dokutaro.

Why it appealed to me

While I won't be able to speak on how others viewed it, I personally saw the Toxic Chain Kieran Theory as a nice parallel to the Loyal 3, and especially to the tale of Momotaro. It would be cool, interesting, and an interesting take on the tale of Momotaro.

All these ideas on how Dokutaro would act and look, whether it be subtle whispers and temptation of power to full on mind control. Both were equally enjoyable!

The designs were great, the art was amazing, and the speculation and theorizing were genuinely fun! But I suppose that's the danger of fan theories, you get too invested in them and get disappointed by canon.

Conclusion

I do know that many people enjoy the epilouge and the Untold Story of Pecharunt. It's great that you do! Don't let my feelings with it ruin your experience.

And the same goes to those who dislike the theory, it's fine if you do!

I made this post to explain my thinking and show the evidence we had to believe it. Even with the Toxic Chain Kieran Theory being debunked, it was still fun to speculate, to think of ideas, to have a good time!

I still enjoy the theory (a completely normal amount I swear /j) and I make my own posts and art on my own spin of it.

And if you happen to also like the theory, let me know! Feel free to send me an ask or DM me! I enjoy discussing it with others, and sharing ideas! Plus I'm always open to more Toxic Chain Kieran stuff.

I love this small community of us who enjoyed the theory, even if it's only a few of us.

Thank you for reading.

[synthetickitsune]

Vernon/Dino with angst 22 but its them who have the words unsaid

Dino (SVT) | Words left unsaid angst | 0.7k | gn!reader

He runs a hand through his soaking hair and groans. He hoped a hot shower would make him relax, help him forget, but so far it only seems to be doing the exact opposite as he rants on in an imaginary fight number nine of the evening. 

He’s winning, of course. On a righteous vent, breaking down your defenses and demolishing your counterarguments because he’s not the bad guy. He’s not flawless either, he’ll admit, but he’d never stab you in the back like you did to him.

Chan has recently moved from the state of denial. 

Kind of. 

There are stages in grief, and even though he’s switching between them like he’s on an emotional rollercoaster, this angry one is hitting him hard.

He’d probably call you and get it off his chest for real, but his phone is kept safe by Seungkwan and messaging is below him. He has too much to say and he might be good with essays, but it wouldn’t have the right punch right now.

There comes a lull in the fight in his mind, and his head is held high and his chest is puffed out and-

“I’m sorry, Chan. This never was how I wanted us to end.”

The tears in your eyes, your voice cracking, your nails leaving indents in your skin from how hard you’re trying not to shake.

You apologizing. Over and Over.

But that’s real. That happened. It’s not just in his head.

He didn’t even had to yell at you or raise his voice. You came to him brokenhearted already.

He didn’t want your apology.

He wanted you to stop crying.

He wanted you to stay.

He can’t make you, of course. And the more he tried to find a way to have you back, a reason why it was a mistake, the more he realized you were right. It was just a matter of time and you just didn’t want to put off the inevitable. You never meant to hurt him, so it was only fair you weren’t hurting yourself more either.

He wasn’t the bad guy - but neither were you.

The water makes him oblivious to the tears rolling down his face. He tries to make sense of it. If there was a bad guy, if there was someone at fault, it’d be easier to accept that he can no longer hold you in his arms and dance with you in the kitchen.

But there’s not. Things just didn’t work out, and that’s fine - that happens, even if it hurts. He’ll learn to live with the pain until he’s able to push it to the back of his mind. At least that’s the way Seungkwan put it, and maybe that’s why he’s the one sitting on Chan’s sofa with his phone in his hands and bouncing his leg because what if his friend tried to drown or worse - run out the window?

He didn’t. He walks into the living room very much alive and here.

Seungkwan is about to scold the younger - that is until he sees him. Then he can only sigh and pat the space next to him.

Chan comes as easy as a new wave of tears and he lets himself be held and comforted while he sobs into his friend’s shoulder about why and how it’s unfair.

He just wants you back, and in his head he’s on his knees and begging.

There’s more he never told you.

Not just the infuriating little things that always come up when you’re living with someone. All the nastiness he unleashed on you in the nine imaginary fights. No, he had much more left to say - like that you were just right for him to hug and when he’d rest his head against yours his worries would just disappear. That you always smelled wonderful and he still whips his head around when he smells the scent of your perfume on someone else.

Who’s he supposed to say that to now?

Seungkwan is patient as he holds the younger and pats his back. 

He hopes he’s sneaky enough when he takes out his phone and sends you a quick text.

He’s not fine but he’ll be. We’ll take care of him for you.

[demodraws0606]

Not gonna lie as someone who has kinda changed their opinion on culprit!Eden as I think she's the most likely to have commited atp from the fact that she could've gotten hold of two pieces of evidence (ball of clothes + tape).

There are a lot of arguments that I think about people who don't want Eden to die now, and honestly the only good argument i've found was "killing her would upset the balance of the cast".

Killing Eden would definitely lead to the main source of sunshine on the cast being murdered, however a slight counterargument to that would be that we don't know how Eden's death would change other contestants. The biggest exemple would be Levi, as I can see him trying to take on a role of support if Eden if she ever passed away (he clearly seems to want to be helpful to the cast).

I also think people overexagerrate the amount of characters that are actively antagonistic as most of chapter 2's goal was to show (most of) everyone's darker side. Character like Hu, Nico, Charles, J, Levi and Rose I feel like could be helpful in the future. I don't think we necessarely need Eden to have companionship or light in the cast.

It would definitely damper the mood 100 pourcent but depending on how her death would be executed, I feel like it would definitely leave an impact on the cast that would influence how they act.

Another argument that I find credible against culprit!Eden would be how it would cause regression in Teruko's character.

However I think that depends on how Eden's death is handled and how Teruko just handles it in general. The reason why Teruko snapped the way she did in trial 1 was because of a culmination of multiple things.

In fact maybe Teruko could find that if she trusted Eden or stayed at her side, maybe Eden wouldn't have gone to the road of killing Arei (but were talking about possibilities of a possibility here). If Eden did end up killing someone, it would be because she ended up being isolated.

One argument though I see often but I find is completely wrong though is "It would be like cutting Eden's arc short, every other character would be better for their arc"

That I heavily disagree with because I'd argue Eden kinda is the character with the least amount of developping to do.

She already has a (mostly) good mindset in terms of her positive thinking. In fact she's almost the paragon in the cast, the one with the most morals which makes her the least likely to really need positive developpement. It also wouldn't be fitting for her to have a regression arc afterwards.

The main two flaws Eden has, is her guilt and her not really accepting of her own "weakness" (negative emotions and all that). Both of which would be addressed by her being the culprit.

In comparison, killing another character would definitely cut their arc short.

Whit, he's the one we've seen the less of the uglier side of, we don't know why he acts the way he does and we don't know what is behind his jokester persona. His relationship to his mother and his past would also be left unadressed. We also don't know what his special intuition means despite it being highlighted constantly. Overall, I feel like despite Whit being my 2nd pick for the culprit, he'd definitely be lost potential.

I could do this with almost every character, like Nico with their relationship to Hu (who also really needs her own developpement) and how they deal with almost killing Ace.

J and her relationship with Arturo, as well as her own heavy belief against murder as another exemple just there is a lot

The thing is Eden seems to have been written as Teruko's companion, the one that would allow Teruko to be softer and open up to people. She does give big protagonist compainion vibes, however it could just as well be easily have been something to subvert our expectations

[stardustizuku]

PART 4: Royalty Kinda Sucks

So, here’s the situation: When we are first introduced to the concept of Nobility, as seen through the Nobility’s eyes, it becomes apparent that there’s a reason behind every nonsensical tradition there is. 

You must always smile and conceal your emotions because else, you’ll be in danger, making yourself the enemy of someone you cannot refuse. Civilians must be devoted to their Lord/nobles because they’re the ones with Mana, and without Mana, the farmers suffer. There’s no food, there’s no agriculture. 

And at the beginning of the series, Rozemyne accepts this as the truth.

She sees how the amount of Mana offered correlates to the very livelihood of the commoners. Just like her, we as an audience, believe this story 100%. There’s an order to things, Nobility is inherently superior, some people just wield more power than others. 

Despite this, however, Rozemyne never fully buys into this idea. 

Ferdinand and the rest of the nobles say “There’s no need for commoners, they live entirely by the kindness or lack of it from the nobles”

While, on the surface, Rozemyne agrees to it (or more like, cannot find a way to counterargument), each every action since proves that she very much disagrees. 

She keeps listening to commoners, keeps trying to employ the orphans, educating the kids, and forming connection with the merchants. Her instance on staying on the temple is very much a way for her to cling to her commoner origins and refusing to let go of them. And, whenever someone tries to take advantage of them, she tries her hardest to stop it by any means possible.

My favourite argument she makes, is when she explains, in Part 4 to Hartmut that: 

“If we view this as nobles thinking up trendy goods and commoners making them, then nobles are the thinking mind while commoners are their hands and feet, no? Overloading commoners with unreasonable demands is no better than crippling one’s own arms and legs”. 

On the surface this is an argument that appeals to nobles, seeing commoners as nothing more than another tool that must be properly utilized. However, Rozemyne is inadvertently sneaking in one of her own core views: Nobles and commoners and equals. 

Rather than seeing commoners as an entirely detached object, she introduces the idea of commoners and nobility existing in an ecosystem. And here comes the first bit of proper commentary: 

Hierarchies are fundamentally flawed, and what we need in a society are communities. 

Rozemyne, being a chronically ill person, depends on others to do her work. To survive, we need communities and support networks. Some of the most brilliant minds and powerful players of the game do not thrive in a society that rigidly adheres to power structures such as nobility. Those so quick to toss away and dispose of whoever doesn't "fit in". Best example is Ferdiand - who was stiffled by Veronica.

This is juxtaposed with Ferdinand Hirschurl and Christine, all geniuses in their own right, extremely capable and talented. Neither of which was able to survive Ehrenfest. Even nobles of other duchies state that a single talented individual is incapable of turning the tides of their duchy. 

It’s only when Rozemyne comes into the picture, forcing people around her to function as a community, as a system, that any real change is made. She’s remarkable, perhaps more than for her intellect, in her ability to raise people. Her ability to form systems and networks of highly skilled attendants what allows her to be perceived as a saint. 

This is a direct contrast to her days as Urano, where she only ever submersed herself in books. I don’t doubt that Urano was as much of a genius as Rozemyne is - but her inability to connect and create a community to help her out was what caused her to be isolated. Only ever to see books and nothing more.

As Myne, she was forced to confront how vital to her survival family and community mean. As Rozemyne, she was forced to build her own, due to how nobility absolutely destroys said community in favour of a hierarchy. 

And all of this, is a microcosm of Royalty. 

The same attitude the nobles have to commoners is a direct 1:1 to how royals treat other nobles. They see nobles as little more than objects to be ordered around, and just like noble destroy communities and networks, royalty destroys them. Just on a much larger scale. 

Rather than seeing other duchies as, you know, arms and legs to make Yurgenschmidt more powerful, capable or rich, they see them as pawns to move around to protect/save Royals themselves. As if they are Yugernschmidt.

Whenever they say “for the good of Yurgenschmidt” it’s always synonymous with the “good of Royalty”.

The duchies only exist to serve Royals, and not the other way around. They’re more than happy to cut off Ehrenfest and let it struggle, even though it’s slowly becoming the new hot spot for technological inventions in all the country. They’re essentially crippling their own body, to save themselves. And sure, in other contexts maybe it could work. Rather amputate an arm rather than lose the head. But that’s not what they’re doing. They see their “arms” as disposable. Why bother to save one, when you have another that can work as well? (Which is dumb)

This is a direct criticsm of politicians, or position in powers, that see for themselves, rather than for the greater good of a country or the collective. People who would exploit the most vulnerable in a community to keep the status quo, all while claiming it's "for the greater good".

Sisgwald in particular is a great example of what Wilfred could have become if Rozemyne had no stepped in. He very much sees his wives as nothing but ways of attaining more power. He refuses to even think of other people reaching the throne and sees nothing past his own ego.

That’s why he is so taken aback by Rozemyne. Here comes a girl, with so much more experience at negotiating than him, calling him out directly over the many faults that royals are committing. As she points out, they went into a meeting expecting to extort her so completely blind they couldn’t see why Ehrenfest would be unwilling to enter negotiating. 

Ferdinand explained in Part 3 how, whoever has more information in a conversation between nobles has the upper hand. This ought to be the way everyone approaches anything, but Royals very much can’t comprehend this in regards to a lesser/middle duchy. To them, all duchies are the same (much like all commoners are the same to nobles) and do not require the information. This is, to put it bluntly, idiotic to the point of impressive. 

The best example? The very same meeting they had.

Rozemyne was able to get what she needed. Sure, the Royals also got what they wanted. But that’s it. They were able to obtain the bare minimum. While Ehrenfest was able to walk away with extensive concessions and much more room to make preparations. All while bruising the ego of Royalty.

And because they lack this ability to see nobles as a network, they also have the same problems nobles have. Their petty family drama gets dragged onto the surface for all the country to see. They're giving away information that's critical for negotiations without even noticing.

Hell, they almost exploded a war because Anastasius couldn’t tell Eglantine he liked her. Instead of raising each other up, like Rozemyne does, they drag each other own. Their lack of communication causes Rozemyne to be thrust into the middle of their family feud, trying her damnest to solve their problems, while they worry abt their own selfish desires. 

But perhaps the most crucial network that they’ve lost is: Information. 

Due to the fact that Ascendance of a Bookworm is a light novel about books - it’s inevitable that we would stumble at some point with the importance of achieving information preservation. Urano herself, as a librarian, is acutely aware of how easily information is lost. Rozemyne on her hand, has had to see the direct impact this has. 

The reason why the Grutrissheit is lost, is not just the war. It’s the lack of any real information preservation. And this is artificially created by the Royals themselves. 

The Grutrissheit was passed by from heir to heir, but this also meant that very few people were capable of accessing the information. When war struck, those few people were killed, and the texts that remained were written in ancient languages. A language which all but few could read (Let’s put a pin on that*).

And now, we find out that Royals of the past (possibly) implemented a barrier so that no one BUT royalty could access the Grutrissheit. This makes it so that the best Zent candidate they have right now, cannot even touch it. 

In an attempt to shield themselves from others, potentially, stealing what they think their “rightful” position is - they’ve blocked access to information. And now that they’re been killed NO ONE HAS ACCESS TO IT. 

This is something that Rozemyne, as a librarian at heart, is desperately trying to avoid. Through her transcriptions and the rapid spread of the printing industry, she REFUSES to gatekeep information. She wants it to be accessible to anyone who wants, as long as she can get something of equal value (aka, other stories/books), and that's only to emphasize the VALUE books inherently have. 

This is all to say, that the politics of AoB are quite simple if looked through these perspectives, and framing Royalty as the flawed institution it is. 

It’s about how hierarchies of power are bad. The few, who have not proven their worth, have the power to deny information to a large population and deny themselves any responsibility for their actions. 

Ascedance of a Bookworm initially presents you with the idea of Nobility as something rational, just to later point out all the ways it which it’s failing. The only reason why many things are working or improving in Ehrenfest is because of Sylvester and his ability to properly integrate Rozemyne’s ideas. 

Ascedance of a Bookworm also states that this is not a fix that can be solved in a single action, in fact it cannot be fixed in single generation. Something that Rozemyne critiques of Sisgwals is his insistence that all problems ought to be solved quickly so they cannot cause harm in the future (again, amputating an arm to save the head). 

But this is proving to be a flawed response. This idea of cutting all crippled arms is what gives way the purges, and the mana crisis they’re having. 

Rozemyne, perhaps as a chronically ill child herself, does her best to avoid this. She recognizes that just because someone isn’t “up to standard”, doesn’t mean they cannot be rehabilitated and integrated back into society. She does this believing human life to be valuable regardless of what can it offer - but because of the world they live in she has hidden this behind the “so they can give back to society”. 

It’s way more productive to save someone than to kill them. This creates a bunch of problems, yes. But it’s worth it. Being a leader it’s not an easy job. 

It’s something even Ferdinand comments on. To be a Zent, you have to give up everything you love for your country. And that means EVERYTHING. Something that, if I’m being 100% honest, I don’t think Sisgwald understands. The mere idea of him waiting to be Zent simply because that’s what he’s been told all his life is tantamount to laughable. 

At this point, the best option is undoubtedly Eglantine. If he fails to understand this and clings to a throne he’s no longer the best suited for - it’s nothing but useless pride wrapped in a cocoon of delusion. 

There’s so much that needs to be learned and work to be put in. Rozemyne does not accept the role, not because she’s humble, but because she understands this. Leading takes hard work, it takes time, it takes effort. She does not want it, and why should she? She has been offered none of the privileges of royalty, yet she’s expected to perform their labour and duties.

Those who benefit from Royalty are basically dumping all their work on her lap. Well, granted, not all the work. But definitely a good chunk of theirs. For example, transcribing ancient languages to find their stupid bible, instead of asking the temple. 

(*PIN: And mind you, people can absolutely still learn ancient languages. But another huge fault of the royalty, as it is right now, is that there’s no one willing to put in the time and effort to preserve or revive their own goddamn culture).

Yeah, sure, maybe Rozemyne has a duty to rule, as she’s the most capable…But. She shouldn’t. Royalty, who’s been trained their whole lives to rule, or support rulers - should be more than well-equipped to solve their own problems. Hell, they have attracted top talen- No. They’ve stolen top talent from other duchies, they have all the resources they could want, and they have the ultimate say on absolutely everything. Tell me why they want to poach another talented person from their duchy? 

It’s not Rozemyne’s responsibility to solve the problems of royalty. In other words, it’s not our duty to solve politicians’ problems. It’s not our duty to solve the problem of first-world countries, it’s not our duty to solve other people’s problems. 

Ugh, I’m getting heated. 

This is all, mind you, after Rozemyne was told in her early years she wouldn’t be able to achieve anything because she’s just a commoner. Which, again, bullshit. She’s the prime example that there’s nothing that prevents a commoner from being on the level of an archduke, or hell, becoming a Zent, other than a social one. Truly, Yurgenschmidt’s nobility as made-up as our own. 

The introduction, or rather, the direct criticism of royalty in part 5, is the house of card toppling in all the themes touched barely in previous parts.

The issues with meritocracy, the absurd power inbalances, the outdated view of older generations that refuse to give way to a better future for the youth, as well as a hierarchy based on an entirely made-up concept. 

It quickly proved to be absolutely a political story. But I find it so impressive that it’s not something you would notice, or at least be explicitly made aware, until Part 5. 

Part 1 - 4 made sure to lay the ground of how this world works, then in Part 5 it decided to break the illusion that it is, in fact, working. 

PREV <;< MASTERLIST >> NEXT

[anistarrose]

So I have only my two cents to give on the "curing disabilities in fantasy/sci-fi stories" trope, as just one disabled person among many disabled people, but here are my two cents nonetheless.

One defense of the trope is that it's simply a form of escapism, and moreover, a fantasy that disabled people themselves can quite reasonably find joy in — as a feel-good story, a break from all the pain of real life. Many — not all by a long shot, but many — of us would jump at the chance for a cure, after all, and it's not like we're not valid to do so. Lots of us take pride in being disabled, but nevertheless, sometimes it really fucking sucks.

The counterargument to the above is this: that this isn't a realistic trope, and that particularly in combination with the suffocating frequency that this trope is used, this becomes the opposite of a hopeful fantasy. When you have an incurable condition, and the only happy endings you see represented for people like you in fiction are inevitably only achieved once the characters stop being like you — that can be indescribably upsetting.

Disabled characters do not get happy endings while remaining disabled — and fiction is fiction and all, but I'm not going to pretend like this doesn't have gradual, accumulative real-life effects on the amount of effort people/society are willing to put into accessibility and acceptance, because of beliefs like "aren't you going to be cured someday anyway?" Or "isn't this disability just going to stop existing, someday? one way or another?"

I hope I don't have to explain how damaging it is to think the above way, or to imagine a future where disability doesn't exist. (Yes, even though disability is partially socially constructed. That's a load-bearing "partially".)

So, if you couldn't tell, I do generally relate a lot more to the harsher, more critical view of this trope — but I certainly don't want to judge actual disabled people for writing it either (and especially not people with progressive conditions), not when there is genuine catharsis and escapist joy that can be wrung from it. I obviously don't trust non-disabled folks with writing "cure" stories any further than I could throw them, due to a long fucking history of non-disabled people fucking it up — but also, no one should be forced to reveal personal details, let alone medical history, to justify their choice to write something.

This is the paradox that I am willing to come to terms with, by throwing up my hands and saying, "okay, so some of the time I sure don't like it, but it's technically none of my business."

That said: if you're non-disabled, or you're writing about a disability much different from your own (a physical disability when you're autistic, for example), and you want to write an escapist feel-good story featuring disabled characters: I also want to stress that "escapist themes" versus "no one's disability gets cured ever" is very much a false binary. You can have both.

I've never written a "curing a disability" story. But I've both written and enjoyed some extremely escapist, unashamedly hopeful stories revolving around disabled characters — and it's all about accommodation.

A story of any genre where society is more accepting of — and willing to collectively help care for — chronic illnesses and chronic pain? That's escapist, and if it's something that characters once fought tooth and nail for, it's pretty damn cathartic. A fantasy or sci-fi story where medicines are still required to treat a condition, but the medicines are more accessible, more effective, et cetera, may also be escapist depending on the context.

Fantasy service animals, high-tech service robots, magical or indistinguishable-from-magic mobility devices? They're all possibly escapist too. (Just note that a lot of disabled people may still maintain a personal preference for seeing the "real world" versions, and that's that's also perfectly reasonable. Remember that the gripe with the original trope has a lot to do with a lack of variety in representation, justified by arbitrary rules about how fantasy/sci-fi "should" look, and the goal should be not to replicate that.)

So, in conclusion: if you find yourself writing a disabled character, and want to give them a happy ending, I urge you not to jump to "their disability is cured now" without at least thinking through the alternatives. Do your research regardless, and accept that disabled people will likely have a wide range of opinions on whatever you decide to go with — but accept that disabilities themselves are varied, and should not inherently have to consign either characters or real human beings to tragic lives by their mere existence.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Sheriff Of Nottingham x Fem!Reader || Excerpt

Plot: You're the prettiest peasant in Nottingham, and so on carnival day you don't mind offering one simple kiss as a prize to the winner of the archery contest. You figure- what's the harm? You're an engaged woman and this may just be your last opportunity to kiss lips that aren't your husbands.

You aren't expecting a man such as the terrible Sheriff to find out you're the prize and participate. Or win-

Warnings: Its probably a mess because I wrote it while I was at work.

The Sheriff had won! A pathetic smattering of weak applause dies down quickly in the stands, no one being particularly happy he had dained to attend your little carnival. It was for the peasants; a little bright moment to hold onto throughout the dreary, poor Nottingham days. It was certainly not for him. If he had any manners at all, he would've stayed away.

But he didn't have any manners. He was terrible, and dastardly, and gross and impolite-- and now you had to kiss him!

You were seathing!!

You didn't want to do it! You wanted to look him in those beady eyes of his and claim second thoughts; say you didn't want to make your fiance uncomfortable.

... but your fiance was currently out of town on business, so that excuse wouldn't work quite as effectively. The Sheriff would counterargue, and you would end up embarrassed in front of everyone.

"Damnit," You muttered under your breath, eyes ablaze with frustration and hate on the smug, chubby (Ugh, how chubby he got while the rest of you starved infuriated you. He was more robust than even the horrible prince himself) 'law man' accepting forced congratulations from onlookers.

~

"Well well well, here we are!" The Sheriff jeered, all-too-pleased to be alone with you now. The tent was meant for the fortune tellers, deep midnight blue's and lovely maroon's strewn about setting the mood quite nicely. You'd been in here before, and the 'lady' with the fluffy red hair poking out from 'her' robes told you that you would be surprised with something today- well you were surprised. You were hoping that the fortune meant that your fiance would be home early,.. but no. No, that wasn't it. Not with your luck!

The Sheriff is about to lean in and just plant one on you- but you raise your hand up to his chest as fast lightning and firmly push him back with a careful glare. "... before that, I have something to say."

"Oh- " Either he's surprised to have a lady take such a stern tone with him, or he's surprised to see any peasant treat him so boldly, but he definitely pauses. Looks confused. Then shrugs, straightening up again with a gleaming, toothy grin. "Well, sure, sweetheart! Go right ahead~ "

Taking a deep breath, you straighten your shoulders and try not to squirm looking into his eyes. "... I want you to know, I don't care for you. You give law enforcement a bad name. You're a fiend." You blurt out bluntly, uncaring of the displeased responce you might get. You're expecting it, in fact.

... but he doesn't give that displeased responce. He just gives a jovial chuckle, his belly jiggling with the movement, and shakes his head at you. You're almost dissappinted. "Well, aren't you a bold thing??... "

"I want to be clear you disgust me."

"Oh, I heard~ "

"Good." You huff, put-out by his lacklustre and honestly, kind of amused responce.

After a moment, he tilts his head to the side and his eyes seem to glow in the darkness of the tent as be steps in closer to you once again. "Now, miss, do you think I could take my prize? Hm?~"

He'll have to duck down quite a ways, you think, noting the man's size. But, Sighing a frustrated sigh, you nod. "Yes you may, but I won't enjoy it and I hope you don't either."

"Can't promise that." He just says, before the Sheriff of Nottingham puts his large fat hands on either side of your face, and leans down, and smothers your lips with his.

Immediately you stiffen, giving a squeak against his lips at how he grabbed you so easily and overwhelms you with his sheer size. You were expecting a quick, sweet kiss when you signed up to be the prize for this competition! Mabhe on the cheek! Not- not- whatever vulgar mess this is!-

... and yet you feel yourself melting against the large fabcy pants brute of a man. You love your fiance, you love him dearly, but the Sheriff...

God, you can never think about this again after its over. It's so very horrendous. So appallingly bad that you return the kiss in order to make it go faster (thats the only reason, of course.). You have to make an oath to yourself after this. Never even think about this kiss ever again.

But for right now, it wouldn't be against your oath, to... slide your hands up his chest, would it? After all, you won't be thinking about it ever again (how soft but firm he is, the lovely fabric he wears in red and purple), so you dont see why you shouldn't...

Just as your fingers are cautiously linking around his neck, the Sheriff pulls away. He steals one more quick, greedy kiss, then steps back from you completely; a wolfish grin across his mean face.

Breathless, you struggle to pull yourself together. "Well- " Huff. "I do hope you had a terrible time."

An irritating, smug, grin pulls at one corner of the wolve's mouth. "Oh, dear, did I fail the assignment sweetheart?~ "

"... You ogre!!"

[starstofillmydream]

This may fall upon deaf ears/ears unwilling to listen, but as we go into the last two episodes of TBB ever, the fandom needs to seriously clean up their attitude. I've been watching shit go down from the sidelines and trying not to get involved with the drama—people being so mean to one another and bullying one another into believing their headcanons (which are OPINIONS) as canon truth—and I've been disgusted with some people's behavior on here. I'm not sure what about TBB S3 in particular has brought the worst out in people, but it's so annoying and it sucks the fun out of being part of a fandom community.

So please (and this should be common sense):

For the love of God, BE KIND. If you see something harmless you disagree with (i.e., personal headcanons and think pieces, no matter how stupid and uninformed they may seem to you), move on. Don't react because it almost always ends in a nasty fight. Be mature. I've seen people bullying others into accepting their personal headcanons as canon (e.g., the "Tech is alive" and "Cody is on Tatooine" truthers), so please don't do that either. Differing headcanons can coexist in a fandom space because they're headcanons, another word for opinions. It's not the objective, concrete truth. Don't force them on other people if they don't agree with you.

If you see any racist, homophobic, sexist, and/or xenophobic comments about the characters (e.g., I've been seeing some fucking awful takes on Phee as of late), shut them down. Don't be a bigot.

Stop insulting people's intelligence as your primary counterargument to people's takes. Everyone's critical thinking skills (I've refrained from using the term "media analysis skills" because TikTok has seemed to make it lose its meaning, in my opinion) can be improved upon, my own included. It's a learning curve and we're all growing. Be self-aware in that regard. It's a logical fallacy—the ad hominem fallacy—to attack the arguer and not the argument, so it just looks dumb and makes you look bad.

Tag your spoilers. #tbb spoilers seems to be the most widely used, so I'd go that route.

If you have anything else to add to the list, please do! I want the unity and respect back in the fandom again, especially as we reach the bittersweet end of a beautiful show that has brought us all together as friends.

[abiiors]

midnight, car lights 🌃 // george daniel x reader

a/n: a second fic for the george bbf!au that's been plaguing me lately!! (a third one is coming soon). also happy 10 years of self titled <33 i'm scheduling this to come out at midnight uk time tihi

cw: none really, just fluff and flirting. maybe a very tiny age gap?? like 2 ish years

wc: 3.3k

“let’s go on a joyride.”

those words bounce around in your head like the dvd logo, said to you at 11:50 in the night—whisper-shouted would be more accurate. from under your balcony no less, like some fucked up iteration of romeo and juliet. 

so far you have failed to come up with a coherent answer for george who stares up at you expenctantly.

you lean over the railing, your curiosity piqued. "a joyride…” his words repeated back to him in a disbelieving deadpan voice. 

he nods eagerly. in his hands is a tiny heap of small stones—the source of the clinks on your bedroom window that had scared you half to death. when george follows your gaze, he drops the rocks hurriedly, dusting off his hands. 

“it’s a thursday night…” you point out. 

he clicks his tongue. “and you’re clearly not doing anything.”

your eyes narrow at his little jab. sure he’s right but come on now, he didn’t need to point it out like that.

“my brother—”

“is out on his ‘date’.” he makes a little face at that and you stifle the urge to laugh at how icked out he looks. clearly, some more questions that you need to pester matty with. but that’s for tomorrow. right now you raise an eyebrow at the way he cuts you off and finishes your sentences.

“my parents—”

“are asleep!!” his voice acquires a borderline whiny quality. “i checked!” he confirms proudly and before you have the chance to present him with further counterarguments, he throws his hands up in the air. 

“come on, little healy,” george’s grins a feral little grin, “scared you’ll get caught?”

you bite your lip, determined not to let him see your smile. it’s midnight, you’re in your pjs—an old ramones t-shirt and tiny shorts that barely come up to the top of your thighs—your hair is half out of your ponytail. in short, you’re the ugliest you’ve ever looked in front of george. 

meanwhile he looks like he’s just stepped out of an indie rock magazine—black skinny jeans, a black t-shirt that hangs loosely on him and yet somehow fits perfectly and his beloved vans. at this point, you’re sure george could wear just about anything and still look drop-dead gorgeous. 

“only a little drive? i promise i’ll get you back home in one piece.”

truth be told, you had made up your mind the first time he asked. a slow tingle of thrill slithers down your spine. the goody two shoes who’s never even smoked a cigarette before he came into the picture. about to sneak out the window at 11:56 pm. 

“okay,” you mumble to yourself. the small smile you’d tried to stifle escapes anyway. “okay, fine.”

george grins and whoops silently, fists the air in triumph. it does something funny to your stomach–his excitement. 

“hold on a minute,” you tell him before making a mad dash to your wardrobe for an acceptable pair of jeans and a t-shirt. 

the subtle nude lip gloss is inviting but you know it’s too much. he’s probably just bored on a thursday night and has nothing else to do. so begrudgingly you settle on a lip balm and brushing out your hair. 

it’s fine. it’s normal. and anyway, he’s not going to see you as anything more than matty’s little sister, so what’s the point?

another little rock clinks on your window followed by a soft whisper-shout. 

“hurry up!” the clear impatience in his voice makes you giggle but you look at the mirror a final time, smoothing out your unruly hair. this is as best as it gets. 

after all, this is not a date.

“can’t exactly fly out the window, george,” you respond drily as soon as he comes back into view. 

he looks around curiously, toeing the grass and pulling it loose with his shoes. you can practically see the wheels in his head turning, generating ideas that you don’t entirely trust… matty’s friends aren’t the sharpest tools in the shed—not according to you anyway—but once george gets an idea, it is downright impossible to deter him. 

“that looks good enough,” he mumbles but you catch it anyway, catch the spot his eyes are trained on and your stomach plummets about half a foot. 

“have you—have you lost your mind?!” you stifle your screech halfway through, looking at the boy in front of you like he’s grown two heads. 

george shrugs, looking the least bit bothered and points to the pipe next to your window. 

“it’s sturdy, look,” he gives it two firm raps with his knuckles. “and there’s the brick for you to grab onto. and i’ll catch you.”

the last part has your ears perking up. you look at him with a raised eyebrow. it’s only a floor. the ground below you is soft grass that’s regularly mowed and looked after. if you fall, the most that will happen is a bruised ass (and a bruised ego). besides, the alternative is to go your through the front door and risk waking up the whole house. 

“trust me!” he bounces on the balls of his feet, eager and impatient. 

george stuffs his hands in his pockets, veins on his forearms taut with tension. his colourful tattoos are a stark contrast to his all-black outfit. should you trust him? 

“if i fall—”

“you won’t!” he answers confidently. “i’m not going to let you get hurt.”

your heart skips a beat at how soft he sounds, mumbling the sentence more to himself than to you. a shadow of tenderness crosses his features, or maybe you’re just projecting. just a silly little girl with a crush on her brother’s best friend. a cliché. 

“can’t let my best mate’s little sister get hurt,” he clears his throat. and your heart drops in your chest. of course not. to him you are nothing but matty’s sister. ‘little healy’. 

“’course not,” you mutter begrudgingly and grab onto the pipe.

george stands below you, hands raised, neck craning to guide your steps down the exposed brick wall. there’s taking risks and then there’s whatever the fuck this is. regardless, you have put a disturbing amout of faith is george and now there’s nowhere to go but down. literally. 

the last few feet loom between you and the ground. your sweaty palms almost slip and involuntarily a whimper escapes you. 

“almost there, sweetheart,” george murmurs. that word snags in your brain. all thoughts fly away, and before you know it, you’re missing a step, foot slipping on the rough wall. there’s a split second of panic, the beginning of a scream that dies in your throat as soon as you feel a pair of hands around your waist. 

warm, rough hands on soft skin. 

george, holding you up. 

you’re practically pulled flush against his chest, wide-eyed and flushed from the almost fall. funnily enough, the vertigo intensifies the moment you look up into his eyes. they’re just as wide as yours, mouth parted as if he was about to say something. 

for a fleeting instant, time seems to stand still. the world around you fades into a distant blur as you and george remain locked in this suspended moment, bodies pressed close together, his towering over yours. his warm breath tickles your skin, and you can feel the rapid thud of his heart against your chest.

"are you okay?" george's voice is a hushed murmur, his grip on you firm yet gentle.

you manage a shaky nod, finding your voice after a few seconds. "yeah, i... i think so."

george's grip on you doesn't waver as he slowly guides you back onto the solid ground, his hands lingering on your waist for an extra beat before finally releasing you. you take a step back, both to regain your composure and to put some distance between the two of you. 

"thanks," you mumble, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. "i don't know what happened there." you giggle nervously, unable to stare directly into his eyes. 

"no need to thank me,” he smiles, “just glad i was here."

the two of you stand there for a second, the weight of the almost moment hanging in the air. then, as if on cue, george's playful grin returns, diffusing the tension like a ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds.

"good to know i can make your heart race like that, little healy," he begins with a teasing glint in his eyes.

despite the heat creeping up your neck, a small laugh escapes your lips, the tension finally breaking as you roll your eyes at his cheeky comment. "you're unbelievable, george."

“right then,” he toes a small pebble, stuffing his hands in his pocket. “shall we?”

his car is cleaner than you expected. 

sure there are some receipts and empty plastic bottles on the floor, even a jacket in the back seat for some inexplicable reasons but it’s nowhere near the pigsty that is your brother’s car. 

“in you go,” he motions, casually holding the door for you. internally you’re grateful that he can’t see your flustered expression. 

it’s a tiny gesture, barely even a gesture really—just a boy opening a car door for you. but he’s not just a boy. he’s george—the boy who makes you mad beyond belief and annoys you with the smallest of efforts. the boy who makes you stumble over your words. the boy who is your brother’s best friend. 

“my my, george,” you tease to cover up your flustered silence, “manners. when did that happen?”

george rolls his eyes as he closes the car door behind you, and you settle into the passenger seat. you notice the faint scent of air freshener, attempting to mask any lingering odors from the cigarettes he no doubt must have smoked earlier. you glance sideways at him when he gets settled in the driver’s seat, unable to hide the hint of a smile playing at the corner of your lips.

"believe it or not," george retorts, putting the car in reverse, "i do have manners sometimes. just don't expect it all the time."

another playful taunt crawls up your throat, about to make it’s way out of your mouth when george casually just does the hottest thing you’ve ever possibly seen. your heart is in your mouth as you try not to stare at his arm behind your headrest. george, oblivious to your freak out, focuses solely on reversing the car from its little hiding spot. his cologne—something warm and smoky—fills the tiny car. a space that is so overwhelmingly him that you have to swallow roughly every couple minutes lest you do something incredibly stupid. 

like grabbing his face and kissing him senseless. 

especially with how inviting his light stubble looks. 

instead, you pointedly stare out the window at the dull grey road beneath you. 

“scared?” he teases, misinterpreting your darting eyes. 

all you can do is shake your head. there’s no way you trust your ability to speak right now, especially as half of your brain is focused on not ogling his arms and hands. 

this was a mistake. this was a stupid, idiotic, avoidable mistake. 

“come on! aren’t you excited to do something reckless for once?”

you are, you really really are. there’s no denying it as the car finally maneuvers out of the parking spot and away from your house. 

you let out a silent sigh of relief. the tension in the air begins to dissipate, and you take the opportunity to relax your grip on the seat. you sneak another glance at george, this time allowing yourself to truly take in his features.

his bleached hair is tousled—just the right amout of effortlessly messy, and his full pink lips only intensify the butterflies in your stomach. george is beautiful—from the way his hands grip the steering wheel with confidence to his jaw that tenses as he focuses on the road. all of it makes your heart race again. you can't deny your silly little crush, can’t deny all the times you have wished george was anyone but matty’s best friend. that you actually had the courage to kiss him. more than that you can’t deny all the times you’ve wished he would kiss you first. 

“where are we going?” you clear your throat, distinctly aware of how breathy you sound. 

george shrugs. “maccies, i think. been really craving some milkshake.”

and then he has the audacity to snicker at your gaping face. “a milkshake…” you trail off, wondering if hitting him on the head would be taking it too far. “sure, good to know i risked my life for your milkshake cravings!”

“pfft,” he blows air, taking his eyes off the road and training them on to you. “admit it, sweetheart, you were ready to, oh what was it? ‘risk your life’ for the thrill of it. don’t lie to me now, i saw it in your eyes.”

there it is again, the little flutter in your ribcage at the s-word. george seems so casual about it too, throwing it around like it doesn’t bother him whatsoever. and maybe it doesn’t, maybe he uses that on every single girl he talks to. the thought curdles in your stomach. 

“fine then,” you huff, turning back to the window.

the mcdonald’s is a flurry of people—drunk and high students looking to satisfy their munchies, homeless people looking for a cheap meal and shelter. exhausted employees handing out orders with a dead expression on their face. you almost feel sad, making them prepare two milkshakes at this ungodly hour. 

you turn to george who is busy studying the menu with the utmost curiosity. 

“strawberry,” he mumbles to himself then turns to you. “or no, wait. banana?”

you quirk an eyebrow. “strawberry is superior.”

“which means that’s what you’re getting,” he replies and goes back to perusing.

“if you think, for even a second, that i would let you steal—”

“so territorial, sweetheart,” he teases, eyes still on the artificially lit board. “fine. two strawberries then.”

george places the orders, giving the cashier his winning smile and handing over some cash. she perks up slightly, eyeing him through her lashes while george leans against the counter. a sudden heat burns through you, wild and unpleasant. 

heartburn, you tell yourself. the milkshake will fix it. 

or maybe not looking at george being flirty would fix it but oh well…

so you turn around, finding yourself an empty seat and leave him to bring over the drinks. 

minutes later, you almost jump out of your skin when george places the cool take-out container against the nape of your neck without warning. 

“real mature, george!” the shriek causes a few people to throw distasteful looks your way but he looks absolutely unbothered and oblivious.

“such a grump,” he snickers and motions for you to follow him. 

armed with your milkshake, you settle in the car once again. the car park is almost dead at this hour of the night and you wait for him to start the car back up, for him to tell you what the next steps are but george only taps tirelessly on the steering wheel. a complete 180 from five minutes ago.

tap. pause. tap tap tap. pause. tap. pause. it’s restless and rhytmless; not like his usual tapping where he’s lost in own tune. his milkshake sits untouched, condensation dripping onto the dashboard. 

you wrap your lips around the straw, sucking on it noisely, sipping on the sweet, cool liquid while you observe him closely. “something’s on your mind.” 

your statement makes him blink. so you’re right then, something is on his mind. he’s more fidgety than usual. in the stillness of the night, his thick swallows and knee jerks are painfully obvious. 

“what’s up…” you trail off, unsure if pushing him would be the right move. 

“there’s this–well. i want to–”

“this is new.” the amount of glee in your voice should be disturbing to you but you can’t contain it. because it is new. 

you’ve seen george be arrogant and annoying, laddish and even on occasion, sweet. but you’ve never seen him be shy before. 

“shut up,” he mutters to himself, then sighs loudly. “okay fine, it’s better if i just show you.”

you follow his movements inquisitively, his imperceptibly shaky hands as he takes out his phone and opens up a non-descript recording titled track 11

his phone screen illuminates his face in the dimly lit car as he hovers over the audio file. the soft glow casts a warm, intimate ambiance, making you acutely aware of how close you are to him in the confined space. your curiosity and anticipation mount as you wonder what he's about to reveal.

"i've been thinking about this for a while now," he clears his throat, finger lowering to finally click on the file. "and i want to share something with you."

at first, nothing happens. all that comes out of the speakers is static and then some more static. but just as you're about to speak, the car is filled with the opening notes of a song—one that instantly tugs at your memory. It's a tune that you have heard before, at different points in time. it's the song that matty’s hummed to you on days you were ill in bed, a song you heard them play at band practice. it’s a song that george and matty laboured over for days. the one that brought you all closer together.

and now it sounds all put together. the final piece of the puzzle locked in.

matty’s voice is stronger than you’ve ever heard, adam’s guitar and ross’ bass sprinkling magic onto it. and then there are the drums—precise and clear and passionate. just like how george drums his fingers on his lap now, matching the beat of the song.   

when the song ends, there's a brief silence in the car. the weight of the notes and the sincerity in his eyes hang in the air, leaving you breathless.

"george," you finally whisper, "that was..."

“we finished it,” he smiles, looking down at his lap. “so we recorded it…”

“it’s…”

there you are once again, at a loss for words. almost certain that there might be actual tears in your eyes. 

“that was…”

“shit? derivative? lousy?” he tries to laugh it off, covering up a vulnerable moment with his jokes but you’d be damned if you let that happen. 

“perfect.” 

the words echoes around the car resoundingly. there’s no challenging your opinion. the song is perfect.

“and you listen to me once and for all george daniel, if you call that song names in front of me one more time, if i hear you call it shit and derivitive and lousy again—”

before you can finish your sentence, george leans forward, crashing his lips onto yours. there’s a crackle of electricity in the air around you, the slowing down of time as if you’re having an out-of-body experience. as if you are a fly on the wall watching two people giving into the magnetic pull between them. but george cups your cheek with his hand and you jolt back into your body. 

his lips are cool from the milkshake but the kiss is searing hot, teeth clashing against teeth. your bodies trying to get as close to each other as possible despite the gearstick between your seats. george tugs on your bottom lip, smiling wide as if he can’t help it—grinning ear to ear.

by the time you pull away, you’re both breathing heavily—practically panting. he doesn’t pull back entirely, instead he keeps his eyes closed and his forehead rested against yours. the grin stays on his face. wide and gorgeous and making him look so boyish. 

“um,” you start and break off into a quick laugh. 

"i've wanted to do that for quite some time now," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

“yeah?” 

“yeah.”

with some hesitation, george lets go of your face, opening his eyes to look at you a second later. 

“damn, sweetheart,” he sighs again, chuckling a little. “this is turning out to be a great joyride, huh…”

lemme know what you think <33

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