#and someone else calling me a boy and clarifying that it’s specifically DESPITE the fact I’m gender-neutral | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kaypeace21 · 4 years ago

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People seem to misinterpret what I’ve said in the past about mike “projecting his feelings for Will” on to El. So I’ll clarify.

When I say mike is “projecting his romantic feelings” for Will on to el. That doesn’t mean mike doesn’t care about El (at all) as a friend. Or sees El as Will (that’s not even how projection works -or what I’ve said). Although Mike isn’t perfect, he’s naturally empathetic and grateful for all El has done to help him and his friends. And he does see Will & El as 2 different people- despite the romantic projection. And unlike Will, he sees El in a more familial way- rather than romantic (despite him trying to force it to be romantic) .More on that later.Heck, Mike has already incorrectly projected his NON-ROMANTIC emotions on to 3 other characters other than El (it’s a pattern of his to project his feelings about one person on to another)- which yes I’ll also discuss.

I guess I have to specify what projection is -like i’ve already inferred in prior posts .There’s a difference between projecting “feelings” you have for one person on to another VS thinking those 2 people are literally the same person with no differences between those 2 people/or not acknowledging the unique personal relationships you have with both. This misconception is used as a popular counter-argument/strawman argument -rather than just debating the points i’ve made) . Ex) It’s like if you’re anger at your boss- but you can’t yell at them so you (subconscious or otherwise) are (unfairly) angry/irritable to your romantic partner later. It doesn’t mean you literally think your romantic partner and boss are 1 in the same - or there is no distinction between those 2 relationships. The same goes for how Mike views El and Will, despite “projecting” his “romantic feelings for Will” on to El (although Mike does so poorly).

Mike most likely projects his romantic feelings for Will on to El

In s3) he kisses El with a drawing of Will behind her head -that he can look at as he kisses her ... that should be an obvious hint he’s projecting (subconscious or otherwise) .

That’s Will -light brown hair/bowl cut, has fire powers like ‘Will the wise’.There’s also the fact that multiple characters in s1 mistook El for a boy (specifically Will) . Benny saying to El, “trying to steal from me boy?” Another man at Benny’s place mistook her for Will and said she could be “the byers boy... same height”. Hopper tracked El for most of s1 thinking it was Will. Homophobic Troy who harassed mike / talked about Will being gay said about El “ her head’s shaved she doesn’t even look like a girl”, officer callahan said “what’s Will doing with a shaved head?” The writers of ST are trying to tell you to pay attention to the fact el had a “ boyish /Will-like” appearance (and despite this- Mike was supposedly into her in s1). Then we had s2 byler parallel s3 mileven to show him fail to project his romantic feelings of Will on to el: Crazy together vs blank makes you crazy, , shed scenes: most important thing vs it was the best thing, Will & El calling for mike in the upsidedown (and mike coming for Will only), “they’re not in love they’re not even from the same planet” vs “welcome to my world”, Will having pics of Mike smiling on Halloween looking at him vs El having a pic of Mike glaring on Halloween, mileven paralleled to luke/leia & byler to king tristan/Han, byler paralleled to Venkman/Dana a ghost busters couple vs El just being a ghost and mike a ghost hunter, the s3 fight vs breakup and the various contrasts between all 3 (showing Will upset and El happy - and mike caring more about resolving his fight with Will than El- and never apologizing to El for lying ). I went into more detail here about the parallels between mileven/byer, mileven,stancy,Karen/ted , etc here.

And when he tells El “I can’t lose you again” It’s supposed to be ambiguous-cause Mileven like stobin is a straight bait. The fact is 2 prior times in season 2 (when mike was in the center of the group) he sadly watches Will as Will gets in a car and drives away.

Hinting to the viewer he’s actually thinking and worrying about losing Will (that 3rd time in s2 when he’s talking to El and seeing the cars with El/ Will drive away) . He once again is in the center of the group like the prior 2 scenes. And he already lost Will before and Will (like el) also had a fake d*ath. So yeah...we hear mike tell el that line and mike watches both El and Will leave in cars (and starts to cry) since mike knows that Will (unlike superpowered El) may d*e from his possession and he may never see him again. And it’s not like he can tell Will that line when he’s unconscious/possessed (especially in front of his friends) .

Just like in s2, when mike watches El and Will drive away .... he does so again in s3. And it’s similarly ‘ambiguous’, on who he’s upset seeing drive away. But, Mike turns to looks at the byers house, and tries to catchup with his friends (which has identically framing to an earlier scene in s3 of Will sadly turning to look at mike leave with El and then turning back to rush and catchup with the gang). Will turned around cause of Mike (not El) just like Mike turned around thinking of Will (not El). Just like s2,s3 uses earlier scenes in that particular season to give us hints about who he’s actually sad about driving away .

And in that moving away montage - it only pans to mike and Will .

And has Mike hug his mom in the same way he did in s1. Both represent moments representing him ‘losing Will’ (through his fake d*ath/moving away). Mike both times storms into the house and Karen rushes to him nervous and unsure why he’s upset , but goes into hug him when mike reaches for her (needing comfort). Unlike the mileven hug that’s outside and he doesn’t reach for her at all- she hugged him because she was worried (was he upset -sure but it’s not a parallel to the s3 hug). And they played “we can be heroes” for both hugs - cause both times mike lost Will.

And that s2 car scene where he talked to El (just like the prior s2 car scenes) was indicative of his fear of losing Will (not El). Which happened at the end of s3. It all ties together. Cause again , he was thinking of Will!

They even had several movies on the st list (altered states / children of paradise) have this concept of projecting romantic feelings of someone they’re in love with on to someone else. Altered states -has a guy just like Will hallucinate flashing to another dimension . People say about him and his wife “he’s crazy and she’s crazy about him”. And when they weren’t together she says she had to pretend everyone she dated was him (but that it only made her feel worse cause it wasn’t him) .And she says about doing so “’it’s crazy”. And her friend says “i think that’s how it’s supposed to be.” CAN THEY GET MORE CLEAR with the projection?

Heck, even El projects on to Mike. While mileven is separated between s1-2 she watches the soap opera (’all my children’) and pretends to be Erica kane (who in the episode El was watching) got into a rushed elopement to MIKE ROY (who was a writer).Aka she projected romance from soap operas/her possible crush of MIKE roy onto MIKE wheeler.And Erica/Mike weren’t endgame- even had a lot of st*liking after the break up (similar to El’s spying)

Mileven and Byler are very different- much to Mike’s annoyance. And Mike projects this anger of not being able to love El romantically on to Max,Will, & Hopper.

Mileven and byler are very different even if mike wishes he had romantic feelings for El (like he does for Will). Mileven is paralleled to hopper/el cause mike truly sees her in a familial way- both teach her the definitions of compromise vs promise (and make promises to her), say to eat “real food” and not eggos, keep her hidden away and safe. Both say her new look is “cool” and El in response to both says it’s “bitchin” and both say back “yeah bitchin”. Both claim someone is “corrupting” El (when trying to dictate her romantic decisions ) and Joyce/Max tell both guys they don’t respect El’s ability to make her own “decisions”. And El says to both of them “you lie” while Max says El should figure out what she likes and not simply listen to Hopper and Mike. Also similar to what she does with kali /Max (a sister/friend) El copies expressions from all 4 of them ( bitchin, i make my own rules , not stupid, mouth breather/friends don’t lie). Mileven is also paralleled to Luke/leia, and multiple people say El is like a “sister “ (lucas) and “cousin” (dustin) in s1. Even El asks before he first kisses her if Mike will he be “like (her) bother.”

In s2, Max (with the gang at Will’s house) asks how mike can still trust Will despite being possessed and in s3 max (with the gang at El’s house) calls out mike for not trusting El. “El has saved the world twice. And Mike still doesn’t trust her!”And instead of Mike admitting that truth -that he doesn’t trust El who he doesn’t know well (who spied on him) he projects all the blame/distrust wrongly on to max saying “you want to talk about trust ?REALLY?! After YOU made eleven spy on us!” And when max says it was el’s idea he yells exasperated into Max’s face “guess girlfriends don’t lie they spy!” He shows he’s aggravated with the fact El is so against lying but had no qualms with spying. But only yells at Max (not El) and he even tries (incorrectly) claiming Max is “corrupting” El and making her do things she didn’t want to do . Cause he’s still in denial and wants to fall in love with El- and doesn’t want to see any of El’s flaws that would make it harder to do so ( so he just projects that anger on to max instead).

And we know during the byler fight: Will calls El “stupid” but he was just projecting his own feelings about himself on to EL-since right after this he calls himself “stupid” 4x. So it’s likely when Mike yells back “El’s not stupid. It’s not my fault you don’t like girls!” Like Will, It’s AGAIN Mike PROJECTING his insecurities about himself (aka not liking girls) and his relationship issues with El - on to Will. Rather than an actual statement on Will’s se*uality. Sort of like Mike lashing out and projecting his anger about his failing romantic relationship with El on to Max .

The simple fact is el is mike’s safe option (she physically resembles Will but is a girl and thus he’s allowed to be attracted to her- in conservative 80s America). However, we see the more El develops into her own person and differs from Will in personality (plus , the fact puberty is making the distinction between genders more apparent) the harder it is for Mike to fool himself and project.The writers in s3 make a telemarketing joke just to have mike say “el, no, not interested” (aka his true feelings).Mileven in s3 was called “b*llshit” like stancy (which have multiple parallels and weren’t in love ). And nancy admitted to Jonathan (a byers ) she wanted to be with him the whole time. But ,despite that, got back with Steve (and continued to kiss Steve all the time, and even lied saying she loved Steve for an entire year) essentially mileven. Karen /ted also is paralleled to Stancy & mileven- who were “never in love” . Then , Max says friends don’t lie but “boyfriends (mike) LIE all the time” (aka he’s lying about his romantic feelings), and when lucas asks WHY he lied to el -it pans to Will (the real reason he lies to El about his feelings for her). When El asks “why do you lie” (he just is silent and stares up guilty). Lucas says about mileven (right before Dustin says they’re ��bullsh*t” that “they’re lying”.And when he tries confessing to El, he never apologizes for lying and just used the similar ‘crazy’ line he used on Will (in s2). Cause if he actually stopped lying - he couldn’t continue to use her as a beard and date her/try and get back together. Plus he also fought with Hopper in s2 (’about El’) in WILL’S ROOM . He wasn’t actually calling Hopper the liar he was PROJECTING and calling himself “a stupid disgusting liar”out of self hate . That scene was foreshadowing his lying to El in s3 (about his feelings for her). He blamed Hopper for his feelings for Will cause he told himself it wouldn’t have escalated if El had been around to ‘fix him’ . “I BLAME YOU! NOTHING ABOUT THIS IS OK! NOTHING ABOUT THIS IS OK. YOU STUPID DISGUSTING liar, liar, liar, liar”.starts crying. And then it zooms to Mike’s crying face and pans to El (who he would lie to constantly the next season).

I also discussed in detail here how the bathroom stobin confession paralleled the mileven grocery confession- and again 1 in each of the couplets is gay. Heck, the “first i love you” plays only 2x in s3: when steve confesses to gay-robin and when el confessed to mike and kisses him and Mike doesn’t kiss back or say he loves her back. When she kisses Mike- it’s in WILL’S ROOM room AGAIN, Will’s old teddybear between them, as they kiss in front of Will open closet door) . in s2ep1 the lyrics are “just a little more time can open closing doors” (as Mike kisses El and it pans over the ‘Will the wise’ drawing & a rainbow-heart-Mike drawing, that blend together). But , In the same ep- when Will says he won’t fall in love the lyrics are “love that is new to you, you open up the door.” Later in the song it even mentions the “wheeler house”. So yes- after “a little more time” (3 months) mike and El kiss once again like ep 1- but it’s in front of Will’s open door and Mike is not feeling it- and it shows what is going to begin in s4 (byler). That after some time- despite the byler-doors appearing to ‘close’ they open up again after the mileven breakup/mike realizing the depth of his feelings and the fact he can’t ‘fix himself’ and be straight.El saying she loved him- and him not feeling any different after... was probably the catalyst for that realization.

Before this, we saw him project “his feelings” for Will on to El in romantic situations. But, he refused to integrate her into his friend group like his straight friends did with their gfs-unlike lucas with max, or how dustin tried to do so with Susie) . Cause he’s unfairly used El as a beard and wanted to compartmentalizes his friends and romance as much as possible (since faking it all the time not only with El-but with his friends would be exhausting).

Does he care about El- sure in his own flawed way. But, sorry (in my opinion) to act like mike” loves Will and El equally “ is kind of ludicrous . His actions show the opposite. And he’s only known El for 9 months as opposed to knowing Will for 9 years. And he’s known all of his other guy friends and the Byers much longer. What do they have in common?Are they friends ? Sure... technically but “friends don’t lie”. And mike has done plenty of that to her - so until they sort that out- and are honest to eachother- they can’t really have a strong foundation of friendship in my opinion. It’ll only improve once they start being honest and respect each other’s autonomy (aka stop dating and actually establish a friendship... and stop lying /spying on eachother). At the moment- Mike stunts El’s character growth and tries isolating her from the outside world, doesn’t respect her autonomy/ability to make decisions, doesn’t trust her in general, lies to her, and treats her like he’s her overly controlling dad. The relationship isn’t balanced or healthy (like byler or Mike and his other peers). In s1 he called her “a weapon” they could use to save Will (a lesson he appears to have learned from).But Max has to yell at Mike in s3 “she’s not yours! she’s her own person-fully capable of making her own decisions!” And EL says Mike treats her like “a pet” and “garbage”. So yeah... I don’t get people being ‘offended’ by me pointing out the romantic projection he does- and saying it supposedly ‘destroys’ the ‘beautiful relationship/friendship’ they have. Before I can consider mileven a “beautiful/loving friendship’: Mike needs to stop projecting and seeing El as a perfect beard to ‘fix him’- AND see El as her own person and NOT someone he needs to ‘take care of’ (cause he wrongly infantilizes her) . I think the 2 will eventually become good friends- and Mike will see he was wrong. But they’re not there yet- in my opinion.

#byler #byeler #anti mileven

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p-artsypants · 3 years ago

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The Ghost of Smokey Joe (2)

Autumn Serenade

Adrien Agreste was acting bizarre. Stilted body language, plastic smile, and he seemed to have forgotten how close they were. Before she can get the truth out of him, Marinette finds herself as the sole heir to the Gabriel brand and the mansion, following the murder-suicide of both Adrien and Gabriel Agreste. The mystery continues as Tikki explains that Adrien was Chat Noir...but if Adrien is six feet under, why is Chat Noir still running around?

Ao3 | FF.net

Many hours later, the door clicked closed, and Marinette sat up straight in attention. “Adrien?”

“No girl, just me,” said Alya. “Did you sleep at the table all night?”

Sunlight poured in the window.

“I guess I did.” Marinette rubbed at her eye, smearing her mascara. “What time is it?”

“Morning time. Almost 8. I’m surprised Sunshine isn’t still here. I have expected to catch you both cuddling on the couch together. Did you just…fall asleep at the table?”

Marinette didn’t answer, her eyes welling up with tears.

“Marinette?”

“He bailed on me. Ghosted me. Not even a text.”

“He what!?” She shrieked. “Why that dumb little—“ Alya whipped out her phone, and called someone, putting them on speaker.

“He didn’t answer me, Alya, don’t even try.”

Instead, Nino’s voice spoke over the line. “What did you forget?”

“I didn’t forget anything! It was that Best Man of yours!”

“Adrien? What did stuffed-with-fluff forget?”

“He forgot Marinette!”

“Marinette? He ghosted her!?”

“Yes! He never showed! And he’s not answering any calls, so you better get a good excuse from him! He better be dead or in the hospital, or I’ll put him there!”

“Alya…” Marinette said weakly. “I’m sure he has a good excuse…”

“I’ll call him,” Nino promised. “I’ll figure this all out. He’s a good boy, I know he wouldn’t just…not call.”

“I want to believe that too,” Alya said with pain in her voice.

Then, Marinette’s phone rang, and she hurriedly answered it, not looking at the number. “Hello?”

“Hello Miss Dupain-Cheng,” said Nathalie.

“Oh, good morning.”

“I’m calling to inform you that next week, you’ll be working from the office all week. Mr. Agreste is…feeling unwell.”

“Oh, okay. Thank you for letting me know. By chance, is Adrien there?”

“No.” And without anything else, Nathalie hung up.

“Rude,” Marinette muttered to herself. “Something smells fishy.”

Nino called back a minute later. “I can’t get a hold of Adrien either. He’s not answering his phone.”

Alya frowned, arms crossed. “Fishy indeed.”

“Well, he can’t avoid me forever. I am Gabriel’s intern, so I’ll corner him sometime.” Then a horrible realization came over Marinette. “Oh god, he didn’t actually ask me out!”

“What? Did you daydream this whole thing?!”

“No! He asked me if I wanted to have dinner, and he said he had something important he wanted to tell me! But he never clarified that it was a date! I kissed his cheek! What if he panicked!? Alya, this is my fault!”

Nino laughed from the other end of the line. “Dude, this is so not your fault. It sounded like a date to me. He still owes you an explanation. Regardless of what type. Don’t blame yourself.”

“Nino’s got it right, Marinette. You didn’t do anything wrong. When he stops being such a butthead, he’ll come groveling. I promise.”

“Yeah, well, we can only hope.”

Through the trees

Comes Autumn with her serenade

Melodies

The sweetest music ever played

Autumn kisses we knew

Are beautiful souvenirs

A whole week of silence was torture. Marinette continued to go to work, and put on her big girl pants and acted like everything was fine. Gabriel only communicated to her through emails, and she was unanimously thrust into the leadership role in his absence.

It was frustrating, annoying, and stressful, since she was not prepared to become CEO overnight. By the end of the week, she had run herself ragged. Fueled by coffee and fear of failure, she wrapped up her last project for the evening, and went back to the apartment.

There, blessedly, Alya and Nino greeted her with hugs and leftovers.

“Rough day?”

“Rough week! Mr. Agreste has been basically AWOL, and I’m the one filling in! He doesn’t answer my phone calls or texts, and answers my emails an hour after the fact. I’m exhausted!”

“And Nathalie didn’t say anything to you?”

“Nope, she’s sealed up tight. Apparently, Gabriel is sick. But I can’t get any news about Adrien. Honestly, I’m about one mental breakdown away from breaking down the gates and demanding answers.”

Alya chuckled. “No need to be so drastic, Marinette. Maybe both of them got the flu, and Nathalie is forbidding them from doing anything but resting. You know how strict she is.”

Marinette kicked off her shoes and leaned her head back on the couch. “I know, I know, and you’re probably right. It might be best if I come up with a plan in case this ever happens again. Specifically Gabriel getting sick, not Adrien being a coward.”

“It’s weird though,” Said Nino. “Adrien’s always been overly considerate. Even after all this time, he still asks too many questions about social faux pas. For him to just ghost you, for a whole week even; it’s concerning.”

Marinette had tried not to think like that. Adrien being awkward and scared was so much easier to stomach than something tragic befalling him.

And yet, if it had, wouldn’t she know by now?

She took out her phone, and called Nathalie, much to the curious gazes of Nino and Alya.

“Hello Marinette.” The woman greeted, as stoic as ever. “I was under the impression that you were done for the night.”

“I am. I just...haven’t heard from Adrien all week.”

“With Gabriel ill, Adrien has been busy, much like you. It wouldn’t surprise me that social calls would fall to the wayside.”

“I was just...worried. Is he there?”

“Yes. He’s fine.”

“Can I talk to him?”

“He’s asleep. He’s had a hard week. You’ll see him Monday, as Mr. Agreste wants you working at the manor.”

“Oh, okay then. I guess...thank you, Nathalie.”

“You're welcome.” The call ended.

“So he’s not dead in a ditch.” Marinette announced. “Nathalie said he’s asleep. And I’ll see him Monday.”

Nino frowned, though he didn’t say anything.

It was just...odd.

As I pause to recall

The leaves seem to fall like tears

Silver stars

Were clinging to an Autumn sky

Monday morning, Marinette went over to the mansion. She rang the bell, and the gates opened. She crossed the quiet drive, the gates shutting behind her, and approached the door.

There was usually someone there to open it to greet her, whether it was Nathalie or the Gorilla. Not this time.

Marinette took hold of the handle and opened it herself, for the first time ever. She didn’t think they would mind, if the gate opened.

“Hello?” She called. “Nathalie?”

The lights in the foyer were off. And despite the large windows beside her, dark shadows hung in the corners like cobwebs.

The house felt empty. Cold, and dark. The manor had always been cold, of course. It was picture perfect, sterile and modern minimal. But today it felt worse. Noticeably worse.

If this is what it felt like at night when she went home, it was no wonder Adrien hated it here.

The doors to Gabriel’s office were closed, and she approached, knocking gently.

“Come in.” Said Nathalie’s voice.

She was at her desk, but Gabriel was nowhere to be seen. “Good morning,” she greeted.

“G-good morning.” Marinette nodded. “I’m just letting you know I’m here. You usually greet me at the door so...”

“You’ve been here long enough, I didn’t think such formalities were necessary.”

“They aren’t! It’s fine, totally fine. Just...unexpected is all. Is Gabriel still ill?”

“A bit. He may come down, but he may not. I will field all questions.”

“Okay,” she nodded. She prepared to leave, but asked. “Is Adrien home?”

“He’s working in his room. He’s very busy.”

Marinette just nodded, and went to her own office down the hall.

It was a smaller room, used to belong to Emilie. Gabriel was very specific about how things were kept. The desk was Marinette’s, but everything else was Emilie’s. The bureau in the corner, the little settee, the curtains, it was all her design. Emilie had good taste, thankfully, and so the room was fine the way it was.

Even with the light off, this room didn’t have that oppressive weight in it.

She could relax, however slightly, and get to work.

It was hard to concentrate on work when all she wanted to do was storm upstairs and demand answers from Adrien. At this point, she definitely felt like she deserved them. Date or not, she deserved a little closure as to what had happened, and why he had never followed up.

In all likeliness, it would probably just be, “my phone died, and then I forgot to text you back.”

But Nino’s comment about Adrien’s extreme consciousness really nagged at her.

Before she knew it, it was time for her lunch break, and she took her sack lunch with her to Gabriel’s office.

He still hadn’t come down, but Nathalie was there.

“Nathalie? I’m taking my lunch now. Do you think I could visit Adrien?”

The woman stopped her work and screwed up her lips, an expression Marinette had never seen on her before. She seemed to be thinking much too hard.

“I will go see if he is able to handle company.”

“Tell him I don’t want to bother him, and we don’t have to talk. I just want company.”

Nathalie nodded, and stepped out of the room. Marinette followed across the foyer, before Nathalie harshly told her, “wait here.”

She ascended the stairs to Adrien’s room.

Love was ours

Until October wandered by

Let the years come and go

I'll still feel the glow

That time cannot fade

When I hear

That lovely Autumn serenade

Marinette never had to wait. Since working in the same house, they had developed a pretty open door policy. He was allowed in her office anytime, and likewise, she was allowed in his room, though she usually knocked first. Young men and all.

But this was the first time anything like this happened. Was Nathalie just paranoid about her getting sick too? Or her getting Adrien sick?

Was Adrien still ignoring her, and let Nathalie in on it?

What had she done to warrant this reaction?

Finally, Nathalie came out of the room.

“Adrien can see you for a little bit. But he’s busy, so try not to distract him.” Her tone was stern, in a way that made Marinette instinctively curl into herself. A sternness like she was in trouble.

Seriously, what did she do?!

She climbed the stairs, and approached the door, knocking slightly. “Adrien?”

“Please come in,” his voice called back.

When she entered, she noticed the lights were out. He sat in his computer chair, facing her completely, sitting rigidly, and smiling.

It was the fakest smile she’d ever seen.

She sighed. “Relax. I’m not mad.”

He blinked. “You…aren’t?”

“I mean, I’m a little confused. Why didn’t you show?”

He frowned. “I’m sorry, I think I’m the one that’s confused. What are you talking about?”

She scoffed. “Last week? We were going to have dinner? You never showed or called?”

“Oh. I…forgot.”

“It was your idea!”

“I…was sick. And I fell asleep. Yes. What day?”

“Friday night.”

His eyes widened. “Oh yes. That is exactly what happened.”

She sighed as she sank into his couch, and opened her lunch. “I understand. I really do, but next time, could you return my calls? I spent a whole week in silence from you.”

“Nathalie confiscated my phone.”

This made her chuckle. “Okay, that’s an ironclad excuse.”

He smiled, again, so fake.

“So what did you want to tell me?”

“Tell you? I was under the impression that you wanted to talk to me.”

“Well yeah, but on Friday. You asked me to dinner and said you wanted to tell me something.”

He spun around in his chair to look at his computer. He scrolled through a document, and then turned back to her. “I don’t remember, I’m afraid. This past week has been…a bit fuzzy, to tell you the truth.”

“What were you sick with?”

His eye twitched. “Uh, cancer.”

“WHAT?!”

“Too severe? Strep throat then. Pneumonia. Bronchitis.”

“You could just say you don’t know instead of giving me a heart attack, you know.”

“Apologies.”

“Why are you talking like that?”

“Talking how so?”

“Like, really proper.”

“Is it not how I usually talk?”

“Not when we’re alone…”

He screwed up his lips. “Hmm. My bad. Too many period dramas while I was sick, I suppose.”

She laughed. “Oh my gosh, like when we binged Sherlock together, and we couldn’t stop talking with British accents?!”

He grinned. “Precisely. Just like that.”

“Man, had I known you were sick, I would have brought you some soup and given you company.”

“Nathalie wouldn’t have let you.”

“I know. It just kills me to think that you were alone all week.”

“It kills you?” He looked horrified.

“Yeah…I know you get lonely…sorry, I’m prying again.”

He shook his head. “Just…the phrasing caught me off guard.”

Marinette noticed from the moment she walked in, he had only once glanced at his computer. She was being a distraction, just like Nathalie had asked her not to.

“Well, I heard you were busy, so I’ll finish my lunch in my office. But, we’re good right?”

“What?”

“Like, you aren’t mad at me for anything? I didn’t do anything wrong?”

“No, you did nothing wrong. We’re great friends.”

“Good!”

Something was wrong.

Love was ours

Until October wandered by

Let the years come and go

I'll still feel the glow

That time cannot fade

When I hear

That lovely Autumn serenade

She walked to him and kissed his temple, like he always appreciated, and she spared a glance at the computer screen.

She only got a glimpse of the first line.

‘Your name is Adrien Agreste.’

I can’t guarantee prompt updates for a little bit. I have some logistics to figure out, but I have a few chapters ready, so I figured I’d start posting! All the chapter titles are songs from my spooky halloween playlist that inspired this fic (and their lyrics will be in the chapters)! You can find that playlist here. The playlist will be updated as the fic goes on.

I hope to post the last chapter on Halloween!

#ml #miraculous ladybug #fanfiction #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #adrienette #the ghost of Smokey Joe #ladybug #chat noir #ghost story

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griimhilde-a · 4 years ago

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if you know, you know.

——— a response to those who refuse to move on.

EDIT: after some encouragement and realizing that, while i tried to be respectful and private about this situation, i was not given the same treatment, i’ve decided to be upfront and filterless. here is a link to my page of receipts that i did not provide in this post.

i would like to point out that when i made the DNI, it was buried and sandwiched in my super long rules purposely so that it wasn’t explicitly visible and drawing attention. it was specifically put there for mutuals to understand my boundaries for the new blog, and as soon as i moved blogs, my guidelines underwent heavy reconstruction and the DNI section was removed overall ( i don’t like DNIs for myself ), as well as on this blog. all statements made in the DNI were what i felt to be true and based off of not only my experiences, but others’ as well, backed up with evidence i have saved that i didn’t feel the need to provide because it wasn’t meant to be a big deal, but i also felt i needed to explain why this person was on a DNI and that it wasn’t done out of malicious intent. again, if something sounds bad it is because “bad” things were done and i can’t control that.

reading the call-out had me ( and others ) confused on where it was i had bullied her, when i had her blocked since november, where it was i had manipulated her, and so forth. i’m always wanting to be a better person, so i was extremely confused on where i had done anything wrong. i also didn’t appreciate my new blog url being attached to it as it had nothing to do with it and i was trying to move forward, and it read very much like an attempt to blacklist. despite everything, i never wanted it to be a spectacle. the pinned, public call-out by this person doesn’t read to me as someone wanting to move on, but wanting to drag things further. this is not a call-out post, this is me defending myself. i will not name drop. if you know who this is about, i ask you just read this to understand the full story.

this is going to be a long boi ( i really tried to keep it short but alkfjdklfksldf nope ). i would also like to apologize for any dryness here, but i am aiming to just state facts as they are. it feels ---- ridiculous writing this all out because it’s something that could and should have been handled privately. but, here we go !!

everything on the DNI is true. i will not post or reveal the sources because one, they are not my stories to tell, and two, i am not going to give her the excuse to bother them. they deserve to be safe, and i am walking proof of what happens when you speak out against someone like her. if i have to bear that burden, then so be it.

it stopped being about “just a url” a long time ago. it became more about how i was treated in that interaction, and how i was continued to be treated afterwards. not to mention the increasing tension within the rpc and having to second-guess whether or not i was truly wanted. it was about how it was affecting those around me, my time in a hobby i love, and my mental health. the amount of times a mutual has tagged me by accident when they meant to tag her is insane. it most definitely did not feel good !!! if that kept happening, it was a problem. i also had to shut off the anon feature because of the amount of anons i was receiving. some had good intentions, but others had resorted to hate.

regarding the messages on discord --- i stand by them. i thought if you were friends with someone on discord and have previously talked over time, it was okay to message, otherwise what was the point of discord? i didn't realize it would make her uncomfortable to do so, and i’m more careful about how i approach people now !!!

regarding the messages: there was no change in tone other than that i grew exhausted and extremely anxious ( shaking !!! palms sweaty !!! knees weak !!!! mom’s spaghetti !!! ) and wasn’t in the proper mindset to sound happy while i was being invalidated to my face. i have even apologized there if i came off as mean. i don’t “present myself” in a way. that’s just how i talk, i prefer communicating one-on-one and i try to alleviate tension that arises no matter what because these types of conversations aren’t always a walk in the park. i wanted things to be good and not stressful for all parties involved. i’m sorry my tone came off as insincere. after being in desc rpc for a year, i was a little surprised seeing a near-identical url so i think it was fair for me to message her about it. she made the decision use it, and i was allowed to react. it was said misspellings in urls made her anxious so i wanted to help and i was shot down and vilified, essentially told i made her feel unsafe and shouldn’t have messaged. if it wasn’t okay to claim i felt “unsafe” and “paranoid”, why was it okay for her to claim the same based on a choice she made herself, but not me to feel anxious about those choices?

i have never told a blog to block her. i have never initiated conversation about her, nor have i spoken negatively about her as a person. ever. i have, in fact, even stated that i didn’t want anyone blocking and that it would be okay to interact. here’s one example after i was approached about her. i cannot control what other people do.

hardblocking her on my end was to avoid seeing her on dash as much as possible.

i am allowed to softblock / unfollow people who interact with her after months of trying to be okay with it. what kickstarted this process was someone i thought was a close friend had dropped me and suddenly i realized i didn’t need to sacrifice my comfort for the sake of keeping a mutual. if they could do it, so could i. while i adore the descendants rpc, the rpc is not a family, we’re not obligated to interact IC or be mutuals with every single person in the rpc. it’s not causing a rift when we don’t interact on dash. i have even emphasized that i would love to stay in contact via discord and write there if possible !! why am i being vilified for trying to make my blog a safe space for me?

regarding the “vagues”: they were all responses. a mutual wrote the post, i reblogged it, my tags were in response to the post ( said mutual’s url wasn’t even blocked out so ... ). if it felt like a vague, i can’t control that. the meaning behind the url post was circulating on dash, i didn’t see any vaguing in it other than me recounting my process of choosing this url, which was true ( was i not allowed to participate?? ). the shrek meme was in response to a public dash event ( which i originally thought was a joke ) that had received copious amounts of criticism for. it wasn’t a vague and it was explicit on what it was referring to, it was meant to be silly dash commentary, nothing deep.

this is in my rules but i have explicitly stated that my headcanons about my characters are not a vague if they differ from yours. the talk about hair styles was actually initiated in a conversation with my friends in private. it had absolutely nothing to do with her. if it sounded like a drag, i encourage everyone to look at how i’ve “dragged” many other things including the original outfits for descendants, evie thinking mermaid dresses are ugly, evie not liking wine, and so forth. my portrayal of evie =/= other portrayals of evie. while she may never do so-and-so, it doesn’t make it wrong for another portrayal to do it. ( why was my blog being kept tabs on and compared with, in the first place? that’s not duplicate friendly ).

regarding sex week: i've stated it was an inappropriate event because the descendants rpc had been heavily criticized for smutting and felt it wasn't the best response, nor was it the best way to promote sex positivity. it was insanely uncomfortable to witness, as someone in this rpc. it doesn’t matter if the people or the muses involved were adults, i would still call it inappropriate had it happened in any other rpc. it wasn’t a “block and move on” situation. i’m also allowed to defend myself because i didn’t want to be associated with something she posted. i didn’t want it tied to my url. i would like to clarify that when i said "embarrassing" in the responses under that anon, it was directed at the anon for misreading the url, nobody else. ostracizing occurred when the descendants rpc was being added to DNIs because of sex week / smutting, which was posted by this person ( if you post it, you start it. simple ). i had been blocked simply because i am a descendants blog and that had never happened before.

i was also notified that people uninvolved with this have been namedropping me on dash in an attempt to have me “written off” ( their words, not mine ) because my rules stated that i was open to exploring evie’s sexuality. below is a screenshot of my rule regarding smut. i deleted the rules page from this blog when i moved so i snatched it from my other canon descendants blog that i reuse on all blogs. the second is my elaboration on sexual content in my new evie rules. the third is what’s on my google doc, a condensed version of my rules. there is a major difference between smutting and posting a public dash event dedicated to sex versus being open to explore sexuality as a topic. they are not the same. also, me not choosing to smut does not dictate my opinion on smut, so do not make assumptions about that either. if you want to move on, why are you still talking about me on dash, especially when unprompted? if you just want to move on, why are you upset that i’m not “written off”?

this person has vagued me multiple times ( which they conveniently did not show in the call-out ), this person has been shown to talk badly of me in private ( and now, publicly as well ) ---- all of which i have not done. i have screenshots sent by others to show for it, but do not feel it’s relevant to share because this is not about her. this is just about defending myself.

i have spent three months apologizing for feeling things, apologizing for reacting, apologizing for things i should not have been apologizing for. i have spent so long accepting blame because i felt it would help. i’m done doing that. i know what i did and what i didn’t do. people know what i did and didn’t do.

all in all, i am confused on why a call-out was made when the content provides nothing other than catty remarks meant to air out personal drama. the messages exchanged only show how i tried to remedy things. the screenshots of my “vagues” were just responses, and most of which had nothing to do with this person. my initial silly dash commentary and later discomfort over a sexual dash event posted by this person is not a vague.

if you ( referring to maker of the call-out and others who partook ) are upset about people not talking about me in regards to the “rest of the call-out”, maybe consider the fact that there was nothing about me in it that warranted a call-out in the first place. people saw that i did nothing wrong. the only thing of substance in the call-out was something the maker themselves did : the public, sexual dash event. people are allowed to identify that as a more prominent issue as opposed to how my messages or public posts could be perceived through basic, biased narrative manipulation.

me deciding to unfollow / softblock blogs that interact with this person =/= involving the descendants rpc or making it public. i am allowed to softblock whoever i want to cultivate my dash experience. most people i know have it in their rules that they are okay with people softblocking for their comfort and that it won’t be taken personally. you know what IS making it public and involving the entire descendants rpc? this person messaging a descendants server and name dropping me in the server, reducing the situation to just being about a “url” and publicly announcing it in the server. here are the facts to consider: her message was sent jan. 21. my DNI went up feb 2.

so, regarding the call-out: there was no bullying, no manipulation, no harassment, no gaslighting, nothing from my end, and the call-out shows precisely that the claims are just that: claims. whatever was felt is valid, but feelings =/= gravity of the actual action itself - the most common thing pointed out in therapy: feelings are valid, but are they justified? call-outs should be reserved for people who cause actual harm, not because someone wants an excuse to blacklist. if i am a “bully” for unfollowing blogs for my own comfort, then i think the rpc really needs to reevaluate what these terms mean because the misuse is harmful.

here are the things i did do: treated everyone i talked to with respect. approached things civilly. communicated. tried to accommodate for others. attempted to make a safe space for myself. did not involve the entire rpc by announcing it in a server. did not make a call-out post nor pin it. did not continue to name drop afterwards despite claiming to want to move on.

this entire situation is absurd and should have never been public, much less made a call-out for !! while this was meant to defend myself and state facts, i understand it may not change minds. a friend has told me that people will hate me because they want to hate me, no matter what. and i can’t do anything about that !! all i have to say is that holding hate in your heart never ends well. i hope everyone can find peace at some point.

so please, let me move on. let me write with my friends. let me unfollow / softblock people to keep my dash comfortable. let me take a break from descendants while also having the choice to return at anytime. please stop talking about me when i’m not even giving this another thought and haven’t since i moved blogs. please stop name dropping. stop keeping tabs on me, stop stalking my new blog. please leave me alone. i hold absolutely nothing against anyone i may have softblocked / unfollowed or am not currently interacting with on my new blog. my IMS / discord is always available, you will not be violating my safety by messaging me, everyone is welcome, but i also understand if you feel the need to separate yourself !!! as for those of you who have interacted with the call-out post, i wish you the best but i hope you understand why i do not want to interact with you by any means in the future.

i’m hoping this post lays everything to rest, seeing as my first one did not. honestly, what are you trying to prove if you still have to post about this? it helps nobody. this back-and-forth is exhausting and unneeded. no more. let’s be better people, yeah?

i hope everyone takes care of themselves, i hope you all have a great day / night !!! thank you for reading this long boi !!

#this is a long boi.#thank u to everyone who's offered their support these past few days!#i refuse to let people push me out with baseless claims !!!#so here are all the facts #i really don't want to talk about this anymore but if u need proof of the things this person has done u can msg me #otherwise. this ends here.#pls don't reblog!

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angrylizardjacket · 3 years ago

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dirtbags // 4: Lola

Summary: High school AU. 1985. Winter. Heather’s party is huge; Lola makes new friends, get better acquainted with some underclassmen, and turns out to be far cozier with the hostess than anyone could guess. The next day, Nikki comes to work despite his hangover, while Charlotte and Eileen plan Vince’s murder. Razzle’s just there to have fun.

A/N: 6603 words. For @misscharlottelee and @julymotel , my beloveds, as always. Sorry it's late, it's been a hell of a week. But, here's the kids. I should say that this chapter does include slight, implied internalised homophobia, just as a warning.

judge if you want, we are all going to die. i intend to deserve it.

For the record, Lola isn’t a party-goer by nature, and the fact that she’s been to two in as many months is baffling her. Usually she just goes to see bands, and sometimes hangs out at peoples’ houses, but high school parties specifically alluded her for most of her time in Boston. It’s not that she wasn’t invited, but her mom had been something of a hardass, and the closest she’d ever gotten was when drunk kids made their way to the diner right before closing on a Friday or Saturday.

Her dad’s fully supportive of her going out and partying, which is weird in it’s own right. He writes down their home phone number on a piece of paper, in case Lola can’t remember it when she’s drunk - his words - and tells her to call whenever she needs a lift. Don’t go get into a car with strangers. Drink plenty of water. Be safe. Have fun.

“Dad, you’re being weird,” she’d told him flatly, applying eyeliner to her waterline in the bathroom. Leo, leaning against the door with his arms crossed, was watching her with a fond expression.

“If I was a hardass and banned you from going out, you’d probably still sneak out anyways -” Lola goes to protest, which Leo finds sweet, but he holds a hand up, and she lets him continue, “not that I don’t think you respect me, but I just know what it was like being a teenager; if you got into trouble while sneaking out, you wouldn’t feel like you could call me for help,” he explained, giving pause, “but I always will, you know that, right?” And Lola nods, but goes back to applying eyeliner, knowing her father’s tone of voice too well, anticipating the fact that he was about to dive into a story of his own to help prove his point.

“When I was your age, or maybe a bit younger, fifteen or sixteen, me and some friends snuck out to a bonfire one night that my parents had absolutely forbidden me from going to, and I ended up needing to go to the emergency room from a burn I got on my hand from being an idiot around the fire,” and he raised his left hand, to show the still visible, large scar on his palm, “I was more terrified of what my father would do than of the burn itself so I didn’t try and call him or mum; I walked home from the hospital alone the next morning, and lied about how I got the burn.”

Lola paused, lowering the eyeliner pencil, meeting her father’s gaze in the mirror. Leo’s smile had turned a little sad at the memory; Lola doesn’t hear much about her grandparents, and she wonders if stories like this are the reason why.

“You’re my kid, Keola, I never want you to think you can’t come to me for help, okay?” It’s rare for Leo to use Lola’s full first name, usually reserving it for more poignant and earnest moments, so every comment about how he’s being a sap, or that she already knows, dies on Lola’s tongue.

“Thanks, dad,” she smiles soft, and Leo smiles back, all crows feet and laugh lines, before he tells her that she looks badass, and he steps out of the doorframe, heading back downstairs to the diner.

By the time Lola shows up, it’s just edging past eight-thirty, though the party still seems to be in its early stages. There’s music that can be heard down the street, and fairy lights scattered throughout the garden, though most of the partygoers who had already arrived are still confined to the house. Apart from a gangly, dark-haired boy whose face she knows, but whose name she doesn’t, sitting on the wide, ostentatious front steps, looking up at the stars glittering overhead. There’s a cigarette in a loose grip between two fingers, though the ash has already burnt down half of it without him tapping it off; it’s almost comical, she’s pretty sure he hasn’t even put it to his lips yet.

“You’re wasting that,” Lola points out, and the guy is jolted from his thoughts, the movement sharp enough to have the ash falling from the cigarette and to the ground by his shoes. He looks to the cigarette, which has gone out, and then to Lola, a little helpless, “I could take it off your hands,” she offers, unsure of how to proceed, and he holds the cigarette out, smile blooming on his face.

“I can’t get the hang of it; I’m playing a smoker in this play I’m doing in a month, and I’ve been trying, you know, make it feel natural, never seems to,” his mouth is curved into a bemused smile as he shrugs helplessly, watching Lola tuck the half a cigarette behind her ear. For a moment, his eyes roam his face, like he’s searching for something to recognize, and she can read it all over him when he finds it, his eyes alight with familiarity, “you work at the diner!”

Lola hates how disarming she finds his earnestness. He doesn’t mention her reputation or the rumours around her, which she’s pretty sure he would have heard since she’s eighty-percent sure he goes to her school.

“Lola,” she offers her hand, and he takes it, using it as leverage to get to his feet before he gives it a proper shake.

“Keanu,” he says, matter-of-factly, still grinning, and Lola suddenly knows where she knows him from. The school musical sign-up sheet is on the Art Faculty’s notice board right outside her art classroom, and she’s been staring at his name amongst a small list of others, including Eileen’s, much to Lola’s surprise, while she and the rest of her art class wait to get into their room.

At least she’s pretty sure it’s him; Keanu’s not exactly a common name. The only other time she’d heard it was in one of her dad’s stories, it was the name of one of his childhood friends -

She leaves it be; he groans and stretches, and there’s an idle moment where his shirt rides up, and Lola reminds herself to focus on the person who actually invited her, and to stop getting fleeting feelings for people she barely knows just because they’re pretty. Lola mutters that she needs a drink, and Keanu claps her on the shoulder and agrees, the two of them heading inside.

Heather’s house is in the same part of town as Vince’s, almost an hour’s walk from the diner, but somehow Heather’s is even nicer. Sprawling front lawn, abstract paintings and movie props on little, pristine pedestals inside, Lola feels like she’s lowering the property value just by stepping foot inside. The party was easily both the nicest and most raucous Lola had ever been to, which, granted, wasn’t saying a lot, but their house was wired with speakers, all connected back to the jukebox in the living room, and Heather’s parents had even let her hire coloured lights.

“As long as the cops aren’t called, we can do whatever we want,” was the message passed around the school from Heather herself. Lola’s feels as though that probably won’t bode well for her parents’ elegantly displayed collectables, but whatever, it’s not like it’s Lola’s problem.

Already there’s a decent crowd inside, and Lola loses Keanu amongst them, making a beeline for the kitchen, manoeuvring around the house with easy familiarity. She reaches pushes past several people to get to the fridge, reaching all the way to the back, past a set of tupperware, to the bottle of wine Heather’s mom had stashed there. Lola removes the sticky note telling everyone not to touch it, and uncorks the bottle over the sink, scowling.

It feels like she’s floating through the night, no-one around that she knows just yet, disconnected from everyone else, carrying the bottle of wine by her side, occasionally taking a drink. Moving from room to room, she takes her time people watching, and guessing how long before the various, expensive props and bric-a-brac were being used for things counter to their intended purpose.

In the front room, there’s finally someone she recognises, kind of; the the young redhead, the fruit one- Peach! She’s unsteady on her feet, beautiful and angry, defiantly making her way through a can of cheap beer, and Lola wonders where the rest of her clique is, that sister of hers, Eileen, even Charlotte.

“You okay?” Lola’s never been great at comforting people, but Peach is currently leaning against a wall at a forty-five degree angle after losing her balance, and scowling. She’s drunk. Already. Fuck.

“I’m fine! Freaking- fucking great!” She’s not even looking at Lola properly, glaring out the window she’d narrowly missed falling on. Lola follows her gaze. It’s just passed nine, and Tommy and Charlotte can be seen walking up to the door; they don’t see Peach or Lola, thankfully.

“You - you’re friends with that... that mean, asshole, punk guy, right?” Peach asks, standing upright so suddenly she overbalances again, and Lola has to catch her elbow to keep her from topping. Peach slaps her hand away, but keeps her balance, obviously with a bee in her bonnet about something that Lola couldn’t even begin it fathom.

“Nikki?” Lola clarifies flatly, amused but not wanting it to show. Peach nods solemnly. Lola bites back a laugh, “yes, I’m friends with him, why?”

“Is he coming tonight?” Peach asks, tone almost forcibly coy and casual, raising her can of drink, taking large gulps as Lola says that he mentioned that he should be, and then asks why. Peach goes quiet. Lola had thought it impossible for Peach’s scowl to grow deeper, but it did, as a blush began to creep up her neck.

“You know my sister, right? Eileen?” Peach says, instead, and Lola nods slowly, and she takes a swig of wine, “she’s a year - a single goddamn year - older than me; I’m sixteen, Lola, she said I was too young to go to a party like this.” And yeah, okay, Lola makes a face at that; she was the same age as Tommy, and he’s done objectively worse stuff in front of Eileen and Charlotte with no complaints. The last house party flashes through Lola’s mind, and she grimaces - “exactly, it’s dumb! Charlie had been dating Duff for a year by the time she was my age, and let me tell you, they were proper gross!” Peach sways a little, and Lola reminds her that she has no idea who Duff is; Peach calls him a word that shocks Lola to hear her say it, especially for a girl who had to correct herself from saying freaking to fucking just moments ago.

“Noted,” Lola nods, and takes another drink; she’s almost a third through the bottle.

“I’m not a child, Lola,” Peach says, as seriously as she can muster, and, as if light a lightbulb has gone off above Lola’s head, she realises why Peach was asking after Nikki.

“You’re not,” Lola agrees slowly, and looks around, hoping to spot Charlotte or Tommy around, someone better suited to talking an angry, determined Peach out of something she’d regret.

“Don’t take that tone with me,” Peach huffed, standing to her full height, which unfortunately for Lola, made her taller by a few inches, “you know what, fuck you, Lola -”

“Peach -”

“No, fuck that, I know that tone -”

“Never thought I’d see you out at a place like this, Peach,” there’s a warm familiarity in the voice that joins them, and Peach visibly relaxes. Lola turns, and sees Vince Neil, bleach blonde, decked out in his usual, obnoxious white.

“Fuck off, Vince,” Peach mumbles, turning back to the window in an attempt to hide her sudden blush. Lola raises her eyebrows and looks to Vince, intrigued. The moment his gaze meets Lola’s, Vince turns quietly awkward, and can do little more than offer a shrug.

“Peach?” He tries again, and Peach finishes her drink, tipping her head back, and doesn’t even seem to notice that she’s started to topple back until he catches her, “fuck, Peach.” He says, still holding her.

“You really should fuck off,” Peach says, softer this time, leaning into him, and something pained flashes across Vince’s expression for the barest moment; Peach doesn’t notice in her state, but Lola sees it.

“Eileen been in your ear lately?” Vince asks through gritted teeth. Peach’s scowl back in full force, and she’s righting herself.

“No,” she snaps, an obvious lie, and she pushes past Lola, making her unsteady way to the kitchen, Vince obviously feeling some sort of obligation to her, following quickly in her wake. Thank God. Lola really didn’t want to take care of a girl she barely knows all night.

She’s two thirds of the way through the bottle of wine, feeling good and buzzed, and she’s made polite conversation with the people she knows and the people she doesn’t, the people who know her by reputation, or from the diner, polite to a fault, knowing too much and too little about her all at once.

Tommy’s roped them into a conversation with a few kids from his year that Lola doesn’t recognize any of them, and one, drunk, brunette, stupid, asks her about the rumours, in a crude, roundabout way. Tommy’s hand is firm on Lola’s shoulder, apology in his eyes as he silently pleads with her to not make a scene. Lola kicks his asshole friend in the shin anyways, and spits that he has terrible taste in friends.

Charlotte waves to her, but Lola doesn’t see it in her angry state, storming up the stairs to the second floor. It’s quieter up here, mostly. There’s a group in a side room playing spin the bottle, and people taking advantage of Heather’s parents’ bedroom, and the door to Heather’s room is closed. Lola bangs her closed fist on the nondescript door.

“Who is it?” Heather’s voice, strained, rings out from the other side.

“I’m gonna be sick,” Lola whined through a lie, banging again. There’s scuffling on the other side, Heather hissing for whoever’s with her to go, to get out the window, anything. Lola smirks, “please, all the other bathrooms are -” and she fake gags, right as the door wrenches open to show Heather’s flustered face, hair a mess, scowling.

“What?”

“I’m lying,” Lola whispered, leaning against the doorframe, pushing down all her annoyance at Tommy and his asshole friends, and playing at being coy. Heather huffs an annoyed breath through her nose.

“I know,” she snaps, but lets Lola in anyways, and Lola automatically closes the door behind herself, leaning her back against it, watching Heather try and act casual, heading to her bed, “should I be jealous?” Lola smirks, and Heather shoots her a filthy look. Lola takes a long drink of the wine, and Heather’s expression turns from angry, to simply annoyed.

“Of course, of fucking course, you, the only asshole who actually knew about it-”

“Your mom can buy another one, it’s not like you’re not -”

“Don’t say it,” Heather warns, sitting on the edge of her bed, and Lola’s smile grows sly and amused. Heather’s gaze flicks to the door handle, “lock that.”

“Yes, Princess,” Lola smirks, reaching over with her free hand, making quick work of locking the door.

“Do not,” Heather hisses at the pet name, and Lola pushes off the door, heading towards her, and offers her the bottle. Heather’s lips press into a thin line as the regards the drink she knows is completely illicit for a number of reasons, before taking it, and taking a drink - “fuck, how much of this have you had?”

In answer, Lola takes the bottle back and finishes it off.

“You’re a pig and a thief,” Heather tells her, but Lola’s smile is all teeth.

“And you kicked out someone - a boy, I’m guessing - for this thieving pig,” Lola reminds her, placing the empty bottle carefully on the nightstand of her luxurious double bed. Heather turns scarlet.

“I thought you’d at least wait until eleven to find me,” she deflects, defensive at the truth in Lola’s words, to which Lola herself actually laughs, flopping back onto the bed, arms spread, two fingers hooking into the back waistband of Heather’s flirty, short skirt.

“The fact that I’m here at all is a miracle, Princess -”

“Don’t.”

“And you know you could have told me to throw up in the garden,” Lola points out. A moment of silence follows, she tugs at Heather’s waistband, and Heather follows the unspoken prompt, leaning back onto the bed.

“Boys don’t know what they’re doing,” she says, staring up at the ceiling, arms folded but feet still planted firmly on the floor, and Lola’s eyes go wide, delighted, twisting onto her side to look at Heather’s blushing face.

“I knew you liked me,” Lola teases, grinning sharp.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Heather scoffs, angling her head back to level a glare at Lola, after a beat, she reaches back, fingers nimble and cold but her grip on Lola’s jaw secure. She frowns at Lola’s lips, rubbing her thumb none too gently over the bottom lip, taking off the black lipstick painted there, staining her own thumb in the process.

“Are you waiting for an invitation?” Heather prompts, frustrated, tone icy. Lola raises her eyebrows at the blonde's impatience.

“As you command, your highness,” Lola pushes herself up on her elbows, and off the bed, smirking in the face of Heather’s annoyance, before she scrubs at her mouth with the back of her hand, getting rid of the rest of her lipstick.

“I’ll be quick so you can get back to your boytoy,” Lola smirks up at Heather, kneeling between her knees, and in the next moment Heather’s legs clamp painfully tight around her head, bony knees pressing into her temples.

“If you tell fucking anyone I did anything other than get you water while you threw up in my bathroom, I will ruin your fucking life,” she spits, and Lola’s expression contorts into one of furious annoyance as she wrenches her head free, sitting back on her heels.

“As if I’d tell anyone; if you tell anyone, I’ll burn your fucking house down, do not test me on that,” she warns in return, before Heather relaxes and lays back, eyes back on the ceiling, waiting, “fucking pillow princess, I wish you’d get me a glass of water once in a while,” Lola muttered, leaning back in.

“Hey!” Heather objects, looking down, only to see the barely concealed fury smouldering in Lola’s eyes as she looks at Heather through her lashes. Lola orders her to shut up, presses a pointed kiss to her inner thigh, and Heather obeys without any more fuss.

All it took, in the beginning, was for Lola to confront Heather and ask why the fuck she couldn’t keep her eyes to herself during class, fully expecting a fight. It was after school, Lola had followed her into the bathroom after class as the school was emptying. Heather’s lip had curled, derisive, giving Lola a look like she was a bug beneath her shoe.

“You see something you fucking like?” Lola had snarled, ready to square up, chest puffed out, and Heather had rolled her eyes, scoffing about how Lola wasn’t even close to her type, before she’d realised what she’d said.

Neither had known how to proceed in that moment, both terrified of how the other would react, Lola could see the sudden fear in Heather’s eyes at the admission. Very deliberately, Lola had relaxed her posture, looking Heather over with a new appreciation, and Heather had flushed under her gaze.

“I didn’t know it was like that,” Lola had smirked, gaze locking onto Heather’s. The blonde was embarrassed, furious at herself, “well if I ever become your type -” those seven words had changed everything. Immediately, Heather knew exactly what Lola had meant, that she wasn’t a threat in the way she’d feared, and that Lola was like her, in some way, in a way that was safe.

“You’re -?” Heather raised a single, perfect eyebrow at her.

“I don’t advertise it,” Lola said, voice flat, hands in her pockets and shoulders carefully relaxed, “don’t know, you know, who else is... like me.”

“Like you?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it here,” Lola had muttered, gaze flicking to the empty stalls, and Heather had given her a long, evaluative look, before stepping forward, apparently finding something she likes.

Heather’s kind of pinning over a straight girl and none of the rest of the school has any idea she likes anything other than boys, and she’d like to keep it that way. No-one really cares about Lola the way they do about Heather, so they feel safe fooling around together at Heather’s under the guise of ‘studying’; they don’t really even like each other as people, it’s more mutually beneficial than anything else, but it’s kind of nice to have this understanding between them, free to be themselves without fear, even if it’s only for short amounts of time.

Now, at the party, when Lola goes to leave the room after all is said and done, hair checked in the mirror, lipstick reapplied neatly, Heather grabs her arm, quiet but no longer irritate in Lola’s presence, and Lola’s eyes go wide with question, but she too is silent. Heather steels herself, steps up to Lola, and then she’s got her fingers carding through Lola’s hair, and holding tight, and Lola lets herself be maneuverer, her head tipping and Heather’s lips on her neck.

When Heather steps back, there’s the beginning of a hickey blooming on the juncture where Lola’s shoulder meets her throat, aching faintly, pleasantly, and her hands are soft on Heather’s hips, lips twitching into a smirk.

“You could have just said thank you,” Lola snorted, and Heather’s frowning, but it doesn’t seem to be specifically at Lola; she rolls her eyes. Lola presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth, quick and chaste, and scrubs at the mark she leaves behind before Heather slaps her hand away and tells her to get out, though there’s no anger behind it.

When Lola opens the door, she puts on a show of being a little more unsteady than she really was, and is surprised to see Nikki leaning against the wall a few feet away, chatting to Tommy, looking so carefully casual. Lola’s pretty sure she hears Nikki sigh something about needing to find a guitarist, but that’s the moment Tommy spots Lola. He tries to apologise for his friends, but Lola shrugs, letting the incident go easily.

And then Nikki’s eyes flick to hers, and he asks if she’s okay, and Tommy seems confused but Lola’s hit with a realization. She pulls back her act and tries not to smile too wide.

“I’m fine now, great actually, it’s sweet of you to care,” its absolutely and completely innocent, but she raises an eyebrow at him, as if asking how he knows that she was unwell. In lieu of response, Nikki stands to his full height, walks to the door, and knocks. Lola and Tommy watch, the former far more confused than the latter.

Heather opens the door wide, not a hair out of place, makeup immaculate and untouched, and tells Nikki to fuck off, swanning past him and down to the rest of her party. Nikki turns on Lola.

“You couldn’t have thrown your guts up in a bush somewhere?” Nikki hissed, frustrated, and Lola does a great job at biting back her laughter, shaking her head and shrugging helplessly.

“We’re you waiting out here that whole time?” Lola asks, and Nikki turns amusingly pink, stalking past her to the stairs, to which both Lola and Tommy followed, with Lola calling out a half-hearted apology, and Nikki telling her to shove it up her ass.

gandhi said 'be the change you want to see in the world.' fuck that. be the trouble you want to see in the world.

“Don’t tell me you’re still mad about last night,” the morning after the party, or was it afternoon - midday after Heather’s party - Lola’s tying her red bandana around her head, hip leaning against the counter out the back by the fryer where Nikki was scowling at an order of fries that was bubbling away.

“The world doesn’t revolve around you, Lola,” Nikki snaps back, looking up at her, still frowning, and Lola’s smile widens, just a little. Nikki sighs, relenting, his voice dropping low, “I’m hungover as fuck, just piss off, can you?” But it doesn’t sound half as cruel as the words themselves imply, and Lola dips to press her cheek to his shoulder in a moment of affectionate familiarity before heading out to start serving customers.

It’s almost one when Charlotte and that English kid, Razzle, walk in, with the tall, pretty ginger, Eileen, sans their usual extras, but they take their spot at their usual booth by the window, talking quietly but animatedly.

“- the nerve on him! Hi, Lola,” Eileen’s practically vibrating with pent up, frustrated energy, greeting Lola with what Eileen probably assumed was a smile, but was still definitely a scowl.

“Everything alright here?” Lola asked, forcing her voice even brighter than she’d usually attempt, and Eileen’s gaze dropped to the menu, going quiet, brooding, while Charlotte sat up a little straighter and smiled, clearly not on such an intense wavelength as her friend.

“Everything’s just great; plotting Vince’s murder, kind of starving, the usual,” she shrugs, and Razzle, by her side, snorts a laugh.

“Good to see you survived the night, Honky Cat,” he adds in lieu of a greeting of his own, and Lola takes a moment to process all the information she’d just been exposed to.

“’course I did, I drank my weight in water between shots,” Lola smirks at Razzle, before her gaze slides to Charlotte, “and that’s very fair; I’d ask what he’s done now, but I think I’ll take care of your order first,” she grins amicably and pulls out her notepad and pen, as the three of them order their usual drinks and lunch preferences.

Lola heads back to the counter, calling out the order to the kitchen, taking another few order to their various destinations, before getting her friends’ drinks together to take them over.

“- home and didn’t even call, Razz, she didn’t even -” Eileen was still ranting by the time Lola deposits their drinks before them. Lola’s pretty sure she saw Razzle and Charlotte deliberately knocking knees beneath the table, but doesn’t think about it too hard. Nor does she dwell on the memory of seeing them at the party last night, of a gaggle of cheerleaders around talking to Razzle, though he just kept trying to talk to Charlotte. Later, she’d definitely seen them on the sofas, talking with Tommy and some of Charlotte’s other friends, leaning in to each other, Razzle’s arm around her shoulders, playing with the whispy ends of her hair. Lola hadn’t thought much of it at the time; she’d made out with Tommy at her first house party in the area, it hadn’t developed past friendship.

It was cute, if it was anything.

“Lola, you were there!” Eileen turned very suddenly, the moment her cup had been placed in front of her, and Lola’s eyebrows shot up, “did you see my sister last night?”

It feels like a trap, because yes, Lola definitely did, but also -

“Yes, why?” Lola asks, slowly, cocking a hip.

“They’re in the middle of a blue,” Razzle said, with a fond smile at Eileen’s carefully neutral expression, while she stirred her drink with intent.

“A fight,” Charlotte translated, “and Peach went to Heather’s last night, and got kind of shitfaced, and Vince took care of her, was really quite sweet, but she stayed with him because his place was closer and Peach refused to call Eileen.”

“She stayed with Vince?” Lola said carefully, trying not to imply she was jumping to conclusions, but Eileen’s stirring ceased in favour of vigorous drinking of the drink, obviously stuck on a similar train of thought.

“She slept on the couch,” Razzle filled in quickly, “was still there when I left, tucked in with a blanket, all above board.”

“And you didn’t know where she was -?” Lola frowns, confused.

“Vince called at three in the morning,” Eileen glowered out the window, voice low and even, “dad was mad until he was grateful; the man’s backbone is made of marshmallow fluff. She was meant to be home at one.”

“But she’s okay?”

“It’s the principle of the thing, Lola,” Eileen had said, giving Lola a look far older and longsuffering than her seventeen years.

“If we brought in Vince’s heart, would your dad batter it up and fry it for Eileen to eat?” Charlotte asked, tone teasing and light, to which Eileen rolled her eyes, but at least it got her to smile, even a little. Even when Lola snorted a laugh and told her ‘absolutely not’.

Later, on their break, Lola and Nikki sit on the roof of the building and share a serve of chips that he’d overcooked, and a cigarette, and Lola asks about Vince. Turns out Nikki doesn’t know much; he hadn’t grown up with the rest of them, had moved to the neighbourhood near the start of high school, and all he really knows is that girls apparently think Vince’s dick developed some sort of Midas touch over Summer.

“Don’t get me wrong, he’s always been stupid pretty,” Nikki shoves a chip in his mouth before leaning back on his elbows, “far as I know, but you’ve seen his car, right? That fuck-off, expensive red one that sits in the teacher’s carpark, with the massive scratch in the paint along the left? Yeah that’s his; got it for his birthday last year and he’s been getting tail like nobody’s business ever since.” And Lola tries to process all this information before he’s barrelling right on ahead with, “speaking of; if you’re gonna nail Tommy, can you do it soon and put the poor kid out of his misery?”

“Excuse me?!” Lola had choked on her lungful of smoke, turning red at the suggestion.

“Yeah, poor kid was pretty convinced we were a thing and didn’t want to make a move; kinda stupid, but I dunno, admirable? Noble?” Nikki groaned through his words, laying back against the gravel of the roof, hand out for the cigarette. Lola passed it to him, glad he couldn’t see her vaguely guilty expression, knowing she’d slept with the girl he’d been hitting on the night before.

“Tommy has a thing for anything halfway pretty that’s not related to him, he’d be just as happy to boink any other girl,” Lola points out, and Nikki snorts a laugh in mild agreement, “and the only reason we’re not fucking is because you’re afraid my dad’s gonna rip of your arms like he’s the fucking Wampa from Star Wars.” She punctuates it by eating the last chip, laying out beside Nikki on the gravel, checking her watch. Five minutes before their break ends.

“Leo wouldn’t rip off my arms- I don’t think Leo would rip off my arms!” Nikki counters defensively, but that just has Lola laughing as she corrects -

“Sorry, no, your exact wording was ‘I don’t want your dad to Kali Ma my fucking heart like I’m that little bastard from Indiana Jones’,” Lola does an absolutely atrocious impersonation of Nikki, who’s laughing despite himself, “which you only took back because I told you he wasn’t Indian, and even if he was, it’s kind of a fucked thing to say,” Lola tells him pointedly, shifting onto her side, propping her head up on her hand as she smirked at Nikki.

When Nikki looks at her, green eyes shining in the overcast, afternoon light, there’s something unreadable, teasing and soft all at once, like he’s entertaining an idea he’d considered unthinkable.

“I don’t think I could look Leo in the eye if I banged his daughter,” Nikki’s voice is soft and low, though he’s grinning wide, tone coy, eyes creasing in the corners, and Lola’s gaze flicks to his lips.

“For Leo’s sake, then,” Lola matches his tone, corner of her mouth twitching into a sharp smirk when she finally looks back to his eyes, “and Tommy’s too,” she teases, pushing herself into a sitting position; she can hear it when he presses his head further into the gravel in exasperation, swearing under his breath. When Lola stands and smiles, the picture of innocence, she offers Nikki her hand to help him up; Nikki rolls his eyes, but is still smiling when he accepts.

“Your hair looks dorky like that,” Lola teases as she climbs down the fire escape.

“I know,” Nikki sighs, “but its better than getting hair in everyone’s food; I’m not gonna be the reason your dad fails a health inspection,” Nikki adds, a strange hint of protectiveness in his voice that warms Lola’s heart in a way she hadn’t anticipated.

“Don’t worry, Leo’s never failed a health inspection, he doesn’t intend to start any time soon.”

love is a dream someone else had last night.

Eileen and Razzle see fit to join their ragtag bunch of misfits at lunch the following Monday by the open gate and the science carpark, which Lola had been informed was the teachers’ carpark.

Lola doesn’t care who sits with them, except for the fact that she’d taken the leftover lemon merengue tart from the diner since it was being replaced with an apple crumble, and there was only enough for four. For the past week, Eileen’s been alternating sitting with them and sitting elsewhere, but she hadn’t been here last Monday, so Lola had assumed - anyways, now she’s worried she looks like a bitch, and not for an actual reasonable reason.

“What do you mean you almost got with Heather on Friday?!” Charlotte’s voice was somewhere between a horrified and disbelieving squeak where she was picking at the crust of the piece of tart she was sharing with Eileen. The lemon merengue debacle turned out to not be much of an issue, with Charlotte and Eileen sharing, and Tommy and Lola sharing too. Lola was incredibly focused on picking at a scab through the hole in the knee of her jeans.

“I mean I had my hand in her fucking panties when someone -” Nikki cast a very pointed look to Lola, “knocked on the door threatening to throw up, and I got shoved out a window,” Nikki played up being irritated, despite the fact that he was laying out on his side directly behind Lola, while she was leaning into him.

“You’re my hero,” Eileen told Lola, serious as ever, while Charlotte cackled with delight, and Razzle snickered from where he was touching up the left hand of Tommy’s sharpie-nails.

“You guys are a bunch of assholes,” Nikki huffed, shoving the remained or his own piece of tart into his mouth.

“I brought you food, show some fuckin’ respect,” Lola smirked despite herself, gently elbowing him in the ribs; he flicks her knee in retaliation.

“Absolutely not; you’re a cockblocking traitor and the worst friend I’ve got,” Nikki announced, nose in the air, and Lola leans all her weight back suddenly, tipping Nikki onto his back and laying heavy across his stomach as she demanded he take it back, the two of them getting into a petty squabbling match, shoving at each other while the others could only look on in exasperated amusement.

“I thought Heather had a boyfriend,” Eileen pipes up, to which Charlotte makes a a gentle ‘eh’ noise in the back of her throat.

“She’s getting laid,” Charlotte corrects with half a smirk, and everyone who was paying half attention understand easily. Tommy sighs, but it’s not nearly as dejected as he’s known for whenever the topic of girls he fancies being with other people comes up.

“Whatever, I got to second base with Pam that night, and no-one can take that away from me,” Tommy announces, watching Razzle finish off his pinkie.

“Good for you, man,” Razzle says, with his trademark sincerity. Eileen and Charlotte still can’t believe it happened, but unfortunately both Razzle and Vince had seen with their own two eyes and been able to confirm; Vince may be biased, but Charlotte trusted Razzle.

“Everyone got some fuckin’ action that night except for me,” Nikki whines, finally shoving himself off, “and the fuckin’ Vomit Comet over here,” he jerked his thumb to where Lola was righting herself; Lola flips him off in response.

“I didn’t,” Eileen points out.

“You weren’t there,” Nikki rolls his eyes, “you don’t count.”

Meanwhile Razzle and Charlotte had both gone very quiet, and very pink. However Lola, who had no patience for people trying to hide their somewhere-between-pining-and-sincere feelings from each other and from other people, instead turns her attention to Eileen as she’s sweeping her hair out of her face.

“Have things gotten any better with Peach?” She tried, tone hopeful, and Eileen’s expression barely changed, just the barest crease of a frown upon her forehead, though judging by the way Charlotte’s whole expression soured, things had not, in fact, gotten better.

“Came back on Saturday afternoon all sunny and smiley and mom was thrilled,” Eileen’s deadpan irritation really sold her exasperation at the whole situation, “that she was friends with Vince again, and she hasn’t said a word to me yet.” Eileen takes a deep breath, straightening up from where she’d been slouched without realizing, taking a deep breath, nose in the air as if rising above it all, “which is fine with me, because I have a ton of dialogue to learn and they want us off-book in a month.”

This only sets them off fondly teasing the ever-unflappable Eileen, for her seemingly out of character choice to join the school’s musical, though they were all very proud of the fact that she scored the lead, even Nikki had voiced that he thought it was pretty cool.

When Lola had asked about it, Eileen had made mention that it filled in a lot of free time, that it was something she could add to college applications, and that a friend had convinced her to do it; Keanu -

“I keep hearing that name around,” Lola muses, leaning back in her seat while they were waiting for their French teacher to arrive. Eileen raises her eyebrows, “is that the pretty, dark haired Senior?” Eileen, surprisingly, had flushed scarlet when nodding. Lola hummed thoughtfully, leaning back further until the front legs of her chair lifted from the ground; she hooked her feet around the legs of her desk as she contemplated.

“It’s a musical right?” Lola asked, and Eileen hummed in confirmation, “if you can sing, you know Nikki and Tommy are -”

“I’d rather eat an entire microphone,” Eileen responds flatly, already knowing what Lola was about to suggest before she’d even finished her sentence, and Lola really tries not to laugh, but she knows Eileen well enough by now that that response makes entirely too much sense.

“You make a fair -” and that’s when Lola’s grip on the table slips, her feet sliding quickly up the legs of the desk as she topples backwards, the momentum pulling the desk up with her legs and directly on top of her, winding her. At least it made Eileen laugh, mostly from shock, sure, but Lola counts it as a win.

#motley crue #nikki sixx #tommy lee #vince neil #the dirt #the dirt fanfiction #motley crue fanfiction #nikki sixx x oc #Razzle Dingley #lola&charlotte #charlotte & lola #the pack

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sweetsassymusic · 4 years ago

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The Long Kaz Rant I Told Myself I Wouldn’t Write, But Here We Are

This is probably an unpopular opinion. And I hope it doesn't come across as confrontational or anything because I don't mean it that way. But I've always been super confused by the way Kaz is accepted, basically across the entire fandom, as either morally gray or straight up villainous? He doesn’t really seem like either of those things to me. On a surface level, obviously there are things he’s done that are normally considered evil. He’s stolen, he’s killed, he threatened a child, he gouged out someone’s eye. And that’s all pretty bad, right? But it completely ignores the context given in the books. (More after the cut because this got too long...)

There’s a difference between doing something evil and doing something that’s shocking, “dark,” or difficult to watch.

Before I read the books, I heard fans discuss all the horrible things Kaz does. And the way people talk about him, I was expecting him to be… Feral Kaz – someone who delights in doing horrible things because he’s just so twisted and angry. The author herself even referred to him on her blog as being utterly despicable. Wow! This guy must really go out of his way to hurt innocent people, huh? So when I sat down to actually read it, I was so surprised. Most (if not all?) the killings were done on some level of self-defense. His “murder victims” were actual evil people trying to kill him or someone he loved. And the reason he threatened a child was because the only alternative was killing her – something he would never want to do. You know, because he’s not evil.

I don’t know if I just have very different definitions of these terms than most people? But to me, the idea of Kaz being “utterly despicable” should not even be on the table to begin with (Leigh Bardugo, you good?) and even the idea of him being “morally gray” is questionable.

When I think of a morally good character, I don’t think of someone who never does anything questionable or always perfectly makes the correct choices. I think of someone who is on a mission–either to protect the world, a loved one, or simply pursuing a personal goal–who at least tries to conduct his mission in a way that either does no harm to others, or (when that’s not possible) does as little harm as necessary to get the job done.

Whereas, when I think of a villainous character, I think of someone who has no regard for others at all. Someone who either relishes in harming the innocent, or pays zero consideration to whether he harms innocents while pursuing his goals (which are usually, in themselves, harmful to innocent people).

And finally, when I think of a morally gray character, I think of someone directly between these two. Someone who is a little bit evil, a little bit sadistic, but not entirely evil. He’s got a few good points too. Maybe he’s someone who keeps switching sides, unsure if he wants to be a hero or villain. Maybe he has hurt a lot of innocent people unnecessarily, but he joins in with the good guys for personal gain, and people don’t mind him there simply because he doesn’t interfere with the protagonist’s goals. Or maybe he’s the “Bad Cop” to someone else’s Good Cop: someone who uses more violence than is necessary, just for fun, but still helps the good side in some capacity, so everyone chooses to look past it.

Under these definitions, Kaz (to me) seems more like a good character. While pursuing his personal goals, he protects people he loves, and yes, he does do “dark” things. But he doesn’t relish in doing them (despite his reputation in-universe of being a chaotic sadist. His reputation is not accurate; he invented it for his own protection). He does them because he has to. If he can get the job done right without hurting anyone, that’s the route he’ll take. But that option isn’t always available. And he’s not the type to lie down and die just to avoid getting his hands dirty (nor should he, imo).

Again, maybe I just have a different idea of what constitutes being morally gray. But I always thought it was meant to be a judgment on the choices you make when you actually HAVE a choice? A morally gray character has the choice to be good or evil, and they choose to do both (which one depending on how they feel that day).

Whereas, if you do something “bad” because circumstances force you to do it–because you or someone you love will die otherwise��that’s pretty much the same as having a gun to your head. You’re not morally gray. You’re doing it under duress. It’s survival, not a reflection of where you stand on moral topics. Like, if you trap a vegan in a room with only a piece of meat, and you leave them there for days, weeks, that person doesn’t suddenly become a “fake vegan” if they eat that meat to avoid literally starving to death. You forced them to do it. When it comes to their moral beliefs, they would still be a vegan if they had the freedom to make that choice. You just put them in a situation where those choices aren’t available to them. Your lack of freedom in a situation shouldn’t define you.

The same can be said for placing a starving, homeless orphan boy alone in the dog-eat-dog world of Ketterdam. The option of being a sweet little law-abiding citizen is not available to him. So is it really fair to define him by something in which he had no choice?

I’ve come across so many GrishaVerse fans who, while sipping on their Starbucks in the comfort of their own home, go “Ugh, Kaz. He’s so DARK, so EVIL!” (Fun fact: while my mom was watching the show, she said Kaz is evil because “he seems to always have a plan.” Oh no! Not PLANS!) “He must be some kind of monster to be able to do the things he does and still live with himself! I could NEVER do those things!” Well…you’ve never actually had to do those things? Your life has never depended on it? Idk, to me, it’s just a very privileged take. And I’m not trying to make this into a big social issue. It’s not like criticism against a fictional character is anywhere near the same level of importance as the issues marginalized people are facing in real life. I’m just saying, it’s very easy to condemn activity you’ve never been forced to engage in for your own survival.

One of the biggest reasons people have given me for why they think Kaz is evil is that he is “for himself.” Even the author said she thinks Kaz is worse than the Darkling (who, I’ve gotten the impression, she believes to be irredeemable) because the Darkling has communal goals (he wants to bring positive change for other people/the world at large) while Kaz’s goals are just personal (he wants to bring positive change for himself and only himself). And for one? It just isn’t true: many (if not most) of the things Kaz does is either for his Crows or for his late brother; he just disguises it with supposed self-interest for the sake of his reputation. And second? It’s…not actually wrong to have personal goals or to act in self-interest. Bettering your own life is a valid desire. It’s not the same as being selfish. Not everything you do has to be for other people.

(And, tbh, this is something Leigh Bardugo seems to have a problem with in general, not just in this scenario. I could write a whole separate rant about other characters that were demonized in-narrative for engaging in “too much” self-care, and how her unforgivingly black and white morality ruined the Shadow and Bone trilogy for me. Worst of all, she even seemed to imply recently that the only reason real-life antisemitism is wrong is because “the Jews didn’t fight back”? [Like, if they had met her criteria of “fighting back”, would that make antisemitism somewhat justified to her? What? Idek, but she should really clarify.] Basically, she seems to take “non-selfishness” to an extreme. I don’t know her personally, I don’t want to make assumptions, I don’t have anything personal against her, and I’m not trying to get her cancelled or anything, I promise. But please, when you read her books, please don’t accept all her ideas at face value, because there’s some Weird Shit™ in there sometimes.)

Anyway, another reason people say Kaz is bad or morally gray is that he wants revenge. “Revenge is a bad coping mechanism! You should want JUSTICE! Not REVENGE!” And again, this argument is wild to me. I mean, yes, there are situations–especially in real life, modern, western contexts–where revenge is a bad coping mechanism someone has developed, and transforming their anger into a desire for justice is a way for them to overcome that and express their anger in a healthier way. But that’s a very specific scenario. When we’re talking generally, the line between revenge and justice is a lot thinner than people think (and in some scenarios, there is no line at all).

For example, real life victims and their families often say they can’t wait to see the perpetrator rot in prison, even wishing (sometimes even fantasizing) that the guy gets abused in prison by fellow inmates. For them, justice and revenge are wrapped up together in one big court-issued sentence. And while some people find that disturbing or take issue with it, it’s…generally considered valid outrage? This guy is evil and hurt them, so it’s okay for these people to want him to suffer. And most importantly, these people called the cops instead of taking matters into their own hands, therefore they’re Good, right? They’re good citizens who obey and rely on the established authority, therefore they are handling their anger in an Acceptable™ way?

But in the world of Ketterdam, if someone has victimized you, or is trying to kill you or someone you love, you can’t just call the fucking cops (and let’s be honest, looking at irl cops, it’s a questionable idea here too sometimes). If we’re analyzing Kaz’s outrage and how he handles it, we have to analyze it in the context of where he lives, not where we live. We have options in our lives that Kaz doesn’t have. So we have to ask, what are the most productive steps he could realistically take in his world?

I see activists and bloggers on websites like this, publicly fantasizing about gouging the eyes out of certain politicians and right-wing figureheads. And they would probably do it for real if they could. On Tumblr and Twitter, this is generally considered righteous anger. The politicians are evil, so it’s okay to hurt them, right? That’s how the logic goes, anyway (I know some will disagree, but it’s a common take here). Well, imagine if, instead of just being a bigot, one of these evil people personally stabbed–possibly killed–your girlfriend. And there were no cops to call, no news stations or social media to turn to, to show people what this guy did. No authority or community on your side. No way to ensure this guy faced consequences for his actions. There’s just you, your dying girlfriend, your helplessness, your anger. What would be the appropriate way to handle this situation, so you were acting out of justice instead of revenge? What does “justice” even mean in a world like that? It’s a world where either you hurt others or you lie down and just let others keep hurting those you love (which, in itself, would be evil). I can’t think of any “appropriate” response Kaz could take. Which, for better or worse, is probably why he just went for the eye. You probably would too in that context. Are you morally gray? I doubt it.

It’s really weird to me how people seem to hold Kaz to this high standard of absolute Moral Purity, but they don’t hold other characters to it. Like, was the dad on Taken being “feral” or “morally gray” when he told his daughter’s kidnapper that “I will find you and I will kill you” and then pursued him with fury? His motivations were personal and not communal. He was coming from a place of revenge, just as much as justice. But most people consider him a hero. He’s not controversial or “dark.” There are plenty of other heroes who do terrible things (sometimes to innocent people! Even when it’s not even necessary!) for the “greater good” or just because it’s convenient. People call them a “badass” and then turn around and say Kaz is just “bad.” Idk, it just seems really arbitrary the way people draw these lines.

If we’re expanding the definition of “morally gray” to include anyone who’s ever done anything questionable, made a mistake, been forced to do something they wouldn’t normally do, done something for personal reasons instead of for the world at large, or wanted revenge for something, then there literally are no heroes in fiction (except maybe a few cardboard cutouts) or in real life.

(Ironically, the most morally gray thing Kaz does, imo, is something most people don’t even have a problem with: the fact he runs a gambling house to “take money from pigeons.” And even that is really mild [no one is forcing the “pigeons” to gamble their money away]. But yeah, that’s one of the few instances I could think of where he actually hurt innocent people unnecessarily. That and the time, as a kid, where he stole candy from that other kid...and even that might be mostly-but-not-entirely excused by the fact he was starving to death. But yeah.)

#Kaz Brekker #Shadow and Bone #grishaverse #tw: antisemitism #Grisha #my meta

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ashistrashhh · 4 years ago

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here are some fic recs!! including sakuatsu, bokuaka, kuroken and matsuhana bc i couldnt help myself

if you want, ask me about a certain ship and ill give you some recs!

-sakuatsu-

Marble and Sandstone by red_camellia

rating: G words: 12,937 chapters: 2/2

author summary: Miya Atsumu only cares about volleyball and nothing else. That is, until he develops a strange obsession with the marble statue of a young man that seems vaguely familiar in his university's arts department. One day that statue comes alive as the very real Sakusa Kiyoomi, and they are left with the mystery of why Sakusa Kiyoomi was turned into a statue and only came back to life when Atsumu touched him. Their new-found connection and the strange mystery turns Atsumu's life upside down, not least because of his growing feelings for Sakusa.

my notes: this was a rlly cute fic!!! 11/10 would read again!!

let it go (paint my body gold) by lunarism

rating: T words: 3,272 chapters: 1/1

author summary: It becomes a routine for them. Sometimes they go grocery shopping and make dinner together, other times they end up talking until Sakusa feels like his own shower and bed is calling him. Every single time Sakusa gets home, shrugs his coat off, balls it up, and proceeds to scream profusely into the fabric for a few minutes.

my notes: pining!!! sakusa!!! also casual painter!atsumu!!! and they paint together!!!

craft a miracle with these hands, lips, (silence) by chrysanthe (sonderesque)

rating: T words: 4,252 chapters: 1/1

author summary: ‘Someone is here to ruin your night,’ his door tells him. ‘You should let them in.’ “I’M HOMELESS OMI-OMI. HOMELESS,” yells the one here to ruin his night. “LET ME IN.”

(What does Kiyoomi sell his sanctuary for?)

my notes: hnnn rlly fuckin cute,, and domestic,,,,

Clipped To You by littleboat

rating: T words: 8,174 chapters: 1/1

author summary: It starts with Hinata Natsu, of all people.

Well, if Atsumu’s being honest with himself, it started way before that, but he’s not, so that’s besides the point. And thankfully, he’s just petty enough to blame all of his problems on a thirteen year old girl.

or Sakusa starts wearing hair clips and Atsumu is more than a little obsessed

my notes: minor kagehina, bokuaka // god these fics rlly make me simp for fictional characters even more than i should. but!! sakusa!!! in hairclips!!! and a pining atsumu!!!

learn how to lay me down in something other than danger, other than fury by rosevtea

words: 34,211 chapters: 1/1

author summary: All of the ways fellow college TA Miya Atsumu reinvents Kiyoomi's definition of normal.

my notes: god i loved this. it’s a fake dating au and like,, even though they’re “dating” sakusa keeps letting his guard down little by little around atsumu and it surprises everyone. komori and akaashi just know that they’re were genuinely pining for eachother

among probabilities and a thousand fates by aalphard

rating: T words: 15,675 chapters: 1/1

author summary: prompt fill for “in a world where the red string of fate exists, person a’s finger always twitches when person b, who can see the string, tugs on their string” | or sakusa thought he had a tic and atsumu liked to see his confused expression when it started to happen exclusively when he was around.

my notes: i! loved! it!! so basically atsumu and osamu have the rare gift of seeing the red string of fate, so they know its real but sakusa, like most other people dont believe it exists. so atsumu gives sakusa a (kinda) hard time. rlly cute!! i love soulmate aus!

-bokuaka-

love in the time of wifi by dalyeau

rating: G words: 4,177 chapters: 1/1

author summary: Akaashi is coming to terms with the fact that he might be romantically interested in his volleyball captain. Hence, doing what any sixteen year old with a problem should do. He asks about it online.

my notes: really cute fic about akaashi asking what he should do about his crush on a site similar to reddit. its kinda a “i didnt know it was you” kind of fic and it made me happy

steam by orphan_account

rating: E words: 8,474 chapters: 1/1

author summary:

bokuto: why is he so hot bokuto: why am i so gay kuroo: LMAO you mean your vice captain right bokuto: yeah

The coach blew the whistle for practice to begin, and Bokuto drummed his fingers against the bleachers, awaiting Kuroo’s reply. He was about to walk away, when his phone buzzed in his hand.kuroo: i got this bro bokuto: what bokuto: wtf does that mean

Bokuto started to panic.

my notes: explicit!!! but really wholesome. kuroo is honestly the best wingman. i also think this is my favourite bokuaka smutfic??

just to miss the sun by rosevtea

rating: T words: 15,126 chapters:1/1

author summary: Everything begins to implode when MSBY Jackals outside hitter Bokuto Koutarou crashes Akaashi's livestream.

my notes: akaashi is a booktuber and bokuto crashes one of his streams. fans begin to speculate. rlly fluffy and can u tell i like bokuaka

brain fish by iceblinks

rating: T words: 12,026 chapters: 6/6

author summary: Akaashi wakes up to a string of texts from an unknown number.

my notes: i love text fics and i love wrong number aus so u can tell how much i loved this. really fluffy and i come back to it time to time

-kuroken-

us three by honey_s

rating: T words: 5,137 chapters: 1/1

author summary: Kuroo’s gaze flits over to the utensil. His eyes bulge out of his skull. “Wh—is that a meat hammer? Put it back!” Akaashi’s head recoils back in confusion. “I don’t understand the problem here.” “Why on Earth have you got a fucking meat hammer? We aren’t going to kill somebody!” “Well,” Akaashi begins, clearly taken aback, “I apologise for assuming. I had heard Kenma-san had been hurt in school and after getting a message from both of you to meet late at night, I merely filled in the blanks and assumed we were going to beat someone up, for lack of a better term.” “Not literally! I meant metaphorically, or figuratively, or something!” “Idiomically?” “That isn’t a word, Bokuto-san.” “Jesus Christ,” Kuroo groans, dropping his head into his hands. “We're going to jail."

my notes: bokuaka and kuroo are ready to beat someone up for kenma!! and we stan!!

Cherry Pits and Cat Tattoos by strawberryriver

rating: G words: 6,141 chapters: 1/1

author summary:

Kuroo has been in communication with his soulmate ever since they were kids. They've known each other for so long that he never really worried about when or how he would meet them. At least, not until he meets the roommate of Bokuto's soulmate.Soulmate AU in which things written on your skin show up on your soulmate. Companion piece/same AU as Serendipty

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

Kuroo Tetsurou liked to write on his arms. Despite his mother's half-serious warnings about “ink poisoning” or staining his skin, he insisted on marking his arms and legs wherever he could. Not like his best-friend-since-always Bokuto Koutaro, who had to write on his arms or he’d forget to breathe, but artfully. He’d draw designs, animals, the occasional chemical compound. The whole idea behind soulmates fascinated him: how one person could mark their arm and someone potentially thousands of miles away, would have that same mark appear. The amount of articles, studies, and books he’d read about the topic, even at a young age, could put an undergrad researcher to shame.

my notes: again with the soulmate au bc i cannot help myself. but really cute!!! probably gonna read this again later!

Boom, Toasted by protostar (hearthope)

rated: T words: 6,782 chapters: 1/1

author summary:

FROM: yuuji any bets on who hes texting??

FROM: eita He's smiling at his phone. Kuroo, probably

FROM: kentarou Kuroo

TO: fake family Have any of you ever once considered not prying

FROM: eita You deserve it

FROM: yuuji how can we not when ur in love!!

Kenma gets a text from an unknown number. He'd be lying if he said the guy behind it wasn't kind of endearing.

my notes: again, i love wrong number texts. it focuses more on kenma’s friendship, but kenma’s pov with texting kuroo is more than him realizing feelings and stuff. really cute, ive read it multiple times.

Japan's most subscribed by NeverNothing

rating: T words: 3,631 chapters: 1/1

author summary: Kuroo Tetsurou @blacktetsurou changed his bio : volleyball player, co-owner of Bouncing Ball Corp. and so much more ;)

my notes: i! love! social media! fics!!! really cute and basically people wondering who the mysterious kuroo is to applepi.

MATSUHANA!!! the underrated gem

texting (with a capital S) by parenthetic

rating: M words: 2,119 chapters: 1/1

author summary: Hanamaki breaks his No Texting In Class rule, and it's all downhill from there.

my notes: honestly more funny than it suggests, but its matsuhana, they’re meme lords.

rated m for by orphan_account

rated: T words: 10,692 chapters: 1/1

author summary: He should have known that there was a Specific Reason™ why it was so absolutely vital that he and Matsukawa specifically meet for a reading of the script. He should have known that there had to be some evil catch beyond sitting in a tiny, cramped studio with his newly sworn enemy.

Hanamaki stares at the title of the script he’d so gracefully neglected the night before.

FORBIDDEN PARADISE

“Excuse me,” Hanamaki starts, raising a pen in the air while staring blankly at the packet in his free hand. “Just to clarify, you want me to record a boy's love CD with Matsukawa?”

my notes: a very good voice actor au. there is some misunderstanding on hanamaki’s part bc he didnt finish listening to matsukawa, and this is really cute and i love matsuhana.

In A Quiet Night, All Sounds Carry by levyovochka

rating: E words: 4,794 chapters: 1/1

authors summary: “Ah, ah, Too—!”

Hanamaki hates his university dorm.

“—ru, let me cum, please!”

Hold up. That’s a fucking understatement. Let him rephrase it: Hanamaki loathes his university dorm with passion. Detest the damned abomination, abhors it—

“—ru! Coming, coming—”

It has only been a month and Hanamaki already wants to die.

my notes: as u can guess minor iwaoi // rlly well written and bottom hanamaki rights and maybe my favourite matsuhana smutfic??? and hooh boy i simp for matsukawa

call me maybe by totooru

rating: T words: 33,689 chapters: 14/14

author summary: Hanamaki texts the wrong number when trying to extort tips out of Oikawa in order to defeat Iwaizumi in arm wrestling, and then continues to text the witty stranger who had answered.

my notes: minor iwaoi, daisuga, bokuaka // god i think this is my favourite matsuhana fic overall, maybe in general, but my god is it great. this is probably a common rec, but its understandable as to why it is. basically au where makki texts matsun (who goes to karasuno) instead of oikawa for tips to beat iwaizumi at an arm wrestling match. but they keep messaging. and holy shit i love their conversations. please read this, it is 256/10

there we go!! i might go a part two with more ships (kagehina, tsukkiyama and iwaoi) but this took up way to much time lol. i have an essay due in a couple hours. but hope u like these fics as much as i do!!

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lillupon · 4 years ago

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thoughts on kmg situation

Hi everyone, your friendly neighbourhood minwon writer here! I apologise to those of you who were hoping for an update this weekend. In light of recent events, I found it very difficult to get excited about Achieving Escape Velocity. Before I can resume posting, I feel it is necessary for me to work through my own thoughts.

I am not trying to persuade people into believing a particular side. I share this with the hope that it will help others who are struggling to reconcile feelings similar to my own. I also see this as an opportunity to—with your guidance—become more passionate, and to learn how to be a decent human being, if that’s what I need to do. I recognise that I come barreling in here with my own cultural and environmental biases. Thus, anyone who understands the nuances of this situation better should feel free to educate me on the matter. If this is of no interest to you, kindly scroll on; I hope to see you when I next update. Otherwise, please join me for a few minutes.

TL;DR

I support both Mingyu and the victim/OP

I believe that people change as they grow older and become more educated and informed

I am conflicted and have my misgivings about the additional allegations (group chat screenshots + bullying a student with special needs—which has now been resolved, yay!)

I will not unstan Mingyu

I will continue to write and update Achieving Escape Velocity

I want to start by saying that I am an older fan in my twenties, and that I have been a fan of Seventeen since 2015. I have found great joy and comfort in them for many years. As much as I have tried to remain impartial, I have likely fallen short of that ideal. The truth is, I adore this boy! I admire his talents as an artist. I am charmed by the persona of him that we get to see in the media; I see parts of myself reflected in this curated persona. That being said, I tried to remain critical of the stance I am taking. I asked myself, “If this situation was not about Mingyu, and was about my local weatherman instead, would I still feel the same way?” And the answer to that was: hell fucking yeah! Don’t worry, Local Weatherman, I got your back…

Lastly, I want to say that I am approaching this from a Western point of view. I grew up in Canada, albeit with the traditions and beliefs inherited from fairly strict and conservative Asian parents. As an international fan, there will inevitably be some cultural disconnects in this thought piece.

There are three main parts to my admittedly rough and disjointed thoughts. The first part addresses the original accusations. The second part addresses additional accusations that were made against Mingyu. The final part is about the future of my minwon stories.

You may agree with all of this, part of this, or none of this. These are simply the thoughts I am trying to work through.

Thoughts on original allegations (therapy records OP)

How do I describe opening up Twitter on Thursday morning? One moment, I was reading about Mingyu drawing pubes on the classroom whiteboard. The next moment, I was reading about how serious allegations against Mingyu were. People were unstanning him and Seventeen, calling Mingyu a rapist, sending him death threats, etc. I truly did not understand how the situation escalated so quickly, and I nearly gave myself whiplash trying to follow jumps in logic.

One side of Twitter was convinced that the Original Poster (OP) was lying and doing all of this for attention; they said victims could not be believed 100%. The other side of Twitter declared that Mingyu should be cancelled, and bashed anyone who supported Mingyu or remained neutral. People were sending Mingyu death threats despite the history of k-pop artists committing suicide. All of this reminded me why I avoided Twitter for so many years: Purity and cancel culture run rampant; the mobs want blood penance for every wrongdoing without first considering the nuances of the situation. People blindly defend their ults and set aside their morals to do so.

Here is what I got out of my initial reading of the translated (version 1, version 2) accusations:

OP was shy, timid, and isolated from her classmates. When she tried to speak up in class, Mingyu would tell her to shut up. This happened enough times that, eventually, OP stopped talking in class at all.

Mingyu and his friends told sexual jokes while OP was in the vicinity. These comments made OP uncomfortable and triggered her. However, they were not directed at OP.

The sexual jokes and comments did not escalate to sexual assault or violence. OP explicitly states there was no violence or physical contact.

Mingyu and his friends drew and laughed at inappropriate pictures of body parts/hair on the board. OP is not actually sure if it was Mingyu who drew the pictures, only that he was up there laughing with the others.

OP struggles with anxiety and depression; Mingyu was not the sole reason why she attended therapy. OP mentioned that she brought Mingyu up only briefly with her therapist.

Could I believe all of this being true? Yes, because I personally adhere to two Me Too philosophies:

The first is that women almost never lie about sexual harassment, abuse, or assault. I absolutely believe that Mingyu is capable of making sexual jokes and comments. Teenage boys and girls alike are notoriously emotional and hormonal between the ages of 12 and 14. I can also imagine Mingyu drawing penises on whiteboards, complete with elaborate pubic hair. These are the antics of a typical middle school boy. For some reason, teenage boys—at least in North America—are very fascinated by their own genitalia and like to announce they have one by drawing pictures of dicks on any available surface.

The second philosophy I abide by is that men and boys in power are likely to abuse it. All men—even k-pop idols—benefit from patriarchy. They are in a position to abuse, degrade, and humiliate women (obviously, I hope none of these things happen, but I also have to acknowledge the possibility that they do). This is especially true in patriarchal Asian societies. Someone as popular and attractive as Mingyu holds great influence and power in his peer groups. Can I see a young Mingyu being a dick to a girl who is quiet and timid and isolated from her peers? Yes.

But also… Who wasn’t a dick in middle school? I feel like my classmates and I were colossal idiots back then. Was it just my school where classmates told each other to shut up all the time? Was it just my school where kids put their thumb and forefinger in an “L” shape to their foreheads and called each other losers? Everyone has a different threshold for what they consider bullying, but for me, these gestures and comments were so commonplace that I merely accepted them as part of the elementary and middle school experience. These things are mean and insensitive, yes, but it’s possible to grow out of these antics.

It is difficult for me to form an opinion about these sexual jokes Mingyu made for two reasons: (1) cultural differences, and thus my own internal biases, and (2) we don’t know about the nature of these jokes. It’s hard to determine whether these comments constitute as sexual harassment without this context. Even then, people have different thresholds of what they are comfortable with, and what they are not comfortable with.

We don’t know whether these comments were along the lines of “That’s what she said” or “You know what else is big?” or “I grow hair down there...on my toes!” ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Or if they were jokes about sexual experience/performance, speculation about what someone looks like naked, the colour of their underwear, or raping a person (I’ve often seen these “jokes” directed at female streamers and influencers). In my opinion, there’s a big difference between the two.

The former, while crude and immature, is not generally said with ill-intent, nor is it generally directed at a specific person. These are jokes that teens, both male and female, commonly make in North America. (Perhaps this is part of the problem: the fact that I consider this to be standard teenage behaviour...) I would hesitate to call it harassment unless the victim made it known that she was uncomfortable, and the boys continued anyway. I also understand that the victim may not have felt able to speak out against Mingyu and his friends. In this case, the boys might not have been aware of her discomfort. Teenage boys are not particularly well-known for being sensitive.

The latter, however, objectifies and diminishes a person, and is disgusting and reprehensible. The latter is, without contest, sexual harassment. Absolutely no one should have to tolerate comments of this nature. Anyone who makes such jokes should be educated on why these so-called jokes are damaging, and how they perpetuate rape culture, as well as the sexualisation and dehumanisation of women, as well as men. Anyone who makes comments of this nature should be called out (and here I emphasise called out as opposed to cancelled) for their behaviour. It is imperative that they are educated, given the opportunity to reflect, apologise, and make amends. This is with the hope they know better in the future and do not make the same mistake again.

Now, based on what OP said, the jokes Mingyu made seem more like the first case: he made a pun about body hair. I am pretty sure if Mingyu made “jokes” of the second nature, OP would have chosen to highlight that instead of a pun. However, this is something that needs to be clarified. The content of these jokes drastically changes the severity of the allegations.

Currently, I interpret this through the lens of my uncouth Western sensibilities: what OP described sounds like typical Western teen behaviour. There are many actions, events, and experiences that take place during our formative and adolescent years that come to define who we are as adults. Personally, I don’t think that drawing hairy penises on the whiteboard—inappropriate as it is—or being an asshole in middle school are these things.

But who am I to say, “Yeah, what OP went through was not that bad”? I can’t be the judge of that, and that’s absolutely not what I’m trying to do here. I don’t know the whole story, and even then, it doesn’t matter. I am an outsider in all of this. I’m not trying to diminish the years of suffering and torment the victim went through, and I apologise if that’s how I came off. Nothing I said previously changes the fact that these jokes negatively affected the victim. Nothing I said changes the fact that this girl’s voice was silenced because of some thoughtless middle school boy’s comments. These are wounds that people carry from childhood through to adulthood.

Impact matters just as much as intent. I might argue that in cases such as these, impact matters even more than intent. Mingyu might have done all these things without ill-intent, but OP’s trauma is very much real. (As a side note: This is one of the reasons why I am very happy with Pledis’ official statement. Their focus on healing and reparation—without absolving Mingyu or throwing him under the bus (yet)—is the right move.)

I’ve just been seeing so many death threats and demands for Mingyu to leave the group that I cannot help but wish people would extend him the empathy that they themselves would appreciate.

People are condemning a 12-14 year old Mingyu for making sexual puns and being an asshole. People are measuring a middle school aged-Mingyu against the ethical and moral standards they hold as adults, and they are finding that this young Mingyu fell short. This should not be surprising. I know if I judged younger-me by the standards I have today, I would be left wanting.

I remember the kind of person I was as a teenager. I was hormonal. I made “That’s what she said” jokes, among others. While I never intentionally set out to hurt anyone, I know I have said crude and unkind things. As a teenager, I didn’t possess the tact I do now; I didn’t know how to self-regulate. I could be a mean and horny kid (not necessarily at the same time, haha!), but I also had parts of me that were deeply sensitive and caring and thoughtful of others. Teenagers and adults are multi-faceted. I would not want anyone to dig up these past receipts and use it as the basis to judge the person I am now. I would not want people to pick out the worst of my past actions and words, and use it to invalidate my success today.

It varies case by case, but for the most part, I don’t think people should be punished for what they did or said as children; I would have been cancelled long ago if this were the case, as would many others. People change as they grow older and become more educated and informed. It is different if these behaviours and actions persist into adulthood. Then, yes: there should absolutely be consequences. I am not saying we can just sweep all our childhood wrongdoings under the rug. It is still important for us to acknowledge and reflect upon the wrongs of past words and actions, and to offer apologies and reparations where they are due.

Should these allegations prove true, can I support both OP and Mingyu, or is that cheating? I do believe OP and my heart goes out to her. I understand why she chose to speak out. I know it must have been difficult to do so against someone who is a man, famous, well-loved, wealthy, and successful. I know it must hurt to see the whole world adore a man who has caused you pain. South Korea has a culture of enduring silently; this results in great mental strain and suffering. In speaking out, she relived past and present power imbalances. This is not easy for a victim to do, especially when you are a woman in a patriarchal society and your bully is a male celebrity.

I hope I am not invalidating her feelings when I reiterate that Mingyu was a young teenager, and teenagers can be mean and crude—intentionally or not. Mingyu is a public figure, so naturally, he is held to higher moral standards. But he is also human. He can and will make mistakes. He can and will continue to grow. I feel a lot of empathy for Mingyu, both now as he is forced to confront his past immaturities, and as he moves forward in his career.

Thoughts on additional allegations (KakaoTalk group chat + ableism)

I will not be addressing allegations of Mingyu bullying a classmate with autism now that the issue has been resolved. (Again, I commend Pledis for their response, and for recognising that the ableism needed to be addressed first. Of the three l accusations, this was the one that Mingyu would not be able to recover from. Even now, he will not emerge from this unscathed). I will only be sharing my initial misgivings about these additional allegations.

First off, this is a very nuanced and precarious topic. I don’t want to diminish a potential victim’s experience, yet I hope people understand why I am so skeptical about accepting screenshots of chat rooms as hard proof. Here are a few reasons why:

(1) Bullying scandals have been erupting left and right, especially as of late. Some of these accusations have been proved true. Others have been proved false. Regardless, there seems to be a trend of digging up past receipts—fabricated or not—of celebrities with the aim of cancelling them or undermining their success.

(2) Screenshots and chat rooms are easily manipulated and fabricated. This is different from a victim with a face speaking out against past incidents of bullying. They could be someone with malicious intent, or they could be a genuine victim. We just don’t know. And in the case of the chat rooms, it wasn’t even the victims who were speaking out.

(3) I wondered if these were antis who jumped on the coattails of the initial OP to stir the pot. These allegations (particularly the case of ableism, which has thankfully been cleared up now) are far more serious than original claims—why wait until now to bring them up?

(4) I find it difficult to trust even yearbook proof because people can and will sell yearbooks if they went to school with idols. In addition, yearbooks cannot prove interaction, and therefore, cannot prove bullying. At the same time, how do you prove bullying incidents from ten years ago? How do you disprove it? Cases of bullying aren’t often well-documented. It essentially becomes a game of my-word-against-yours.

(5) There is a pretty well-known article from 2016 where Mingyu defended a classmate with a disability. It doesn’t necessarily disprove the current claim, but the timing is important here. The classmate shared their account back in 2016; it did not just surface after recent allegations. However, if I want to believe that the KKT screenshots are false, then I must also be willing to believe that this 2016 article may have been fabricated as well.

(6) As someone in their 20s, the thought of being in a group chat with a bunch of my middle school classmates is baffling to me. Personally, I don’t want anything to do with my middle school classmates.

There is not much more to say on this; I will patiently wait for Pledis’ statement on the remaining allegations.

Achieving Escape Velocity and other MinWon stories

In a previous blog post, I stated that when I write and talk about AEV-Mingyu and Wonwoo—or other variations of Mingyu and Wonwoo—they are strictly characters that I have made up in my head, and they are separate from the real Mingyu and Wonwoo. At the same time, I do absolutely draw inspiration from the real Mingyu and Wonwoo in the creation of these story characters. It is their faces, bodies, and voices that I imagine. Thus, my current anxieties surrounding this situation make it difficult for me to write and enjoy AEV.

However, I still love this story a lot, and I love sharing it with everyone! There’s so much more to this fic that I want to show. As I mentioned in the initial author’s note, this is the first time I’m posting something of this length and I worked really hard on it. For these reasons, I have every intention of continuing to write and update Achieving Escape Velocity. Regular weekly updates will resume this coming weekend.

#mingyu #seventeen #how the fuck do i have so much to say about this topic?#this is 3k words #and i cut out 1k LOL #210225

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rivetgoth · 4 years ago

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I had this friend I met in the Hetalia fandom in like 8th-9th grade who was like, a lot older than me (I was like 12-13 when we met and she was like 17 or so), and we were REALLY close for a really long time, we'd talk and call every day and it got to a point where she was really dependent on me in this awful way where she would like constantly threaten suicide if I didn't answer her texts fast enough and shit like that. She was really rich cuz her dad was a doctor and one time she bought me an entire fucking Xbox One (I did not ask for it like... I'd always been a PlayStation gamer LOL) because she didn't have anyone to play Halo with her. My family still has it and uses it as a DVD player/Netflix machine.

Anyway the really batshit thing about this person (BESIDES the fact that she was like, definitely a pedophile who loved shota and frequently sexted me after she'd turned 18+ and I was like 14 and she also had both a bestiality and incest fetish that she'd talk to me about constantly — I was a kid I had no moral concept of anything and just liked being edgy and feeling mature) was that she was like. A chronic liar who constantly faked identities. And for years after cutting off contact with her I would look back and realize that she had faked even more than I had noticed at the time. The thing is, I knew for sure she wasn't lying about her home life -- Her address, what she looked like, her dad's profession, her age, her house, her pets, etc, were all things I had proof of. But when I knew her she was constantly remaking her Tumblr to escape drama she'd start, and she would constantly make side blogs under pseudonyms and pretend it wasn't her (sometimes it would be random shit like aesthetic blogs under different names or ask blogs for characters or smthn, other times it was like, callout blogs for people she had gotten into drama with where she would pretend to be someone else defending her). I assumed back then that I was always going to be in on it, because she would always tell me whenever she made one of these fake accounts, and sometimes she would encourage me to make a new account too as a sort of roleplay thing where we both pretended to be people we weren't... Until I learned that she wasn't always telling me. Every so often, I would become mutuals with a new account who would start messaging me about my interests and strike a conversation with me. Then something would slip and my "new mutual" would admit that they had actually been my friend all along... Which should have made me immediately cut contact because that's weird as shit, but I was young and she was a close friend, so I would just sorta accept it.

She ended up being like, horrifically transphobic. She got run off her blog twice for being specifically transmisogynistic, first insisting that she was allowed to headcanon canon trans women as feminine men and then on her next blog insisting that lesbians couldn't be attracted to trans women. I was still young and closeted and she was one of my closest friends and was constantly messaging me that the situation was making her suicidal and she was just wording things wrong and totally supported trans people and people just weren’t giving her the benefit of the doubt and she was still learning so I tried to just stay out of it without losing her. Then... I came out as trans lol. She stopped replying to me when I first came out and then made a bunch of vents on her tumblr about how much it upset her and about how “using he/him pronouns for AFAB people is triggering” for whatever fucking reason. She told me her “best IRL friend” who she had introduced me to once on Skype but who never logged in again after and who refused to ever do a group call or anything (definitely another fake account) said that it was irrational for me to expect my friends to respect my pronouns so soon after coming out and that I shouldn’t be upset if I get misgendered. Then she apologized but told me my name and pronouns would never fit me. As you can imagine, as a little baby trans kid who was closeted from my family and terrified of even having come to terms with being trans, I didn’t really have a great defense.

Soon she started being really woke like 2014 style Tumblr SJW to save face, she came out as nonbinary and told me in private it was because she felt bad when people called her cis during discourse (she absolutely wasn't nonbinary) and she coined a "new sexuality" that was "attraction only to people you perceive as feminine, regardless of how they identify" -- what this actually meant was "attraction to cis women and not trans women." She ran an aroace help blog despite not being aroace? And made a bunch of pride flags that I still see around sometimes to this day. She would start fights a lot and try to out-woke people and got into a bunch of drama with other SJW types of the day, got into a bunch of drama with TumblrInAction and Mogai-Watch and shit like that, and she claimed for a short while that she had a headmate (FWIW I totally believe DID is a legitimate thing but like. Trust me on this one.) who was transphobic and that it made her so sad, she told me that it was actually that headmate that had been transphobic before, and every so often her headmate would front out of nowhere and misgender me and use really abusive language like calling me a cunt or a bitch or whatever. She started making these "intersex nonbinary" OCs who she would constantly make porn of under the guise that they were representation for LGBT people who were just like, extremely fetishistic cuntboys and dickgirls (they were “intersex” to explain why they could be “girls with natal penises” or “boys with natal vaginas”).

At that same time, she somehow always managed to have these random, very sporadically active trans women mutuals who were apparently amazing friends of hers, who shared some interests with her but also would defend her when people brought up her past, with these long-winded “Well, I’m a trans woman and I think what she said is perfectly justified and everyone makes mistakes and she’s always been a good ally!!” Then one day some trans woman received an ask from her account where she claimed to be a “black trans woman” (she was, of course, a white cis woman) and she freaked out and claimed she had “been hacked by TiA or 4Chan to make her look bad” — I realize now she had just been sending anon messages pretending to be things she wasn’t and forgot to hit anon LOL. Late in all of this she also got into a bunch of hot water for being really antisemitic and saying she didn’t trust Jewish people because they were just like Christians and like, 5 seconds later she came out as Jewish and wrote this whole long sad vent about how she had had internalized antisemitism and then started going by a random Hebrew name LMAO.

In the end the final breaking point was when I found her secret TERF blog, where she had been making posts for months about how trans men are just insecure women who are trying to escape misogyny by stepping on the backs of “fellow women” and using me as a fucking example, and also saying that me not coming out as a trans man had been “basically rape” since she had been SEXTING me when she was 18+ and I was 13-14+ and that it was traumatic to know someone she had trusted was secretly identifying as a man LMAO. She was also obviously saying all sorts of transmisogynistic things, but also had these really bizarre fetish posts about wanting trans women to fuck her...? I confronted her about it and she literally fucking out of nowhere told me that she was in the emergency room with a mysterious illness that might kill her and she was allowed to have her phone but due to privacy laws couldn’t send a picture as proof. While “in the hospital” she deleted the TERF blog and her personal blog. I had known her for literal YEARS at this point (we had met when I was 12-13 or so and by the time we no longer spoke I was a few months from 17), and I was completely stunned to fucking hear this person trying to pull “I’m in the hospital with a deadly disease” at being confronted for some shit like that LMAO. I made a post about it on my public and another “trans woman friend” of hers logged in to vehemently defend her by saying that there’s nothing wrong with AFAB women being untrusting of trans people because female oppression is uniquely traumatic and that there’s nothing wrong with women expressing their sexuality by sexting minors as long as the minor consents and that I was the real predator for “hiding that I was a man” (remember, I’d been a 13 year old closeted trans boy), before never logging in again... 😭 One of the last times we ever talked was when she demanded I refund her for the fucking Xbox and I refused.

Anyway, the long-term aftermath of that is that a few people online (in some random cringe areas of the internet) who archived some of her antics still think that I also wasn’t a real person, since they caught onto how much she lied about too, so they think I was also a sock puppet and I have no interest in clarifying and making myself known to those people LOL. I have no fucking idea where she is now, she deactivated everything after her being a TERF came out. There’s like, so much more to that I could say because I knew her for YEARS and, like I said, she was one of my “closest friends.” Her parents had wildly expensive pure bred designer dogs that she would make Vines of. She wrote Beatles real person fan fiction. For her birthday one year I made her a shirt on Zazzle with an inside joke about one of her OCs... does she still have that? Either way, she was easily the most batshit person I’ve ever known closely online and I will forever associate the Hetalia fandom with people like that.

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kstewdeux · 5 years ago

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A Very Specific Day

A Tumblr Exclusive

@inuyasha-valentines

“So, he asked you to join him for dinner and you said yes?” Sango asked barely above a whisper as she sank into the hot spring. Despite Kagome’s belief that only Miroku spied on them, the slayer knew better. How the miko didn’t sense his aura or the noticeable, sudden rustle of leaves that occasionally occurred when Kagome exited the spring was beyond her but the miko would deny the obvious until the cows came home and then would be in denial about the cows.

“It’s a holiday,” Kagome tried to explain weakly, “Its, um, a great shame to not share that day with a romantic partner in my time.”

“So, you see Hojo as a romantic partner then,” Sango pressed as she gave the miko a skeptical look and Kagome sighed heavily.

“I mean, that’s the point of dinner. To find out if that person is someone you would want as a romantic partner,” she replied a little sadly before cringing when she saw the slayer’s skepticism increase exponentially. Huffing once and folding her arms across her chest, she snapped defensively, “Its not a crime to see what my options are, Sango.”

“I can think of someone who might disagree,” the slayer laughed softly as she settled back against the wall of the spring, “You need to tell him why you’re going home. You know he always follows you.”

“He doesn’t…”

“He does,” Sango interrupted with a soft sigh, “Even if he doesn’t tell you or even let you see him, he always does.”

“Does he really?” Kagome asked in a fascinated tone and Sango’s lips twitched upwards when she heard the rustle of leaves that signaled ‘someone’ might have arrived to ‘protect’ the girls.

“Inuyasha cares for you a great deal,” Sango commented as though she hadn’t noticed anything, “Although I know you don’t think so.”

“I mean we’re friends but he isn’t interested in being any more than that,” Kagome sighed sadly before groaning and commenting acidly, “Unlike Hojo. I mean, honestly, based on how they treat me, I think its pretty clear which one I should be trying to date. One insults me all the time. The other gives me gifts and tells me I’m pretty. Seems pretty open and shut.”

Somehow, mysteriously, although no wind was blowing whatsoever a single tree in the distance shook so heavily a cascade of leaves fell to the ground and the tree itself groaned loudly. Even more mysteriously still, the miko somehow must be either blind or deaf because she didn’t notice the ‘strange’ event.

“Does it?” Sango laughed softly as she consciously turned so the obviously spying hanyou couldn’t see any part of her. Kagome, however, was pretty much on full display.

“So, what happens on a date?” Sango asked as she decided to throw the little obviously upset spy a bone. What he did with it was his business.

“Well the boy usually picks you up at your house. You go to somewhere special. Like a nice place to eat food or you watch a, uh, show or something. Then you go home and if the evening was good you give them a kiss and that’s that. It’s, you know, courting,” Kagome tried to explain as she wrinkled her nose.

“Unchaperoned courting,” Sango corrected. Her lips twitched upwards when the tree in the distance rustled once more.

“Well yeah,” Kagome replied with a soft laugh, “Guess that doesn’t really happen here.”

“Are you going to tell Inuyasha?” Sango finally addressed the elephant in the room and Kagome sniffed pointedly.

“Its not his business,” she clipped back a little too quickly, “I’m so tired of him acting like he owns me just because I can see jewel shards. I don’t complain when he goes to see Kikyo. That’s his business and this is mine.”

“You do complain in your own way,” Sango commented knowingly and Kagome gave her friend a sour look.

“So what? I’m tired of hurting so no, I’m not going to tell him because he doesn’t care about me and I deserve someone who does,” the miko clipped back before worrying about her lip and glaring into the distance, “I just….I love him Sango and he just doesn’t love me back. I’m trying to come to terms with that, okay? If he found out he’d say something hurtful and I don’t want to deal with that right now. I want to be happy.”

A short distance away, a certain half-demon was having a heart attack, a brain aneurysm and quite possibly the stomach flu all at once. His mind and body going completely apeshit over well, literally everything he’d just heard. It didn’t start off too bad. Not great but he could’ve handled a date with that Hojo guy. She didn’t smell attracted to him at all and never really seemed interested. Unlike with Koga because even though she said she didn’t like him that way she sure didn’t smell like she minded the eye candy sometimes. Anyway, a pity dinner with the Hojo guy was not terrible nor was it worrisome. Sure he would’ve bitched a bit about it and probably stop her from going because (1) obviously that was cruel when she was already spoken for and (2) she was spoken for. His mind had been scrambling to figure out why she had even agreed in light of number two when she started going on about how she thought he was a right asshole who didn’t give two shits about her and was still in love with Kikyo and she wasn’t happy and that….

It was a miracle his heart hadn’t given out it was beating so fast.

Swallowing thickly as he tried to remember how to breathe, he watched with wide, frightened eyes as Kagome and Sango existed the hot spring and began preparing to return.

“Oh fuck,” he breathed as he very seriously almost passed out from the shock to his system, “What am I supposed to do now?”

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Inuyasha arrived back at camp almost a full hour after the girls did. It honestly had taken him that long to calm down and try to formulate a plan. A plan that would not give away the fact that he was spying on Kagome naked and in the process thereof, overheard what she’d said.

“Inuyasha? Can I talk to you?” Kagome asked him quietly and any plan he’d managed to formulate was instantly wiped from his mind by almost blinding panic and dread.

“S-sure,” he offered as calmly as he could under the circumstances and gave her a very forced smile just for good measure. This seemed to unnerve her.

They walked a short distance away until they were almost in the trees when she began her proposal.

“I need to go back in two days,” she began calmly as she tried to meet his gaze but couldn’t quite do it. He almost asked why but then thought better of it. Asking why would most likely have her lie to him which in turn he would call out and then there’d be a fight because him hearing meant he saw her naked and it wouldn’t matter that she was lying to him because he saw her naked and….

“Okay,” he replied a neutrally as one could when they felt like their heart was breaking, “Can….may I go with you?”

Kagome blinked at him a few times before shaking her head and clearing her throat.

“I think, uh, it would be best if I go alone,” she chuckled nervously as she scratched the side of her neck, “You know those pesky homeworks aren’t going to do themselves and I have a, uh, test. I have a test.”

Inuyasha wilted miserably at the realization that she was, in fact, actively lying to him. What else was she lying about? He didn’t even want to think about that.

“I won’t bother you,” he tried softly as he tried to ignore the ice spreading through his veins, “I just…I want to spend some time with you is all.”

“Are you okay?” Kagome asked in a worried tone as her eyes began scanning his body for injury. He smiled sadly and shook his head.

“Nah I’m fine. Just…just realized something is all,” he sighed before seeming to deflate even more, “Yeah. Sure. Go ahead. Do whatever makes you happy.”

The miko’s brain was racing a million miles per second trying to figure out whether he knew she was lying or not because this type of behavior was so unlike him it was beginning to scare her. When he glanced back with a strange look in his eyes, she knew her answer. He could probably smell it on her anyway. Why did she think lying was a good idea? This wasn’t like her at all.

“Wait, Inuyasha,” Kagome called out softly as she wrung her hands and he paused – his hair blocking his face as he glanced over his shoulder, “I’m sorry. I just….I’m being courted, okay? And you usually fight me and this is a very special honor in my time to be courted on this very specific day. I wanted….I was afraid you wouldn’t let me go. I shouldn’t’ve lied.”

For a moment, he tried to digest what she’d said and tried to overcome his own hurt at the situation. Unlike Kikyo, she had never given him a reason not to trust her until now. Even in life Kikyo was constantly lying to him and his sensitive nose could always tell. It was little stupid things but even small things add up into a larger pile that’ll crush you one day. Being able to trust her word was one of the things he loved so much about Kagome.

Yeah, he loved her. Sure, he’d never said as much but dammit that didn’t make it hurt less. She lied to him. Thought it was fine to sit there and tell him that she was being courted like it honestly didn’t matter. He wanted to get angry and yell at her out of frustration but he never was good with words and he might end up just hurting his cause. No matter what she did he’d still want her. That was just how he was when he was in love apparently. She could literally try to murder him and he’d probably thank her for the privilege of dying by her hand. Case in Point: Kikyo. God he was fucking pathetic.

But pathetic or not....this was as good a plan as any to get what he wanted.

“Its an honor to be courted on the day you want to go home?” he repeated softly as he turned to face her and hurt amber eyes searched her face. She nodded as she worried about her lip and continued to wring her hands.

“And so, you agreed to be courted to receive that honor?” he tried to clarify and Kagome shrugged as her brow knitted together in confusion. That was the weirdest sentence she’d ever heard come out of his mouth literally ever. And what was with his tone?

“Would it…” he began softly and Kagome’s hair nearly stood on end. Since when did he talk like this? Especially to her? He normally yelled or…or at least was abrasive at a minimum. He never talked softly or without cussing unless he was dying or with Kikyo. Since he wasn’t with Kikyo at the moment….what the hell was happening right now?

“Would it be an honor if anyone courted you or does it have to be that guy?” he asked politely yet nervously in what couldn’t be a hopeful tone before he cringed, sighed heavily and blurted out, “Because I could do it ya know. I…I could court you and wear different clothes and…and….”

He trailed off at the look of utter shock on her face and his insecurity got the better of him.

“Know what? Forget it. Just fucking forget I said anything. I just…”

“You want to court me?” Kagome squeaked as her eyes widened in shock and darted about trying to read his utterly humiliated expression. For a moment, he wanted to curse her out and storm off without having to explain himself but then again, she did finally seem to catch the hint that he was at a minimum interested in being with her.

“Since when do you want that?” she continued skeptically and his temper flared.

“I’ve been courting you woman but you’re apparently too fucking dumb to notice,” he countered bitterly before shaking his head and sighing when she continued to merely gape at him.

“Whatever,” he muttered under his breath and turned to head back towards camp before Kagome rushed forward and gripped his wrist.

“Yes,” she breathed as she tugged once to get him to stop, “Yes you can court me.”

And so it was that Inuyasha and Kagome celebrated Valentine’s Day together.

#inuyasha valentines #inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha #inukag fanfic

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letterstothemidnightsociety · 4 years ago

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It's 2007 and somehow, miraculously, Supernatural survives yet another rocky (?) season of mediocre ratings to come back for a third season, or at least, half season, but that season starts out with a real bang! Like, just a real solid trio of an opener for season three. It reminds me of all the things I love about SPN and also it reminds us of all the things that frustrate the hell out of me on SPN. So where did we leave things off?

First up, there’s Dean, who sold his soul to the devil in order to bring Sam back from the dead. Sam, you’ll remember, was part of some overly complicated ponzi scheme to find the perfect vessel to open a door - yep, open a door - and lost to Aldous Hodge who just straight up murders Sam in the season finale. So Dean get’s Sammy back, but in exchange, he’s only got one year left before he permanently moves down south. Oh! And even though they got Sam back and Sam kills Aldous Hodge (RIP pal), they neglected to keep the door from opening. The door to Hell, that is, and now they’ve allowed a shiz ton of demons out to freely roam the earth. Way to go, boys, you lost again! They are two for two on these season finales guys!

OH but they DO kill the Yellow Eyed Demon, so that’s a plus, but not before he plants the most perfect seed of doubt in Dean’s mind - “How do you know what you brought back is all Sammy?” Like, ugh, UGH, ugh!!!! What a way to drive the knife in deeper! What a way to make the heart of this show slowly start to crumble! C’est Magnifique!! *chef's kissy fingers*

So with all that emotional baggage weighing us down, how do we start season 3? How else - with a threesome of course! And also some technicolor grading, it’s wild guys.

Oh boy guys, let’s talk about this opener for a hot sec. I got into it a little bit last season, but as much as I love Dean, you HAVE to admit that that boy is gross. Just like...he’s a little gross. I’m also old enough now to see exactly how many red flags he’s raising through the last 45 episodes. Like, sorry Little Me, but he is not boyfriend material. Not to mention that all this debauchery is 1,000% him distracting himself from the consequences of his own actions, but we’ll get into that later.

Meanwhile, Sam is doing something constructive and trying to figure out how to reverse the curse and save Dean’s soul. And here we have the culmination of two seasons worth of character development - faced with the imminent demise of Dean Samuel Winchester, Sam tries to step up and take care of his brother for once in his life; Dean parties like it’s 1999. There were two things I thought of during this episode - 1) isn’t this not unlike the sort of behavior you see in suicidal people who have finally decided to take their own life? Which is just, like, further held up by the fact that Dean’s big monologue at the end literally has the line “Truth is I’m tired, Sam. There’s a light at the end of the tunnel.” and like...dude, you are NOT ok! Why isn't??? ANYONE??? ADDRESSING THIS????? And 2) Dean is sharing a lot of similarities with the demons in this episode.

Because MEANwhile, there’s demons! So many demons! Specifically, the Seven Deadly Sins ones, but also, spoiler alert, Ruby, who is gettin’ reeeeealll into that ketchup.

All these baddies just really taking advantage of their time topside cuz Hell is, as they so artfully put it, it’s like Hell, so they’re just livin’ it up while they still can ~almost like foreshadowing or something~?!?!?

Real talk though, it being a real long time since I’ve watched this season, it’s these kinds of details that I’m impressed with this time around. There is so much character work that goes into this show and it’s something I definitely connected with the first time around, but not on conscious level. Now I can look at it through time and experience and articulate what I’m seeing, which makes this re-watch infinitely more enjoyable.

Episode 1 of this season continues what they started in season 2 and just keeps building out that Hunter Community. Like, there really is a whole Community out there that keeps in contact and works together and makes sure everyone’s up to date on the latest hot goss, and it all makes John Winchester come off like a real creepy splinter cell lone gunman type. And that in turn makes the Winchester sons look like total, unprofessional boneheads who managed to open a portal to Hell. “UGH Great Jorb Guys, but can we blame them? They’re John’s kids,” is a conversation between hunters that I am headcannoning, but also 100% support.

Honestly, I love the idea of the Winchesters being just these real, like, b-grade, Walmart Brand Hunters that other Hunters are just SO done with. We kind of see a little bit of that with Isaac and Tamara, but by the end of the episode, the Winchesters prove that they’re...better Hunters? I hope somewhere in the next 12 seasons I get an episode that is told from another Hunter’s POV who is legitimately better/more emotionally balanced than the Winchesters and the whole episode is them just, like, cleaning up a bunch of Winchester messes like, SONuvabitch, these two ASSholes. I think we see a fair amount of episodes from the POV of people who are less qualified than the Winchesters who end up being mentored by them, but I’d be stoked for them to run into just a group of people who hate them for totally legitimate, professional vs amature reasons.

Bobby does not count because Bobby signed up to be their Dad and so he agreed to take care of their messes when he took that job.

And then we get to “The Kids Are Alright” which showcases one of my fav changes for this season - BRIGHTLY! LIT! HIGH! SATURATION!!!! And of course, by fav, I mean, Most Hilarious.

I do walk a fine line on this one truth be told. Like, season 1 was definitely going for A Look. It’s super gritty and high contrasty and stylized. Now, I got what they were going for but I wasn’t always crazy about it, mostly because the quality on the DVD’s was terrible. Quick tip for everyone: in order to get 2+ hours worth of content on a DVD, you have to compress the final edit of the program to a pretty small bitrate. When we drop videos onto DVD’s at my work (it isn’t often, thank goodness), the discs themselves only hold, like, 2GB worth of content and that is NOT A LOT when it comes to video files. The more compressed a video file is, the less detail you’re gonna get in the visuals. Watching episodes on Netflix (where everything’s probably at a higher bitrate and therefore is a better quality visual), it’s not bad, but on my DVDs, the compression is so heavy that we get SUPER hot highlights and SUPER crunchy shadows - what a lot of people would called “crushed blacks” because you’ve lost all the detail in the shadows and you’re left with a grainy, noisy, black hole on the screen. Like I lost so much detail in the pilot episode guys, I could not make out this guy’s face.

A rough approximation of my DVD quality. Still recommend it over Netflix for the Accurate Soundtrack tho.

Season 2 SPN toned that Look down a lot, like, a lot a lot. Enough that you still got the general vibe they were going for but not enough that you couldn’t make out faces anymore. But through this whole process, the CW execs kept pushing for the show to look lighter, more colorful, less film noir more...well, CW. And in season 3 it finally happened!!!

I get what those execs were going for, but also, I feel like the colorists on these first few episodes just REALLY went wild out of spite. Lookit this shot from “Magnificent Seven” right before Envy causes some rando innocent bystander to beat a girl to death for her shoes -

GREEN GREEN GREEN GREEN!!!! I WONDER WHICH SIN THIS GUY IS????

Then in “The Kids Are Alright” the birthday party looks like everything is coated in day-glow neon.

The Winchester Bros look like they just got back from 3 weeks in Aruba - LOOK at the saturation levels in these skin tones! LOOK AT THEM!!

My screencap ability aside, only in SPN can a cemetery at night have brighter lighting than a diner in the middle of the afternoon.

This is definitely a thing I will be tracking the rest of the season because I have a distinct memory of a future episode where the brothers have been magically gifted completely different lives where they were never Hunters, they know nothing of Hunting, and they’re completely normal until the end when everything gets snapped back and the episode literally changes colors. V. Excited to see just how saturated this season stays through the end.

But maybe more importantly in “The Kids Are Alright” we learn that Dean does NOT, in fact, have a son. Not that he would be a good father...well...maybe? I mean, this Dean, this season 3, definitely-suicidal, completely-reckless, can’t-keep-it-together Dean, is not good Dad material. Later seasons Dean? Probably fine? Earlier seasons Dean might ALSO be fine? And if he’d found out that Ben was his legitimate kid, it could have made a WORLD of difference, who knows. I know he ultimately does become father-like to Ben and that gives me a lot of feelings. But this Dean is not in a good place to take care of anyone, including himself and really, someone ought to do something about that.

I gotta say, this is an actual bummer. I can’t remember if, in the later seasons, they do any clarifying on this or not, but I am legitimately bummed that Ben is not Dean’s kid and that as far as we know, Dean has no natural children floating around out there with surly attitudes and soft hearts. Dean’s motivation from Day 1 has always been family and despite what comments he may make in early seasons, Dean’s secret desire is to have the wife and the kids and the dog and the white picket fence. And honestly, we’re only 3 seasons in and I just want Dean to have nice things!!

And then guys, we come to “Bad Day at Black Rock,” and I just...WHAT a masterpiece. I had almost NO memory of ever watching this episode before and I don't understand why. What a glorious masterpiece this episode is. Let’s make a list -

More Hunters™, who should be really annoying but were actually kinda charming in a Marx Brothers kind of way

Gordon’s in jail, where he belongs, but also is masterminding a coup against the Winchesters which is A+ spooky stuff

Slapstick comedy that I didn’t know I was missing from my life

Bela F*cking Talbot

Guys, I think this is my fav episode so far purely because I felt, while watching it, that the last 10 years of my life were not in vain and that I had in fact grown as a human person. I remembered hating Bela Talbot. Like, I DID. NOT. LIKE. HER. To the point that I questioned if her British accent was even real. It is, her mother is from the UK and she lived there for a time, but like, honestly, the audacity of Little Me.

This time around? Oh she’s defs my new fav. Just everything about her is like, A+, Great Job, Why-Did-We-Cancel-Her??? Like, oh yeah, probably because somewhere in here they try to shoehorn a romantic side plot with Dean. I don’t actually mind rioting over shoehorned romance, but also, if they’d let this play out for a season or two and then got the two of them to bone? I’m on board. I’m 100% on board.

Maybe it’s just that she is unapologetically out for herself, maybe it’s the fact that she is definitely a match for the Winchesters in a non-murdery way, probably it is both of those things. She's smart, she’s crooked, she has impeccable taste, she’s honestly a helluva lot of fun and I am so excited to see more of her and so BUMMED that she will not make it past this season.

Despite the fact that I absolutely adore all three of these episodes, they also bring up the problem that I was starting to see in season 2 - WHO is this show about? Isn’t it supposed to be about the Brothers as a whole? But the majority of these first three lean pretty heavily on Dean’s emotional arc. Granted, it makes sense. I mean, of COURSE Dean’s demon deal is gonna be the BIG thing in a season where he is literally staring down the barrel, but knowing that there’s a side plot about Is Sam Evil?? seems like...something we should really explore more? I believe it comes up in season 4, or at least, Sam’s demon-blood powers become a bigger deal in season 4, but I would have enjoyed seeing Sam have a more active stake in this season. I can see planting some weird new ticks being planted for Alive-Again Sam that just get weirder and darker and then a mid-season finale or a run up episode to the end of the season where Dean (finally) decides he needs to stop his demon deal because he needs to stick around so he can keep Sam from going completely off the rails. As much as I love Dean 5ever, I do think the show works best when the emotional weight of the season is distributed equally is all. And to be fair to the writers this season, there could have been a bigger plan for something like that but they ran out of time - their season was cut by about a third due to the Writer’s Strike.

Still, all in all, a solid opening to the third season. I want to say that these episodes feel like Classic SPN, but then I remember that this is season three out of fifteen. These ARE Classic SPN. Mostly self contained with enough emotional drama to remind us of the overarching plot. Maybe a little heavy on the emotional drama, but Dean’s only got a year to live and the show’s only got 16 episodes to resolve that crisis, so it’s fine.

#Supernatural #Supernatural rewatch #Season 3 #Magnificent Seven #The Kids are Alright #bad day at black rock #Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #Bela Talbot #Hunters #Sam and Dean #Writer's Strike #TV #TV History #Bela talbot is maybe great #and I should say it

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spideytingle616 · 5 years ago

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Five Months [2]

Part 1 / Masterlist / Part 3

*based on the five stages of grief*

Pairing: Peter Parker x Female reader

Warnings: Angst, death, swearing, possible implications of anxiety, mentions/implications of sexual activity, blood/injury

Description: The first time you touch your soulmate, you’re able to see a glimpse into your future. What happens if your future is also your end?

Chapter Summary: Still best friends and nothing more, you learn this battle isn’t so easy after all. You hope Peter feels it too, but you also hope he doesn’t. At least you have Nationals to keep you busy.

Word Count: 7.7K lol whoops (bold and italics are thoughts)

Month Two, Anger: Love Isn’t a Decathlon Event

As the days of continuing your charade with Peter roll into the next couple of weeks and eventually the next month, you couldn’t help but feel annoyed at this game. The next half of the semester has started, and you couldn’t blame tests for the lull that continued to grow.

But the more irked you became, the bigger the guilt grew in the back of your head. How dare you feel like this, you thought. Putting yourself first seemed far too selfish, but you couldn’t exactly talk to Peter about this, especially when he’s avoiding you whenever possible. Not being able to talk about it was killing you, as if your confrontation at his apartment brought no closure.

As the weeks passed, and the fall breeze brushed through the trees, you’ve had time to think about the facts at hand. You and Peter were soulmates, and though the situation wasn’t ideal, it did confirm your feelings that preceded this chaos.

All the times you caught yourself staring at Peter meant something, and all the times you’d flash a dorky smile at his corny jokes were genuine signs of admiration. You were smitten since you met the boy, and part of you wants to kick yourself for brushing off these moments. Maybe everything could be different if you realized sooner, and your flashback could’ve been something nicer, or something that indicated a forever…

These thoughts have started to cloud your head far more than you would like as your brain was off in another world during class. Your grades aren’t slipping quite yet, but you know they eventually will if you continue to let this distraction get to you more than it already has. The only thing you can do is to simply accept the decision Peter made; it’s his life, after all. Unless miracles exist, you’re stuck being the heartbroken girl.

At this moment, however, you were also the exhausted girl. Today was fitness exam day in gym, and you were stuck on the sweaty mats, forced to do sit-ups for the next few minutes. MJ was your partner per usual, holding your feet to keep you steady. You didn’t really care about your numbers, so you took your time and talked to your friend instead. You were multitasking by watching Peter going up and down on the mat, only pretending to be struggling. Just earlier he got around fifteen sit-ups in the first ten seconds.

Damn spider-powers….

“Okay, so it’s been, what, a month since you and Peter figured out you were soulmates?” MJ asked as you came up. “And to clarify, you two are still just friends?”

You did another sit-up before responding. “Yep, same as when you asked the other day.” And the day before, and the day before…

“Well sorry, but it’s kinda confusing, isn’t it? You two are basically together all the time; you’re just adding boning to the equation.”

You prop your elbows on your knees, stopping to look at MJ with wild eyes.

“Seriously, MJ? You didn’t have to say it like that.” You scoff. “And besides, it’s more complicated than just adding ‘you know what’ to our friendship.”

She laughs at your innocent wording as you fall back down, ready for more dreadful sit-ups.

“You’re such a dork sometimes, which is exactly why you’re perfect for Peter. You even told me that you thought you had feelings for him before you found out. I wouldn’t be so worried about his crime-fighting, if he was going to get seriously hurt, he would’ve by now.”

What?

The coach blows the whistle, indicating for each pair to switch roles. MJ lets go of your feet and takes a seat in front of you. You both knew she wasn’t going to do the sit-ups, avoiding the physical activity most of the time by sitting on the bleachers reading.

“How did you-” You shakily begin, breath trying to steady after the work you’ve just been through.

“You’ve seen all the times he’s up and left? Weren’t you the least suspicious as to why? I mean, it was either Spider-Man or a male escort, so.”

“I’m glad you didn’t go with the latter, then. Ugh, did everyone piece this together before I did? Some best friend I am.” You sigh, rolling your eyes at your stupidity. Peter was never one to keep secrets that easily, yet this still passed your radar.

“I know everyone’s secrets, Y/N. You’re not a bad friend, everyone knows you and Peter are perfect for each other. Except for you, apparently?” MJ raises an eyebrow at you, going back to her original question.

“I mean, I’m still shocked about it, but Peter doesn’t want anything to change. He’s too busy to worry about all this soulmate bullcrap.” You try to excuse. Whether or not you liked the situation, you weren’t going to tell your friend the actual truth, not until Peter is okay with it.

Before MJ had a chance to argue with your comment, you hear a yell. Specifically, one near where Peter and Ned were. All heads snapped toward the source of the sound.

“Peter knows Spider-Man!” Ned says all too excitedly.

“Oh god,” you mumbled softly, squinting your eyes in disbelief. Peter was the same way, mouth agape at his friend’s words.

Fortunately, the claim didn’t expose anything. In fact, it earned the two an invitation to Liz’s party, which wasn’t as fortunate. Jealousy slowly started to creep onto your face as you shifted your stare between the two of them throughout class. Peter likes Liz, and Liz likes Spider-Man. Despite being soulmates, Peter seems to have the stars aligned with someone else. The rest of class somehow sucked even worse than normal.

As you walk with MJ to the locker room, you’re stopped by none other than Liz. How great, you thought. You try your best to keep a pleasant face, but your smile was too tight to be genuine.

“You probably heard earlier, but I was planning on having a party this weekend. I’d love for guys to come too if you want.” Liz invited, her smile as charming as ever.

The offer took you aback. The two of you weren’t very close, so you were surprised she really cared enough to acknowledge you.

“Are you sure, Liz? I mean, we’ve never really talked all that much.”

“Well consider this an opportunity to do just that. I invited the whole decathlon team so this could be a good way to bond before nationals. And besides, I already invited Peter, and you two are super close. It only made sense.”

“Well, we’re not like, that close or anything.” You fumble.

“Oh, come on, it’s totally obvious you guys were made for each other. I bet you two are soulmates and everything.”

R.I.P to Peter’s chances, even Liz thinks you’re meant to be. (Well, Peter never really had a chance with any non-soulmate, but a guy can dream). MJ turns to you and offers a cheeky smirk, waiting for you to reply to Liz. Awkwardness starts to seep into the conversation, much to your dismay.

“That is, a crazy idea. I-I don’t even know where to begin with that. Like, totally not true. At all. Nope. He’s my buddy.” Your mouth feels like it’s full of sand at this point. You wish you could muster up more than that pathetic excuse.

“Huh, I wonder who is then. He’s too cute to still be soulless, you know?”

Your eyes largen as the fake smile cramps your face. So, the attraction is mutual… great. A burning in your chest emerges out of anger. Life really couldn’t go your way lately.

“Yep, totally…” was all you could say. “I should go, you know, change and stuff, but thanks for the invite. I’ll try to come, and, stuff.”

You immediately turned around and headed straight toward the locker room, not even noticing Liz and MJs’ confused faces.

Due to your runoff, you were headed to your next class earlier than usual. As you turned the corner, you body checked into none other than your superhuman soulmate. You put your hands on his chest to prevent an embarrassing fall. Under his sweater and layers, you could still feel how hard his chest was, which wasn’t a surprise considering the view you saw not that long ago.

What felt like minutes, you finally came to your senses and quickly put your hands down and awkwardly crossed them.

“H-hey.” You stuttered.

The most conversation you’ve had lately was during class, and those were just questions about the lecture. You hated that you felt awkward with your best friend.

“Um, sorry. I wasn’t looking” Peter replied, feeling the tension as much as you did.

“No, you’re fine.” You reassured. “Hey, uh, sorry about Ned. That kid is such a blabbermouth sometimes.”

The boy sent an airy laugh. It’s been a long time since you heard him laugh, so even hearing a half-hearted one was enough to make you miss him even more. You could’ve sworn your eyes got misty at that moment.

“No, it’s cool. He knew I want to impress Liz and just went overboard.” Despite Ned knowing you two were soulmates, he still remained loyal to Peter’s wishes of pining over Liz; Talk about an ultimate wingman.

You didn’t dare to mention the fact that Liz called him cute, as you were too selfish to say anything. I have to deal with a soulmate that doesn’t even want me, let me have this.

“I need to print my English essay so I should get going. If you go to Liz’s party, you could maybe hang with Ned and me or something.” Peter offers.

The invite was a surprise considering the past month, but you wanted nothing more than to spend time with him again. Even if it was at a party hosted by his crush and with people you didn’t know, you gladly accepted.

——-

The car ride to Liz’s was awkward, to say the least. Peter was asking for some advice about parties and girls, to which May offered back some words to wisdom. You assumed that she didn’t know anything about you and her nephew, and obviously you weren’t going to be the one to tell her. The fact that Peter wouldn’t even tell his family gave your heart a dull ache. You’ve gotten over the initial pain for the most part, but instances like these still trigger your sensitivity.

When you got inside, all three of you were surprised at the place in front of you. You all knew that Liz had a house outside of New York, but you didn’t imagine it to be so big. Jealousy pangs you once again; Liz Allen just seems to have it all.

“Sup losers,” greeted an uninterested voice.

You all turned to see MJ at the kitchen table eating tortillas straight out of a bag.

“You actually came?” You asked puzzled. “Yeah, I thought you didn’t like parties,” Ned replied, adjusting his fedora. He insisted it made him look cooler.

“Maybe I’m not here and you’re just seeing things. Ever think about that?” Your friend replied, raising her eyebrows in fake revelation.

Both Peter and Ned turned to each other in confusion before looking back at the girl. You rolled your eyes; they never really got MJ’s jokes.

“Well, anyway, I need to talk to my friend here, but you two can go ahead without me.” You told the two boys before grabbing MJ’s wrist and taking her to another room you believe is the dining room.

“Jeez, and I thought I wanted to leave that situation more than you.” MJ joked, not bothering to fight your grip.

“I’m going freaking crazy, dude. Weeks of constant awkward conversation, I almost peed my pants because for some reason he invited me here and I was stupid enough to come.” You rant, eyes wild with absurdity.

“Oh, so now all of a sudden you care?”

You roll your eyes, slightly annoyed that your friend thinks this is a good time for jokes. However, she was right. Up until that point in gym, you were accepting of the fact that Peter wanted to keep a distance and stay friends, though the awkward attitude between you two wasn’t exactly “friendship”. But seeing that he actually intended to have a shot with Liz made you sick to your stomach.

“I just- I don’t get why. Why is he chasing a non-soulmate to begin with? I can be fine with staying friends, but what’s he doing?” Your eyes kept grazing the floor as you complained.

“Why don’t you ask him yourself? It’s not like I have all the answers, though I do know what’s happening seventy percent of the time.”

You sigh, “He’s not going to answer-”

“He’s also not going to answer your questions if you never actually ask him. You clearly don’t like the relationship between you two, so talk to him about it. If he won’t listen, then make him.” MJ quipped, having tried to tell you this how many times. “I think both of you know deep down that you two are the best thing that could happen to each other. But clearly, there’s something else going on, which is why you need to talk to him instead. Figure out how to be together.”

All you can do is stare aimlessly at her. Your mind, like your heart, is going a hundred miles an hour. Perhaps her advice would be different if she knew, but this wasn’t the time to tell her. Not in a chaotic party with Flash chanting “Penis Parker” in the background. Not when Peter himself is an enigma to his soulmate. If you knew more, or knew what to do, then maybe MJ could offer more for both your sakes. But it’s not your secret to tell. Even if you’re transparent to MJ, it’s not your place to say something to ruin your best friend’s life, especially considering the fragility of it.

MJ widens her eyes and tilts her head to the side, motioning for you to go out and find Peter. You sigh, nodding your head. The quick conversation was over before you knew it. A part of you thinks she also just wanted to get rid of you, but you couldn’t blame her. You probably weren’t the only one angry and annoyed with the predicament at hand.

You go back to the kitchen where you left the two boys to fend for themselves. It probably wasn’t going too well considering you could still hear Flash’s nonstop teasing. You spotted Ned and his spunky fedora, but there was no one else with him.

“Weren’t there two of you?” You asked, trying to use sarcasm to mask any panic you may have felt.

Ned snaps out of his slight daze. “Well, Peter went to go, you know, change, so he can impress Liz, and prevent the future embarrassment of not actually knowing Spider-Man.”

“First of all, does he technically know him if he is him? Second of all, you caused all of this so you kinda screwed him over. And third of all, aren’t you supposed to be on my side too?” You asserted, slightly hurt.

The sensible side of you thought that there was no way that Peter would go through with this. All this for a girl that wasn’t even his soulmate? Just thinking about it made you more upset. You were also hurt by your raven-haired friend and his betrayal, but one step at a time you suppose.

“Well in my defense, I have no idea what’s happening, like ever. And Peter doesn’t seem to be doing so well lately, so I thought this might make him feel better. You know, bros before hoes. B-but you’re not a hoe, Y/N. It’s just that you’re a girl- not that all girls are hoes, guys can be hoes too-“

“I’m gonna stop you before this gets any worse,” You warned. “It’s whatever, I can forgive you for now cause you’re a good guy. Just, where is he? I really need to talk to him.”

Ned sighs, slightly guilty that about the plan he participated in. He points upward to the ceiling. The motion leaves you confused, but upon looking up and seeing the skylight in the middle of the roof, you understood. Where else would you find a spider?

A few room searches later, and a risky climb, you were able to get on the roof of the house. The possible twenty-foot fall was worth it when you were met with a familiar face and a red and blue suit to match.

“Kinda envy your powers right now, could’ve found you a lot sooner.” You said, a half-smirk appearing on your face.

Peter turns his head from where he’s sitting, offering a rather sad smile. He soon goes back and focuses on the mask in between his hands, fidgeting with the fabric. You start to feel a little awkward for intruding, but you knew you this was something you had to do. Brushing away any stiffness between you two, you shimmy closer to Peter and sit down next to him.

“Shouldn’t you be down there, doing I don’t know, spider stuff?” You observed.

“Spider stuff makes my amazing powers sound rather lame; don’t you think?” Peter mumbles, trying to make a joke.

“Well, I’m terribly sorry.” You chuckle. “Seriously though, how long have you been up here? Ned is looking like a lost puppy without you.”

Peter gives a small laugh at your comment. Your conversations always included some form of witty banter, and even in predicaments like these, it doesn’t seem to go away that easily. “Couldn’t do it, I guess. I was about to head back, but when I saw everyone downstairs, I don’t know, something changed.”

“Changed as in, you don’t know why you’re doing this?” You prod.

Peter nods once as if to say you were right, but doesn’t want to admit it just yet.

“I’m doing this to seem like someone else. But it’s not someone else, i-it’s still me, you know? I love Spider-Man and all, but going there as him seems…” He trails off, a loss for words.

“They wouldn’t look at you as Peter, just Spider-Man.”

Peter nods again, this time to agree with your theory.

“I understand, it wouldn’t feel like they’re genuinely impressed with you. But hey,” You bump his shoulder with yours. “You’re Spider-Man because of who you are, because of who Peter Parker is. You’re the one trying to make the world a better place. I mean, Spider-Man isn’t a real person, but Peter is, and it’s their loss if they aren’t impressed with someone as cool as you.”

The words sent a bright smile onto your friend’s face. It was actual, good advice: something that he wished Ned or anyone could’ve given him sooner.

“Could’ve told me that before I went through all the trouble of putting this on.” Peter joked, bringing you back into your old rhythm of conversation.

“Well, I’ll try to climb the window faster next time. But if I’m on the ground and not up here, you know why.” You quip back, causing Peter to laugh once again.

Everything started to feel familiar again, all it did was a little talking. You suppose the hostility between you two couldn’t be fully blamed on him. Maybe if you tried to talk to him like this more and showed that you cared, you’d be able to find a balance in your lives.

The thoughts caused you to space off, your stares stuck on Peter. He eventually notices when he turns to look at you. Now the two of you are looking at one another, neither one of you wanting to ruin the moment. A part of you wanted to lean in, even if it was just an inch. You would’ve followed your urge too, but you didn’t want to lose focus on your purpose.

“Hey listen Pete, the reason why I came up here-”

“Holy shit,” He interrupts, staring into the distance, mouth agape.

You scrunch your face. What the hell, dude?

Looking in the same direction as Peter, you see what he’s referring to. A single, bright light beamed in the distance. It was too blue and too unearthly to be natural, which caused both of you to worry.

The spiderling stands up before looking at you again, this time with a guilty face. You sigh, this is just like the first time. When he left you in the dust at your own apartment to go fight crime after just finding out about his identity. You knew he didn’t want to leave just as much as you, but there was nothing he could do. No one else can risk their lives to save the city.

“Guess I’ll see you later, then.” You answer his silence.

You stand up afterward and motion for him to go, but he doesn’t move from his spot. He wants to, but there’s something stopping you and you couldn’t quite pin it. Before you know it, Peter wraps you into a tight hug. You can’t remember a time that he’s ever done this (which makes sense considering you found out you were soulmates after years of friendship). Yet despite the confusion that enveloped your head, you bring your arms around him, squeezing back. You close your eyes, enjoying the moment of warmth brought between you two. Peter lets go, much to your dismay, and puts his mask on. He webs away, leaving you to a party you didn’t even want to go to.

Since that party, you haven’t seen much of your Spider-friend due to Decathlon's practice. Nationals were coming up, and Liz was really making sure everyone was prepared for the competition. Peter has continued to dedicate his life to fighting, even more so than usual. You figured he needed a distraction, like decathlon was to you, but you still missed him nonetheless. Flash isn’t doing too hot as Peter’s replacement, and it only makes you miss him more.

After another week or so, you and your team were headed to Washington D.C. for the awaited competition. Waiting for everyone to load their luggage onto the bus, you and MJ were quizzing each other when Peter runs toward the group, packed and all.

“The hell,” You mumble under your breath.

“Hey guys, yeah um, I was hoping I could rejoin the team,” Peter quickly asks, nervousness seeping into his words.

You don’t say anything, not only because you were at a loss of words, but also because Flash looks like he has steam coming out of his ears. “No freaking way, Parker. We don’t even need you.” Flash boasted.

The rest of the group looked at each other, all awkwardly sucking in the breaths and gritting their teeth. No one dared to say anything afterward.

”Actually, it would be great of you to join us again, Peter. Who else is going to answer all the chemistry questions?” Liz smiled.

You tried to suppress a gag. By the look on Peter’s face, you could tell he was flattered, which only made things worse for you. This was the one rom-com you hated.

Peter continues to receive warm welcomes from the rest of the team, and especially Mr. Harrington. However, you leaned against the bus and watched from the sidelines confused. He dropped so much for Spider-Man; he wouldn’t join back all of a sudden. You wonder what your friend’s hidden agenda was.

Once you started to load on the bus, you decided to join Peter in the back. As you approached the end of the aisle, you reminded yourself you were doing this because you were friends. Aside from the intense hug at the party that seemed like forever ago, you and Peter were never more than best friends. Any harbored feelings were kept under lock and key, and you know it’s for the best.

“Okay,” You start to say as you slump in your seat. “Why are you actually here?”

“Was it that obvious?” Peter timidly asks.

“To me at least. Seems weird that you’re not busy with spider stuff all of a sudden. Unless of course, you are doing said stuff?”

Peter sighs, checking around to see no one’s watching. Once doing so, he opens his backpack and his hand reappears with a violent-tinted object. Though it seems obvious to Peter what the object means, it doesn’t answer your question.

“Uh, you’re going to D.C. because of a rock?” You asked.

“What, no, it’s not a rock. It’s tech, alien tech.” He rambles, basically shoving the subject in your face.

“And you got this from…?”

“Well, some guy tried to vaporize me-”

“What!” You scream. You would’ve continued to yell but Peter tells you to quiet down.

“Hey relax, I’m fine.” He looks back up to make sure you didn’t grab anyone’s attention. “But after I left Liz’s party, I caught some weapons trade deal going on. Turns out, someone’s combining alien tech with human tech to get rich.”

“Okay well, clearly I have missed a lot in the last week.” You say. “So wait, where exactly does D.C. come into play?”

“Well I put a tracker on one of the guys and they’re heading toward Maryland for another deal or something; D.C. was the easiest way to get there,” Peter explained.

“This is getting a little complicated, does Iron Man or Tony Stark or whatever you call him know about this?”

You don’t mean to sound like a mother, but going all the way into another state seems too overwhelming for a teenage superhero.

“Well, no he doesn’t really trust me. But Ned’s my ‘guy-in-the-chair’ so I’m not doing this alone, and when I catch the guys behind this, Mr. Stark will know I’m capable.”

You stay silent for a little bit, processing your thoughts. You don’t want Peter to get into any danger, especially when you know about his future. However, you knew you couldn’t stop him. He was dedicated, and clearly, this guy was bad news. If he truly needed help, you knew you would be there.

“Well, I’m just glad to have you back. We’re bound to win now, no offense to Flash.” You joke, letting go of all your previous thoughts.

The rest of the bus ride is consisted of decathlon practice, sleeping, and laying on Peter’s shoulder. Friendly, of course. You were tired after all…

——-

“Flash is totally jealous. The kid reeks of ‘I’m compensating my rather sad life by pretending to be cool so fuck you, Peter’.”

“Harsh, MJ. What did he ever do to you?” You reply, starfish on the hotel bed.

“I’m not saying that as a negative, it just makes sense as to why he’s the way he is.” MJ defends.

You hear your phones ring, interrupting the conversation. Too lazy to grab yours from the nightstand, you wait for your friend to tell you what’s up.

“Liz says she wants the team to have a pool night before the big day. Quick bonding session apparently?”

“Ugh, what’s the point? What is a party gonna do for us?” You groan, face down on the mattress.

“She’s captain, after all, wouldn’t want to go against her orders, right?” MJ jokes. “It probably won’t even be that bad. We don’t even have to swim; we can just sit in the chairs.”

Ten minutes later you find yourself heading down the stairs, expensive candy bars in hand. You’ll never understand why the minifridge is always so pricey; MJ blames capitalism, but when doesn’t she?

As you approach another hallway before heading to the pool, you see Peter coming out of his room in regular normal clothes. Did he not get the memo? You slow down as you get closer to the boy.

“Didn’t know you swam with gym shorts, dude.” You say, eyeing his inappropriate attire.

“Y/N, h-hey.” Peter stutters, which confuses you even more.

You cross your arms in front of your chest, which in turn highlights your assets there. Peter couldn’t help but glance at where your arms were placed. Your swimsuit clung to your body nicely, making him take a small gulp. Much of your skin was exposed, and Peter wondered how many times he’s looked at your body without realizing it. If you didn’t reply, god knows how much longer he’d stare.

“Something tells me you’re not going to the pool with us.”

“Yeah no, there’s something else I gotta do. I’ll tell you in the morning though.” Peter coughs, coming back to his senses.

He can see your disappointment at his urgency to leave. You didn’t mean to take it personally, but it felt like he was ditching you again.

You also couldn’t help but worry once again. He’s keeping this secret from the Tony Stark, someone who he has looked up to since he was saved by him all those years ago. Maybe you could at least try to stop him? But before you got a chance to, Liz interrupts your conversation.

“C’mon guys, let’s get a move on.” Liz cheered. “Peter you’re not even dressed yet. You know, you better be going. You’re back on the team, after all.”

“Yeah totally, I’ll be there. Just need to grab something first.” He explained as a blush warmed his cheeks.

You wondered if this would be an inappropriate time to gag. Anger stiffened onto your face as you clenched your jaw. You try to keep cool; it’s ridiculous to be mad as such a basic conversation, even if it left Peter smitten.

By the time you found your chill, Liz joined the rest of the team and hurried to the pool, leaving you and Peter alone again. He was about to run off, but you grabbed his arm before he turned away from you completely.

“Peter, don’t you think this is all, I don’t know, a bit much?” You warned, not letting go of his wrist.

“Seriously, Y/N? You too?” Peter snapped as he moved his arm out of your grasp.

You were taken aback by the sudden annoyance. Didn’t he get how dangerous this was? Nonetheless, a part of you felt bad that he was feeling helicoptered by you.

“I just mean that if it’s serious maybe you can call Stark or one of the Avengers-“

“I get that most of the Avengers are twice as old as me, and I get that it’s risky that Mr. Stark doesn’t know about this. But goddammit, I went to Germany and stole Cap’s shield right in front of his freaking eyes; I’m strong enough to lift cars and I can swing onto the Empire State Building if I wanted to, which is on my bucket list thank you very much. Look, I can do this, but I can’t if everyone I love is trying to stop me. I may be a kid to Mr. Stark, but no kid can do what I can do.”

Your friend’s speech leaves you silent. You look at him: Peter’s eyes were wide and his mouth was closed tight. Part of you thought he was going to say more, that he wanted to say more, but he stayed silent as well.

Peter wanted to add that he knew he wouldn’t get majorly hurt in Maryland. After all, he’s going to be in New York when it happens. He quickly forgets the thought, tightening the grip on his backpack straps. He turns away from you for what he thinks is the last time. He was in a hurry, and plus he was too upset to stay.

“Can you at least be careful?” You yell across the hall. “Even if you’re mad at me, it’s the least you can do.”

Peter turns back around to face you.

“You aren’t gonna stop me?” He asks.

“Don’t think I can, which is why I’m asking you to be safe.” You reply, offering a small but genuine smile.

“Yeah, I’ll be careful,” Peter nods. “I’ll try to keep you posted more, maybe you, me, and Ned can be a team.”

“We’ll see, don’t want him to be kicked out of his unofficial job.” You joke, causing you both to laugh.

Peter then leaves you by yourself in the hallway as he heads into the night. By the time he’s on the rooftop of the hotel all dressed, he sees you and the decathlon team in the pool. You were still sitting in the chairs while the rest of the group were splashing each other. You laugh at the commotion before looking up. A certain hero caught your eye, and your smile stretched from ear to ear.

You mouth “good luck” to the boy on the roof. Peter laughs at the cheesy situation, but he’s grateful you have his back. His heart tightens at the gesture, something that he didn’t notice until he swung away and the feeling still lingered. A part of him thought that maybe, just maybe, you guys could stand a chance.

——-

Not good.

Very not good.

Not very good at all.

In conclusion: bad, bad, bad.

Peter’s thoughts left him in a feverish panic. Okay, so maybe the plan didn’t go as well he hoped. He knew there was something bound to go off the rails. He just didn’t think being locked in a warehouse until the morning was going to be one of them. Of course he had to pass out in a moving truck…

Minutes felt like hours as he walked around the large, deserted building. There wasn’t much he could do but throw webs and talk to his newfound A.I. Karen. Eventually, he gave up trying to find ways out. He’ll just have to leave in the morning and rush to the decathlon competition, another amazing consequence of his failed mission. Peter is even gladder he didn’t tell Mr. Stark, he couldn’t bear to stand the embarrassment.

Karen helped to calm the boy down, even prompted him to talk about his life. Soon, Peter found himself in a therapy session, more or less.

“I just don’t want to be seen as some small-town hero, you know. Helping old ladies across the street is cute and all, but I want missions. Like Avenger-level missions. The only people that seem to be okay with that are me and Y/N, which doesn’t help change Mr. Stark’s mind.”

“Y/N?” Karen asks, unfamiliar with the person in question.

“Wha- oh, yeah. She’s just a friend. Well, I mean she’s my soulmate but-“

“So you’re in love with Y/N,” Karen confirms.

“What no, no. I’m not in love with her. I’ve never looked at her as anything more than a friend. Plus, there’s Liz who’s this girl that I like.”

“Why do you like someone who’s not your soulmate?”

The question silences Peter for a second. It’s a question he never took the time to ponder as he’s tried to keep himself distracted. He avoided ever thinking about soulmates, but in a situation where he’s stuck for the next few hours, he doesn’t have anything to distract himself with.

“Well, Liz is nice to me. She seems interested in me too, and she hasn’t found her soulmate yet so there’s no harm. There’s no rulebook to follow.” Peter explains, almost sounding like he’s defending himself.

“Could you at least see yourself with Y/N?” Karen pushes, causing Peter to sigh.

“I mean, in a perfect world, yeah. She’s my best friend, we know each other so well. She always seems to know what I’m thinking, even if she doesn’t say anything. And she cares so much about others. It shows how beautiful she is inside and out, which is amazing to me. I was really worried she’d stop being my friend once she found out about Spider-Man, but she accepted it almost right away. It- it’s good to know that she always has my back. If things were different, maybe we’d be together. But Liz, she’s got it all too. She’s really cool and stuff. I mean, we haven’t talked all that much, but I know she’s great. Yeah, she- she’s great…” Peter trails off.

It was obvious to Karen, an A.I. that doesn’t even experience emotion, that Peter was blindsided with his quest for Liz. To chase someone he doesn’t really know was clearly a distraction from something, though Karen wasn’t exactly sure what. Comparing how he talked about the two girls would prove to any competent person that you were his soulmate, and one that he clearly liked.

Peter soon ended the conversation as he became more restless. He continued to search around to see if there was anything stored within the warehouse. Good thing too, because soon after Peter is begging for dear life to escape.

Well, this isn’t ideal.

Not very ideal at all.

This is very bad.

Bad, bad, bad.

You and your team’s glorious victory fades into a dream as you dangle from a broken elevator more than four hundred stories up.

The morning already left you in a panic as Peter was M.I.A. for the competition, angering many. You lost in the penultimate round due to the fact that your best chemistry guy was nowhere to be found. While the members were annoyed at his sudden disappearance, you couldn’t help but be worried sick throughout the whole morning. Half the questions passed your ears as they were too busy focusing on your rapid, thumping heartbeat. You were lucky MJ answered the final question that won you guys the championship; you didn’t even hear it. Soon everyone’s anger at a certain team member dissipated and turned into whooping cheers and congratulations. You hugged MJ and Ned, but you were left with your worries still unanswered.

Your celebration led you to nothing but the one and only Washington Monument. Sightseeing was always your favorite part of trips, but you had a feeling that would change after this. Of course the elevator had to get damaged when there were a dozen people inside it. You turned to your friend, a gnawing suspicion that he knew what just happened.

“Ned, sweetie. Did you bring that goddamn alien rock?” You mutter with gritted teeth.

“Yeah b-but, why does that have to do with anything?” Ned stutters with fear.

“Well, I don’t think my phone caused the elevator to hang by a freaking thread.” You quip, raising your eyebrows. “It’s whatever, we can’t do anything about it now.”

“You seem too calm about this situation, we could die at any moment, Y/N.”

“We’re not gonna die in here, Ned. Not me, at least.” You whisper the last part.

“You don’t know that,” Ned says.

Oh, but I do. I have to watch my fucking soulmate die before I die too.

“I have a hunch,” You snap, ending the conversation.

Soon you could see security guards above you, opening the doors that would’ve exposed the elevator. They tell you to climb out one at a time carefully as to not mess up the balance. Flash pushes everyone else out of the way, him and the decathlon trophy climbing out first. Figures…

You let everyone else get out first since you were the farthest from the hatch. You helped Betty, the last person before you, by giving her a leg up. But the push must’ve been too forceful for the now delicate elevator. You hear a snap, and the elevator plummets another five or so feet. The sudden jolt causes you to scream and grip the railing. Even if you don’t die here, you were still terrified. Dropping to a near-death doesn’t sound any better than dropping to your actual death.

“Hey, over here! I got you,” You hear a familiar voice call.

Through the hatch, you see Peter. Well, Peter in his Spider-Man suit. He was still Peter to you, though. Relief flows through your body.

“Just climb out and jump out,” He says.

You don’t move from your spot, and instead you give him a glare of disbelief. He cannot be serious right now. Perhaps free-falling isn’t as bad as you think…

“Trust me, I’ll catch you, okay? Do you trust me?” Peter pleads.

“Always,” You reply right away, and you mean it. You always trusted Peter, and this was no different. If he says he’ll catch you, he’ll catch you.

You take a deep breath and nod. You make your way out of the elevator slowly, ignoring the loud creaks. Both your arms and breath shaky, you stand up after getting through the open hatch. Looking up, you stare at the boy above you. Even though his face was covered, you could easily imagine how bright his brown eyes looked. You still saw his face through the mask.

“Okay, just jump with your arms up so I can catch you. You’ll be okay, Y/N.” Peter reassures you. You hope no one caught the fact he knew your name.

With your knees bent, you try to jump as high as you can. You close your eyes so tightly, half expecting yourself to be falling hundreds of feet down along with the elevator. When you open them, you see yourself dangling in the now empty space, webs wrapped around your wrists. Slowly Peter pulls you up to the top and you were soon met by the floor that you missed oh so much.

“Are you okay?” Peter asks as you stand up.

You throw your arms around him tightly, not wanting to let go. Though shocked, Peter hugs you back and you’re reminded of the time he hugged you at the party. You bury your face in his neck with glee. Not only were you relieved that you made it out, but you were mostly happy that Peter was safe too.

“Yeah, I’m just glad you are too.” You say, face still close to his.

“Uh, what?” You hear Flash say.

Shit, you forget the rest of the team was behind you, watching you hug a “stranger”. You doubt none of them would piece it together, but you surely didn’t want to risk it. Quickly opening your eyes back to reality, you let your arms go slack by your side.

“I uh, I- I said I’m glad I’m safe too. Yeah. Thank you, Spider-Man, you are indeed a real hero. This is definitely the first time I’ve seen you face to face. I mean, face to mask, cause I’ve totally never seen your face before.”

MJ was right; you were a terrible liar, but you didn’t realize it that bad. You were left cringing by what just happened. Luckily, despite the atrocious lie, no one thought anything of it. You were a girl in shock after a traumatic event, they didn’t expect you to be completely sane right away.

“Okay, well bye,” You abruptly say, trying to ignore what just happened.

Peter gets the memo, also not wanting to expose himself in front of his classmates. He says his goodbyes and awkwardly waves to everyone. He gives you one last look, eyes glassy under the mask. The whole time he saw you in the elevator he was terrified for you, he wasn’t even sure his plan would work. He was still queasy to his stomach afterward. But looking at you, all safe and mostly collected, made him smile. Perhaps he looked at you for longer than he should’ve before swinging out and away. You didn’t mind. You were giving him heart eyes back.

“Shit,” Flash mumbles. “I forgot to ask if he knows Peter!”

——-

No one seems to care too much that Peter randomly showed up once again. You assume it was because everyone was still a little shaken, and it was for the best that they didn’t say anything. Your eyes light up when you’re face to face with Peter, glad that you could see him without his hero persona.

You hug him for another time. The feeling of his chest becomes more familiar, and you’re shocked that you’ve never done this sooner. Maybe it’s because you haven’t been put into near-death experiences until recently, but you still enjoy these moments all the same.

“Peter!” A voice that you’ve been dreading called.

Liz jogs over to you guys and Peter quickly lets go of you. You purse your lips with slight envy. You didn’t think the hug would seem that compromising, plus you also missed the warmth of his body against yours.

“He- hey Liz,” Peter blushes.

“Where the heck did you go? I mean, I should be pissed cause you missed the competition, but I’m more worried. I haven’t seen you since last night.” Liz rambles.

You feel slightly awkward just standing there, but Liz was too concerned about Peter’s whereabouts to really talk to you. It’s understandable; you’re concerned too. Yet it still leaves a foul taste on your mouth.

Peter and Liz continue to talk, with Peter asking Liz if she was okay after the elevator fiasco and Liz still shaken by it all. Eventually, it leads to the two of them completely forgetting your existence and sitting next to each other on the bus. You were left by yourself, staring daggers at their seat as you sat in the back with MJ and Ned. He abandoned you and you couldn’t help but be a little mad. Okay, you were furious. This past month you thought you were making progress with the curly-haired boy. Even if you couldn’t be together, which you understood, you at least thought you could come to an agreement about your feelings. He’s still in Liz Land, and you were left feeling rejected. You had a right to be angry.

You wish you had powers so you could hear the conversation between the two. They looked too close and chummy for your liking, but there was nothing you could do. You wondered if Peter even looked at you as more than a friend, and your heart sinks as you realize maybe he doesn’t. You hated this routine you’ve put yourself through: having a moment with Peter that inevitably ends up being interrupted by Liz, and you being left upset afterward.

If this month has shown you anything, it’s that you liked Peter. You loved how much of a hero he was and how he always wanted the best for others. Even though he ditches you for Liz, you knew he’d have your back when you truly needed, like today with the elevator.

As the anger settled in your stomach, you came to the conclusion that you hated this reality, and that you couldn’t do anything about it. If this will save him, then it’s worth it. Maybe…

Part 1 / Masterlist / Part 3

----

Taglist:

@eridanuswave

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jungle321jungle · 5 years ago

Text

As Cold As Stone Part Three

Dante Ekan’s newest case is a twenty one year old murder. It’s witnesses have remained silent all this time. So Agent Ekans seeks to change that.

He pokes, he prods, he bluffs, he lies, and he digs too deep.

But maybe the witnesses were silent for a reason.

Ao3

Tagging: @mae-is-ace @ashensanity

~~~~

Part Three

Dee gave a sigh as he entered the room. “You’ve been in here for what, four days?”

Remus Prince gave him a wide smile (despite the large bruises on his face) from where he lay on the infirmary’s bed. “And they were boring as fuck!”

“So you decided to smash your dinner tray into another’s man face to cause a fight?”

“No stupid. I smashed my dinner tray with my dinner on it, into his face to start a fight.”

Dee gave a second sigh, “Did I not tell you that I was going to get you out to show me where the body was? I was just waiting on the paperwork.”

“That sounds more boring than this. And in here I get painkillers!”

“I could tell them not to give you anything.”

The man gave a pout, “Who pissed in your cereal?”

“He was killed here sorta, okay? Can I go back to jail now? It’s cold as balls out here!”

Dee paused overlooking the area. There was nothing horribly special about it. A ring of trees with a decaying stump in the center. As a whole the area was a good distance from where Thomas’ body has been found. There was no way those boys could’ve dragged it that far while still running for their lives.

The killer must have moved it themselves.

But why?

It couldn't have been to keep people away from this area, a clear blood trail was left behind. A message maybe?

“Is there something special about this place?” Dee asked. When he got no reply he turned to see Remus was looking up into the bare trees, “Hello?”

Remus gave a shrug as he looked back down to Dee, “We used to play over here. Over there. All throughout this place. Can we go now? I’m cold.”

Dee rolled his eyes, “Fine.”

~~~~

Dee gave a frown as he walked into his hotel room. It seemed in his eagerness to get going for the day he had forgotten to leave the door hanger out so the maid wouldn’t come.

He moved to the desk and picked up the pile his papers had been put in and began to go through them one by one. While but was not what he had been hoping for, perhaps being forced to put things back in order would give him a chance to reevaluate (and maybe he’d find that one blank sheet that kept popping up to leave a note for the maid with her tip).

After a half hour the room was restored to its former chaotic glory. Papers covering the floor around him spreading outward in a web that made sense only to him.

But the notepad in his hand proved it worked.

Because thanks to needing to go through all the files over again he had found an overlooked detail about Logan Ackroyd. Others in Dee’s position probably would have dismissed it entirely, but if one thing Dee was good at its twisting truth.

“Agent Ekans,” Logan greeted. His face was a blank mask, but his tone showed his annoyance.

“May I sit?” Dee asked motioning to the free chair.

“It is a public space... But may I ask why you are here?”

Dee raised an eyebrow as he sat down, “Because I’m investigating the murder of your childhood friend?”

Dee could already see his patience wearing thin. Good.

“I meant here in this cafe,” Logan clarified. “If you truly needed to speak with me could it not wait until my break was over?”

“I didn’t think you’d want to speak about it in front of your coworkers. So when they told me you’d be here, I came.”

The man gave a tired sigh, “What is it you’d like from me?”

“I was reading up on all of you, and I noticed you had interned at the FBI in college. I was kind of surprised.”

Logan’s attention was on his tea as he stirred it, “I was a forensic science and criminal justice double major. But what does that matter?”

“Well it’s just kind of crazy that of all the departments... you interned with cold case.”

“Given what happened to Thomas I could not help but be interested,” He shrugged before he took a long sip. “Also, I was interested in how past evidence that was preserved well enough could still undergo testing. Thus, that summer program seemed optimal as I wasn’t sure which of my two majors I wished to take the front career wise. And as you can see I ultimately chose forensics. But I fail to see how this is beneficial to you. I doubt you came to speak to me about how we nearly had the same job.”

Dee paused taking in that mask of a face watching him- taking in the face of the man who was analyzing him so critically yet calmly. Before he gave a sigh and rand a hand through his hair- playing into the role he had chosen, “You need to understand that what I am saying is for the case. I respect what you do, and quite frankly if you had chosen differently we would have worked together. But I have a case to work.”

“I understand.”

“Thomas’ body was moved,” Dee stated. “After he was killed. It was a fact never released to the public. And supposedly it was put in files with everything else. And yet despite having all the original documents, that detail is nowhere to be found. When I pieced together that it was moved and got confirmation from the policemen who had responded to the scene, it made me realize those details had been removed.” Dee forced a sigh. “So, given your precious stint at cold case and your involvement in the case I gave to ask... did you alter the files in anyway?”

Logan’s eyes narrowed, “You think I’d hide that?”

“I'm asking for the case.”

“Tell me, why would I do such a thing? That would be protecting the one who killed my fr- who killed Thomas.”

“Because you’re scared,” Dee replied softly to which Logan gave a scoff. “When I spoke to Patton he made it sound as if even to this day that someone is watching him. I got similar feelings from the others too. So if you did do it, then it’s off the record. I just want to help bring the murder in. Logan... if this so called ‘Mister Sir’ is still-”

“I think it’s time you take your leave,” Logan said suddenly. His tone was short, and his voice louder than Dee was sure he had intended. Logan took a breath trying to replace his mask as he spoke again. “I assure you Agent Ekans that I am fine. I can also assure you that I did not violate any policies or commit any crimes.”

“Logan-”

“I have nine minutes left before I must head back. I’d like to spend them in peace?”

Dee gave a sigh before a solemn nod, “Alright. Let me know if you want to talk.”

When Logan said nothing more Dee heads out of the cafe, and thankfully he made it that long without breaking out into a smile.

He was getting somewhere.

And hopefully speaking to Patton Hart again would clarify where that somewhere was.

~~~~

“Agent Ekans,” Patton said with a forced smile as he stepped out of his classroom to meet Dee in the hall. “What can I do for you?”

“I wanted to speak to you about the other witnesses,” Dee started. “Ackroyd specifically.”

Patton raised an eyebrow in confusion. “What about him?”

“You two kept in contact over the years, right?”

“Now and then...”

“Were you aware that in college he had interned for the FBI?”

“Yeah...”

“Good,” Dee nodded. “He was with cold case during that, and I am also aware that pieces of information were removed from the files on Thomas Sanders’ murder... And I was wondering if he ever disclosed anything to you?”

Patton’s mouth opened and closed in surprise, “Logan would never steal anything.”

“I simply need to consider every option,” Dee told him. “And I understand your allegiance to a friend, and your fear of Mister Sir. But I can’t help if you don’t let me.”

Patton’s face went white but he forced another smile on his face, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Dee nodded once and moved to leave, “If he does tell you something, or someone else does... I ask that you let me know.”

“Right...”

It was less than two hours later that the call he had been expecting came.

“You were right Ekans. Records show that Hart texted each of the other witnesses.”

Dee held back a smile, “Even Remus Prince?”

“Yeah, I’ve got his phone here. They're all in a group chat and are planning to meet. You want the time and place?”

“Please.”

~~~~

A few days later Dee arrived about a half hour early to the location.

The meeting was to take place at Logan’s apartment.

Dee sat in his car staring at the apartment building as he watched and waited for everyone to arrive.

“How long are we going to wait here?” Remus groaned.

Dee rolled his eyes. He had learned after picking Remus up from jail, that the man seemed to be more annoying off of drugs. He was quieter overall, but somehow he still managed to be annoying.

“Just turn on the radio,” Dee muttered as he kept his eyes to the door.

Almost fifty min had passed before everyone had arrived. And once they had, Dee waited longer before he pulled Remus along. He ignored the taller man’s grumbles and approached the building. He made sure to ring the landlord's buzzer, and after a quick conversation with the man he was allowed to head for the apartment.

He could hear shouting coming from within as he approached.

“Are you seriously that stupid!”

“What’s stupid is agreeing to come here in the first place!”

“Oooh, may I?” Remus asked.

Dee gave a shrug and stepped away from the door as Remus gave a few loud bangs on the door.

The shouting silenced and there was a pause before footsteps grew closer. When the door opened Dee gave a smile, “I hope I’m not too late.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing as he allowed Dee and Remus to enter his home. And when they did the other three looked their way.

Virgil was seated on a couch, and at the sight his gaze lowered to the floor. Patton who sat behind him looked surprised, and Roman who was standing threw up his hands in exasperation, “Of course!”

Dee gave a shrug, “I couldn’t help but see that Remus was invited. So I did my due diligence and brought him. Now, might ask for the truth?”

“There is no truth to share,” Virgil stated quietly. “You’re right. We’re being watched-”

“Virgil,” Logan warned but he continued.

“We’re being watched,” he said again. “And not even the FBI can help. Instead you’ve put all of us at risk and yourself. So believe it or not I rather not die, so if you’d take your leave now it would be fucking appreciated.”

“How do you know that I can’t help?” Dee asked him, but Virgil shook his head in reply.

“You can’t. Don’t you fucking listen?”

“He’s just trying to do his job,” Patton tried setting a hand on Virgil's shoulder, but Virgil stood from the couch.

“Do you think he cares?” He yelled back. “Do you think he gives a fucking shit about anyone other than himself? I don’t! What happened in the past is that past! And I want to keep it that way! I was the youngest!” He took a deep breath. “I was the youngest and yet I remember every single detail of how Thomas looked when he stopped fighting back... and I don’t want to watch it happen to anyone else. So I’m sorry Agent Ekans. I don’t care if you have to arrest me, the past is past.”

“So elegantly said,” Remus mocked.

Roman’s eyes narrowed, “You shut up. This is all your fault in the first place.”

Remus gave a casual shrug, as he moved to sit on the floor. “I didn’t tell him to open the case.”

“Why did you start looking into this anyway?” Patton asked him.

Dee raised an eyebrow, “Because I work cold case? I’m given old cases somewhat at random and try to solve them? Oh, and do be aware that currently all of you are guilty of obstruction of justice.”

“Add it to my tab,” Remus waved dismissively.

Dee gave a groan, “Look. I just want to know the truth. Tell me what it is and I’ll be on my way. Who is Mister Sir? And is he the one who killed Thomas?”

“Yes.”

Quite frankly Dee wasn’t sure which one of them had said it. But a pause had followed before all four were yelling at one another each shouting that whomever had spoken was going to get them all killed. Dee watched them silently taking in all the words he could, waiting for the slip up which would inevitably follow.

He had watched, he waited, he listened.

And for a moment his ears perked up at what sounded like a name, but it was lost to the yelling around him. Listening for it to come again, but instead the sound of a child-like voice brought the entire argument to a screeching halt.

“We promised not to tell.”

~~~~

Part Two - Part Three - Part Four

#ascoldasstone #murder mystery #major character death #deciet sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #supernatural #ghosts

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deedee-writes · 5 years ago

Text

BIG NEWS! Interviewing the Straw Hat Pirates - Zoro I

Prologue for this

The day was hot. As hot as every single one of the other nine days, Zoro had been tied to that post. His arms were stiff from being in the same position too long, and the rope burn was sure to be a bitch by the time he was freed. And he would be released; he just had to wait a little longer.

His stomach grumbled, the riceballs he'd eaten not thirty minutes before doing a better job on reminding him of his hunger rather than appeasing it, however momentarily. A part of him was glad for his bandana, despite how suffocating it felt like. Otherwise, the sunburn would've been a bigger problem. As it was, any part of his skin not covered by either cloth or rope was already peeling.

The wind was both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, it was the only source of coolness Zoro has, but on the other, it was sea breeze made up of salt and brisker, straddling the line with pain. It had left him coated in a layer of salt that itched and stung. It blew away flecks of dead skin whenever it went by.

He thought of the little girl he'd saved. Why did he feel inclined to risk his life, his dream, for a complete stranger? Zoro didn't think of himself as a moral, ethical man. He was called a devil if the word was to be believed, the fearsome Pirate Hunter. It was an epithet he took no pride or accomplishment in.

What was it to him to be the best bounty hunter in East Blue? He was aiming for a goal much harder to achieve. Not every man openly said he wanted to fight Dracule Mihawk. In fact, from what Zoro has gathered, people went out of their way to avoid him, but for Kuina, for his dream, Zoro would stare into the death god's eyes, and he would not falter.

A presence distracted him, and Zoro opened his eyes. Three sword handles greeted him. The green-haired swordsman followed the hand, holding the swords to the grinning face of one Monkey D. Luffy… His swords (Impossible).

"I didn't know which sword was yours, so I brought all three." The kid in the red vest said.

"They're all mine. I use three swords." Zoro had answered mechanically; he'd explained their number uncountable times. He refused to acknowledge that he was slightly impressed at the kid keeping his end of the bargain. Though maybe bargain wasn't the word; after all, Zoro had yet to agree to anything. Scratch that, Zoro wouldn't agree to anything with this kid pirate.

"You'll take them, right?" He asked, but his eyes betrayed he wasn't really asking, they held a glint Zoro would eventually learn to recognize as an immediate warning for trouble. "If I give you these, you'll owe me. Becoming a pirate? Or being killed by the marines? Which one is it?"

For a moment, Zoro was speechless. The knucklehead he had discarded as naïve was making the pirate name proud and extorting him to join his crew. A part of him couldn't believe it, but it only took a flash of Kuina's face to know his answer. For someone with a promise like him, dying just wasn't an option.

"You're the son of the devil." He answered, smirk showing unexpected amusement at the whole situation. Zoro knew he was dismissing the extortion with too much ease, but he wasn't apprehensive about following this man. "But I'd rather be a pirate than die here."

The smile that greeted him was full toothed and honest, but also positively feral.

Moments later he'd be freed and would hold 11 marines at bay with his three swords (oh, how he had missed them the past days), and tell his new captain with all the conviction he possessed:

"I promised to be a pirate, but that doesn't change that I will always chase after my own ambitions!"

"Ambitions?" Luffy questioned. Paying more attention to his words that the fact that a single shiver could cost him his neck. The pink-haired kid behind him wasn't capable of his calmness, though, and Zoro didn't miss the way his eyes were jumping from every blade pointed at Zoro.

"To become the greatest swordsman in the world," and dammit, despite how sure he was he'd do it, Zoro always felt slightly silly when speaking about his dream aloud. It was an ingrained reaction from having been laughed at one too many times. He convinced himself that his worry was more about having to travel civilly with someone who had laughed at his goal than anything else.

Not for the first time and certainly not for the last, Zoro was surprised by his captain's reaction. His grin widened even more (how was that even possible?), and his eyes didn't waver when he said:

"Well, seeing as I am to be the King of Pirates, I can't expect anything less from my first mate, now, can I?"

And something between the two boys that couldn't quite be called men clicked.

____________

The observatory is quite comfortable for an interview, well lit, and home to a well-organized desk. They've just started, but Thelma's already fascinated.

"He extorted you?!" The other man shrugs.

"I could've said no, I guess, but what for? I only cared about reaching my goal, Luffy was offering a way to do that." She hums at the use of the past tense in care and writes it down to ask a little later.

"I see, I have more questions about this instance, but I want to clarify some rumors before those." Thelma had been unsure about interviewing the Pirate Hunter first. After the Straw Hats infamous captain, the highest bounty in the Straw Hat's crew is held by Roronoa Zoro, a man whose origins can be traced back -curiously enough- to being a bounty hunter in the East Blue. Less comically, even on that side of the law, he'd been known as a demon.

"Hn." He acknowledges, seemingly saving up words to keep telling her stories. So far, the man had proven unflappable, neither friendly nor belligerent, and surprisingly mild-mannered. He was blunt and honest, or at least, he appeared so to Thelma -who'd joined the ranks of journalist specifically for an uncanny ability to read people well.

"When you reemerged at Sabaondy, a galleon belonging to the Fox Fire pirates was sliced in half. Witnesses describe the wreckage as a perfect diagonal cut, impossible to be the result of the coating failing. Many claim you were at the scene. Did you have a personal grudge against these pirates? Does your crew?"

The green-haired man looks absolutely confused, and then he seems to remember, eyes widening in an "aha!" moment. Without the frown, expression open, he's quite a looker, Thelma notes.

"Ah, that time..."

______________

Zoro awoke as he always did, lazily but never slowly. It was practical, having his mind on full alert, but knowing nothing around him was dangerous or threatening. (At least on this occasion.) Observation Haki definitely had certain perks to it that the swordsman took no trouble in exploiting.

Distantly, the swordsman noted he was far more rested than he should be, the fishermen had said to wait a couple minutes at most, Zoro felt like he had been asleep for more than half an hour. A quick glimpse into his surroundings proved that he had made a mistake.

The deep blue of the bottom of the sea surrounded him, and Zoro assimilated the situation in microseconds. The pirate crew under him was happily celebrating on deck. Had they not sensed him or seen him? Were all pirates so oblivious these days? Zoro's mind drifted to his captain and decided that that was a question better left unanswered.

Many a solution crossed his mind, but Zoro went with the one he liked and knew best, pulling out one of his swords and bring it into position. Zoro slashed the sea right open. The ship rose alarmingly fast, the screams of the crew were annoying, but Zoro waited patiently.

In the minute that it took the ship to resurface he was drenched.

The sun and the docks greeted their arrival. Zoro clearly saw what mustn't have the small fisherman's ship. It was harder to see it between the crowds of people that his actions had attracted.

"Look! That ship is split in half!"

"Did the coating malfunctioned?"

"It's cut perfectly! It almost seemed as if it was… sliced with a sword."

Zoro looked around again.

"I got on the wrong ship." He stated to himself, but his words attracted the attention of some crewmembers who, finally, spotted him. He put away his sword just as they called out to him.

"Someone is standing!"

"Bastard! How dare you ruin our dreams to reach the New World?!" One of them screamed.

"What did we ever do to you?"

"It's a quirk of fate," Zoro said. Thinking back to the many things he'd seen since a gangly teen freed him from injustice and took him out to sea. "You should blame fate for placing a plague onto your ship."

"But it was you…!" Zoro never got to listen whatever else the man had said. He spotted Wiggly Eyebrows on the docks, and with a jump returned to land.

_______________

She’s not sure what to say.

“You...” She repeats. “You fell asleep on the wrong ship?”

“Yeah,” he says, “it happens.”

Thelma wants to shake him by the shoulders, hard.

NO IT DOESN’T!

#one piece fanfiction #one piece #one piece fic #one piece fanfic #tumblr fiction #tumblr fanfic #zoro #roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa #pirate hunter zoro

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gotboredwrote · 5 years ago

Text

Etymology of Us // TM!JFM

Pairing: Tim Murphy x Fem!Reader Word Count: 4K Style: One-Shot Warnings: (16+) Fluff, explicit-ish talk about sexual themes – no smut (implied), swearing Summary: Everyone who knows Tim knows he’s a smart guy, but they think it’s all about the dinosaurs. For the most part, that’s true. He does have a few other passions, though, and he always unconsciously demonstrates that for you, even in the most personal of situations. Permanent Author’s Note: To clarify, I write because I get bored. Nothing is meant to be professional in any way, nor is meant to offend, cause anxiety, cause anger, cause sadness, or promote disagreement among readers in any sort of (semi)permanent way. A/N: I have a lot of confidence in the fact that Tim would be educated on more than dinosaurs, and this just happened to be something I felt really strong Tim vibe from. So, yeah. I’m not proud of the introductory part of this story, but whatever lol.

Masterlist

You know Tim is smart. So does everyone who knows him. Except you know him a lot more intimately than most. Considering you have been together for almost six months, after having met him at the museum during a tour, there is not a lot you have not done together. You have gone on every kind of date imaginable, and gone almost all the way romantically when you would stay the night at each other’s apartments. It was the best relationship either of you had been in for a number of reasons, and it felt like you were soulmates. Tim never ceased to amaze you every single day, part of the reason your relationship was so strong. You felt like you learned more about love, life, random knowledge, and dinosaurs than you ever did in all your years of formal education. He was a bookworm and always had new information to willingly share with you, something he would never do with past girlfriends. They did not care like you do, something else that made your relationship so strong. There was mutual pining and mutual adoration and acceptance of the other’s personality – key for a healthy relationship. Tim started teaching you things even back on your first date, and even then, you knew that this boy would make a large impact on you.

The first date you went on was extremely traditional, which was classic Tim, as you would come to find out. It was not a super fancy restaurant, but one of those places where you did not feel you could just wear a raggedy tee shirt and jeans or leggings. You elected for something a little nicer, and once the two of you were at the restaurant, you fell into conversation easily. Like two friends who have not seen each other in years and have tons of catching up to do. No awkwardness, no nerves – just two people having a pleasant dinner who also happen to be on a date. The conversation spread across all topics from family to friends to hobbies, and eventually it settled on work. Ever since the two of you met, you had so many one-on-one questions you wanted to ask Tim about his work. You prefaced with one specific memory that flooded your mind.

[flashback start]

You met because you had attended a tour he was hosting on the Mesozoic era, generally aimed at children aged six to fifteen. He had been given a roster of how many people to expect, which was quite a few, and he noticed that you had walked in not bringing a child like most of the adults on the tour. At first, he thought maybe you were looking for a sister that brought your niece or nephew and you just happened to be tagging along, but then you made no effort to find anyone. When he realized you had come alone, he worked up the courage to come over to you and ask if you were in the right spot.

“Ma’am?”

“Oh! You’re Dr. Murphy, aren’t you?”

“Yes, um, are you in the right place? This is a tour for a younger audience.”

“Well, unless I read my ticket wrong,” you held your ticket out in front of his eyes so he could read it, “I believe this says ‘Dr. Timothy Murphy’s Presentation on the Mesozoic Era, Thursday, August 14 at 1:00pm.’ Did I read it wrong?”

Tim simply looked at the ticket, and then back to you in a stunned silence. You had really bought a ticket to see his presentation, despite knowing that almost all the tours he does in the museum are for younger kids.

“No, uh, you… you didn’t read it wrong.”

“You seem a little shocked that I have a ticket, Doctor.”

“Well, it’s just that I don’t really get people my age on these tours, and everyone who comes to the lectures are old coots.”

You laughed at his vernacular, loving how professor-like and old man-like such a young, cute guy could be. When he heard you laugh, his eyes went wide and he felt his heart skip a beat, because a young, cute girl loved his jokes, which never happened.

“Sorry for how bold I just was – that’s not how I usually am. Basically, I have tried attending your lectures in the past, but whenever I get the money to buy a ticket, they’re usually gone or the only seats left are one’s I can’t afford. I’ve read all of your books, some of them more than once, and you just never cease to amaze me. You’re really smart and I admire that.”

Tim felt dizzy. He was hearing the words coming out of your mouth, barely being able to process how kind they were. Never had anyone spoken to him in such a way, not even his colleagues or past girlfriends, of which there were not many because he was always so busy or they hated how involved in his work he could get. But to hear you say them just changed his whole perspective on life. He did not even know your name but he was enamored with you. One could call him desperate, and he would just scoff and look down at his feet. Not denying it, however.

“Well, um… listen. Normally with the kids, I have to dumb down my word choices because the younger ones won’t know everything, so I apologize in advance for how childlike I may present myself.” You smiled sweetly at him, acknowledging him and showing him that you did not mind. “I also would love to have you attend my lectures every time we have them, so let me see what I can do about arranging a sort of ‘seasonal pass’ for you, that way you never have to worry about a seat.”

“Dr. Murphy, you do not—”

“I’m serious. Like I said, it’s always older men who are always judgmental about the way I hold myself up on stage. I’m… not a bold person. I’m shy, and they don’t like that. It would be really nice to have a face like yours in the crowd each night. One that I know is appreciating everything I say, wholeheartedly.”

“‘A face like mine?”’

“…” You could see Tim visibly swallow and his Adam’s apple bob out of sheer panic. “A cute one?”

You felt your lips part slightly at the compliment, somewhat shocked that someone as clearly shy as him paid you one. You knew that coming from someone like him, it had to be genuine. Dr. Tim Murphy thought you were cute, and wanted to see you again. Even if it was only for a lecture.

“Then… this cute face would love to attend all your lectures, Dr. Murphy.”

You saw the toothy grin spread across his face, pushing his cheeks up to high heaven. It made you airily laugh a little, seeing him like that.

“If you keep smiling like that, I’m going to have to start calling you cute, too, Dr. Murphy.”

“I wouldn’t mind that. But there is one thing you have to do for me.”

“What’s that?”

“Call me Tim. Not Dr. Anything. Just Tim.” You nodded your head at him, and he asked you one last thing. “And what should I call you?”

“Y/N.”

[flashback end]

“You remember how we met?”

“Of course, I do – you came to that tour for children and I wanted to make sure you were in the right place.”

“Always the gentleman, Tim.” You and Tim had been finishing up dinner on your first official date, reminiscing about that day. It seemed like you already crammed a lifetime’s worth of memories into that first meeting you had, because you had managed to talk about it for the last fifteen minutes. “I remember being amazed at how you talked to those kids. I mean, you clearly know tons of bigger words that younger children wouldn’t know, yet you know how to explain it to them really well. It made me very impressed with you, seeing that you really were as smart as your books made you out to be.”

“Yeah, I had to explain everything like that because they weren’t going to understand what Mesozoic meant or anything like that. They’re children, and they just like the idea of dinosaurs, not the actual history of them. Back when I was in college, there were certain root words or stems that we needed to know in order to understand the classification of dinosaurs. For some reason, learning about the way the classification worked sparked something in my brain. I love learning about whatever I can, and I guess that was my body’s way of telling me etymology was something for me. I started researching where words came from, going through the dictionary word by word. Seems boring, I know, but… it made me happy.”

You could see Tim start to feel as if he was talking too much, like all his past dates went, except that when he looked up at you, he could tell that was not the case. You had leaned your body in and over the table, propping your head up on your fist, intently staring at him. Taking in every word that slipped past his lips as if your life depended on it. This encouraged him, while also making him really giddy inside. He reached over to the small candle that was burning faintly between you two, and lifted it up, carefully so as not to burn himself. He watched you as your eyes moved to the candle, and back to his own, waiting to hear what he was going to say.

“Like… candle, for instance. Originally, it was candere in Latin, which means ‘be white or glisten.’ Eventually, that became candela, still Latin, and then old English turned it into candel. Then, when modern English came around, we switched the ‘l’ and the ‘e,’ probably because it just looks less ugly.” He let out a chuckle at his own humor. “But, that’s kind of what I did with the dictionary. Learning about where words come from, and what they originally meant intrigues me.”

His eyes had not really left the candle once he started to speak. Once he finished talking, however, his eyes nervously looked back into yours. Your facial expression had changed, ever so slightly. Your eyes had gone a little wider than usual, and they were sparkling, more than usual. Then he noticed that your cheeks were a dusty pink and that you had pulled a small part of your bottom lip into your mouth with your teeth. Tim was not the most experienced, considering how girls would treat him in the past, but he could practically feel the tension radiating from you. Something about him knowing those things made you feel… good?

“You’re amazing, Tim. Really.”

“Thanks. I know plenty more where that came from.”

“I’d love to hear more.”

Every day since your first date, Tim would always make it a point to showcase his smarts to you in the way that seemed to make you feel a certain way, because he liked seeing that he could have an effect on a woman that way. Especially considering that woman was you. One night, you and Tim were hanging out at his apartment after a date night. The two of you had created a small tradition where if your date ends quicker than expected and you end up back at one of the apartments, you will watch Jeopardy. Tim quickly found out, since you suggested watching the show in the first place, that you loved to learn too, and even though he could typically get about half of the show’s questions right, he loved seeing how proud you got with yourself when you would get three total. Tonight was no exception. You made it back just in time for the show to start, and the two of you were patiently waiting to see what the categories would be for the first round. The first five were announced, each earning a groan from one or both of you at the fact that they were not really subjects you know. Then the sixth one came up.

“And finally, you will be dealing with etymology. [First contestant’s name], you begin the round. Let’s begin.”

You turn to Tim and see a huge smile across his face, and you could not help but reciprocate. You two had seen so many episodes and not once had the category that practically formed your relationship come up. Now, on a night where you two are snuggled into each other, your head on his chest, enjoying the warmth radiating from the other person, that was just the icing on the cake. The contestants seemed to be avoiding the etymology category, moving all around the board in no semblance of order except for skipping that one, and you could hear Tim groan above you.

“Why are they skipping it? It’s the best one up there!”

“I know, babe, but the anticipation makes it worth the wait, right?”

“I guess.”

You could just imagine the small pout Tim had plastered onto his face, knowing that he would have to sit and wait for a commercial break now, as well. It made you smile to yourself, because you had seen that face before when he would work on something and he got intensely focused. It was an adorable face that he only made around you – he never let anyone else see him like that. It made you feel really loved. Eventually, the show came back on and the contestants really did do everything else and left the entire etymology category last. When the final question popped up before the etymology category would start, you turned up to Tim and smiled, as if to say ‘ready to show off your smarts, brainiac?’and he knew exactly what you meant. His eyes were beaming widely, ready to shout out the answers before anyone on the screen could.

“…cable.”

“Neighborhood!”

“Manure. Ew.”

“Aerosol.”

“…Hourglass?”

So far, Tim had gotten every single one correct, and the contestants only managed to get the neighborhood one correct. Then it was time for the final question, and you were waiting to see if Tim was going to make it a clean sweep. Then the question popped up and you waited patiently.

“From Ancient Greek, a diminutive of uncertain origin and probably in reference to its location on the female body, it means ‘I sheathe or shut.’”

“Clitoris!”

Tim was one hundred percent correct, and for some reason, despite the energetic and completely innocent nature in which he said it, it lit a fire in you that only Tim could put out. But you did not want to make it obvious, because he was clearly so happy with himself that he got the entire category right. So, you simply decide to ‘award him’ with a small kiss, but you moved your body upward a little bit so your head could reach the crevasse of his neck and shoulders. The kiss was small, swift, and chaste, but the location is what mattered. Tim had been smiling and celebrating himself, but the feeling of your lips on the small but small amount of exposed skin from his tee shirt stopped him in his tracks, and it made him blink rapidly and swallow a little roughly. You felt as though this was his way of encouraging you to keep going, since he never told you to stop. You lifted your head a little bit, so your mouth was lined up right with the side of his neck, where you placed a breathy, open-mouthed kiss. Still teasingly short, too short for Tim’s liking. You could hear your boy moan quietly, clearly having some kind of effect on him. You wanted him to feel the way you did as he innocently shouted out a part of your body you wished was getting attention from him now.

“Do you know where the word ‘kiss’ comes from?

You hum lightly against his neck where you were still peppering wet kisses to. You squeaked out a ‘no,’ waiting for him to continue with his thought, if he could.

“It has Germanic o-origin, and comes from the old English cyssan… shit. I… I think you know what it means.”

“Mhm.” He could feel the vibrations of your response against his neck, and he groaned louder this time, not wanting to hold back anymore. He could feel you start to pull away and stand up, practically whining at the lack of contact. He did not want you to leave, and you could tell. But you had absolutely no idea what gave him the idea that you were going to be leaving his side anytime soon.

As you stood, you lightly took his hand in your own, and pulled on it to signal him to stand with you. You made sure your back was facing him, though, because you did not want him to see how desperate for him you had become. Now that both of you were standing, you begin to walk as slow as a tortoise toward his bedroom, hoping that he would get the picture and start pampering you and worshiping you on the way there. You felt like you were in a movie, considering how cliché this whole thing is. But neither of you cared, you just needed to get the cliché’s out of the way. Eventually, it clicks in his brain that he should be following you, and he makes up the distance by walking directly behind you, lightly running his fingers up and down your spine. One particular stroke down your spine went further than the others, and you could feel Tim lightly tug on the hem of your shirt. Indicating that he wants it gone. He spoke in a whisper so quiet you could barely hear him.

“How about the word shirt? It’s from the Old English scyrte, which is Germanic. It kind of means short.”

With every new word Tim chose to tell you, he gained confidence in what he was doing, indicated by the non-shakiness of his voice. You were proud underneath it all. While Tim is speaking, you could slowly feel the fabric inch up your torso with every word. You could begin to feel the cold air of his apartment on your skin, and your body tells you that you need some kind of warmth. You fight off every reflex in your body telling you to latch onto Tim or at least steal your shirt back, not wanting to ruin the moment both of you had been waiting for six months to happen. You never saw it, but you could hear the light noise his shirt made when it hit the floor, Tim always wanting to make sure the two of you were even in all aspects. Even something as intimate as this. You both continue your ascension to his bedroom, and eventually you reach it. What should have taken about ten seconds for any normal person took the two of you practically three minutes, Tim adoring the look and feel of your back and spine, you relishing in the feeling of being appreciated in such an intimate way, something no one has ever done for you before Tim. You reach for the doorknob and simultaneously turn around to see what kind of effect you were having on your boyfriend, and it was clearly the one you wanted. He already looked fucked out, and neither of you had really touched each other. Not the way you both needed to be. Once completely facing him, you turn your hand on the doorknob to let yourselves in, and his hand comes up to your face to lightly stroke and pull on your hair. The strokes to show you he loves you, the tugging to let you know he wants and needs you.

“Hair’s a funny word originally. Hær. Old English, again.”

As he was speaking, you had lost all ability to move your legs anymore, feeling like they would collapse under you simply from the fact that Tim was being the way he was. Most people would have found him annoying for bringing up things like he was during a time like this. For you, though, it made him hotter because he was not afraid to be himself, even in the most intimate of situations. He was smart, and he liked showing you. You also loved the fact that letting him continue to talk was making him more and more confident in the things he was doing to your body, which was a win-win for both of you. Eventually, you were snapped out of your thoughts by the feeling of Tim’s body pushing against yours to get you into his bedroom, fast, based on the force of the push. He does not even need to look behind him as he locks the door, and wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into his body. It was killing both of you that there still had not been any mouth to mouth contact in this whole situation, but you were both holding out in order to let Tim continue to speak, and to build up the anticipation for later. He did, however, pull you close enough to his body where you could feel each other’s breathing on your lips, desperate and needy, if breaths could feel such a way. You had not even realized Tim had gotten you to move again, so entranced by his breathing and his facial features, until you hit the side of his bed and your knees buckled underneath you. Your bum hit the bed and you bounced lightly, which normally would have made you laugh. This time, feelings were different. More serious. More lust-driven. Once you realized Tim was done taking initiative and wanted to trade off with you, you reached forward to hook your hands into the pockets of his jeans, and you not-so-gently yanked his body to yours. Your face was flush against his chest, chin practically resting on it, and you could feel the front of his jeans where you wanted him against your stomach. You were gazing up at him, face flush pink and eyes blown out black and half-shut. Waiting to hear him speak again. You saw him reach his arms toward your body, lightly resting his hands on your waist and then proceeding to find the waistline of your pants. Just as you began to reach for the buckle on his belt, you heard his angelic voice again.

“How about hips, wanna know where that word came from?”

You never said a word, and neither did he. All that was exchanged was a small pause and silent stares. You were both waiting for the other to make the next move, because both of you knew deep in your cores that if the other took another step forward, the night would end up being far from over. Tim could not take waiting anymore, so he crashed his mouth down onto yours like his life depended on it, and that he would never get to kiss you again at the same time. It was deep, passionate, full of love, and driven by lust. It was never a small kiss to begin with, so much so that it was practically impossible for either of you to deepen the kiss in any way. Tim thought of one more word that he wanted to teach you, so he slowly pulled away from your mouth, the tiniest string of saliva still connecting the two of you. Normally, that would be something you found disgusting, but in that moment, the part of you from the final Jeopardy question started throbbing at the site, indicating your desperation and just how passionate the kiss really was.

“What about the word sex?”

Tim had still been pressed flush against you, and at this point, you could clearly feel what effect you were having on him through his jeans. He caught you off guard with the question he asked, and your motions stopped just as you reached the button of his jeans.

“Instead of telling me, why don’t you just show me… Doctor?

Tim taught you a lot that night. And you taught him a thing or two, as well.

Permanent Taglist: n/a

Specific Story/Character Taglist: @gardnerlangway @dr-tim-murphy

#tim murphy #tim murphy x reader #tim murphy hammond #tim murphy hammond x reader #joe mazzello #joseph mazzello #joe mazello x reader #joseph mazzello x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #jurassic park #dinosaur #etymology #jeopardy

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