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imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years ago

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Petty Pair (Raymond/F!Reader)

Summary: Reader wants to fuck Raymond to spite his father. Raymond thinks that’s really hot, actually.

A/N: This idea came into my head and literally never left. It lives rent free in my head, and I hope you feel it now, too. Couple: Raymond/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW) Content Warning: Fingering, penetrative sex, protected sex, mild exhibitionism, getting caught Word Count: 5k

MASTERLIST

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There was a grand total of one functioning bar in this town at this hour of night. This drastic and unforgivable shortage of places for me to buy alcohol was also the only reason I found myself frequenting said bar.

After about an hour of swatting off a group of men that were objectively disgusting, I resigned myself to fate and the realization that the night would turn out no better than it would have if I hadn’t tried to get drunk on cheap liquor. I was ready to pack up, close out, and fuck off back home when it happened.

A familiar face walked through the door. Familiar, I suppose, was a stretch. I’d only seen his face in one picture – a picture I’m pretty sure was meant to be thrown away. It stuck out to me because it was the first indication that I got that Donald Wadsworth had a son. And a cute son, much less.

My brain scanned through buried memories to try and find the one where his recently divorced mother had told me his name. I knew the memory existed somewhere, surrounded under a mountain of bullshit, but it was so hard to focus when I was watching the poor kid shuffle over to the bar and plop himself down against the counter.

It had taken me that long to realize that he was wearing pajamas. Cute.

His fashion choices and bedhead paired nicely with the pout he wore when he shyly scanned the room. Altogether, everything about him assured me that he literally couldn’t have been less intimidating if he tried. That theory was further solidified by the way he shrunk against the counter when he saw me approach. By the time I sat down next to him, he’d all but disappeared under his jacket.

“Hey, you’re... Raymond, right?” The name came to me at the same time his eyes locked with mine. The dark hazel color shone almost gold in the orange hue of the bar.

“You’re Donald’s son?” I asked as warmly as possible while using his father’s name. Which is to say, not warm at all.

“Unfortunately,” Raymond droned with a similar disdain.

“I’ll say,” I chuckled as I leaned forward to match his slouch over the bar. “I work with your dad.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.”

That alone seemed to cause a shift in his entire demeanor. It didn’t surprise me. Most of the women in this town were brainwashed into thinking that if a guy didn’t outright assault you at first glance, he was probably a solid dude.

And Donald Wadsworth was not a solid dude.

“He’s like, a giant fucking asshole,” I said.

Raymond’s eyes lit up.

“Right?!” he shouted back, practically falling from his seat in his enthusiasm as he continued to yell, “I know!”

There was no keeping it together with this caricature of a man, but I didn’t really want to, either. In the few seconds I’d interacted with him, everything about him changed from defensive to relaxed. Like all he needed was someone to tell him that it wasn’t all in his head.

Unfortunately, I was going to need to ask something of him. But I figured he wouldn’t mind what I was going to request.

“But hey, that’s actually why I wanted to talk to you. I have a favor to ask you.” I kept my tone even and nonchalant, trying to avoid coming off as parental.

He eyed me as warily as I expected, tugging his drink a little bit closer as he started to shrink in on himself again.

“I’m gonna be honest,” he mumbled, “there’s not really anything I can do to hurt him that I haven’t already tried.”

There was no need for self-degradation. Raymond might have thought he tried everything, but from his body language around a woman, it was safe to assume he’d never tried my plan.

“Wanna bet?”

Raymond sighed in surrender before he shrugged, “Sure. What’s the favor?”

“I want you to fuck me.”

It wasn’t my intention to wait until the drink was in his mouth before I spoke, but it was how it ended up happening. And almost instantaneously, he spat the drink out over the bar before calmly squeaking, “I’m sorry, what?”

“I want to have sex with you,” I repeated like it was the most normal thing in the world. Then I sought confirmation that was only a little important in the grand scheme of things. “You’re staying at his place, right?”

“Just for tonight, yeah—" he started, but all I heard was the ding of a checkmark on my mental list that meant we were cleared for the next step.

“Great. We should do it there, then. Tonight.”

Raymond’s tongue stuck out from between his teeth, the visual of restraint matching his narrowed, shifty eyes and fidgety legs.

“I feel like I’m missing something...” he muttered.

I heard him, but I didn’t really care. The clock was running, and I was ready to get something good out of this night. Possibly even two good things, if he ended up being as helpful as his cute, submissive demeanor implied.

“I’ll drive. You want to go now?”

“I— I mean, sure, yeah,” he stumbled over the words and his own feet as he left the bar. “We can… go have sex.”

I laughed at how cool he tried to sound because he definitely failed. I reached past him to drop cash on the bar and grabbed his hand on the way back. The amount of warmth stormed it in was shocking, considering all the blood seemed to be in his face, ears, and the tent in his pants. But the comfort of his fingers interlocking with mine on instinct did more for me than he knew.

“Great. Let’s go.”

Raymond was silent on the way out and into the car, which was about what I expected from him. Every glance his way would show the gears slowly turning in his head, like he was still trying to grasp whether my proposition was serious. Like I was trying to murder him or something.

When the car started, so did some sliver of confidence in him, although he still cleared his throat before he asked, “Do you need directions, or…?”

“No, I’ve been to his place before.”

That caution and suspicion returned and multiplied, and before I even pulled out of the parking lot he had shrugged down in the seat and buried his face in his hands.

“Please tell me you didn’t fuck my dad,” he whined in the most dramatic manner possible.

I couldn’t blame him for the theatrics, although the implication was not at all appreciated.

“Absolutely the fuck not,” I spat, my face curling into a pure expression of disgust. At least we both felt similarly on that note.

“Thank god.” The relief flowed through him, allowing him to sit back up to his previously half-straight position. I decided that it was probably best to cut him some slack for assuming I would ever fuck that devil of a man, because I got the sinking suspicion that he might have known a couple girls his age that had done exactly that.

That thought led me back to the very reason I was there at all, and a chill ran down my spine as I muttered without thinking, “Wasn’t for a lack of his trying, though.”

The whole tone in the car shifted in seconds. One glance over at Raymond confirmed the repressed rage and sadness rolling off of him in waves that were more accurately described as a tsunami.

It was just unsettling enough that I snapped my eyes back to the road, giving a nervous chuckle to tell him that it wasn’t that serious. I didn’t need him to defend my honor, or anything. It did enough to quell most of the rage, but that self-pitying sadness was still there when he let out a shy, quiet plea.

“I don’t want to pry but… Will you tell me what this is about?”

“You really want to know?”

It was one thing to know the vague generalities of how much his father sucked, but another thing entirely to paint him a vivid depiction of what he was willing to do.

“Yeah,” he said with fiddling hands, “I think.”

I think he was trying to do me a favor. I think listening to my story was meant to be a sign to me that there were people who would care — people who would believe me. He clearly didn’t actually want to hear the story, but I appreciated his willingness to experience some discomfort to make up just a small part of his father’s misdeeds.

“So, I’m new at the school, right? It’s awkward. It’s a small town and everyone knows everyone,” I started, trying to look over at Raymond whenever I could to show him that I was doing alright. The poor thing looked like he needed the reassurance more than I did.

“Your dad very quickly tried to take me under his wing, despite my very obvious discomfort.”

“Sounds like him,” he interrupted with a pissed-off murmur.

“Yeah. I just kind of accepted his help because I was too scared to say no, but then one day he…” My voice trailed off, the words getting clogged in my throat and muddled on my tongue. It wasn’t that bad of a story; it should have been easier to explain. But something about Raymond being there, him listening to me so intently and with such a strong desire to make it better, that made it hard to speak. Eventually, I managed to start again. “He cornered me in the damn teacher’s lounge and—“

“Please don’t give me a reason to kill him. I’ve been toeing that line my whole life, and I will definitely do it.”

That time when Raymond cut me off, it was very clear to me that he was not kidding. He enunciated the words so clearly, venom dripping from his tongue and his chest heaving with a determination coming through clear, despite his best efforts to hide it.

He was a sweet kid.

“He didn’t try to touch me or anything. It wasn’t like that,” I said with an awkward smile, reaching over to pat his thigh. The action alone seemed to calm him, almost like a dog that was being told to stand down.

He was a really cute kid.

But I had to finish this stupid story. I had to give him all the information so that he would know exactly why I’d invited myself into his bed. Sex is sort of a big deal, you know? I mean, not always, but the other party in spite sex should probably know who exactly the target is.

“He just made it very clear that he felt I owed him something, and I kindly told him to fuck off,” I concluded just as we pulled up the dirt drive. The bumps in the road seemed to shake some other memories in Raymond, and he just shook his head to rid himself of those, along with the story he’d just heard.

He looked over at me with a new understanding and something else.

“So that’s what this is about?”

“Yep,” I said with a pop of my lips to match the sound of my car door opening. He clambered out of the car much less gracefully, which was funny considering he’d had significantly less to drink.

But I figured I would have the decency not to laugh, instead just joining him on the passenger side of the car to finish our conversation before we went inside. I wanted to give him the chance to change his mind. I wouldn’t have blamed him. Although I was the one who would have to deal with the brunt of the downfall, Donald wasn’t my family. Like, I wouldn’t be at his holiday dinners. Then again, I’m not sure Raymond would be, either.

When I looked up from the thought, Raymond was staring at me. It wasn’t like before, though. There was nothing suspicious or any sign of concern in his eyes. No, they were filled with a very different feeling.

“You want to fuck me just to spite my dad?” he asked with a deadly seriousness.

I thought about it for exactly one second before I shrugged at the extremely accurate summary.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“God,” Raymond practically groaned, throwing himself on me and pinning me against the car with his hips before he growled, “that’s so fucking hot.”

Those same lips that produced the words quickly covered mine with the same force he’d used to pin me against the metal. I didn’t fight him at first because, well, I didn’t want to. It was the first clear sign he’d given that he really wanted to do this, and who was I to argue with how he expressed his consent?

Also, he was like, a really, really good kisser. The desperation he felt came through in his tongue as it tangled with mine, drawing a quiet, muffled moan from me that alerted me to how quickly this would escalate if I didn’t shove the boy off me.

Which, I did.

“Raymond— inside,” I ordered with the little breath I had left.

He was confused for a second, almost like he’d blacked out in the meantime. But then his tongue swept over his lips, his hands digging through his pockets for his keys before he hastily answered, “Right. Let’s go.”

It made sense to be quiet then, as the two of us tip-toed through the much too large house. Our occasional giggles were louder than our feet, and the whole experience was seriously reminiscent of sneaking into your boyfriend’s house as a teenager. And when we walked through his bedroom door, the sight stirred up even older memories. From the UFO poster and alien sheets to the boxes filled with dinosaur toys and action figures, I felt like I’d walked straight through a time machine into Raymond’s childhood.

“Sorry about… all of this,” he said with an overly apologetic tone, like this scene didn’t perfectly suit what I was planning. Like it wouldn’t be salt in the wound for Donald to see me fucking his son in the most juvenile room I’ve ever seen in my life.

“Ugh, it’s perfect. You are literally a man-child.”

I didn’t mean it as an insult, but his nervous shifting told me he took it that way. But when I kicked off my shoes and started to disrobe my outer layers, it was becoming obvious to him again just how serious I was about this whole thing.

“Sorry, but—“

“Stop saying sorry, Raymond.”

“Sorry,” he squeaked back, doing the exact thing I’d just told him not to do. I shot him a warning glance and watched the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in return. Then, still worrying the hem of his pajama shirt between his fingers, he looked away as he asked, “Are you sure you actually want to have sex with me?”

I was a little too busy at first to answer him. I was already rustling through the bedside table to find a condom that I was absolutely positive would be there. When I finally found it, I turned my attention back to the blushing boy.

“Why are you asking? Do you want to have sex with me?”

“Yes!” he answered with a clear excitement, only to lose it immediately. “But I would have wanted to have sex with you even if my dad wasn’t a pervert.”

“Awww, thanks,” I cooed with feigned sincerity. Raymond was still just pouting, though. I was learning more each second just how starved of affirmation this boy had been. But it wasn’t like I could just start praising him; the poor thing would have whiplash if I wasn’t careful. There was no worse mood-killer than crying, either, so I settled for a joke.

“I’d probably have sex with you, too.”

“Probably?” he responded with a smile and a seat next to me.

“It’s pretty likely, depending on how much we talked first,” I explained as I helped him out of his coat. I even managed to start undoing his pajama top buttons before he realized it was happening.

He didn’t stop me when he did.

“I don’t know if that’s an insult or not,” he said, instead.

With a coquettish grin, I leaned in to whisper against his lips, “And you never will.”

There was absolutely no resistance from Raymond when I grabbed hold of his collar, tugging him on top of me as I laid down on the tiny twin bed. Despite all of his insecurity, he didn’t hesitate to kiss me again, either. This time it was somehow even more heated, like he was trying to pour all of his heart into it.

I almost warned him that he had better cool it if he didn’t want to risk getting me hooked, but I was too late. He was already busy undoing the buttons on my own top and gently kneading my chest through the fabric of my bra, and I was quickly losing track of which of us was more into what was happening.

It didn’t really matter, but just in case he was still worried that I might not want to be there, I snuck my hand down and under the waistband of his pajamas.

“Fuck!” he cursed in a hushed whisper, his body buckling forward far enough that he almost dropped all his weight on me. It was so damn cute that I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Don’t be too loud or we’ll never get to the fun part,” I warned, my voice barely a whisper in his ear.

His very eloquent response was a breathless, “Shit.” I couldn’t blame him, though. It was honestly more than I expected him to be able to enunciate when I grabbed hold of his dick and began making soft strokes.

It was obvious that he was trying very hard to stay quiet, but the whimpers and whines were falling from his mouth so quickly that I was forced to kiss him just to muffle the noise. Thankfully, Raymond took the hint that he needed to be quiet and decided to redirect the attention from himself back to me. He accomplished that task by pulling away from me just far enough that he could grab hold of my pants and underwear and roughly pull them down my thighs. The speed and force lit a fire deep in my gut, my whole body breaking out in goosebumps as I allowed myself to enjoy just how badly he wanted me. I’m sure the spite thing had a lot to do with it, too, but it had been a long time since a man was so clearly into me. It was an unavoidable conclusion in every touch from him.

A much-too-loud moan caught in my throat when he returned, slipping his fingers into my heat as he laid another feverish kiss against my lips. But it broke almost immediately with his own choked moan, followed by a low, breathy observation.

“You weren’t kidding about wanting this.”

“Nope,” I replied quickly, trying to control the noises coming out of my mouth by replacing them with words. It only sort of worked when I keened, “Fuck, you’re better at this than I thought.”

Raymond didn’t even stop, continuing to curl his fingers inside of me with each thrust. He did smile, though. A cheeky, borderline annoying smile that told me he knew what a bastard he was being.

“Again, I can’t tell if that is a compliment,” he said with an overwhelming amount of sarcasm as he watched me squirm under him.

I chose to ignore the taunt, opting to grab the condom from the bedside table and throw it directly at his face instead. “Put the fucking condom on, Raymond.”

There was less commentary from the peanut gallery from that point on. I did enjoy the show, though. As I removed my bra, I watched with rapt fascination as he stripped himself of his clothes. My desire grew at an exponential rate at the sight of him slipping the condom on. I’d gotten some idea of the size of him with my hand, but to see something so lewd in such an innocent room and on his shy little figure was something else.

Raymond shrunk a little under my gaze, only regaining his confidence when he saw the way my teeth dragged over my bottom lip. I ran my hands over my body that was still on display for him, thoroughly enjoying the way I could make his eyes go wherever I wanted with such a simple motion.

“Fuck me, Raymond.”

I heard his breath catch and watched the shiver flow through him at the order. Sure enough, he started to follow my instructions and lined himself up at my entrance with adorably shaky hands. But then, right before I got what I came for, he paused.

“Are you su—“

I was tired of waiting. Hooking my leg around his waist, I forced Raymond to thrust forward. My assistance didn’t take any of the pleasure out of it when he was finally, fully inside of me. I couldn’t stop the way my back arched, pressing my chest against his with a wanton cry.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mumbled into my hair, burying his face in the crook of my neck as he adjusted to the new set of sensations.

I only gave him a few seconds to get used to it, fully ready to get the release that already felt so close.

“Fuck me,” I whined, already starting to roll my hips against the boy blubbering curses into my skin.

“O-Okay,” he muttered in the most adorable fashion.

That shyness was contrasted strongly by what followed. For all his whimpers and trembling, Raymond didn’t seem to mind the way the bed would creak under us. In fact, it seemed that he was playing his own game, trying to elicit as many noises from me as he could get from the bed.

On instinct, my hands rose to try to still the headboard. But to my surprise, they never made it. The man above me had grabbed hold of one wrist, pinning it against the pillow to stop me. That simple, thoughtful act was enough to almost send me over the edge right then, but I held on for what I knew would come.

My moans were another story. They seemed so inevitable, with Raymond slamming into me with a progressively rougher force until I rode that line between pain and pleasure. I could see it on his face, too, that we were barreling full speed to the inevitable.

So, it was as good a time as any for me to set the next step in motion. With full volume and a pitch nearly an octave higher than usual, I screamed, “Yes, Raymond!”

That cheeky little bastard laughed. That noise was such music to my ears, that I couldn’t just stop there.

“God, yes! Fuck me harder!” I cried dramatically while drawing out the words. In a way, I was over exaggerating for effect, but I was also actually having a great time. In fact, it was the best sex I’d had in a long time.

Raymond, catching on to the plan that I’d never explicitly explained, joined in with his own chant of my name, mixed with deep moans rumbling in his chest. I ran my nails down his back, seeking to elicit the higher pitched sounds I knew he was capable of when I realized just how much fun I was having with him.

It was also, of course, super fucking hot. But how often do you get to have this much fun with a random one night stand you found at the bar? Not often enough, I decided.

“Please, Raymond! Harder!” I begged, both in accordance with my previous moans and also because it was what I needed.

I couldn’t decide on a word to describe that wild look on his face, but Raymond had no problem following through with my request. Releasing my wrist, he sat up on his knees, grabbing hold of my hips and lifting them so that he could come down between them at a new angle.

That angle, it seemed, left him bottoming out inside of me with each brutal thrust. My legs were actually shaking around him, my back barely touching the bed as I threw my head back on that damn alien pillowcase.

The clacking of the headboard against the plaster shook the hung UFO picture, which ended up clattering behind it with about as much grace and subtlety as Raymond and I shared in that moment.

But that crashing also masked the sound of the door slamming open, just as I’d been waiting for. And for a long moment, neither of us even looked over to the light filtering in from the hallway. Instead, we locked eyes with each other as the two of us simultaneously reached our peak.

I was so, so glad that I didn’t look away. I kept my eyes firmly on Raymond as he threw his head back, forcing himself as deep in me as he could and holding me against him as I nursed him through his orgasm with my own. His mouth, though dropped open, was curved in a satisfied smile, one last moan tearing through the two of us before he promptly collapsed on top of me.

Then, it finally came. Donald’s voice bellowing, “What the fuck is going on in here?!”

—

As Raymond and I sat in my car that night, there was a much more relaxed atmosphere. Whether the catharsis was from the sex or the big fuck you to his father, the two of us were just basking in the afterglow of the overall experience.

Of course, he was also laughing at the fact I was currently wrapped up in his alien bedsheet.

“We could’ve gotten your clothes, you know.”

“There was no way in hell I was going to drop this sheet in front of that man,” I said through my laughter, my mind replaying the chaos of the last few minutes over again in my head.

“Probably a good call,” Raymond answered.

But then another thought occurred to me, which caused my face to contort into a disgusted grimace.

“You’d better go get my underwear and bra later, though. He cannot keep those.”

“Will do. Promise,” he said with a little nod that ended with him staring at me with an absolutely smitten look plastered on his face.

“You can keep them, though,” I offered, reaching over and pretending like I could actually fix the birds nest on his head.

“Thanks. I’m flattered,” he said while chasing after my hand that eventually settled on his cheek. His face was still flushed, his eyes still only half opened as he nearly fell asleep against my palm. I wondered if it was from the orgasm, or if it was just the first time in a while he’d felt safe enough to do it. He must’ve seen the worry in my eyes, because he interrupted the thought with another question.

“Did you accomplish your goal?”

I thought about it for a second, dragging my fingers down his face before I pulled back with a sigh. “I feel satisfied,” I decided. “What about you?”

Raymond also took the chance to think about it before he nodded with more enthusiasm than before.

“I feel pretty good,” he said proudly.

“That’s all? Just pretty good?” I replied with an annoyed click of my tongue. I mean, I was wrapped in his bedsheets after just helping him achieve one of the most satisfying catharses of his life, and all he had to say was ‘pretty good?’

But then I saw it, that little sparkle in his eyes that showed me he just wanted to rile me up before he gave his real answer.

“It was fucking glorious.”

It wasn’t even the words that filled my heart with pride, but the way his whole expression softened as he said it. He obviously meant it with every fiber of his being, and I couldn’t help but fall in love a little bit at the sight.

“Sorry I got you kicked out,” I said to distract myself from that dangerous line of thought.

“Not the first time. Hopefully the last,” he nonchalantly shrugged as I turned the key in the ignition. We hadn’t actually planned on what to do from this point, but I certainly had some ideas.

“You can stay at my place,” I slurred through my exhaustion, “I have a guest bedroom if you feel weird staying in mine.”

But Raymond didn’t answer. He just laughed, shaking his head and rubbing a heavy hand over his tired eyes.

“What?” I asked, a little worried I’d made a mistake.

“Nothing,” he reassured with that stupid fucking grin that was soon aimed straight at me, “it’s just… You’re asking me if I want to sleep with you. Again.”

“Yeah, what about it?” I laughed, turning to pull out of the driveway. The bumps didn’t bother Raymond that time.

“I’d love to,” he said as we turned onto the main road, his hand finding mine on the gear shift.

“Great.” Allowing the relief to flow through his hand and into me, I realized that the reason I’d had so much fun with this random one night stand was because a large part of me knew it was never going to be just that.

“You know, my bed’s not a twin, and it doesn’t creak, so…” I trailed off, hoping that he would be clever enough to put it together.

“So what?”

He was not. But that was okay, because I realized that was exactly what I loved about him.

“Never mind,” I sighed, “I’ll show you in the morning.”

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(Tell me what you thought of this piece here!)

#raymond wadsworth #suburban gothic #suburban gothic fanfic #mgg fanfiction #mgg fanfic #matthew gray gubler fanfic #raymond wadsworth fanfic #raymond wadsworth fanfiction

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jenxwp · 4 years ago

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This is a bit of a different post to what I normally do, but this is something I have been thinking about a lot today so I have decided to write it down while I’m supposed to be doing actual ‘work’ at work...

A bit of a stream-of-consciousness as such, but for the last few weeks, all my random off the shelf Xena DVD picks have been from season 1, and it has led me to ask this question:

Why does season 1 hold such a special place to me? And why, even now am I so drawn to it?

It’s different to the other seasons- the show is still just finding its feet, the characters are still establishing themselves, and we really are just beginning our journey. We aren’t into the great comedies or the heart-wrenchers just yet. The subtext is still very much on the back foot. So why? Why does season 1 hold such a firm spot in my heart?

I think I may have worked it out.

All the episodes in season 1 hold such deep hearted lessons that you just didn’t see on television at the time, and often you still don’t today. Lessons about self-belief, discovering who you are, and just the morality of life. As a little girl growing up, it was just what I needed to hear and be taught. And re-watching them now as an adult, it helps solidify who I am and who I want to be. With all the craziness of life, season 1 grounds me.

It all begins with Sins of the Past, and as someone who has had to stop, look around and then begin life again from the ground up, this speaks to me more now as an adult than it ever did. If I hadn’t had it ingrained into me as a child that it’s okay to accept the past and begin again, I probably would not be who I am today. In fact, I probably wouldn’t be here today. Is it lame to say that Xena saved my life? She gave me the strength to walk away and start again.

Even episodes that I would definitely not classify as a favourite, like Chariots of War, still have a deep rooted message. It shows that we all have a path, and although that path often isn’t easy, its ours and we need to walk it.

Who can forget the beautiful Dreamworker, when we learn that the past will always be a part of us and will impact on our decisions, but it doesn’t have to define us. We are the makers of who we are and we can use the past as a strength to propel us forward.

The Reckoning. Of course this is the monumental debut of the incredible Kevin Smith, but the episode really is about accountability, taking ownership of yourself and your actions, and accepting the consequences of that. Xena really is the embodiment of that concept and she has the strength to face the consequences of her choices regardless of what they will be.

“If I run now, I will be running forever.”

Episodes like Death in Chains, we always think of as Gabrielle’s boyfriend-of-the-week and the one where Lucy got covered in rats, but at the heart of it, its about the acceptance of losing the ones we love and understanding our own mortality.

“You shouldn’t fear it. I did for the longest time. But now my suffering has grown so real and deep. Now I know, death can be a friend- a resting place.”

“Don’t you see? It’s not how long you live that matters. Its how well you live.”

In The Black Wolf, we actually learn through Flora and the story of the oak tree to have self faith. Whether you have suffered from a lack of confidence in your life or not, having belief in yourself can often be one of the hardest things to do. The story itself is heart breaking- a little girl reaching up in hope, but each time Xena pulls her hand away.

“I fell for it every time.”

“You told me to have faith.. and I always thought you meant to have faith in you. But it was me you were talking about, wasn’t it?”

It is a tough lesson.

Beware Greeks Bearing Gifts. It’s a subtle one, but you tell me what young impressionable female (or ANYONE for that matter) doesn’t need to hear at the end of the episode from Helen, a woman who has been objectified and treated as the beautiful subservient object of every man who has ever claimed to love her:

Helen- “you showed me that the only person that can make me happy- is me.” Xena- “you’re welcome. What’s next for you?” Helen- “I don’t know. But for the first time- its my decision.”

This exchange should be shouted from the roof tops to anyone who needs to hear it. So if you haven’t been told today- you can do anything and be anything.

I really could go on about this and I might look at more of these episodes at a later date; but this really is just ad-hock musings while I’m procrastinating at work. So I am going to jump forward to The Greater Good.

Oh boy, I think we all have to agree that The Greater Good is something else that we definitely did not deserve on our televisions. It’s just beautiful storytelling with such a depth of emotions that are both on display through the characters and a depth of emotion that it invokes in me. We have gone on this journey with Xena and learnt so many lessons alongside Gabrielle and this really is the first time she has had to demonstrate what she has learnt without the support of Xena. It’s hard. Its raw. And its beautiful. The concept of The Greater Good is the beginning of a theme that becomes a foundational stone that runs through the course of the entire show. As the concept grows, we discover there are so many levels to it- humility, our place in the world, the value of life, and the nature of humanity itself. But this, right here, The Greater Good is the beginning of it all. Along with Gabrielle, we have to endure that penultimate lesson and the seriousness and sacrifice of what may eventually come to be.

You tell me any Xenite that hasn't found solace in the phrase ‘its for the greater good’ when faced with struggles in their personal life. Whether that be said in seriousness or in jest- we have all said it and it has brought comfort. We have Xena to thank for ingraining that concept into us.

This ‘campy and lame’ show has created the bedrock for who I am. For who I want to be. And because of it, I am proud of who I am. I have made mistakes and done stupid things (and I am sure I will make many more in the future!), but that's okay.

The lessons in season one aren’t easy. They are hard and full of hurt. They are not something you understand after watching the show once. Its those of us that have watched the episodes countless times. I hope you understand me. You just ‘get it’ right?

So this is why. This is why when I am a little bit deflated, misdirected or demoralised in life I am drawn to season 1. This is where I can refill my cup, recentre myself, then take on the world.

So yes, the episodes are a bit rough. Bit cheesy. But they are just heart.

heart heart heart.

I also taught myself how to make gifs today, so you can see I had a really productive work day.

#xwp #Xena Warrior Princess #lucy lawless #renee o'connor #xenites #musings

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nobodyfamousposts · 5 years ago

Text

Miraculous Salt: Bustier

Fair warning: There are some dark and potentially triggering things discussed. Assault, domestic violence, drug use, overdose, and attempted murder are implied if not outright mentioned.

“Today, class, I’ve asked a special guest to come speak to you!” Bustier greeted them all with a smile. She gestured to the woman next to her, a young adult they hadn’t seen before. She seemed a bit nervous awkward, but was dressed professionally and tried to appear confident.

Bustier clasped her hands together.

“Vivienne is a former student of mine from a few years back. She going to talk to us about positive examples and appropriate behavior in the classroom.”

Marinette slumped in her seat, already knowing what this was about and just whom this lecture was meant for. Bustier’s frequent looks at Marinette weren’t even necessary. The fact that several of the other students shot glances back to her made it clear they knew as well.

Apparently Bustier’s lectures to Marinette about the high road and helping her classmates weren’t enough anymore. Now it just felt like she was making a spectacle to prove a point.

The woman, Vivienne, looked to Bustier in confusion.

“I thought I was supposed to give a lecture about preparation for the future?”

“Well certainly.” Bustier agreed, smiling brightly and indulgently. “And about how a good future for everyone can be started by setting an appropriate example in the here and now.”

Several of the students around her nodded. Lila sent a smug look back at her. Marinette merely wanted to crawl under her desk.

The woman stared at Bustier in open-mouthed surprise.

“Are you joking?”

Bustier appeared startled. “I’m sorry?”

“Are you actually joking? Did you mean to tell me you brought me here. All this way. On a weekday. To give a lecture to students about your downright toxic classroom habits?”

Everyone’s eyes widened. Their mouths opened. Because…no one just talked to Bustier like that. She was a teacher! And she was so nice!

Bustier herself was frozen in shock.

“Excuse me?”

“No. No. You’re right. You had me come to give a speech to your class. Fine. I’m going to talk to them.”

She cleared her throat and turned to the class.

“Listen to me. All of you, but especially you in the back because it seems you are Bustier’s target of the year.” She said, looking around to everyone in the class though her eyes remained mostly on Marinette. “You have the right to feel angry when you are wronged. You have the right to be upset when someone hurts you. You have every right to not forgive the one who does it. It is not your fault when someone does wrong. It is not your responsibility for someone else’s choices. You are under NO obligation—ABSOLUTELY NONE to make the person hurting you feel better about it! And at some point, you need to consider what is best for yourself and your life, even if it means cutting people out of it and letting them face the consequences of their actions.”

“What are you doing?” Bustier demanded, outraged.

“Telling them the truth.” Vivienne stated flatly. “It’s the least I could do after what you did to me and my class thanks to your ‘approach’.”

“But you were a great example for your classmates.”

“No, I was their stepping stone and in some cases, their punching bag. And look how well that turned out! I’m STILL in therapy because of you!”

Bustier gaped in horror.

“Yeah, turns out that constantly pushing myself to take on the burden for everyone else’s choices isn’t actually healthy! Either for me OR anyone else.” Vivienne huffed. “And I have you to blame for a huge part of that.”

She pointed at Bustier in outrage.

“Because of you and your lessons, I lost my ability to be assertive. I became passive to the point of being a doormat, and it’s something that STILL affects me today! Because under YOUR guidance, I was taught that other people’s behaviors were MY fault. That if someone was being cruel or hurting me, it was because I wasn’t trying hard enough. That it was MY obligation to make bad people better rather than their own. And that if I tried to speak up for myself, I was the one in the wrong. Especially when you dragged my parents into things and portrayed the entire mess like it was my fault for not being okay with my treatment instead of concern over how I was being treated.”

“Now now, you’re over-exaggerating.” Bustier argued in that annoyingly placating tone.

“You made it MY job to try and better people who didn’t WANT to be better. I was thirteen! I was a student in your care! How was that supposed to be MY job? My only job was supposed to be to learn, and because of you, I’ve learned all the wrong lessons!”

She rubbed her face, frustrated and exasperated and just done with this whole thing.

“I don’t know what’s healthy or not. I don’t know when I’m being selfish or when I’m supposed to let something go. I still freeze up when dealing with people because even years later, I still have your voice ringing in my head about how I need to be ‘the better person’ regardless of whether I actually CAN.”

She stopped and took a breath. Then turned on Bustier, appearing truly angry with the woman.

“You pushed me to the point of self-destruction and said that was love.”

“I’m sorry that you apparently had a rough time of things,” Bustier fumbled. “But I can’t be held responsible for how every student turns out.”

“THEN YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE BECOME A TEACHER!”

Bustier reared back as if struck by a physical blow.

Vivienne breathed deeply, trying to get herself back under control.

“You had a position of power and authority over me. And you used it to push your responsibility on me. To push the responsibility for EVERYONE in that class on me. On top of my own schoolwork. My own issues. My own responsibilities. I had to deal with yours and everyone else’s. Their well being. Their futures. Their selfish little wants and requests I didn’t have time or energy for but was still expected to fulfill. All of that. On me. And now you’ve even gone so far as to bring me here to advocate for you doing the same thing to someone else? And you don’t see anything wrong with that?”

Vivienne gestured to her chest, agitated and hurt and just…finally letting years worth of frustration out.

“Doing what you did? Pushing things the way you did? You put an unreasonable burden on a child. All in the name of being a ‘good example’ for how other people should be. Guess what? The only thing being a ‘good example’ accomplished was showing people what to expect from others rather than anything they should expect from themselves.”

She glared at Bustier.

“I did some reading on psychology after leaving your class. Turns out the thing you missed about modeling is that it’s the ADULTS who are supposed to model for their kids, not other kids under their care and especially NOT the ones being victimized.”

Bustier forced herself to speak. “But…everyone deserves a chance.”

“You have students that struggle. It’s common. They need extra care. That’s understandable.” Vivienne agreed. “The problem is that instead of being the teacher you are supposed to be and giving them that care yourself, you instead push that responsibility on your other students when it should never have been their responsibility in the first place!”

“They can’t change and do better if everyone is expecting them to fail.” Bustier reasoned.

“Maybe so, but they’re certainly not going to change if they don’t see a reason they should. Giving bullies a free pass and then lecturing their victims on ‘being the bigger person’ after they’ve been hurt because of the bullying is NOT going to motivate the bully to change anymore than it’s going to motivate the victims to keep trying! Was it any wonder so many of your students just gave up?”

Bustier’s eyes widened in shock.

“What?”

“Yeah, it turns out that I’m not the only student who left your class with problems down the line. Big surprise, but being reprimanded for feeling hurt and being told that their feelings are less important than those of the ones harming them isn’t exactly motivation to keep going out of their way to do their best. Not in grades, which unsurprisingly fell amongst students in your class by the final year. Not in activities, which—surprise surprise! Your students stopped being invested in because you kept pushing for everyone else to work twice as hard for something that you were letting other students get full advantage of with nowhere near the same effort! Was it any wonder that I was the only one you were able to browbeat into doing anything by the end? It was because everyone else got disillusioned and stopped trying! Because you rewarded the bad students and admonished the good students if they took issue with that. They weren’t blind! They know favoritism when they see it!”

The class was staring. Unsure what to say. Or if they even should speak.

“Oh, and on the subject of favoritism. You surely remember Candace—my bully whose behavior you defended and minimized? Yeah, she’s in jail. Again. For causing a scene in a public setting. Again. And even assaulting police, which is actually a new one for her this time around. But it’s her standard behavior. It’s all she knows how to do. Because you and people like you catered to her tantrums and brattish behavior, gave her whatever she wanted, and admonished anyone who complained about how she treated them.”

“Well…” Bustier simpered. “Treating her cruelly isn’t changing her now, is it?”

“Because she’s an adult used to getting her way!” Vivienne exclaimed. “The time to teach her better was when she was young. It was when she was still a student under YOUR care! Instead, you solidified her into the messed up adult she is today! Speaking of messed up adults, how about dear old Henrik? You remember him?”

“He…he was…a perfect student…” Bustier muttered, uncertain and wary.

“Sure was. Your model student. He sure road your high horse all throughout school and even all the way to his own wedding to Delia—your OTHER favorite student to coddle. You must have been so proud of how that turned out. And even after she’s cheated on him. Among other things. He’d be the picture of domestic violence at this point…you know…if he could actually acknowledge that the relationship is even abusive.”

She sighed.

“But he still insists he can ‘change her’. That he can ‘help her be better’. And some other reasons about ‘make a bad person be good’ that sounds like the sort of tripe you fed him. You know, most of us just thought he was a wannabe stud who like having girls rubbing themselves all over him. It never occurred to us that he was uncomfortable and just didn’t know how to ask them to stop.”

Several of the students gasped in shock. Adrien in particular appeared uncomfortable, like the story was a point for him in particular. Remembering the way Chloe and Lila hung off him, Marinette had to wonder if Adrien and this Henrik didn’t have a few concerning things in common.

Vivienne, however, continued. And even started to tick off on her fingers. “Elodie joined the police force and is so caught up in her own brand of ‘justice’ that she jumps into things without thinking and a number of her arrests ended up going free regardless of the charge due to her not following procedure. Arthur was always the sort to ‘go with the flow’ rather than stand up for anything, so he ‘went with the flow’ all the way to a strip club where he spends his nights, still waiting on some new job opportunity Delia promised him years ago. Kent and Morgan were arrested for embezzlement of some charity’s funds. Michael works at a repair shop, so he has a steady job at least. Sam’s charged for property destruction from illegal street racing. Again. Vincent is claiming some close relationship with Jagged Stone that I don't even want to consider. Randall died from drug overdose last year, otherwise I’m sure you would have called him up instead of me.”

Everyone gaped at her in growing horror. Alya and Max both seemed to be looking at their phones, only to wince or appear more agitated with whatever they found—Marinette assumed it was likely proof of Vivienne’s claims. Bustier looked almost ready to faint at the news of what’s become of her former students.

Vivienne just tapped her chin.

“And you know, now that I think about it, it makes sense that you called me out of everyone to come lecture your class because I think I’m probably the only former student NOT a complete wreck—if only because I’m a few steps away from it thanks to therapy.”

She sneered at Bustier in downright disgust.

“All these people you said it was my job to save. All of them—every single one of them fell apart when I finally gave up. Though they were admittedly barely hanging on as it was while they still had me to dump on. And I’m pretty sure that I could have been a millionaire by now if I’d held firm on charging people for the things they wanted from me instead of bowing to your insistence on doing things for people for free to be ‘nice’. Or, you know…NOT wasting my time and giving up on my own opportunities to pull everyone else out of the fires they kept starting.”

Feeling the weight of everyone’s gazes on her, Bustier spoke up to attempt to defend herself.

“To make a healthy classroom—”

“Your classroom isn’t healthy!” Vivienne shouted. And it was only now that Marinette realized there was a growing number of people hovering outside the door and listening in. “It says something that we have a magical emotion-based terrorist running around and his most frequent targets other than a guy obsessed with pigeons have been your students! Hell, in the past year the majority of akuma attacks have all been from this very class! If i didn’t already know you were doing this all along, I would think you were grooming these kids to be taken by Hawk Moth!"

“They’re not...that bad...” Bustier weakly defended.

“One of your students is the girl who tried to CRASH A TRAIN! And it didn’t take me all of five minutes after entering to see you catering to what can only be a chronic liar.”

Lila immediately started the waterworks. “How could you say that about me?”

“Actually, I hadn’t pointed you out. But thanks for doing it yourself, and while we’re on the subject, GOOGLE. Five minutes is more than enough to debunk your stories. Anyone could do it if they bothered to. Which might have gone a long way in preventing the classroom from becoming toxic, Bustier, if you had helped to develop your students’ critical thinking skills so they could figure things out for themselves instead of demanding they become doormats to make other people ‘feel better’.”

“I—I—” Bustier looked almost ready to cry.

“Couldn’t be bothered to tell them they’re being lied to?” Vivienne asked, sarcastically.

“She has a condition! I didn’t want to impair her ability to make friends!” Bustier exclaimed, making the class stare at her in growing horror. Others turned on Lila in outrage at the confirmation. Lila in turn started to shrink in on herself, realizing that this had not been the best time to draw attention.

“So you protect one student by letting the rest be used and manipulated. It’s not like that can go wrong! Just ask Henrik…as soon as he gets out of the hospital.”

One student—Rose—actually raised her hand. “What…what happened to Henrik?”

“Officially, food poisoning.” Vivienne replied. “Unofficially, Delia only married him because he’s rich and good as arm candy, but she only needs him alive for one of those two things and his moral righteousness makes him less appealing as the latter.”

Bustier wobbled, her strength giving out. She quickly made it to her chair and almost fell onto it as the sheer magnitude of what was happening hit her.

“But…I don’t understand. It can’t be me. I’m…I’m a good teacher…”

“No.” Vivienne interrupted. “You’re a nice teacher. At least to certain students. For everyone else, you taught pretty words and preached about love and kindness to help build up a rose-tinted view of the world and the people in it. It’s no wonder nobody knew how to deal afterwards.”

“But…it can’t be my fault.” She insisted. “I’m only one influence! There are parents! Guardians!”

Yeah, no. Vivienne was not letting her pass the blame.

“Whom YOU spoke with. Whom YOU influenced with your position to put focus on the wrong problems—not what needed to be addressed but what you wanted to make your classroom easier for you. Parents don’t know what their kids are doing during school hours other than what they’re told is happening. And when they’re told that their kid is ‘problematic’ or ‘causing conflict’ or ‘not a team player’ but they’re not being told WHY? Or not being told that their kid is being mistreated, bullied, or outright assaulted? And those parents then turn on the kids?”

She shrugged.

“Honestly, what were we supposed to think?”

Bustier shook her head, now crying.

“I can’t fix everything!”

Vivienne stared, solemnly.

“But you could have helped. You just…choose not to.”

She looked back to the class.

“Don’t trust blindly. Stand up for yourself without pushing on others. Remember that you are allowed to have limits. And sometimes…” Her eyes fell back on Marinette. “Sometimes, it’s better to just cut out the weeds than hope flowers grow.”

With that, she turned and left the classroom, the various students and faculty listening in parting before her.

It was cold outside. Almost matching the feeling in her chest.

And yet, she let out a sigh.

“Now that’s the closure I’ve been looking for.”

And she carried on.

#ml salt #bustier salt #lila sucks #trigger warning

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bonjour-rainycity · 4 years ago

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Double Heart | Chapter Twenty ~ Haldir

|previous part|

Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 1650

Warnings: None

A/n Hi! Sorry, I know I’m a day late -- I have family in town so I’m soaking up all the time with them that I can. This one is short (and a lil fluffy/angsty), and this chapter and the next are kind of a rest before we hit the next act of this story! Sooo gear up! I’m excited!!!

I shut the door behind Orophin and Lavandil.

Cosima flops onto her bed, staring at the ceiling. “That was awful.”

I make a noise of general agreement. I hadn’t expected my brothers to take the news happily, but I didn’t think Rumil would completely shut me out. I have no doubts that he will eventually come around, but his reaction is still distressing.

Cosima raises up on her forearms, looking at me in concern. “Are you okay?”

I nod, making my way towards her bed. “It may take some time, but I know my brothers. All will be well.”

She scoots from the middle to the far side of her bed and pats the space next to her. I accept the invitation, lying on my back at her side. Vaguely, I notice that her bed is much larger and comfier than mine. I turn to tease her about it, try and cheer us both up, but she’s fiddling with her fingers. I guess neither of us is feeling particularly lighthearted at the moment.

“What is it?”

She sighs, staring up at the ceiling rather than at me. I nudge her arm gently, trying to prompt an answer.

She bites her lip. “You’ve said that you can make your own choices, and I get that, but I’ve got to ask—are you sure? You don’t have to stay with me just because you said you wanted to. I know what you’re sacrificing, and you don’t have to—”

I cut her off, kissing her forcefully. She sucks in a breath and I use that to my advantage, drawing her deeper into the kiss. She recovers from her shock quickly though, and slides a hand up my chest in that way I adore and is slowly becoming familiar. I pull away but keep a firm hold on the side of her face. “Please push these thoughts from your mind. Whatever the future holds, I am in it with you. And a future without you? I don’t want it. It would be different, had I never met you, but the Valar blessed me. They brought an impossible woman into my life. And I have no intention of letting her go.”

The sadness in her eyes breaks, replaced with a look of tenderness that I work hard to memorize. I let the hand on the side of her face slide to rest on her hip.

She places a kiss on my jaw, taking her time to respond, aware that she has my complete attention. “If I had to wake up in a different world with no memories, I am immensely glad you were there. Being with you is worth all that I’ve left behind. Even if I did remember it, I would choose you.”

I exhale slowly, basking in her words. I’ve never been vulnerable with someone before — bearing my heart and hoping they don’t crush it — and every time I open my mouth to confess something to Cosima, there’s the fear that she will shut me down, that she won’t return my feelings. But her words just now, as well as her actions from the past few days, help allay my fears.

“It’s getting late,” she breathes, face mere inches from mine. “You could stay the night?”

My hand on her hip tenses. No, I remind myself. I should go back to my room. But the words that come out of my mouth are not what I told myself to say. “I would not be intruding?”

“No,” Cosima smiles, wrapping her arms around my neck. “I would very much like it if you stayed.”

We are both adults. If she wants me to stay and I want me to stay, then there’s no reason to leave. “Then stay, I shall,” I murmur, dropping my lips to press against hers.

She kisses me languidly for a while before her lips shift into a grin. I pull back with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re the one who has to get up and blow out the candles,” she declares, her tone full of mirth. “That’s really the only reason I asked you to stay.”

I snort, but push myself off the bed, headed for the first candle I see. “I knew it couldn’t be because you love me. That’s too easy.”

“And pull the curtains,” she adds, lifting the duvet so she can crawl underneath it. I watch her slide her eyes shut, smile still spread over her face as she tries not to laugh.

Cosima and I have slept in each other’s company before, and we will do so again for the three weeks of our journey to Lothlórien. But I can’t shake the feeling that this is completely different. It will be the two of us alone, in a bedroom, when we have acknowledged our feelings for each other.

But despite the nerves and the gravity of the situation, it feels completely natural to spend the night with Cosima. I long for her presence during the day, and the night is no different.

And with precious little time together, shouldn’t I seize on every moment?

I blow out the candle nearest to me. It darkens the shadows in the room. I extinguish the remaining candles, close the curtains, and then return to the bed. Cosima has thrown the covers back on what I suppose is my side, making it easy for me to climb in next to her. After the slightest moment of hesitation, I do so. I reach for her, wrap my arms around her and cross them over her stomach, then pull her against my chest. It reminds me of a variation on what I did our very first day of training, an action that caused me no small amount of distress. But now it seems there is no limit to the ways I can hold her, and I plan to explore them all.

Cosima chuckles, evidently pleased with this development. “You remembered the human way.”

“I am capable of adapting,” I respond, dropping my face into her neck.

Her laugh turns into a sigh when I begin a trail of kisses there. “I have a question.”

I hum, continuing my pattern. “Yes, my love?”

She pauses to beam at the phrase. When she speaks, the smile is still in her voice. “Rumil asked if we had bonded yet, and then when you said no, he said there’s still ‘time’. What did he mean by that?”

My lips freeze against her neck. I sigh, shifting to lie on my side and pressing on her shoulder so she’ll turn to face me. I figured we would need to have this conversation at some point, but I hadn’t counted on now. And it’s not the potential for awkwardness that makes me wish I could keep my mouth shut — no, we could get past that — it’s the fear that, once she knows there’s still technically a step we have to take in order for my soul to perish once hers leaves me, that she will end this.

But it is not right to withhold information from her so, with another deep breath, I explain. “He was talking about the bonding of the fæs — in the literal sense. But I love you, I am committed to you, and nothing can change that, so Rumil’s whole notion of ‘time’ doesn’t really apply here.”

Her eyes narrow as she zeroes in on exactly what I’m careening around. “Say there’s some wiggle room.”

“There’s not.”

“But if there were,” she presses, obviously not interested in letting this go.

I sigh. “Traditionally, elves have used sex as a way to facilitate the spiritual bonding of the fæs. That’s what constitutes an elven wedding — that’s what represents and solidifies the commitment. Since we have not had sex, Rumil thinks our fæs are not bonded, so there is time to break the commitment between us without it affecting me.”

She sits up, opening her mouth to comment.

I hurry to sit up as well and cut off her words before she can take this idea and run with it. “But our situation is different. The whole concept of the fæs bonding is not a blanket statement that covers every relationship — there is a lot of choice involved, we are not without agency. And I have chosen.”

She smiles somewhat sadly, letting her fingers drum over my knee. “I wish I was an easier choice.”

I catch her hand in mine. “I quite like where my choices have led me.”

She leans against me, pressing a gentle kiss to my lips. “I love you.” She shifts, lying down and tugging on my arm to pull me with her. “Let’s go to bed. It’s been a long day.”

I stretch out behind her, then twist the strands of her hair through my fingers. She’s silent, and I worry that, despite my efforts to reassure her, she’s still sad. I know she can’t help it, but I wish that we could leave all this struggle and moroseness behind. In my view, the future is set, my path is clear. Struggling over what that means will not halt the end, nor change it, so we shouldn’t waste time worrying over it. We should prepare how we can and then enjoy our lives together.

Cosima tucks her head into my neck and tangles one of her legs through mine. The action — so unexpected yet so natural — gives me hope that, soon, she and I can fall into a life together. Maybe Lothlórien is the key. Maybe once she can clearly see what our future looks like — a home, friendships, family, meals together at the end of a long day, exploring Lothlórien’s extensive forests and blue-green lakes, festivals, sunrises, all the wonderful things about my home, our home, she can allow herself to be happy.

And I will do everything I can to help her get there.

A/n Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs are always so appreciated! Also, I think I made EVERYONE sad with that last chapter, I’m so sorry. But I LOVE that we all collectively love Rumil and want him to be happy forever, right? Soooo, c’mon, hit me with some happy Rumil headcannons <3

|next chapter|

|masterlist|

Tolkien tag list: @anangelwhodidntfall @eru-vande

Haldir tag list: @tolkien-apologist @that-cute-stranger

Double Heart tag list: @lainphotography @themerriweathermage @thophil2941btw @kenobiguacamole @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse @from-patroclus-with-love @boywivlove @ordinarymom1 @my-darling-haldir @sweet-bea-blossom @moony-artnstuff @sleepyamygdala @thranduilseyebrows

*Strikethrough means Tumblr won’t let me tag you :(*

#haldir #haldir x ofc #haldir x oc #haldir fanfic #haldir fanfiction #double heart

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felassan · 4 years ago

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Thoughts on Dark Fortress #1

(This post is under a cut due to spoilers.)

NB, my thoughts on the first pages that came out in the preview are collected here [spoilers at link], so I won’t repeat myself.

Okay here we go :D I’ve posted up my fav panels but always want a space where I can burble at length.. (I’m late in posting this bc recently for the last few days I’ve been obsessing over politics in my country as it’s the run-up to election time.. I haven’t read anyone elses’ thoughts on it either so I could be behind on prevailing speculation or whats known or something) The preview pages ended at the panel when Aaron says “Vaea is right”, so that’s where I’m beginning.

I can’t put my finger on why but I really like the “don’t tell me I’ve had too much to drink” panel showing a Tevinter street. It’s a neat blend of “Tevinter is advanced relative to much of the rest of known Thedas, but also ominous, but also a place where people live and go about their lives, and also not going too heavy on the cyberpunk angle”. I dig the composition ‘leading’ the eye up the street and the consistency with the recently-seen DA4 materials that have red lighting in Tevinter buildings, similar building shapes etc. ig I’m pretty obsessed with the idea of the DA4 PC & party walking up streets like these.

I wonder how Aaron felt witnessing Tractus’ drunken scenes in the pub :(

Tractus’ attitude towards the barman here shows the influence and power Magisters wield in Tevinter, and the fear of them common among the mundane populace

digging the Tevinter-y motifs & design of the bartop, bar shelving etc. it feels like thought went into it

I’d watch a spinoff show or read a story where Marius and Ser Aaron have to team up in order to achieve something

Vaea is so badass and agile! I appreciate that the shot of her up high was tasteful and didn’t like, weirdly contort her body, have a weird leering angle or emphasize things in that way comic art often does for women at moments like these

so in Tevinter, lamps give off red light (seen in the bar scene). are the windowpanes themselves also red?

good thinking Vaea grabbing the staff. great sense of snappiness and motion in this panel. her landing reminds me of squirrels doing the superhero pose landing actually :)

tfw you and a dog burst out of a wardrobe

Tractus recognizing Fenris, it seems - did they encounter each other when Tractus was young, or does he just know of him (distinctive markings and all that)? if the former, I have a feeling we might get a flashback scene to that time in a future issue

cutting to look at Francesca when Tractus talks about Fenris murdering his father is GENIUS. look at the sadness on her face here; “you murdered your father” is exactly what she’s been telling herself and struggling with all this time

nice to see staff-less magic in action

Tractus seems to have drawn power from the red orb set in his staff. he reaches out to it and it responds by glowing and the staff moving, but he wasn’t doing a Jedi ‘use my Jedi powers to make my thrown lightsaber [staff] return to my hand’, as you might expect, he was instead charging up and drawing magical energy/power from it [the orb], as seen by the red light in his hand in the next panel. this reinforces my earlier wonderings that the red orb is notable and that there’s some connection between it and his red eyes. later in the panel when he’s trying to cast on the floor his eyes seem lit up (altho it could just be lighting & dramatic effect)

I wonder if Fenris thinks of Anders and Justice when Tractus says “justice”. There was once a mage in Fenris’ life who was really focused on justice..

the combat scenes are beautifully drawn, thought out and colored

Fenris’ lines here are really metal, badass and impactful. I could hear Gideon Emery’s voice in my head as I read these bits - the word choice of “hounded” helps with that I think, it immediately recalls Fenris talking with anger about how Hadriana denied his meals and hounded his sleep. they nail how Fenris speaks, the pattern and words he tends to use, etc

PHASING POWERS in action!! this is very cool to see, this ability of his didn’t get touched on much at all in DA2 outside of combat or a few scenes

I enjoy the contrast between the red and blue glows

Fenris is understandably merciless

“Perhaps if you had it carved into you” feels like foreshadowing for the ‘red wraith’

:( the reminder that the very thing Fenris struggles with feelings of hate and fear towards is carved into his skin for the rest of time and always will be

Vaea is brave to step in, standing up for what she believes is right and also re-centering focus on the critical mission at hand

;___; Autumn helping keep Tractus on the ground. she is such a good girl. she Help

“You’re lucky the mabari is here” - having Fenris in a dark light here relative to the rest of the panel is nicely symbolic

oh shit!! some plot advancement in terms of the ongoing story of the wider world. The Antaam have now reached Neromenian!! the invasion is progressing further and further into Tevinter. how far will it have come by the time of DA4? will there be an active war front not far from Minrathous? I appreciate the comics from this team a lot, here and there they push forward the ‘story of Thedas’ not just the story of the comic’s focus. also, I like that the Qunari soldiers here aren’t clones of one another but all look different. different hairstyles, sizes/bodies, clothes

love how our group work together, everyone has a strength and a role to play, the teamwork, the delegation, they’re like a DA basegame party or a D&D party

the way Fenris’ hand and arm glow in this sequence has been drawn/colored is smart - calling to mind the image of blue veins running through someone’s arm or below the skin on the backs of their hands

Fenris has surely picked up Fereldan sayings from Hawke.. stop .. my heart ;__;

the Fenris/Autumn exchange

this is so intense.. why do I get the feeling that Fenris has used this sort of torture technique before in his hunting and extermination of Danarius’ adult children campaign and/or his hunting of slavers as the BW with Shirallas campaign. it feels like he has done this sort of thing before in the time post-Kirkwall. I like that they didn’t hold back with a bit of gore here and there in this issue (phasing a hand and then solidifying it inside someone’s body, the Qunari attack portion in the street etc), while at the same time not being excessive with it.

this miniseries so far has good pacing, things moving along nicely and not being too slow or meandering

it’s smart having Tractus’ explanation of how to get in stay off-screen to the reader while we follow Francesca calling the alarm. It means we get to find out as we watch them infiltrate

omg those puncture wounds from his talons

when Fenris is about to kill Tractus after he tells him what he wanted to know, I’m strongly reminded of how he promised to let Hadriana go then killed her anyway, regardless of player choice. he has his ruthless streak and it feels like a callback. and before, when he was standing over Tractus when he was on the floor, echoes that scene in A Bitter Pill when he stands over Hadriana on the ground, who also reached for her staff

Tractus pale with bloodloss and fear

lmao @ Fran and Autumn’s faces when they walk in on this scene

Fenris listening to Vaea is nicely consistent with his character too imo - there are times in DA2 when Hawke can be like “Fenris no don’t do the Thing” and he doesn’t do the Thing

I have missed the way Fenris’ nose bridge crinkles when he’s angry

I wonder what the consequences of leaving Tractus alive will be. [tv announcer voice] FIND OUT NEXT TIME ON DARK FORTRESS

so the ritual will only take minutes to complete huh 👀

wow Neromenian has truly fallen, reeducation of the people of Tevinter continues as in Three Trees to Midnight in TN

explaining that they are speaking in Qunlat is a nice immersive touch and shows attention to detail of the lore of the world

bobbly-shoulders Qunari, Legolas hair Qunari, septum piercing Qunari, bobbly-brow Qunari, undercut Qunari. I wonder if the shoulder and brow protrusions are aspects we’ll see in the Qunaris’ latest design in DA4?

poor Tractus can’t catch a break lol. it has Not been Tractus’ day

Karasten: an infantry field commander

bit of Tevinter lampshading, lil fourth wall break with “This land and its obsession with magic. There is always a forbidden ritual with them” hhhhhh

Ringwraith on a horse moment at the end there

strong ending, can’t wait for next month weww.. 👀

#dragon age #bioware #dark fortress spoilers #dark fortress spoiler #spoilers #spoiler #fenris #the Fenaissance #dragon age: dark fortress spoilers #dragon age: dark fortress spoiler #video games #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #gore cw #blood cw

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waywardnerd67 · 4 years ago

Text

Spiraling

Summary: If something could go wrong in (Y/N)’s life then it did. Now she is on the verge of spiraling out of control. In her darkest moment, a hero will come to save her and set her on the path she was always meant to be on. Characters: Dean Winchester, Reader Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: Angst/Fluff/Self-hate Talk/Talk of Suicide Word Count: 5040 A/N: The last couple of months have been hard so this is my way of dealing with it. A lot of the details are from actual things going on in my life, but I’ve changed the specifics for storytelling purposes.

“Your cat needs emergency surgery to save her life. In order for us to proceed we need a down payment of $1500 and then the remaining $600 once she can go home.”

“Your starter is bad. You have a battery cable that is carotid. Plus we found that there is a leak in your head gasket and it will need to be replaced immediately. All together parts, labor and tax it will total $4976.”

“Effective Immediately: New Management. Your apartment complex is now under the management of Lindchest LLC. Your rent will go up starting November 2020 to $750 per month. There will be an additional pet deposit of $200 per pet and pet rent of $25 per pet. You will need to log on to our Tenant Portal to sign your lease within twenty-four hours or vacate your unit.”

I read the flyer that was haphazardly tape to my door once more. Looking down to Serenity, my cat with the $2100 bladder sighing, “Looks like you need to get a job.”

I unpacked my laptop letting it wake up only to discover that my internet was not working. I picked up my phone calling the all too familiar number.

“I’m sorry Ms. (Y/L/N), but it looks like there is a major outage in your area due to construction. We don’t have a timeframe of when it will be back up.”

I ended the call flopping down onto my couch, “I would love for one, just one, thing to go my way.”

The last month has been challenging between vet bills, my car being an oversized paper weight and my rent going up one hundred and seventy-five dollars plus two hundred dollar deposit. I did not think anything else could possibly go wrong until I arrived at work the next morning.

“Hey (Y/N), can we meet in my office?” my boss waved his hand for me to follow him.

A sinking feeling settled onto my chest as he asked me to close the door behind him, “I know we’ve had this conversation before, but your attendance.”

Tears welled up beneath my eyelids, but I held them back as he continued, “I know we’re trying to be cautious with COVID, but you’ve already been out sick quite a bit already.”

“I know I was, but my doctor recommended for me to stay out since I had more than half the symptoms of COVID.” My voice quivered at the end as my protective wall was crumbling.

He leant forward on his desk, “I know, but then it was your car issues and now you have a dentist appointment tomorrow morning that you just came to me about this morning. I just want to set up some firm guidelines for you using your time off from here on out. I would also like to see you come in for ninety days straight. (Y/N), you do a great job here, but you actually have to be here to do the job.”

“I know. I can reschedule my appointment for tomorrow and I will work with any guidelines you give me. I’m sorry about my attendance. I love my job and I love coming to work.” I was pleading as a wayward tear slipped down my cheek.

“I never once questioned that. We will work through this together. No need to reschedule your appointment since I approved it already. Going forward I will need at least one week's notice for you to use vacation days, forty-eight hours notice to use your personal days and twenty-four hours notice for your sick days.”

I nodded my agreement not trusting that I could hold the burning sob in my chest from bursting through. I left his office and spent the rest of my day in a complete daze. I drove home in the same daze only to have another flyer on my door from the new management.

“We Missed You! Dear Tenant, we entered your apartment today to make an assessment of it. We have found the following things broken, worn and in need of repair. Since this was not properly taken care of, you will be responsible for all repairs and they will need to be scheduled for completion within one week’s time. Please log on to your Tenant Portal to schedule this as soon as possible. Thank you, Lindchest, LLC”

I caught the edge of my kitchen counter as my legs gave out. The list of repairs was more than what I was renting the place for. I managed to get myself to my bedroom and landed face first on the mattress. Freely the tears flowed down my face and my body shook as overwhelming sorrow ran through her.

Serenity butted her head up against mine, “Hi baby. I’m sorry your mommy is a screw up. Would you want to go live with you grandma?”

She snuggled against my arm purring. My body relaxed as I continued to pet her and listen to her purring until finally I drifted off to sleep. Dreams of a better life tormented me throughout the night. The next morning, would solidify my darkest thoughts into a plan of action as the last bit of bad news I could take happened.

“We will need to extract two molars and all four wisdom teeth. I will refer you to an oral surgeon who can get you scheduled right away. After insurance, you’re probably looking at $1500 to $2000 for everything. You will have to provide fifty percent of the total at the time of service and then I’m sure they could work payments out for you.”

I took a deep breath, “Okay. If you could give me the information I will schedule it. I also need a note for my employer for today’s appointment.”

As I sat in the chair waiting for the dental assistant to come back my inner self yelled loudly.

“You are nothing in this world. You are providing nothing and only taking resources away from everyone. Serenity would be taken care of by your mom. Work will find someone to replace you in a snap. You have no friends. You have no place you can afford to live. I think it’s a sign from up above that now is your time to take matters in your own hands. It’s time to free up your space for someone more deserving. More functional. More worthy.”

“Everything okay?” I looked up to see the assistant holding my papers and I nodded.

I went through the motions of work as my mind was preoccupied of my choices for the evening. Texting my mom, I asked her to watch over Serenity for a while so I could find a new place for us. Nothing sounded out of the ordinary and I as I said goodbye to my co-workers for the evening, I felt peace come over me. Dropping off my cat to my mom, I told her I could not stay since I had plans. On my kitchen table there was one letter addressed to her that would be found when she would come get my things.

I walked a half a mile down to a bridge that was over the river I lived by. The sun had gone down hours ago and now all that was left was for me to finally do something right.

***

Dean Winchester parked his car near the Jefferson Bridge watching as people came and went over it. His brother Sam was flirting with the local librarian, so Dean decided to give him the motel room for the night. He deserved it after all the crap they had gone through. He looked down at his watch, seeing it was coming up at midnight when something caught his eye.

A woman was looking over the wall down to the water. Suddenly he became antsy as he continued to watch her. He got out of his car casually walking towards her so as to not spook her. The cool night breeze blew through her beautiful (Y/C/H) hair. Her body was like a country dirt road with curves for days. His eyes were drifting down her body when she hopped up onto the wall and his heart leaped into his throat.

“Oh no pretty girl, don’t do what I think you’re trying to do.” He whispered as her eyes stayed focused on the water below.

Dean picked up his pace just in time reaching for her as she leapt from the bridge. His hands grasping underneath her arm and at her wrist.

“No! Let me go! Please let me go!” She yelled as I tried to pull her up.

“Sweetheart, trust me, life is not so bad that you should jump off a bridge. Let me help you, please.” He pleaded feeling something deep within him stirring.

She tried to fight against him, but he could feel her losing strength. With one swift move he had her sitting back up on the wall of the bridge. His arm tightly wrapped around her waist as she began to weep.

“No, this is meant to be. I’m not meant to be here. I’m nothing.” She tried to get out of his grasp unsuccessfully.

He pulled her off the wall and carried her to his car, “I’m positive that’s not true. Come on, why don’t I buy you some food and a drink then we can talk about it.”

Her body went rigid, “Why are you being nice to me? You don’t even know me.”

“It’s what I do, sweetheart. I help people who need it no matter what, but if it makes you feel better I’m Dean. Now how about some food and a drink because I’m starving.” He slowly let go of her as she looked down towards the ground.

“(Y/N).” she whispered as she reluctantly, she got in his car sliding across to the passenger side.

Dean drove to the bar nearby his motel glancing over to her every once in a while. Closer now, she was even more beautiful than he originally thought. (Y/N)’s eyes were soft (Y/C/E) and perfect pouty lips. Her body was turned towards her door as she looked out the window but he could imagine himself curling up next to her.

“Let me guess, you’re staying at the Chippewa Motel.” (Y/N) had turned towards him as they pulled into the bar parking lot.

He chuckled, “Yeah, why?”

She let out a soft laugh, “Because those are the only people who go to Sunset Bar.”

For a moment as they got out of the car, Dean’s chest tightened afraid that she would take off. He relaxed when she started walking towards the door and looked behind her to see if he was following. Walking inside, (Y/N) went to the furthest booth in the building. Dean took it upon himself to order them a couple of burgers and beers.

Waiting for their beers, he noticed quite a few men taking an interest in (Y/N). Even red and puffy eyed, she was still catching every man’s eye in the place. Quickly grabbing their beers, he made his way to her staring down every man on the way. He bumped the bottle on her arm motioning for her to move over.

“Thanks.” She muttered, taking a sip and curling herself up on the far end of the bench.

“I wouldn’t normally sit like this with a total stranger, but I think it’s safer for you if I do.” He watched as her eyes followed his widening.

She moved a little closer to him just enough for his fingers to brush against her shoulder, “As much as I don’t want to be a part of this world anymore that is not the way I want to go out.” She waved her bottle out towards the dispersing crowd of men.

“Why do you want to end it all?” His curiosity was getting the best of him.

A beautiful woman like (Y/N) should have everything the world could offer her. Happiness, money, love. His heart skipped at the very word. He pushed it from his mind refocusing on her.

“Have you ever wondered if God was punishing you for something you had no idea you did wrong?” She took a long drag from her bottle and Dean found himself swallowing hard.

“All the freaking time.” He chuckled remembering the recent bombshell that he and Sam were destined to kill one another because of God’s need for a good ending to his story.

She sighed looking up as the bartender brought their food to them. For the first time, (Y/N) genuinely smiled, “Bacon cheeseburgers are my favorite.”

“Mine too.” He smiled back at her before they each took a large bite.

For the next half an hour explaining everything that had gone wrong in her life up until today. From bad decisions, divorce, mental breakdown one and two, loss of jobs, unemployment, her cat, her car, her current job and her tooth. He had to admit the string of bad luck was hard to deny. None of which was a good enough reason to end her life.

When the waitress came for our plates, (Y/N) asked for a glass of water finishing off her beer. I placed my large hand on top hers covering it completely.

“I’m sorry you’ve been through so much and nearly all of it is out of your control. If you could do anything except end your life, what would you do?”

“Well if money was no option then I would grab Serenity and start a new life somewhere far away. Of course, I would keep in contact with my mom, but she would understand me leaving.” She stared off for a moment her face softening at the very thought of leaving.

Before he could stop to think about the words coming from his mouth they were already hitting her delicate ears, “I think I could help you with that.”

“W-What?” Her piercing eyes bore into his with hope, “How could you help me?”

“That is a conversation for a more private place and whiskey.” He chuckled and down the rest of his beer.

Dean started laughing as she practically pushed him out of the booth, “Well come on hero, I know a place that is private enough to talk.”

He threw a few bills down on the table for a tip and allowed (Y/N) to drag him from the bar. She directed him back towards the bridge except this time she pointed to a small, run down apartment complex. He parked next to the car (Y/N) pointed out to be hers, a newer SUV.

“I will deal with you tomorrow.” He pointed to the vehicle giving it a stern look.

Following (Y/N) up the stairs to her little studio apartment, “This is where the hiked up the rent?”

She nodded, “Yeah. At the time, it was the cheapest place to live. You just happen to be in luck that I have a bottle of whiskey stashed away. It’s in the cabinet above the fridge. I’m going to change out of my clothes and freshen up a little.”

Dean watched her disappear behind a room divider and made himself tear his eyes away from watching her gorgeous silhouette. Easily grabbing the bottle and two cups from a local Mexican restaurant he noticed a letter on the table.

“Mom, I know you’re upset. No, I know you’re pissed. I gave up. I didn’t come to you like I promised I would. I couldn’t come to you again with all my problems. I truly believe I was not meant to be in this world and that is why my life has been one shit show after another. I’m taking resources away from this world and not contributing to it. Honestly, everything will move on and you will live out the rest of your life not having to worry about me anymore.

Please take care of Serenity for me. Give her all the hugs and snuggle her extra for me. Mom, this was never your fault and there was nothing you could have done to save me. My mind is made up. The decision was made. I want you to remember what good times there were. I’m sorry for being selfish. I’m sorry for leaving you. Please know I love you very, very much. Goodbye. Love, (Y/N)”

“That wasn’t for you to read.” A small voice brought his eyes from the page but not before a few teardrops could fall onto the page, “You’re crying, why?”

He wiped away the tears falling down his cheeks, “I-I don’t know. I guess reading a suicide note brings out my inner Mr. Sensitivity.”

He tried to give her a sad smile chuckling, but his heart shattering into pieces made it hard too. She took the bottle and cups leading him to the small loveseat. They sat down before downing their first pours of whiskey. The amber liquor burning down his throat and warming his chest. He poured them both another drink before going into his own story.

“My brother and I travel across the country hunting all kinds of… things that go bump in the night.” Dean completely opened up about everything in his life. Carefully watching her every reaction as he spoke and only felt that there was once she wanted to bolt for the door.

“Wait…” she took the bottle and drank from it, “monsters are real?”

He nodded grabbing the bottle for himself, “Yep. Vampires, werewolves, chupacabras.”

Taking a drink, he handed it back to her allowing it all to sink in, “Okay so how does that help me? I’m not interested in hunting monsters or being a monster.”

“Well that’s good because I wouldn’t allow a beautiful woman to become either of those things. I was thinking more along the lines of teaching you how we manage to get unlimited money and then you could move wherever your heart desires. Is that more your speed?”

She nodded, “Now you’re speaking my language. God, it would be amazing to live somewhere remote where I could just write all day long.”

“Well, Sam and I can make that happen for you. We’re probably going to be leaving to head back home in a couple of days. You could travel with us then we could get you all set up and on a plane to all points nowhere, USA.”

Suddenly, (Y/N) launched herself into his arms hugging him tightly, “I can’t thank you enough, Dean.”

His arms wrapped around her and everything felt complete with her, it was strange for him to feel that way. Never once had he ever felt whole but a never ending void deep in his soul that was closing being near her. She pulled away slightly then pressed her lips to his cheek.

***

The next day, Dean had a heated conversation with his brother Sam. Once he was off the phone, he confirmed that I would follow them back to Lebanon, Kansas in my car once he fixed it. He dropped me off at work where everyone noticed the one hundred eighty degree mood change in me. I spent my last hour typing a resignation letter to my boss leaving it on his desk and packing up the few personal items I had.

Dean was waiting for me in the parking lot with his beloved car, “How was work?”

“It was… good. I’m happy to never have to go back to it again though.” He opened the door for me to slide in.

“Dean, would it be okay to stop by my mom’s to get Serenity?” His piercing emerald eyes narrowed for a split second before he smirked.

“Yeah, we can go get the furball.” He chuckled pulling out of the parking lot and leaving that part of me behind us.

I found out that Dean was an amazing liar, but also charming. He won my mom over in a few short minutes as Serenity jumped up onto my lap. I petted her a few times before resting my cheek against the top of her head.

I whispered to her, “Go check him and let me know what you think.”

I watched the shorthair tabby jump off her lap and up onto Dean’s. She sniffed him as he held his hand out to her. His nose began to twitch and she jumped down with a huff before he sneezed.

“Sorry furball, I’m allergic to you.” He sniffled before excusing himself to the bathroom.

Serenity meowed up at me before getting in her crate. The fact she did not hiss was a good sign and I closed her crate up after one last pet.

“So, how did you really meet Dean?” I knew my mom could see right through his story, so I told her the truth, “(Y/N) (Y/L/N), you should have come to me.”

“I know, but I just couldn’t. I was tired of being a screw up. I gave up.” The last few words were a whisper as my mom got up to sit next to me.

Her arms were around me as tears fell from both of our eyes, “Well I’m glad he saved you. Did you find a place to live?”

I pulled away from her, “Kind of. Dean and his brother are going to help me settle into a new spot. I will call you with all the details.”

I looked up to see Dean standing behind us, “I promise to take care of her.”

“Sounds like you already have. Thank you for saving my daughter.” In a rare moment, I watched as my mom got up hugging someone other than me. Dean was tense for a moment before hugging her back.

The rest of the evening and into the night, Dean spent working on my car. I sat outside with him on the green cooler from his car handing him tools. Grease covered his arms, hands and clothes.

“Hey tiny fingers, come here and get this bolt off.” He called out from under the engine.

I stepped on top of the cooler reaching over looking down to see his beautiful eyes staring back at me. Reaching down my fingers brushed against his as I loosened the bolt in question. Getting down off the cooler I found myself straddling over Dean’s chest as he slid out from underneath the car.

“Hey there pretty girl.” He smirked as I moved back from him.

“Ha. Ha. So, what’s the verdict?” I watched as he stood up seemingly towering over me.

I tried hard to concentrate on him, but between the leather musk on his skin and engine grease was making me dizzy, “Hello? Earth to (Y/N)?”

“What? Sorry, what did you say?” I felt my face burning as he stepped closer to me.

“Am I distracting you from paying attention?” Backing up until my butt was against his car, his hands rested on either side of me caging me in.

“I have n-no idea what you’re talking about. So, tell me is my car a goner?” I swallowed the large lump knotted in my throat.

Dean leaned in closer until their noses were almost touching tilting his head slightly, “Your car is fine. The mechanic was trying to get more money out of you. The head gasket is in great shape.”

He stepped back with a smug grin on his face and my body seemingly followed along with him before I stopped it, “That’s great news! The sooner we’re out of here, the better.”

The next morning, I woke up to low murmuring voices. One was distinctively Dean’s voice, “Sammy, I don’t know how else to say it clearer.”

His brother spoke in a concerned hushed tone, “I think you need to come up with another way because you’re sounding ridiculous right now.”

“All I know is that I have never felt this way in my life. Cassie, Jo, Lisa, none of them made me feel complete. None of them took away the gaping, endless void inside of me. I didn’t even think it was possible to feel this way, but here I am.”

Dean sounded distressed and that made my chest ache. I knew exactly how he was feeling since I had felt it since the moment we met. I had been trying to ignore the comfort and hope swelling inside me, but it was getting harder.

“Sounds like you’re talking about love at first sight or even soulmates.” Sam seemed more curious now than frustrated.

I took this opportunity to walk out from behind the wall divider, “Good morning.”

Dean’s eyes met me first bringing a warm smile to his handsome face, “Hey (Y/N), good morning. We didn’t wake you up?”

I shook my head feeling Sam’s gaze on me as I looked down at Dean’s Zeppelin t-shirt covering me, “Um I spilled spaghetti sauce on my last clean shirt. Dean was nice enough to let me borrow one of his.” I felt my face heating up as Sam nodded.

“Uh-huh.” He stood up walking towards me. Sam loomed over me pulling a flask from his jacket pocket, “Could you stick out your arm for me, please?”

I looked over to Dean who was rolling his eyes, “Sam it’s not necessary.”

“It is for me,” He looked at me as I brought my arm out and he poured what seemed to be water on my arm, “Okay, just a few more tests to go.”

I held a bandana from Dean over the small cut on my arm wincing, “What was that for?”

Sam wiped the blade on his jacket as Dean pushed him back gently. His vibrant olive eyes focused on tying the bandana, “Silver blade to make sure you’re not a werewolf or shapeshifter.”

“I’m sorry to be this way, but this whole situation is weird and I have to protect my brother,” Sam held his hand out to me, “It’s nice to meet you, (Y/N).”

I shook his hand, “Yeah, nice to meet you too. Look, as strange as you both think this is, I feel the same way.”

I made sure to look at Dean when I spoke and his eyes widened, “Really?”

I nodded, “There’s a connection here that I can’t explain. Frankly, I don’t care if it’s ever explained to me. All I know is that being with you feels right.”

Sam's disapproving grunt had us both looking to him, “I think we should do a little more research into this. We should definitely get back to the Bunker and maybe ask Rowena for some help.”

A soft meow came from the ground below as Serenity rubbed against Sam’s legs affectionately. He knelt down petting her and I was surprised to see her go belly up.

“Wow, you must be an animal lover because Serenity has never done that with anyone but me.” I knelt down as well petting her soft fur.

For the first time, I watched Sam let down his guard and chuckled, “I’m usually a dog person but hard to say no to a cat who accepts you.”

“Wonderful, you and the furball can take (Y/N)’s car while she and I ride in Baby.” Dean slipped his arm around my shoulders bringing me into his side.

Sam nodded silently as his eyes never left me. It felt as if he were trying to read me, but there was nothing to reveal. By late morning, we were on the road to Lebanon, Kansas. It would be at least a day’s travel to get there, which Dean reassured me that they had done longer trips than this before. We filled the time by talking about everything from childhoods to Winchester's most interesting hunts. When I would get sleepy, Dean would pull me into his side and turn on his favorite mixtape. Being with him was as easy as breathing to me.

After a few stops for food and gas, we finally hit the city limits of Lebanon. The small town looked straight out of a 50’s sitcom. As we drove out of the rustic town, we drove down a long paved drive behind what looked to be an abandoned building of some kind. I was shocked when we came upon a large set of doors that opened into a full stocked garage.

“Welcome home.” Dean said as he parked his car with Sam pulling up next to him.

The Men of Letters Bunker, as the brother called it, was massive. Sam happily told me the history of the secretive group and how their family tied into it. Dean walked by my side with his fingers laced with mine holding my hand. We came to a door with the number eleven on it and Dean pulled her inside.

“This is my room. Of course, it’s the coolest room here except for maybe the Fortress of Deanitude.”

I looked around at all the weapons displayed on the walls. His massive record collection was set up in bins. His desk contained a computer, a small lamp and a tiny picture. I picked it up seeing Dean who was a young child with a woman he looked familiar too.

He gently took the picture from my hand, “My mom and I. It’s the last picture of us together before she was killed,” he placed the picture back in its spot.

After getting Serenity and I settled into our new room, I found myself overcome with exhaustion. Laying down on my new bed with Serenity lying next to me, I feel into the most peaceful night of sleep I have had in awhile. Dreams of adventures with Dean filling my head.

***

Dean sat with Sam in the Library, a soft smile permanent etched onto his face. Sam’s nose was nearly pressed against his computer screen looking into (Y/N). He was waiting for Rowena to call him back when a familiar voice came from near the Bunker door.

“You would have to go find your soulmate and end the world, Winchester.”

Sam and Dean looked up to see Billie standing tall holding her scythe, her hard eyes glaring down at them.

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#dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #READ THE WARNINGS #angst #mentions of self hate #talk of suicide #fluff

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jimlingss · 5 years ago

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The President’s Son [16]

Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 16.5 OR Chapter 17

➜ Words: 4.6k

➜ Genres: 100% Fluff, Slice of Life, Bodyguard!AU

➜ Summary: Kim Taehyung is the President’s son, mischievous and playful, and infamous for being a troublemaker. When everyone’s given up, they call for you to be his personal guard. There’s no other choice when your dad’s assigned you to it and surprisingly Taehyung doesn’t mind either. Maybe because you happened to grow up with that brat.

She stops when you pass, calling for your name. The polished woman sends a reserved smile when you turn around to meet her eye, and she finishes her conversation with the girl following her before she’s dismissed, off to run an errand or maybe send a message. Taehyung’s stepmother asks how you are, catching up when she’s been so preoccupied lately with duties of The First Lady. “Good, good. I’m glad you’re doing well. How about Taehyung? How is he?” “He’s doing well,” you say, despite knowing full well it’s already in the report that she’s read. “Keeping up with classes, completing his art portfolio. He’s been thinking of joining a club which would help him network and make connections to others too.” The woman nods, the corner of her lipstick stained mouth curling. “He’s a troublemaker, but a sensitive soul — though I have a feeling you already know that.” Her irises twinkle, perceptive in a way that is almost intrusive. “I’m thankful he has someone close to him that he trusts. You don’t have to worry, by the way, if you’d like to get...closer to him.” You don’t understand what she’s trying to imply, and she merely smiles at your confused expression before glancing down at her dainty watch adorning her wrist. “Well, I must get going. I have a meeting to attend, but if there’s ever any time you need my help, I’m a phone call away.” “Thank you.” Your head bows and she makes a noise of acknowledgment, another farewell, and the First Lady saunters down the corridor. You muse how difficult it is to figure her out — for a long time you already knew that she’s more than Taehyung makes her out to be. His personal and petty vendetta against the woman who remarried his father is childish at best and blinding at its worst, robbing him of an opportunity to have a close relationship with her. But even after so long and interacting with the woman, you, yourself, can’t seem to understand her actions, intentions, personality traits. But you’re not too hung up about it, having an inkling that she’s far from being any sort of bad person. She seems to make Taehyung’s dad happy and that’s all that really matters. You continue through the house, trying to make it towards the front entrance, but it’s not long before you’re stopped again. “Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in.” A rush of air leaves your nose and you eye him. “Looks like you’re free.” Jungkook grins boyishly. “I managed to grab myself a break. Even the best need rest.” “Huh, really? I guess I need to go rest then.” His smile only expands, hands burying in his suit pants pockets and he stops right in front of you with all the time in the world. “Seriously though, how have you been?” “Fine. Same old. Nothing really changes. You?” “Same,” he hums, doe eyes twinkling with judgment. “We should grab a drink though. Looks like you need it.” You scoff, a smile tugging up your face. “I do not.” “Trust me, anyone and everyone who watches Mr. Kim Taehyung needs a drink. Even you, lion tamer.” Jungkook grins and the cute mole dotting near his bottom lip becomes more prominent. “And don’t go rubbing it in our faces that he’s not that bad. You know Hoseok’s pissed, right? He face-planted and almost broke his nose once when he was trying to chase after him. Doesn’t sit well when the noobie does better than those who have been around here for years.” You shrug. “I can’t help being good at my job.” “Nah, he’s just freaking biased as all hell….” The bodyguard’s eyes narrow and he nods, smile becoming more sly. “Though I gotta admit I’m surprised that you’ve grown to actually like him.” “Why? I’m apathetic towards things, you know that.” “No, I mean you actually like him.” There’s a pause. “What?” Jungkook sighs. “Never mind, dense girl. Now I’m beginning to understand why he always calls you ‘dumbo’ all the time. Cute nickname though.” Your brow lifts and you scoff. “Don’t call me that.” Your peer gives you a wolfish grin. “Offended? You’re not when he says it.” “Hey!” Suddenly the pair of you are interrupted by a figure standing at the end of the hallway. It’s a dapper, dark and handsome man who’s striding towards you. Your eyes widen, but his are pinpointed on the man beside you. “Are you slacking, Jeon?” All traces of the playful man disappear and Jungkook answers timidly, “No.” Seokjin smiles at you. “Hey, chickpea. Haven’t seen you around in a while.” He turns and like a switch, his expression becomes grim. “This guy, on the other hand, I thought I told you to go to your post ten minutes ago.” You hitch a thumb over. “He just told me he’s resting.” The boy is appalled at how quickly you betrayed him, his jaw dropping, but standing in front of his senior, he tries to play it off. “Psh, resting? No. I meant I was arresting. I got a report that there’s a suspicious man on the grounds. Was looking for him.” “Really?” Seokjin crosses his arms, staring him down. It’s too amusing to watch and you’re sure your old classmate doesn’t enjoy the smile on your face at the moment. “Because I didn’t hear anything about that.” There’s an awkward laugh. Jungkook tries to slip away, but Jin shakes his head, not letting him when his hand comes down onto the younger’s shoulder, gripping and squeezing tightly to keep him in place. “C’mon, we’re needed in the East hall.” Before dragging him off, Jin bids you farewell and promises to catch up later. Jungkook, on the other hand, moves his thumb slowly across his throat with eyes narrowed into slits, threatening you for throwing him under the bus. You wave goodbye to him, enjoying his despair too much. You make your way towards the entrance again, crossing through the maze of hallways and rooms, ducking your head when there’s people of prestige making small talk and brushing past, evading when tour groups weave through the corridors. But before you can make it to your destination, you’re stopped by a familiar voice. “Hey, dumbo! Over here!” Turning in your spot, Kim Taehyung’s running up to you at full speed, throwing his arms open to engulf you in a suffocating hug. You’re shoved into his chest, voice muffled through his cotton shirt. It’s unprofessional — not that it matters anymore — but you’re still in the Blue House with hundreds of eyes probably looking at you. Though rather than getting in trouble, you have a feeling it’s solidifying your position as Taehyung’s bodyguard. No one can handle this position better than you can. No one is liked more by Taehyung himself. “What are you doing here?” You finally pry him off, looking over to acknowledge Jimin who joins with an apologetic smile. “I was about to go to you.” “Yeah, I know. I wanted to get rid of him early,” Taehyung says and motions his chin towards the shorter male. “His shift is over. So I decided to come to you first.” “I still have ten minutes left before the hour’s over,” his bodyguard chirps with a good-natured smile, but it falls when the college student cranes his neck, tight-lipped and eye twitching. “N-never mind.” Much to Taehyung’s dismay, you invite him, “You should join us, Jimin.” The boy smiles, eyes crinkling, and worries soothed by your reassurance. “Okay.” “How was class?” you ask as he leads the way. You don’t know where Taehyung’s going, but it’s certain that he’s not staying at the Blue House longer than he needs to. “It was boring. I almost bashed my head on the desk when the prof started talking about government systems in the eighteen hundreds. I couldn’t care less.” He groans in exhaustion, hand dragging over his face, bored just talking about it. You hum, syncing your footsteps with his and failing to notice how Jimin naturally falls behind. “Your stepmother asked about you.” “About what?” His brow lifts in skepticism, less curious and more alarmed. You shrug. “Just how you were doing.” “What did you say?” “What she already knows. A little about your schooling, that you’re doing pretty okay.” “Pretty okay? I’m doing fantastic!” Taehyung exclaims in feigned exasperation, mischief leaking into his tone. “I have no idea why she’s trying to pry though. Woman can’t keep her nose out of people’s business.” “She’s nice—” “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Taehyung waves his hand lifelessly, ending the subject. “Anyways, I was thinking about something recently and I have a plan.” “A plan?” You eye him. It was never good when he made a plan. Taehyung doesn’t make plans. The man grins, mouth drawing into a rectangular shape, enthusiasm and eagerness suddenly summoned to make his brown irises twinkle. “Yep. Let’s go on a date.” “No.” You answered instinctively, like a withdrawal reflex. And he pretends he doesn’t hear the outright rejection. “I want to make the hypothetical a reality. You said yourself that you’d have to be in the moment to see if you’d date me, right? So let’s make the moment happen.” “Absolutely not.” “Umm...you guys?” Jimin raises a finger in the air, trying to remind the two of you of his presence. “Why not?” Taehyung inquires genuinely, gaze seeking the same amount of sincerity. He’s not joking like you wish he was. “I’m on duty.” “Then we can wait when you’re off.” “Um...my shift’s over, guys,” Jimin pipes up, squeaking like a mouse. “It’s still unprofessional, Taehyung.” You stop dead in your tracks and he halts on his own feet. The both of you come face to face with one another. “I can’t date the people I work for.” “You don’t work for me.” “Didn’t you say that I did?” you calmly reason, reminding him of his own words. “You said I worked for you and no one else.” Taehyung’s mouth fills with cotton, rendered speechless. In the meanwhile, Jimin steps forward. “C-Can I go now?” No one hears him. Not when the air is this emotionally charged and you’re holding your bated breath while Taehyung never strays from his intense eye-contact. “It’s unethical.” “Is that it? Is that the only reason you have for me?” “Taehyung.” Your voice is full of warning, but you don’t know what you’re threatening him with. Maybe it’s simply to stop him from talking before he keeps going and makes you question yourself. You’re afraid of how you might waver. “If you don’t like me like that, if you’re truly not curious about what it would be like and you don’t even want to give it a try, then tell me, right now. Tell me so I don’t have to keep putting my hope into us.” Taehyung is serious, expression solemn. You don’t know where it’s coming from. “There is no us.” “Really? I highly doubt that,” he says it with so much confidence. You’re baffled, not knowing what he means, and staring straight at him. Taehyung shrugs and walks off. “I won’t force you into anything though.” You watch how he strolls nonchalantly, hands digging into his pockets. A sigh spills from your throat and you turn around. “Jimin, you can go now. I’ll take it from here.” “O-oh, okay.” He’s a deer in headlights, flushing from Taehyung’s declaration of affections even though you should be the one with heated cheeks and widened eyes. “Will you be okay?” “I’ll be fine.” You smile to reassure him, and you’re not wrong. When aren’t you fine? You catch up with Taehyung who’s speed walking down the street. He doesn’t seem to be angry or upset in the least bit, merely sulking as usual. “Where are you going?” “Does it matter?” He scoffs. “You have to follow me anywhere I go anyways.” It stays quiet for an extended moment. It’s difficult to wrap your mind around it. You’ve only been asked out once before, back in the academy, to which you politely turned down, not wanting to lose focus on why you had come there. Your entire life has been spent in concentration, disciplined, never straying off from goals or indulging in frivolous things, like dates or social events. But maybe you should’ve seen it coming. When you consider it, it’s not out of nowhere. You and Taehyung have shared at least two meals a day together for the past two months. You’ve shared a bed with him, let him hug you close, let him draw you in such an intimate manner. Taehyung’s stopped being just a friend a long time ago — and deep down you know it too. “The movie theater?” you question when he finally stops. “Problem?” He looks up at the screen with the titles flashing by. “I’ve been wanting to watch something for a while now.” With a deep inhale, he smiles and approaches the booth. “Two tickets to When Spring Meets Autumn, please.” The lady behind the glass takes his cash and slides two tickets over. “The auditorium is to your left, number twenty one.” “Thanks.” Taehyung stops at the concession. You step beside him, puzzled to no end. “A romcom?” “Why?” He smiles, and it’s small and coy. “I like romance movies too, y’know. They’re sweet.” The vendor interrupts the conversation. “Next, please.” “Yes, can I get an extra large popcorn, please?” “Is that all?” “Should we get drinks?” Taehyung looks over at you and you’re speechless, unable to respond when you don’t know what he’s doing. After a beat, he smiles at your silence and looks back at the vendor. “We’ll probably just take a medium-sized drink. Coke with no ice.” “What are you doing, Taehyung?” you ask while he leads you into the dark theater. “I’m enjoying a movie...with you.” Taehyung tells you to hold the drink and you feel his hand press on your shoulder, guiding you to the center row. “Wait. It’s dangerous,” you whisper and before he can protest no one’s going to attack him, you insist, “Let’s sit on the edge.” For the first time, Taehyung obliges your will. While you still can’t see well in this amount of darkness and your hearing is distorted with the surrounding speakers, everyone who wants to get to Taehyung has to go through you first. It puts your mind at a little more ease. But you still turn around to look at other people, swiveling in all directions, assessing the premise and every entrance, exit. Suddenly, there’s warmth on your arm. Taehyung's leaned the bag of freshly popped popcorn over to you. “Want some?” “Sure.” You dip your hands in, grabbing only two. It’s buttery on your tongue, the taste addicting. You realize just how long it’s been since you’ve watched a movie in an actual theater — free time is better spent brushing your skills at the dojo, practicing on the shooting-range, working out, or resting for the next day. The commercials play, loud, and he reclines his seat back. Taehyung glances at you before he’s moving over, whispering in your ear. His hot breath skims against your skin, oddly causing your chest to stutter. “Relax. We’ll be fine. I promise you no one’s going to try to get me in the middle of the movie theater, okay?” “You can’t promise something like that.” “No,” he whispers back with a smile. “But I can promise you’ll have a better time if you’re not constantly worried. I know it’s your job, but it’s also called pacing, dumbo. You’ll wear yourself down if you’re always on high alert.” He has a point. One that you never really considered before. So you release a shaky breath held in your throat and look towards the screen. Taehyung smiles at you, glad that you can relax even if it’ll only last for a short while. The two of you lean back and when the movie begins, the lights dim even more, sound increasing in volume, screen expanding. Your hand reaches over, accidentally knocking into Taehyung’s as he’s also reaching in the bag for popcorn. And he lingers there, never once withdrawing, allowing the back of your hands to press against each other. You look over and the blonde pretends he doesn’t know what’s going on until three seconds pass and he finally grabs a handful, moving away. You scoff lightly, mouth pulling with a smile he doesn’t see. The movie is absolutely terrible. The prettiest actress gets killed off within the first ten minutes by a car accident and the rest of it is terribly dull and predictable. It doesn’t help that once your hand meets the bottom of the popcorn bag, there’s nothing else to preoccupy your time with. But halfway through the film, goosebumps suddenly raise all over the back of your neck. You’re made hyperaware, feeling Taehyung draping his arm over the back of your chair. From the close proximity, you hear him clear his throat. Every movement he makes, your eyes and ears pick up on it, overly conscious of his presence in a way that almost makes you feel…..nervous. And you don’t feel nervous often. You end up leaning in towards the man, shuffling closer. When you turn your head to stare, he notices your gaze and shifts himself. Both of your eyes set on each other, connected. The profile of his visage is illuminated by the luminescence of the film, his features softened and glowing in the white lights. You come closer, lips parting. Taehyung stares and swallows hard, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. You can see his lashes, the tiny freckles and moles dotting his face in spontaneous areas, details that you never noticed from afar. You see him clearly. “Taehyung.” “Hmm?” “Did you wear deodorant?” His expression falls. He moves away. His arm drops off your chair. “Course I did!” “Shush!” The person in front of him turns around with a glare and he’s left muttering a halfhearted apology. Your facade cracks with a smile while Taehyung sips on his drink, sulking. For the rest of the time, he keeps his hands to himself and voluntary, you lean closer to him — just because warmth seems to radiate off of him. “What did you think?” “Movie was mediocre.” you say and Taehyung agrees. “Where are we going now?” His pace quickens as if it’ll be enough for you to just follow along and be unable to put up a fight. “I’m hungry, aren’t you?” “Well, I’m oka—” “I got a reservation at a pretty nice place. It’s at eight, so we’re right on time.” It’s a walk down the street, a mere block away, obviously planned so that it was easy without escape. Taehyung even opens the door for you, ushering you in like a gentleman. And once you enter, you’re put at a standstill. He doesn’t eat at a place like this. Kim Taehyung craves fast food and greasy snacks, burgers and fries, ice-cream and carbonated drinks. But here are candlelit dinners, meager portions of steak, orders of not just simple meals, but appetizers and desserts. You’re frozen until Taehyung guides you forward after he says his name and the waitress shows him to the table. A personal waiter introduces himself, showing the menus and pouring iced water by a whole fucking fancy pitcher and an arm behind his back, practiced after months of work. You’ve been to places like this before, just standing at the back with your eyes pinned forward, on alert without moving like a statue while the important people chatted and ate together. Never did you consider that you’d one day sit at the table as well. “This is a date, Taehyung.” “What? “ He doesn’t even look at you, browsing the menu. “Who says?” “A movie? A dinner?” “We watch TV and eat together all the time.” He languidly shrugs. “Yeah, but not like this. Not at a place like this.” The man puts the menu down and folds his hands in his lap, eyes flickering up to you with a smile less than innocent. “I said I would treat you to something, remember? So take it as that.” “Taehyung….” “Do you want this to be a date?” he questions, becoming increasingly upset with the distant way you look up at him. This is not how he envisioned it to be. “You already said no. I get it. So stop insisting this is a date then. Just eat and we’ll go home. Think of it as me paying back the favour.” It’s silent, awkward even. There’s chatter all around you, warm conversations surrounding the space between the decorative walls. But between you and Taehyung, it’s gone cold, and you can’t understand. You cannot fathom how you’ve gotten here in the first place. It’s too difficult to comprehend alone. “Why did you even ask me that earlier? Why did you ask me on a date?” “Because if it wasn’t obvious enough, I like you, dumbo. A lot,” Taehyung emphasizes and ducks his head across the table where no one can eavesdrop. “I have since you appeared in front of me and saved me during the whole hostage shit.” “You’re confused,” you tell him. “You’re confusing gratitude with other feelings—” “I’m not.” His pitch raises into frustration and his hand crumples into a fist. “Stop taking my feelings so lightly, Y/N. I’m not a child. I’m not kidding either. I’m being serious. I like you.” No one around knows what’s happening. You’re in your own bubble shared with Taehyung, an intimate confession spilled while surrounded by strangers. “I get that you might not feel the same,” he says, “But stop treating my feelings as a joke.” The waiter steps up, unknowingly interrupting, but allowing you a moment to break away and think. “Hi, are you ready to order?” “S-sure.” Taehyung makes his order and you say you’ll have the exact same. It’s awkward as he takes the menus, suffocating silence that maybe the waiter feigns ignorance to. He flashes a charming smile, promising it’ll be out in about ten minutes and he fills your glasses of water again, excruciatingly slow. You and Taehyung watch the water flow, the ice clinking against the glass…. Finally after five full minutes, the waiter leaves. Taehyung’s left staring at the flower centerpiece and you’re turning the fork over the table, fiddling with the hem of the white cloth napkin. “I’ve….never dated anyone before.” “I know.” “I don’t know what it means to be in a romantic relationship.” “To be honest, me neither.” “You told me I was emotionally stunted. I can’t offer what you’re looking for.” “The only thing I’m looking for is you.” You swallow hard. “What if it doesn’t work?” Your gaze meets his and he holds it, unyielding. The two of you are no longer children or just childhood friends, a bodyguard and college boy. You’re adults, two human beings with statuses that don’t matter. “Then you’d still be my best friend.” Taehyung takes a deep breath. “I meant it. That night, when I told you no one could take your place ever. That I wanted you. Badly. I meant every word that I said.” Someday, he’ll no longer be the President’s son. Someday, you’ll no longer have a professional obligation to hold up to anymore. Someday, Taehyung’s greatest wish would come true and he’ll return to a life of normalcy or something that at least resembles it. That same someday, you’ll just be two adults who grew up together — just like now, but it’ll stay that way even after leaving this place. “Would you ever date me?” — “You kind of have to be in the moment to know.” You remember what you told him. It still holds true now. “Someday,” you answer him earnestly. “Someday, when it’s all over, I’ll go on a date with you and then we’ll see what becomes of it.” “Someday,” Taehyung murmurs after you, mimicking you as it sinks in. “What does that mean?” A week from now? A month? A year? Ten years? “When I’m not your bodyguard anymore.” You turn to him again. “When I’m not working under my dad. When you’ve graduated and you’re doing what you want and I’m not holding you back. When I’m more confident in being able to express myself and communicate properly….” “Someday….” Taehyung repeats it to himself. It takes three seconds — three seconds and a smile comes across his face. “I hope you can keep that promise, dumbo. I can wait a lifetime if I have to.” // The pair of you eat dinner together, bantering and chattering. It’s not awkward or difficult like earlier with the weight of his declaration lingering above your heads and an answer caught in your throat, jumbling the rest of your words. Time moves quickly, and he pays like he said he would, opening the door when you leave together — careful and kind in his actions like his hopes still depend on it. Outside, he holds your hand and you let him without protest. The promise has been ingrained between the both of you. “Where are we going now?” “Back to my place,” he says. “Date’s over, dumbo. You’re just dropping me off my doorstep now.” “So it was a date, huh? Finally admitting it?” “Oops.” Taehyung grins. “How’d I do?” You shrug. “Not bad, I guess. I think I’d have to go on dates with other guys to be able to compare though.” A laugh squeezes out from him. “Hey! You better keep that someday free. I’m gonna hold you accountable. Even if you’re married with a kid in this ‘someday’, I’m still gonna show up at your door. Just letting you know that. I won’t give up — took you nine years to come back. I can wait another nine if I have to.” “If you don’t want to, you don’t—” “I want to,” he interrupts with a sweet smile, and you wonder how he can be so bold, so sure of himself. It goes quiet and both your steps slow. His hand squeezes yours. The mosaic of lights coming from shops and street lamps casts on his softened features, making him glow. And you don’t think about it. Instincts charge the air. You allow emotions to choose the course of your actions — not logic, not muscle memory, or obligated duty. You lift yourself and his hand lets go of yours, lifting to cup your cheek. Taehyung’s half-lidded eyes watch your expression and your own lids shut tight. You lean in for a kiss, a gentle press of your mouths against one another. It’s terrible — noses knocking against each other, you missing his mouth and getting the corner instead, holding your breath for too long and running out of air. You end up pulling away, gasping with your face hot, murmuring apologies. “S-sorry.” “Don’t be, dumbo.” Taehyung smiles and this time, he’s the one who leans in. He inhales and kisses you with his mouth slightly parted. It’s plush, timid, but still full of eagerness, and your senses are filled with the scent of lavender, baby lotion, something you didn’t notice in the wake of nervousness. It lasts ten seconds before it breaks apart. “There. That’s how you do it.” Kim Taehyung reaches down to hold your hand, grinning to himself. He swings his arm back and forth, excited with a bounce in his step. You’re the one following him now. “Man, this someday’s gonna be great.” You laugh and he savours the sound.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #taehyung fanfic #taehyung sccenario #taehyung fluff #OOF THINGS ARE FINALLY HAPPENING Y'ALL #FINALLY #AFTER 16 CHAPTERS

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eclectic-aussie · 4 years ago

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Random Thoughts #15

Well damn, that was a heavy episode. I kind of regret stumbling on tumblr before watching the episode because the ending was spoiled but at the same time it gave me time to brace myself for it, though my hearts still sore at the betrayal even if Bellamy thinks it’s like chipping Madi: done for the greater good.

But after seeing the promo for next week I’m also regretting not waiting until all the episodes aired so I could binge watch them BECAUSE GOD DAMN IT, I WANT TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS NEXT AND I WANT TO KNOW NOW!! Which is only the second time I’ve really felt that way all season, the first after last weeks episode when Clarke came back.

I can’t help but wonder at a few possibilities that might come up; the Conductor accused Bellamy of selfish obsessive love (though honestly I’d say that’s more his girlfriend than him, but not the point) and Bellamy past insecurities and self doubt/loathing makes him blind to the good he’s done (he convinced Madi to spare the prisoners and bring them with them on the Eligius, put the Flame in Madi to try and make a peace treaty with the Eligius which became moot after Murphy accidentally on purpose put McCreary in charge just to name 2)

But what I think may come up is that while the Conductor decided Bellamy’s love is selfish, they’re going to be probing Clarke’s mind against her will (there’s a word for that, and I can’t help but think that’s going to come up later when Bellamy becomes himself again) and they’re going to realise that Clarke loves selflessly to the point where she will sacrifice her life over and over again for others she barely knows. She has taken on the pain and loss, breaking herself over and over again to protect her people. Even Roan mentioned it in season 4 when he and Bellamy were taking the Hydrozene to Raven at Becca’s lab when Bellamy scoffed at Roan for only caring about his people and Roan pointed out that Bellamy was no different and everyone was looking out for themselves (PAUSE) except maybe Clarke.

Some predictions and questions I have after this week’s episode, and seeing the promos, for the fun of it and I want to get them out:

1.Becho will break-up. It’s something I’ve said since last season, but remember a week ago when Echo was going to genocide Bardo in Bellamy’s name? Remember in the promo Echo telling Bellamy he’s ‘lost himself?’ And how Bellamy is now a member of the cult that Echo tried to massacre? You really don’t think Cadogan’s going to give the body count to Bellamy when he asks why they’re locked up? I think we’ll get a scene where Bellamy ends their relationship with Echo maybe even telling her that it took the almost genocide to realise that he had wanted so badly that who she was on the Ring was who she really was, but her actions on Bardo showed she hadn’t really changed and that she still chose to make the same mistakes as before Praimfaya but now for Spacekru instead of Azgeda. Probably ending with Raven telling Echo that it was just the brainwashing and they’ll be back together when he’s better and other things of that nature which are coddling (like how both women are treated in the show. Sorry, couldn’t resist) and unlikely. I think it will probably come after the scene where Bellamy gives Cadogan the picture of his family and he burns it to prove his detachment from personal ties. Then again he’s a sociopath so…

2.Clarke will be tortured in the M-Cap machine. Yes, we all know this will happen because of the promo, and also in the promo is the fact that Clarke is fighting it; evidenced by the black blood streaming down each side of her face as the points dig into her skull. We also know Bellamy is there watching her being tortured and as far as we know doing nothing to stop it besides probably telling her to just co-operate. I know everyone is hoping this will be where Bellamy hears the radio calls, but I don’t think that’s what’s going to happen. Now hear me out: Clarke is in that chair because Cadogan wants all info he can get about the Flame and who might have more info about it, do you really think he’s just going to stand there with his newest recruit, who he believes is the key to controlling Clarke, while her memories of her love of Bellamy possibly work to undo his indoctrination? No, I think Cadogan will use Bellamy to establish a neural link and then when he realises the threat Clarke poses to keeping Bellamy as his disciple, he’ll send him away, possibly to talk to his other friends and try to ‘reason’ with them. I also think this would be a wonderful time to have Clarke relive Echo trying to kill her ‘to avenge Bellamy’ while Raven and Shaw watch and Madi orders her down using a Heda order (not that Cadogan will know that), because it will show a previous ‘kill to avenge Bellamy’ moment that will solidify Bellamy’s belief that his break-up with Echo was the right choice, but it would also work in Cadogan’s favour of ‘selfless love over selfish love’ and the danger of personal attachments, especially if he was looking for her more recent attempt to ‘avenge Bellamy’ and just happened to stumble upon it.He’s nothing if not an opportunist.

Once he’s gone the real torture will begin while Cadogan works to get the info by any means necessary. Cadogan is a narcissistic sociopath, do you really think he’ll take any risk that Clarke will reach Bellamy? I think they’ll damn near liquify her brain and then she’ll be kept apart from her people so they don’t cause a fuss. (possibly next episode) I think then Levitt will find out how hard they pushed Clarke and when he tells Octavia and she begs him to check on her, he finds Clarke in pretty rough shape. When he tells Octavia and brings Bellamy at her request, taking him away from his tour, she then confronts Bellamy who doesn’t believe her. Then Levitt shows him the footage of Clarke being tortured which she tried to resist by remembering the radio calls as a kind of block for anything outside that purview until they push too hard and she falls unconscious. Bellamy sees her being tortured and the calls and the cracks start to deepen and the indoctrination starts to fail. I know a lot of people want Bellamy there while she’s actually tortured, but I honestly don’t think that kind of betrayal of trust and basic human rights can be forgiven (by Clarke or Bellamy forgiving himself cause he’d despise himself if that did happen) and forgotten in 4-5 episodes to the degree it will need to for them to pass the test and end up together (unless they do a ‘6 years later’ where they’re married and 5 year old sibling for Madi with another on the way, but even then). I also think he’ll stay as a ‘faithful disciple’ even as he’s pulled by both sides internally until he has more info either way and will be there when point 5 below happens.

3.Tied to above: is it safe to hook Clarke up to that thing cause like time I checked, in canon it’s only been a week since Clarke was having seizures and almost died from sharing her brain for too long with Josephine which she was warned would lead to neural degradation then death, so can she actually survive the procedure?

4.I would be so happy if they have Jordan do a ‘Monty Green stopping Bellamy, Gaia and Indra in the fighting pits’ call-back by having Jordan burst in while they’re torturing Clarke with the news that Cadogan the narcissist translated the message wrong...which didn’t end so great for Becca when she presented another option other than leaving Earth. Though honestly, I don’t think it would happen next episode, maybe the one after or at least not expanded upon too much while they’re being watched.

5. I think it’s a possibility that when they do break Clarke, the info they get will be so vague that they’ll be flummoxed by it, but Bellamy will know what it means and his final decision will be made. It will just be Madi’s drawings of Clarke as ‘Wanheda’ and the Anomaly stone, my little Nightblood in Trig, and maybe one of two little things that will mean little to the Bardoans out of context and everything to Bellamy. He’d go straight to the others, maybe grabbing Levitt on the way. The other wont trust him because it’s such an about face but Bellamy will tell them about the torture (which Octavia didn’t tell them about to keep them from getting hurt trying to protect her) reminding them that Clarke was not the last person to have the Flame, that Madi was. Raven tentatively admits that Madi had been drawing pictures from her dreams that Gaia and Clarke might be from the Flame. They need to get to Madi first (and even the dead Flame might have some info) before Cadogan gets a chance to and stop Cadogan from torturing Madi like he’s done to Clarke. It’s eventually agreed that Bellamy will distract Cadogan while Levitt and Gabriel get Clarke and the others steal enough uniforms so they can get to Sanctum with their minds intact.

6.So Levitt stopped reading Octavia’s memories during the City of Light, right? And the Conductor was spouting that the Shephard message of ‘selfless love’? Who wants to bet that Cadogan gets more than a little threatened when he starts seeing not only Clarke in the City of Light itself (Imagine them starting with being tortured by her mind controlled mother, then ‘Her friends are her weakness. Start with Bellamy Blake.’, her mother being controlled to hang herself and Clarke not giving in and Bellamy and Murphy bursting in and Clarke becoming a temporary Nightblood and her conversations with Jasper, Becca and ALIE, even if we only see snippets or them mentioning in as an aside to rush it along, it would be heavy hitting under the circumstances), but also the lead-up and aftermath of Praimfaya, and more specifically Clarke’s place in it? The Shephard is revered for ‘saving his people from the fire’, well Bellamy shut the door and took his people to space to save them from Praimfaya while Clarke stayed behind ON THE SURFACE OF THE PLANET in order to align the dish manually to save them. The Shephard conquered the Mountain? Bellamy and Clarke defeated the Mountain who had been kidnapping the Grounder to either use as blood bags or turning them into mindless cannibals, and tortured teenagers to death for their bone marrow even after they said they’d donate it willingly. The Shephard went on a pilgrimage for 3 months with provisions to do the aforementioned conquering of the mountain? Clarke Mother F’ing Griffin survived the 2nd Apocalypse that burnt up 96% of the Earth’s surface and not only did she survive, she managed to find the 4% or at least a large chunk on it and lived there alone with only her adoptive daughter and broken radio for company for 6 YEARS! A lot of Cadogan’s mythos and legend is his own self-aggrandizing and twisting circumstances to fit his narrative of ‘I am the one true Prophet and Saviour who will lead us into the Last War for all Mankind’, Clarke’s is from her own actions, deeds and self-sacrifice.

Because while the Bardoans may are quick to spout out the credence of “the few for the many” how many of them have actually had to back that up? And both Bellamy and Clarke have, on multiple occasions. Remember Clarke and Bellamy’s little chat with Roan before the City of Light? About how ALIE didn’t give a damn what clan you were from, she wanted to get EVERYONE? Octavia knew about it, but Clarke was there when she and Bellamy convinced Roan. And also “Are you really willing to trust that guy with your life?” “No. But you’ll be covering us the entire time, and I trust you.” Not to mention him holding her hand when she got the Flame implanted and him trusting her when she said that taking ALIE’s chip was the right choice.

Huh, the end of season 3 had a heck of Bellarke, didn’t it 😉

7.I think when Cadogan finds out that Clarke has a mind-drive in her head he’s going to be veeery interested in cutting her neck open and becoming the Shephard for all eternity. Am I wrong?

8.I’m calling it now; the final test (given by a manifestation of Becca since she’s connected to all of them and the Anomaly stone) will be between Bellamy and Clarke, Cadogan and Sheidheda. It will be straight forward and/or easy to cheat until there is trick situation where their actions, not their words, show their true beliefs and goals. Maybe showing someone they loved in the past or present (Callie and Reese, whoever Sheidheda may care for, Clarke or Bellamy being trapped and there only being time to save the other or to ‘win’)

#the 100 #Season 7 Speculation #Bellamy Blake #Clarke Griffin #Bellarke #Soulmates Worth Fighting For #Possible season 7 spoilers

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coppermarigolds · 5 years ago

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TLOU, nuance in storytelling, and authorial intent

Recently, massive spoilers for The Last of Us II leaked online, including actual cutscene clips. Being a complete spoiler fiend, I immediately went and looked them up, and I am......frustrated.

I’m not going to discuss any of the actual specific spoiler content, but I am going to talk about my general reactions, particularly in comparison to the first game, both as a fan and as a writer/aspiring novelist. This could still be considered mildly spoilery, so I’ll put it under a cut.

The plot of the first TLOU game isn’t exactly groundbreaking--it could actually be called pretty basic, and yet it’s had a huge emotional impact on plenty of people, myself included. I never really stopped to think about why exactly that was until the spoilers for the second game were leaked. Certainly the slow, realistic build-up of the relationship between Joel and Ellie, and the excellent performances by the actors, were major factors. But looking back on the first game now, in comparison to what I’ve seen of the second game, I think there was another aspect at play: when the chips were down, the first game trusted the audience and didn’t try to tell us what to think or feel.

Yes, there were some scenes in the first game that could be considered over the top tear-jerking or basically just there to be misery porn, but I’m thinking specifically of the whole endgame sequence and the decisions made by Joel, the protagonist. In that sequence, Naughty Dog did something remarkable: they presented a complex, morally complicated situation and let the audience draw their own conclusions. TLOU has been out for seven years, yet to this day, whenever I see discussion about it, there’s inevitably a debate about the ending and what Joel did. Is he an unredeemable monster? Is he a hero that did nothing wrong? Is he somewhere in between? I’ve seen opinions all along the spectrum, and the amazing thing is that you can convincingly argue any of them. Both sides have valid positions, and the beauty of it is that Naughty Dog didn’t tip their hand either way as to what they consider the “correct” interpretation. They left it completely open to each individual player.

Most mainstream media doesn’t do that. Many writers spoonfeed what they want the audience to take away from the story. These characters are good; these ones are bad. These actions/beliefs are the right ones; these over here are the wrong ones. If you like or endorse this particular opinion, you’re right and good; if you endorse that one, you’re bad and wrong.

In some ways, we as human beings crave this black-and-white storytelling. We want our own feelings and opinions to be validated by the media we consume; it’s just human nature. We want to be told we’re good and right for this value or belief that we hold, or this choice that we would make if we were in the characters’ shoes.

But at the end of TLOU, Naughty Dog didn’t do that. When I finished the game for the first time, I felt deeply unsettled. There was no tidy resolution, no absolution, no assurance that the choices made were the right ones and that things would be okay. That’s not to say it was an unsatisfying ending--I would actually venture to say it was a pretty perfect ending for the story that was being told. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was right.

(Important side note: that’s not to say that stories with comfortable, happy endings are somehow inferior or not worthwhile. I love and cherish stories that make me feel good, and I think they’re just as necessary as stories with uncomfortable, ambiguous endings. This particular story just happens to be one of the latter.)

So why is it such a big deal that Naughty Dog let players form their own interpretations and opinions of the first game’s characters and story? For some people, it may not be. We all want different things from our stories, and that’s fine. But for me, it’s significant because if there’s one thing that immediately, viscerally pulls me out of a narrative, it’s the sensation that the writer is trying to manipulate me. I crave nuance in stories. I want protagonists with flaws and antagonists with complex, understandable, even relatable motivations. Themes and messages in stories are fine--encouraged, even--but not at the expense of character and story. As soon as I get the sense that the author is trying to beat me over the head with an opinion (even if it’s an opinion I agree with), I start to check out.

Don’t dictate to me what you think I should feel. Show me the characters and their motivations and choices, and let me decide what I feel. And definitely don’t pull cheap stunts like doing awful things to the characters for pure shock value or just to make the audience wallow in anger and misery.

That’s the thing about the TLOU 2 spoilers. Instead of continuing on with the organic, complicated, nuanced story of the first game, it feels like Naughty Dog picked a side. It feels like they’re trying to tell a portion of their audience, “No, what you feel about these characters and situations is wrong. THIS is the right thing to feel.” It feels like they threw a bucket of water on the shades of gray in the first game in favor of making things black and white in the second. Maybe to an extent, that’s inevitable for a sequel. But it feels like Naughty Dog didn’t even try to avoid it. They could have taken the sequel in any direction they wanted, but they picked the one most likely to cause dissent and anger and anguish among people who connected to the story and characters of the first game.

(Another side note: I’m not talking about the “dissent” of the vile neckbeard fanboys who are all over Twitter and YouTube spewing their homophobia/transphobia/misogyny. Their opinions aren’t worth a second of anyone’s time. I’m talking solely about story and character issues.)

I knew TLOU 2 would be a story with dark, painful, even disturbing elements just like the first game was. But what I hoped for was a story that would allow Joel and Ellie to continue to grow through the darkness and come out stronger, both as individuals and in their surrogate father/daughter relationship. My fear was that Naughty Dog would take the lazy, easy route of provoking a reaction from the audience by using our attachment to the characters as a weapon against us. And unfortunately it appears that’s exactly what they’ve done.

Of course, they’re well within their rights to tell this story. They own the IP and they can do whatever they want with it. There’s all sorts of stuff that could be debated about relationships between creators and consumers, whether one party “owes” the other anything, or issues about the balancing act between telling the story you want to tell, and telling one that other people will pay you for. All of that is beyond the scope of this already ridiculously long post. But I do think it’s worth asking why they wanted to tell this particular story, and why they wanted to tell it this way. Neil Druckmann has talked about how the themes of TLOU 2 will center around hate and the cyclical nature of vengeance, etc. And I mean.......that’s not exactly super groundbreaking stuff. Is it necessary to go as over-the-top as possible to tell a story with a pretty basic message? It feels like there’s something more at play here.

Anyway.

Am I jumping the gun? Maybe. In the aftermath of the leaks, Naughty Dog is insisting that we don’t know the whole story, yadda yadda. I’m sure there’s some truth to that. Context is important. Still, the leaks weren’t just vague hints of what might happen, like spoilers so often are. These were actual video clips taken directly from the game. And it would take a looooot of context to make me okay with what I saw in the clips. Enough that I’m definitely not buying the game the day it comes out, like I originally planned to. I’ll probably watch an LP and then decide whether or not to play the game myself.

If there’s a silver lining to all this, it’s that these issues are helping solidify what I want to accomplish in my own stories that I hope will be published one day:

Subtlety is key.

Don’t let the theme of your story overpower the characters.

Make your characters and situations as nuanced as possible.

Write what you want, but don’t toy with your audience. They aren’t playthings for your amusement.

Except for horrible bigoted entitled dudebros, because screw them.

#the last of us #on writing #the last of us spoilers tag #tlou spoilers tag #the last of us 2 spoilers tag #tlou 2 spoilers tag #i don't really know what i'm trying to accomplish with this post #i just have a lot of thoughts about storytelling and need to dump them somewhere

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bloodraven55 · 5 years ago

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Gaslighting as a Form of Abuse in RWBY

With another comic focussing on an abuse victim having just been released today in the form of Weiss’ issue of the DC comic series, I want to tackle another analysis post in the hopes of bringing some more understanding surrounding emotional abuse to this fandom because in some parts it seems to be sorely needed.

There are a couple of points I’d like to address in this post, the first being the identity of the person speaking to Weiss during the sections set post-V3 in the comic. Most people assume it to be Jacques, but some also think it might be Willow. I can understand both arguments, and I’m not totally decided myself yet on which I think it is.

On the one hand, the type of abuse seems more subtle and manipulative compared to Jacques’ usual direct and aggressive approach, and we’re never actually shown who’s talking, which could suggest Weiss’ mother. But on the other hand the only thing we know about Willow is that she drinks to excess and fights with Jacques a lot so there isn’t really any basis to assume she would be manipulative towards Weiss, and the tone of the dialogue does fit Jacques’ sleazy and condescendingly pleasant demeanour that he assumes when he’s pretending to be nice to Weiss like in V4, so it would also make a lot of sense for it to be him.

For the purposes of this article I’m simply going to refer to them as Weiss’ parent to avoid any confusion and prevent me having to change it later if we get more information or I form a concrete stance on who it is. Their identity doesn’t impact the content of the post at all so it seemed the most logical solution.

With that covered, let’s move on to the main thing I want to talk about, which is the parallels between the way that Weiss’ parent gaslights her in the comic and the way that Adam gaslights Blake multiple times throughout the show but primarily in his Character Short.

“You are not the first Schnee in history to suffer disappointment, and this behaviour is really rather excessive…”

“Blake, I'm sorry. I told you it was an accident.”

This first part is representative of the main principle of gaslighting, which is to undermine the other person’s judgement and make them doubt their own ability to think rationally so that they’ll act the way you want them to.

Weiss’ parent diminishes her suffering by claiming it’s no worse than what other people have been through before—an interesting reference to the quote in the White Trailer which directly contradicts it by stating that “everyone is entitled to their own sorrow, for the heart has no metrics or forms of measure”—to invalidate Weiss’ pain.

Adam downplays the importance of innocents being killed on his missions by framing them as mere “accidents” to make Blake seem paranoid and foolish for being concerned by them and prefaces it with an insincere apology so that she’ll immediately feel bad because she thinks she’s hurt his feelings.

These both show the abuser using the way they talk to make it seem like the victim is totally detached from reality and as though their point of view on the situation must be false, leaving the abuser’s way of seeing things as the only correct option.

“Weiss, I just… don’t understand why you’re behaving this way. You act as though you’ve been kidnapped or imprisoned, and that is simply not what happened.”

“I don't know. I'm out there fighting for us, and when you fight, people get hurt.”

This is a continuation of the first part, further cementing the supposed “irrational” nature of the victim’s behaviour and showcasing the abuser moulding the scenario so that they’re never the one in the wrong.

Weiss’ parent feigns confusion and disbelief at the fact that Weiss is upset at being dragged away from her school and friends against her will, insisting that she isn’t being forced to stay and outright denying the validity of Weiss’ perception of what happened.

Adam dismisses Blake’s concerns at the deaths he’s caused by shifting the blame away from himself, falsely presenting the loss of life as an inevitability of fighting, and placing himself as the victim who’s having his heroism questioned.

In both cases the abuser warps reality to make themself seem as though they’re in the right so that the victim will stop trusting their own perception of events and come to believe that their abuser is right.

“It is natural to be unhappy to leave Beacon Academy, but friends come and go, and go more often as they get older… but family is forever.” / “And if you did have to leave those radicals, those ‘friends’ behind, well… all the better.”

“What, do you want me to just abandon our cause? Like your parents?”

This part ties into another major aspect of emotional abuse which is isolating the victim from their support network of friends and/or family so that they have nowhere else to go and no one else to rely on. However, it is also another example of gaslighting as it involves making those close to the victim appear like the bad guys in order to push the victim away from the people who might try to help them and further into the abuser’s control.

Weiss’ parent describes Weiss’ friends as “radicals” and mocks her bond with them, saying that it was good for Weiss to leave them and reminding her that she’s alone now without them, even spinning it to sound like they never cared about Weiss at all in the first place and as though her family—a.k.a. them—are the only people she can trust.

Adam deliberately brings up Blake’s parents, which he knows is a vulnerable topic for her, to remind her that they’re “traitors” and brand her a traitor too by association, reinforcing the idea that he is the only one she has left.

I suspect that this is the aspect of gaslighting that most people have the least trouble identifying since it basically amounts to guilt-tripping and even the majority of people without much knowledge of emotional abuse are aware of how that works.

“Weiss, sweetheart, please, don’t sulk!” / “Weiss, I love you, but you are really quite overreacting to the whole thing.”

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought them up. I just get scared when it feels like you don't believe in me anymore.”

This part I think is what blinds a lot of people to the fact that emotional abuse and manipulation is happening. And that’s because the abuser offers what might appear to be a sincere expression of affection or a genuine apology, when in reality it’s simply a way of convincing the victim that everything that they’re going through is for their own good and that their abuser has their best interests at heart.

Weiss’ parent calls her “sweetheart” and tells Weiss they love her, while in the same breath solidifying the idea that her behaviour is unwarranted and undermining her grievances.

Adam apologises for mentioning Blake’s parents after the damage is already done, while in the same breath making Blake feel guilty for being worried that he’s killing people and making it her job to reassure him instead of the other way around. He deliberately blows what she says out of proportion so that he can pretend to feel hurt in order to illicit sympathy from her.

The veneer of niceness that the abuser uses to hide the way they double down on their manipulation is what makes this facet of abuse hard to spot and can lead other people as well as the victim into thinking that the abuser is right because they seem to be being honest, when in reality it’s all part of how they manage to deceive their victim as well as sometimes serving the added purpose of further isolating the victim from their support network as the people close to them will often side with the abuser here.

“At a certain point, you have to take responsibility for your role in all of this. If you choose to continue in this way, Weiss, then we will have no choice but to keep you here. And you’ll have only yourself to answer to.”

“Why did you have to come into my life and ruin everything?!” / “… but not before you’ve suffered for your betrayal, my love.” / “I wouldn’t have to be doing this if you’d just behave.”

And this final part is a clear example of the end goal of emotional abuse, which is to make the victim think that everything bad that happens is their fault. This is achieved by distorting their perception of reality via gaslighting, as we’ve already covered, so that they trust their abuser’s judgement before their own and will believe it when they’re told that they’re the one to blame for the harm that the abuser causes.

Weiss’ parent makes it Weiss’ fault that she’s not okay with being confined within her own house in a relentlessly unpleasant environment and puts the blame for it on Weiss while claiming to have “no choice” but to inflict pain on her.

Adam places responsibility for the results of his own actions—a.k.a. Blake leaving him, his losing power in the White Fang, etc.—on Blake instead of himself and insists that if she doesn’t “behave” then he has no option but to punish her.

When people in this fandom blame Weiss and Blake to any extent whatsoever for the actions of their abusers, they’re doing the same thing as Weiss’ parent and Adam do here. It’s victim blaming pure and simple, and y’all who are still saying that Weiss deserved to be “disciplined” by Jacques and denying Adam’s abuse of Blake need to just stop.

If you’re interested in reading some of my sources, then here’s a list:

How to Recognize Gaslighting and Get Help

11 Warning Signs of Gaslighting

What is gaslighting? And how do you know if it's happening to you?

You’re Not Going Crazy: 15 Signs You’re a Victim of Gaslighting

#rwby #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #adam taurus #rwby analysis #my analysis #rwby meta #my meta #tw abuse #abuse tw #tw gaslighting #gaslighting tw

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elyvorg · 4 years ago

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Still a Hero - author’s commentary (part 2)

I spent almost all my time for two months planning and writing this fic of mine centred around Kaito’s issues, and that amount of thinking-about-something doesn’t just go away once the thing is finished. This is the second of two posts (the first being here) giving a kind of author’s commentary on the fic. For this one, I’ll be (mostly) taking off my Kaito-analyst hat and putting on my author hat, talking about the writing process and how I came up with the ideas for each chapter given how I knew Kaito’s character arc needed to go.

I say I spent two months “planning and writing” this fic, because the first month of that really was all planning. At first this was figuring out the broad strokes of how Kaito’s character arc should work, while also entirely separately imagining him going through various different kinds of torture that seemed like fun. Then I began to slot these torture methods that I’d already decided I liked the idea of into whichever points in his character arc they fit best for, resulting in me beginning to get a coherent set of scenes together.

As my ideas for the story solidified more in my head and grew more elaborate, I began to get them down on paper (well, virtual paper) to help me keep it all straight. I could remember the broad strokes of each scene well enough, but smaller details of ideas I had for the little things Kaito would be doing to indicate his mental state at any point were nice to get down. That way, I didn’t have to try and keep all of that in my head at once and inevitably forget a whole bunch of it when I started actually writing and was using most of my headspace on coming up with good prose. I could craft the progression of Kaito’s mental deterioration more carefully like this, rather than just winging it as I went along, which I think helped a lot considering that said progression was so vital to get right.

Plus, it was nice to be able to have a phase to the writing process where I didn’t let myself worry about wording and just got down all my raw ideas for the… okay, look, I’d call them “beats” of the story, and also possibly use the term “blow-by-blow” to describe how detailed this plan was, but in this particular context those words can be taken very literally. It wasn’t quite that literal. You know what I mean. And that way, when I actually was doing proper prose writing, it was easier to get started in each writing session (something I often have problems with), since the idea for what needs to happen next is already there and all I need to do is think of a good way to word it. Splitting the writing process into separate idea-splurging and prose-writing periods is a really productive way of doing it, at least for how my mind works, and I’ll probably do it again whenever I next write a fic.

While the plan was so detailed that I probably could have done the actual writing in a haphazard order, jumping all over the place just like I did while doing the plan, I wrote everything linearly from the beginning (with one exception that I’ll mention later). It still helped me be able to keep myself in the right headspace for Kaito’s mental deterioration to have gone through that progression with him, at least while actually writing it. Especially since Kaito’s mindset did still do a few unexpected things that I hadn’t quite anticipated in the plan.

Also, geez, did you notice how I called the chapters “scenes” up there? Yeah, once upon a time I thought this’d just be a longish one-shot fic, so in my head, they were scenes and not chapters for a good while. I did not realise quite how long things would turn out. Which is perhaps a good thing, since if I’d known that this would end up 64 freaking pages long, maybe that’d have made me think twice about actually writing it. And I’m really glad I actually wrote this.

The realisation that this was being so ridiculously long that it really needed to be chaptered happened some way into chapter 6, which at least meant that I got to come up with all the chapter titles all at once. I had fun making them all work together; I knew chapter 6 shouldn’t be titled anything but “Hero”, so I made the rest all fit around that to describe the hero. Kaito is a Vulnerable posturing helpless unimportant losing deluded HERO With Friends; the capitalisation or lack thereof is very deliberately meaningful. The non-capitalised titles are meant to give a sense that Kaito is sort of subconsciously beginning to feel these things are true about him by the end of each respective chapter while not wanting to admit it, and then the all-caps “HERO” is him shouting down those self-deprecating intrusive thoughts once he realises he really is a hero after all. The “Vulnerable” is capitalised not because it’s the beginning of a sentence, since “With Friends” is, too, but rather because those two are the only descriptors being applied to the “hero” that are actually true about Kaito. Really, he’s just a vulnerable hero with friends, which is something I think we can all agree on.

Now to go chapter-by-chapter for some more specific thoughts about my ideas behind each one.

Chapter 0

This chapter isn’t strictly necessary since it’s not part of Kaito’s character arc, but I felt it’d be useful to include to help establish the stakes, in terms of why it makes sense that Kaito needs to hold on for quite a while to protect his sidekicks from being killed, and yet his sidekicks can also be the ones to come and save him without being killed once enough time has passed. (I really love how my cult-takedown AU just naturally lent itself to me getting the best of both worlds here. I didn’t think of the torture scenario until after solidifying this AU in my head, so this was just a lucky coincidence.)

It was also nice to get Shuichi and Maki’s perspective on things to help establish the basic principles of the fic that it’s going to take Kaito six chapters of torture to figure out himself. Is Kaito invincible? Of course not. If he’s not, does that mean he can’t protect his sidekicks? Of course not. I figured it might help readers who aren’t familiar with all of my analysis about Kaito’s hero issues to be given a sense that that’s the angle I’m taking here.

Plus it was neat to show Shuichi and Maki both having their own much faster shift in perspective on this. Shuichi would have answered yes to that first question and Maki to the second question before this scene happened. But they each had one piece of the puzzle from the beginning, which is more than can be said for Kaito.

Not that they knew how much of an idiot Kaito was about this, mind you. They assumed he was perfectly healthily aware of these concepts himself, because they had no reason to believe he wouldn’t be. They knew he’d be suffering, but it didn’t even cross their minds that the worst part of it for him would be the near-destruction of his self-esteem. In chapter 7, when Shuichi hears Kaito say “I didn’t let you down,” and “I’m still a hero,” he’s bewildered and concerned by the implication that Kaito had ever thought those things might not be true. (It’s okay, though; Kaito will be willing to actually talk about it to them at some point during his recovery, so they’ll come to understand.)

This is chapter 0 and not chapter 1 because it felt right to have the real “start” of the fic be with Kaito himself. This fic is after all entirely about his character arc, and the Shuichi and Maki bit is more just a bonus. Unfortunately, AO3 apparently cannot comprehend the concept of prologues (I don’t understand why they’ve never accounted for this; prologues are a perfectly common thing in fic-writing as far as I’m aware), so this makes the chapter numbering kind of awkward on there. I could have just thrown up my hands and accepted the numbers AO3 wanted to give my chapters, but no, screw that, I spent two months thinking of the chapters by my numbers and I refuse to stop doing that just because some silly website hasn’t heard of the number zero.

(If anyone knows how to get this to work properly on AO3, please tell me. I did try manually messing with the “chapter number” field in the chapter-submission page, but that ended up screwing up the order in which the chapters were displayed, which, nope, that’s even worse.)

Chapter 1

I chose a relatively straightforward torture method to start things off with, because this scene was less about pushing Kaito’s mental deterioration and more about just establishing the baseline of his stubborn posturing and insistence that he’s an invincible hero in its purest form before there begin to be many cracks in it. That said, there’s still some psychological stuff getting to Kaito a bit here, aside from the generally terrifying (nope, not terrifying at all, what are you talking about, Kaito is a hero) realisation that he’s about to be tortured.

It may seem like an odd choice that I let Kaito wake up unrestrained, and I must admit that the idea of him waking up and panicking as he finds himself already tied up did seem fun in some ways. But it was very on purpose that I left him free to start out with, because that gave Kaito the sense that he should have been able to escape and not let any of this happen at all. If only he’d been stronger and more of an action hero, he totally could have taken out all five cultists and made a break for it, couldn’t he? Not managing to do that is Kaito’s first small sign in here that he’s not that good of a hero, actually. Sure, he knows that he’s massively outnumbered and the chances were really slim, so he’s not really that consciously upset with himself about it, but the subconscious sense of failure is still there. If he’d been tied up from the start, there’d have been none of that, and it’d have been much more obvious that it’s not his fault and he simply couldn’t do anything.

The kickings were also very much a part of this. Those aren’t a proper structured part of the torture, the kind of thing Kaito can basically expect from this situation; they’re just casual cruelty from his captors, hurting him not even because they need to but simply because they can. The first one wasn’t quite so bad because at the time Kaito felt like it was a retaliation to his attempt to escape, as if he was just paying the natural price for his recklessness not succeeding. But the second one, which came out of nowhere just to make a point, really drove home the horrible sense that they can do anything they want to him in here and there is nothing he can do to stop it. It’s not like these kickings physically hurt any more than the upcoming beating was going to, but they got under Kaito’s skin a lot more than the beating did, and far more than he’d ever admit this early on. (Though he does finally briefly allude to it in the depths of chapter 6.)

Like I said in part 1 of this, I was on a mission to make Kaito feel helpless in every way I could think of. He’s not really consciously thinking about it or tearing himself down that much yet, but this is already beginning to wear at him beneath the surface.

Chapter 2

Somewhat inspired by some articles I’d read about the phenomenon of learned helplessness (hence me referencing that in this chapter), I had the basic idea of some kind of restraints that inflict more pain on the captive the harder they struggle to escape from them, with the intent of eventually making them give up trying. Put Kaito in something like that and he would absolutely stubbornly torture himself with it for hours without his captors even having to lift a finger. I just had to; it was too perfect for the kind of person he is, and so good for creating the first big dent in his confidence when he fails to escape it and inevitably starts to feel more and more hesitant to even try.

I was originally envisaging it taking two or three “rest” chapters of Kaito fully throwing himself at this contraption and getting noticeably more tired and hesitant to do so each time until he gives up. But as I streamlined the plan (in an attempt to not make this any more ridiculously drawn-out or repetitive than it needed to be), this got cut down to basically just this chapter, with him barely even trying at all in chapter 4.

Good thing, then, that Kaito is so counterproductively overly-stubborn that it really only did take one spectacularly self-destructive session for him to be traumatised enough to never want to do that to himself again. (And, again, that’s less from just the pain alone – this probably didn’t hurt any significantly more than the beatings before or after it – and more from the horrible sense of helplessness it gave him along with that.) If he’d been more accepting of the idea that this is obviously going to take him a while and he needed to pace himself, maybe this would have needed multiple sessions to wear him down into giving up.

But nope, no way Kaito’s going to accept any kind of compromise like that. It’s never going to occur to him that stopping before he reaches his limit rather than pushing himself way too far past it, or, god forbid, not even taking the bait at all, is by far the better option. A more sensible person would be able to see that that’s strategically saving his strength for when he knows he’s going to need it, and it’s not even giving up when he knows his sidekicks are coming for him in the end. But Kaito’s definition of a hero can’t afford to do any of those things. Heroes have unlimited strength, and they certainly don’t need anyone else to save them.

Kaito feeling this way about this is just putting himself in a horrendous lose-lose situation: even if he somehow happened to choose not to torture himself pointlessly (or rather, when he does that in chapter 4), he’ll instead be taking the psychological hit of feeling like he’s lost. There is no winning here, not if you’re Kaito. Which, again, is why a contraption like this was perfect and I just had to do this to him.

Shout-outs to a scene in the Breaking Bad movie El Camino for inspiring this contraption, by the way – I edited it significantly to better suit my purposes, but that gave me a foundation to start from. I liked this idea more than just some sort of basic electroshock-triggered-by-pulling-against-chains mechanism that I’d been vaguely envisaging at first, because being physically dragged across the floor gives far more of that visceral sense of helplessness that I needed to inflict so much of on Kaito.

…And, uh, thankfully, it also made sense that the child-slave assassin cult might already have a contraption like this for other reasons, because it would have been a bit much to buy that they built something that elaborate just for Kaito. My original plan for this scene mentioned the device being used on the kids but otherwise didn’t have that big of a focus on Kaito initially trying to escape it on their behalf – he was mostly supposed to throw himself into it on his own behalf. I guess I just hadn’t properly thought about that enough during planning, since the kids weren’t the reason I created the contraption. Thankfully, when I was actually writing the scene, my mental simulation of Kaito became exactly as horrified and furious about what’d been done to those kids as Kaito should, and I let him run with that, because that was far more fun and far more Kaito than him only really thinking about himself.

(This never happened to Maki in particular, though. The fact that she “willingly” volunteered herself meant she was never desperate enough to escape that they needed to do this to her.)

Chapter 3

At one point while brainstorming possible ideas, I was hit with the thought of Kaito finding out that his lead torturer was the same person who trained and tortured Maki. I had some fun imagining Kaito’s reaction to that and a hypothetical back-and-forth exchange between him and the torturer about the awful things he’d put Maki through. Except then I realised that having this conversation, fiercely standing up for Maki and calling out her abuser’s awfulness, was giving Kaito way too much emotional strength – and as fun as that was, I couldn’t let him have that, not when I was trying to erode that emotional strength of his as fast as possible.

So then it occurred to me: maybe his torturer could also realise that having this hero-versus-villain confrontation would give Kaito strength, and so he deliberately completely blanks Kaito’s attempts at this, entirely refusing to engage with him and give him what he wants. That’d deflate the strength Kaito was trying to get from it and result in him feeling even more powerless and useless, excellent!

This incidentally meant that Kaito needed to realise that his torturer was Maki’s trainer by chance, without the torturer actually being the one to bring it up and tell him. This was when I realised that I’d need to give this guy a name, even if it was just an alias. It needed to be a Japanese name, and I’m not familiar enough with Japanese names to be comfortable just picking a random surname in case it had a meaning or connotation that didn’t fit at all. Therefore, I figured (especially since it’s an alias and not his real name), screw it, why not deliberately make it meaningful – and the best way I could think to do that was through the kabuki theme.

I’d already looked into the significance of the kabuki pattern on Kaito’s shirt and the meaning of red (hero) versus blue (villain) a while back, upon realising thanks to this post that that was why that pattern was there. I could not believe that I’d been fixating on Kaito for like a year and a half at the time while being completely unaware of such a delightful detail about his character design – so I guess I wanted to make up for lost time or something by making such a point of it in this fic. That’s why I went and had Kaito’s torturers be thematically-conveniently wearing kabuki-villain-makeup masks to contrast his shirt, giving Kaito an extra excuse to think of this as an overly-simplistic Hero Versus Villain thing that he is therefore totally going to win because heroes always do.

So in order to come up with a name for the “villain” here, I looked into that a bit more. I spent a while looking up famous kabuki plays on Wikipedia, and after a false start in which I was looking at totally the wrong style of kabuki theatre – turns out it’s only a certain style that even uses that makeup – I found a famous play in the overexaggerated-makeup-style called “Shibaraku!”, which turned out to be hilariously appropriate. The hero of the play is apparently the “stereotypical bombastic hero” of kabuki theatre, who shows up in the nick of time to stop a prince and a princess from being wrongfully executed (cough cough, he’s saving two people, a guy and a girl, from an undeserved certain death, how very fitting). He monologues lengthily about his supernatural powers that he just randomly has because of course he’s that cool, proves that the villain has unlawfully usurped the throne and gets him to back down just by using words, and then there’s a gratuitous fight scene at the end in which he effortlessly takes out all the villain’s henchmen anyway, solely to show off his awesome superpowers. I absolutely could not with how perfect a match this was to the kind of over-the-top invincible hero Kaito thinks he needs to be, and so I just had to name Takehira after the villain from that play.

And ultimately, the fact that I’d given him a name that Kaito could think of him by for the rest of the fic meant that this was kind of the point at which Takehira started to take shape in my head as an actual character, rather than just an empty placeholder inflicting this torture on Kaito because someone had to do it. I think that was definitely a good thing for the fic… though I can’t believe that as a result I now technically have a Danganronpa OC who is a manipulative child-torturing asshole. How. How did it come to this.

The actual torture method for this chapter wasn’t inspired by anything in particular; I just used my imagination to add some variations to the regular beating that’d give Kaito more of that all-important visceral sense of helplessness. Again, this was conveniently something the cult might be used to doing, since it happened to fit Maki’s description of what’d been done to her quite well. I guess I also now have a very weirdly specific headcanon of exactly what Maki is talking about in her third FTE.

Chapters 1 and 3 both fade to black in the middle of the torture sessions, and then the next chapters cut back in once it’s over and Kaito’s resting. This was mostly just a decision I made early on out of what was essentially writerly laziness. I knew things were going to go on for long enough that it wasn’t remotely reasonable to cover all of it directly, but my writing style focuses so much on just writing things directly as they happen that I find it difficult to get less direct and more summary-ish in order to imply things happening while a large amount of time passes. I managed it in chapters 2 and 5 and kind of 6 here, so apparently I can do it when I need to, but in the planning stages, the thought of doing that was daunting enough that I just tried to avoid it whenever possible by taking the lazy way out and using a scene break.

I lamented later, after I’d started writing and my scene plans were too finalised to change, that it could have been fun to write Kaito’s physical and emotional reactions to the end of these beatings: after the pain had built up so much and become more and more overwhelmingly hard to bear, his desperate relief at realising that it’s finally over (for now) and he’s going to be able to just rest. There’d have been a lot of weakness and vulnerability from him in those moments that he’d have had a difficult time hiding.

But then again, while this was completely unintentional of me and just born from my hang-ups as a writer, maybe there’s also something fun about the fact that I never showed that vulnerability. As soon as he could once he was resting, Kaito would have mentally pulled himself back together and convinced himself that he never really felt that weak and vulnerable towards the end of the beatings, nope, that just didn’t happen at all. So not showing that vulnerability and only jumping back into Kaito’s inner monologue after he’s managed to paper over it is perhaps an appropriate way to go about this, given the way I’d been pointedly having the narration only directly mention things that Kaito was letting himself think about in general. It really didn’t ever happen, see!? Kaito is still basically fine!

Chapter 4

My idea for this chapter was for it to appear to be setting itself up to be another chapter in which Kaito tortures himself trying to escape the contraption – and then he just… doesn’t, because he’s too hurt and exhausted, not to mention legitimately traumatised from how awful an ordeal it ended up being the last time he tried. And because he’s telling himself that he should be trying to escape, expecting himself to go at it again, he ends up feeling like he’s failing, even though all he’s really doing is making the sensible decision to take the chance to rest and not torture himself unnecessarily. He knows his sidekicks are coming for him, so he’s not really giving up at all, but he feels like he is.

I therefore originally thought of this as actually being just a rest chapter that pushes Kaito’s mental deterioration along a bit more, but in which he isn’t actually being tortured for once (aside from the one time he triggers the contraption). However, as I was writing it, I realised how awful it is to not be able to sleep properly when you’re exhausted and desperately need to (which is precisely why the cable was left higher this time so he couldn’t even sit down), and that that’s definitely a type of torture too. So, whoops, guess this is still a chapter in which Kaito is being tortured after all. He gets absolutely no real chances to rest here. (He would have done if he hadn’t taken the bait in chapter 2, but.)

This was also supposed to be the halfway point of the fic, and it still kind of is in a narrative sense, but in terms of length? Ahaha, not quite.

Chapter 5

My general brainstorming had already given me the idea of Kaito stubbornly declaring that his sidekicks are on a lengthy series of different planets upon being repeatedly asked where they are, as both a coping mechanism and a fuck-you to his torturers. This idea also included the notion of him eventually running out of planets not because he didn’t know any more, but just because the pain got too overwhelmingly much for him to think straight, leading him to be unable to deny that this was getting to him and beat himself up about that, spurring his transition into phase 2 of his character arc. At first I was just vaguely imagining this happening without a specific torture method to go with it, but I decided on the water torture for it in the end. This particular method gives convenient regular intervals in which Kaito can give his series of planets and long periods in between in which he can be stubbornly distracting himself with space facts. But most importantly, it’s a torture method which is less about pain and more about fear, aka the exact thing I needed to force Kaito into finally acknowledging he was feeling.

Another shout-out goes to a scene from the How to Train Your Dragon book series (a series I highly recommend in general) for making me realise the potential inherent in water torture. I knew “water torture” was a thing but had never quite understood how you could torture someone with water or why it was awful and terrifying until reading that scene. If it wasn’t for that, this chapter would have been something entirely different and probably less fun.

Also, can you believe that the mirror wasn’t even a part of this scene until quite late into the planning? I’d pictured Kaito being able to look straight at Takehira while above water in order to stubbornly yell at him about space, except I realised that wouldn’t work when, whoops, sinks are generally against walls. Then I realised that sinks often come with mirrors on said wall and that would work. Then I realised that Kaito would also be able to see far more interesting and relevant things in a mirror than just Takehira’s mask, and that this would also be perfect for pushing Kaito into admitting how weak he (supposedly) is. So that part happened kind of completely by accident.

Because of the fact that I’d been picturing Takehira as standing opposite Kaito until I realised the sink would be against the wall, he also wasn’t originally the one holding Kaito underwater. It was only after I’d written the scene without it that I realised, wait a minute, of course Takehira should be the one doing that to Kaito personally; it’s way better that way (he’s the one Kaito is specifically thinking about trying to win against, after all) than if it’s just one of the random mooks. The one stepping on Kaito’s face at the beginning of the chapter also wasn’t originally Takehira until I realised that that obviously made the most sense and had the most impact. Can’t believe I missed both of those obvious choices in the planning. I guess I was still figuring out Takehira’s character as I went along.

Since Kaito ended up so viscerally traumatised in particular by Takehira grabbing his hair, and since that’d have been a lot less possible if Kaito had still had the hairstyle, can we talk about how I completely accidentally foreshadowed this in my original cult takedown AU post? Maki told Kaito to ditch the hairstyle, so he… stuck his head under some water for a couple of minutes. That time it was a shower and he could breathe just fine, but still. (I edited in the interjection about how there must be a downside to it later, after having written enough of the fic to have decided it was canon that he ironically said that in mock-indignation while never genuinely believing there would be one. But everything else about that bullet point was written before I’d even remotely started wanting to write this fic and conceiving this chapter’s events.)

Obviously I had to do some research about SPACE for this chapter, because Kaito would definitely be reciting accurate Space Facts. Originally he was only going to be listing planets, starting with the solar system and then moving onto exoplanets. Except, just like Kaito awkwardly remembered once he got to Proxima Centauri b, I learned during my research that actually there aren’t really any other exoplanets with unique names, so that option was kind of a bust. Then I remembered that there’s a ton of moons in the solar system with unique names, so I figured Kaito would go for those too and started looking those up. (Takehira wasn’t surprised when Kaito moved onto Phobos and Deimos because he’d read Kaito’s public Hope’s Peak file and knew he was the Ultimate Astronaut, so he was expecting Kaito to do something like that. But the henchmen hadn’t been told that fact, hence why they were surprised. Still, this was probably not the weirdest impromptu coping mechanism they’d seen from one of their torture victims.)

Then I saw during my research that Saturn’s moons included Atlas and Prometheus, and I just couldn’t resist the gratuitous-self-referencing potential. See an ask reply from earlier for more of my thought process with this bit. This was also the moment I realised that Pandora was such a great fit for Maki – I basically just looked at all the feminine-named moons of Saturn in the hope that one of them would fit her because I really wanted to do this shameless-symbolism thing and didn’t want to leave Maki out of it, and luckily I found one. (The reason I brought this up kind of out of nowhere when a slightly less recent ask related to my P4 AU gave me an excuse to do so was very much because it was going to be in the fic and I wanted people to potentially be able to get the reference if they cared.)

Knowing the well-known moons for each planet makes it possible to count just how many times Kaito would have been forced to the brink of drowning here. It was three times before he started the space thing, then he did space, the moon, Mercury to Pluto (minus Earth), Phobos, Deimos, Europa, Io, Callisto, Ganymede, Titan, Enceladus, Titania, Oberon, Triton, Charon, Proxima Centauri b, the Andromeda Galaxy, like four other galaxies, Kerberos, Styx, Nix, Hydra, Pandora, Prometheus, Atlas, then five or so more times before Takehira realises he still isn’t breaking and gives up. That all adds up to something a little over forty times Kaito had to endure that. He is so strong, and his space-facts coping mechanism genuinely helped so much in that it meant he was only consciously terrified for a small fraction of it all.

I also did a little bit of rather more hands-on research for this chapter, namely holding my breath for as long as I could to get an idea of how to describe what it feels like when it seems as if you can’t possibly hold it any more, since I had to describe that quite a lot. And I may have also filled a sink with water and stuck my face in it a few times to get a sense of the physical sensations one would be most immediately conscious of when that happens. (Don’t worry; this was emphatically not done at the same time as holding my breath for as long as I absolutely could. In fact, I found my brain automatically making me surface much sooner than I’d expected to need to, leading to the conclusion that, damn, water torture must be even more horrendously awful than I’d imagined and Kaito is amazing for being able to endure it for so long.)

So if I ever get asked, as an author, “what’s the weirdest research you’ve ever done for a story?” – well, now I have a very good answer.

Chapter 6

There was also some hands-on research done for this one, involving lying on the floor, folding my arms behind my back, trying to keep my ankles together and then seeing how easy it was to move around in that position. Answer: it’s really difficult and awkward even when you’re not horribly injured and in a lot of pain, so Kaito must have had a great time.

And my final shout-out for torture method inspiration goes to Danganronpa V3 itself, of course. There’s canonically a poison that inflicts horrible pain and is explicitly used to torture people for information? Excellent. All I needed was a quick handwave as to why it won’t kill Kaito here despite being explicitly lethal in canon – which really is just a bonus because that means that the pain can get even worse and last even longer than it would normally – and I was good to go. You may have noticed that I had Kaito be injected with Strike-9 in his left arm, aka exactly where Maki’s poisoned arrow hit him in another universe. …Honestly it’s kind of impractical for them to have injected him in the arm when the ropes would have made the poison’s circulation from there way slower (though I guess we could pretend that was meant to be the point). I might have otherwise gone for Kaito being injected in the neck – easier to access and much more viscerally unpleasant – but screw it, I wanted the parallel to how he was poisoned by Strike-9 in canon, sue me.

For this chapter, I needed a torture method that’d really push Kaito into being convinced that he absolutely couldn’t take it, and that’d let him see just how amazing he was being when he realised that he still could. So it seemed appropriate to use this one, in which the only real limit to how painful it could get was my imagination – and I like to think I’ve got a pretty good one of those. (And, for that matter, Kaito’s imagination let him become incredibly scared of it before it’d even remotely reached its full effects on him. Because he’s so scared already, he’s imagining the absolute worst, which he’d never have done until he was in phase 2. That helped, too.)

Although, I say I could just use my imagination here, but I actually based this quite a bit on some more research I did. (This fic required more research than probably every other fic I’ve ever written combined; I guess I just don’t usually write about stuff that requires particularly specialist knowledge.) I looked into the effects of strychnine, the real-life horribly painful poison that Strike-9 is named after and loosely based on. …Well, technically it’s only named after it in the game’s localisation – in Japanese it’s just called “lethal torture poison”, a fact I also referenced in-fic – but it does still seem to be based on strychnine either way based on a comment Kokichi makes about finding it harder to breathe, which is indeed the usual way that strychnine kills somebody.

Since fictional Strike-9 is not exactly the same anyway (real strychnine does not have an antidote), I knew I could take some liberties, such as with the non-lethality handwave drug, but I still got inspiration for quite a few of its effects on Kaito from things I’d read about strychnine. One of the biggest effects of strychnine appears to be painful muscle spasms, which admittedly doesn’t seem to fit with canon Strike-9 based on the fact that neither Kaito nor Kokichi are ever shown spasming while under its effects. I dealt with that minor detail by deciding it was possible to consciously hold down the spasms up to a certain point – but also that doing so still hurts anyway, of course, because what would be the point if it didn’t.

It was also appropriate, given that this was when Kaito’s self-loathing was at its absolute peak, that this was a kind of torture that essentially felt to Kaito like it wasn’t even being inflicted on him by the torturers (even though he knew it was) and was just coming from inside him. So it was almost as if everything making Kaito suffer here was all from himself. Having him not be distracted by what the torturers were doing to him from the outside here also made it easy for him to get as introspective as I wanted him to. These aspects were actually unplanned; it was just a happy coincidence that the torture method I’d already chosen for this happened to work so well in these ways, too.

My friend antialiasis deserves credit for the part later in the chapter where Kaito’s realisation that he’s still a hero sends him into a weird triumphant euphoria that actually makes the pain go away for a bit. She proposed that while we were throwing ideas around in the conversation that sparked off me realising this’d be a really fun fic to write. Or, well, most of the conversation was me throwing ideas at her and her going “yes good” – but this one was hers, and I liked it a lot so I included it. It seemed so right that, upon Kaito finally realising how proud he deserved to be of himself, that feeling should have a real tangible impact on him despite all the pain.

Chapter 7

At first, my ideas of how Kaito would eventually be rescued were rather vague and… sort of unsatisfying? Not that Kaito didn’t absolutely need to be reunited with his friends, of course, both for the cathartic relief of everything finally being over, and to explore how he was now comfortable showing vulnerability in front of them. But it seemed kind of narratively awkward that he’d gone through so much hell to finally learn how being a hero really worked, only for his friends to then come along and end things in a way that was completely unrelated to the psychological conflict and character arc that he’d been having.

My original vague scenario for the rescue was something like Maki bursting into the room where Kaito’s being held and taking out his torturers to free him. Then I considered that if Maki and Shuichi were coming as part of a big government raid, the torturers might have already rushed out to try and deal with that as soon as it got there, leaving Kaito tied up and alone and hoping for someone to find him (especially if he’s still in need of an antidote, which I’m pretty sure was one of my ideas at that point). But then it occurred to me that, wait, if they were going to deal with the raid, then wouldn’t it make the most sense for the cultists to want to use Kaito as a hostage, knowing he’s important to Shuichi and Maki?

Which at first was a big problem, because I couldn’t quite see a way for Kaito to get out of that situation alive, and yet I refused to imagine an end to this story in which he didn’t. I came up with the way he got out of it purely in a desperate attempt to let him survive somehow (having concluded that the hostage situation really was the most likely way for events to unfold and it’d be kinda contrived for it to not happen at all). And it just so happened, purely by accident, that this escape method I’d come up with involved Kaito feigning weakness, something he’d never have dreamed of doing at the beginning before his character development – which suddenly made the rescue finally feel narratively satisfying. Kaito was saved not just by unrelated outside factors that would have happened anyway, but because of something he did thanks to what he’d learned from his character arc (while still not having been able to do it without his friends’ help, which he’d also learned to be okay with!).

And it was around this point that I started to seriously decide I was going to write this fic. It was finally starting to come together and feel like more than just some fun hypotheticals that were interesting to self-indulgently think about, but also an actual satisfying story that really deserved to be written.

Since I had a detailed outline and could start the actual writing from pretty much any point, the first part I fully wrote was in fact the hug in chapter 7. This was, after all, the Most Important Part that deserved the most passive editing time to give it as much polish as possible. By that, I mean that I’ll often reread bits I wrote just for fun and make small tweaks without consciously thinking of it as an Editing Session – which would usually mean, if I wrote in order, that the end of a thing naturally winds up a bit less polished than the beginning. I didn’t want that for the Very Important Hug, so I wrote it first on purpose to avoid that.

And while I was never not having immense fun writing this, sometimes it would also get a bit emotionally exhausting to write the more brutal torture parts while so deep in Kaito’s head. So it was nice to be able to wind down from a writing session like that by reading over the hug scene and having the catharsis of knowing that Kaito was going to be okay in the end.

Fun with Ctrl+F

The types of words Kaito was willing to use in his inner monologue to describe what he was going through underwent some pretty big shifts as things deteriorated, some of them deliberate on my part and some just unconscious. And, thanks to AO3’s feature of loading all chapters of the fic on one page, and my browser’s word-search feature putting a marker on the scroll bar at each instance of the searched word, I can get some data that actually visualises the distribution of certain key words throughout the fic.

So what the hey, let’s take a look at some of this. You want graphs? I have graphs. Sort of.

The grey bars are a screenshot of my scroll bar, with the yellow markers on them being instances of that word. Also with indicators to separate the chapters, and to mark where I consider each of the three key phases in Kaito’s character arc (discussed in the previous post) to shift into the next. (Daaaaamn though how did chapters 5 and 6 end up so long. Also I told you phase 1 was the longest one; it’s about as long as phases 2 and 3 combined.)

Pain: 110 words Hurt: 54 words

As you can see, Kaito spends the first chapter and a half – more like chapter and two-thirds, really – definitely not being in any pain at all (or at least, if he is, it’s totally irrelevant and not worthy of mention). But when the pain finally does show up, it’s suddenly all pain all the time with no gradual build-up. Funny, that – almost like it was really all pain all the time from the beginning, too.

It was very freeing once I got past that point in chapter 2 and could finally just have Kaito’s inner monologue say that it hurt whenever I wanted to communicate that fact. Getting that across without directly acknowledging it had been kind of fun, but it’d have driven me mad if it’d gone on for much longer than this.

Chapter 5 is a somewhat less pain-filled chapter than the rest, for obvious reasons. There’s also this interesting patch in the depths of chapter 6 where “hurt” became more common than “pain” for a little while. This wasn’t at all conscious of me, but it might be because “pain” is a slightly more detached way to think about it than an immediate, reactionary “it hurts” – and in the desperate, near-broken state that Kaito was in at that point, he was more likely to be doing the latter.

Agony: 26 words

It was very deliberate of me that the first use of this word was during the hellish near-drowning ordeal that caused Kaito to completely forget Atlas and “lose” his Very Important Space Competition. And then after that point I just let myself use it whenever it felt appropriate, so naturally there’s a lot of it in chapter 6. There were definitely some points earlier than this in which the average person would have described what Kaito was feeling as “agony” – heck, that probably happened as early as chapter 2 – but Kaito was not willing to admit so early on that he was hurting that much. It was only once his mental state had grown weaker that he began to actually describe it that way to himself.

Scream: 33 words

Kaito was a little more willing to admit this one earlier on (though not quite as early as this makes it look – that first one was a scream of rage, which is way more acceptable than a scream of pain, and the second is just his shoulders “screaming” at him in protest and not a sound Kaito made). Actual noises that he physically makes do, after all, have a lot less plausible deniability to them. That said, he had some “piercing yell”s in chapter 2 that most people would have called screams, but nope, they definitely weren’t that, not when he’s totally not even in any remotely significant amount of pain yet.

Scared: 33 words Weak: 32 words

“Scared” isn’t the only fear-related word, but it’s the most common one. And yep, of course this one doesn’t show up until phase 2. (That one in chapter 3 is an outlier; he’s talking about how the cult is scared of Shuichi taking them down.)

It was also deliberate of me to not have Kaito use the word “weak” until phase 2 (the chapter 1 instance is another outlier, talking about the kids and not himself). In fact, I consider the moment he calls himself weak for the first time to be the moment phase 2 begins. Up until then, he’d been doing a lot of questioning how strong he is and worrying he might not be strong enough, but once he starts to outright think of himself as possibly being weak, that’s something that’s him actively failing at being a hero and is a lot harder for him to take back and deny.

But though these two words both show up at around the same time, look at how “scared” is then still used a lot in phase 3 (some of those are about the cultists being scared of him, but plenty are still Kaito’s own fear), whereas “weak” is used a lot less from then on, and never to describe Kaito as actually being weak. While him being scared was always true, him being weak never was, at least not in the sense of weakness that really matters.

Pathetic: 28 words

There are various ways in which Kaito expresses his self-loathing, but this is probably the most common single word that’s always used in that way, so it’s the best way to get us a measure of this. It first appears near the end of chapter 2 but is more scattered earlier on, disappears in chapter 5 while he is in SPACE and obviously Totally Handling It, and then reappears with vicious abandon as he tumbles into phase 2 of his arc. I remember thinking to myself at one point while writing around then, “Kaito, you did not need to call yourself pathetic three times in the same page, calm down.” Turns out it was definitely more than one particular page he was being like that for.

Interestingly, this kind of lessens itself out around when he’s finished his uncontrollable sobbing fit over getting his friends killed. I guess at that point he just couldn’t possibly drag himself any deeper than he already was, and so there was no need for him to be quite so vicious to himself? I’m not sure; this part wasn’t on purpose.

Helpless: 30 words

This one’s honestly kind of less about Kaito’s mental deterioration and opinion of himself. A lot of the time it’s more about the fact that he’s just being externally rendered helpless whether he likes it and would want to agree with it or not. But I was curious as to how many times I used that word: quite a few, it turns out. Still in a somewhat higher concentration during chapter 6, too, as you’d expect.

Tortur: 26 words

(Without the “e” so that the search also catches “torturing”.)

You might expect this one to be used a lot more, since the entire fic is almost nothing but Kaito being tortured. But… most of the time, he doesn’t really like to think about that fact. He’s not precisely lying to himself about it and trying to tell himself he’s not being tortured or anything because that’d be a bit too obviously untrue, so it’ll come up occasionally whenever it’s necessary for him to think that word. But still, he’s trying not to dwell on it.

(Also, fun fact, “waterboarding” is, as antialiasis informed me when she read the fic, a term for a very specific kind of water torture that is not actually what was done to Kaito in chapter 5. However, since it seems that’s a fairly common misconception, I let Kaito have that misconception too and left his line about that as-is, mostly because I didn’t want to change it to “water torture” and have him use the word “torture” again when he didn’t have to.)

The exception here is chapter 6, where that word’s a little bit more frequent than in the other chapters, now that Kaito is openly terrified and can no longer stop himself from freaking out about the fact that he’s being tortured and it’s awful and he doesn’t want any of this. As phase 2 set in, I deliberately had Kaito quietly switch his mental terms for the cultists from “henchmen” or “captors”, to “torturers”. They were his torturers the entire time, obviously, but he only began to actively think of them that way when he could no longer hide from how nightmarish this whole thing was.

Hero: 85 words

Man, Kaito uses that word a lot in this fic. Honestly, this is way more than he’d usually use it – normally it’s a lot more frequent to hear “sidekick” from him than “hero” – but in this instance he is fervently clinging to that concept as the thing that he needs to be, or else. Which is really incredibly unhealthy of him, considering what his standards for living up to that are, up until he figures out what it really means.

There’s considerably less “hero”ing in chapter 5 despite him being very stubbornly Totally Fine for most of that chapter. I mentioned that and the reason for it in part 1 of this author’s commentary, and it’s only because of these Ctrl+F-ing shenanigans of mine that I’d even noticed that.

Sidekick: 34 words

The use of this one has less to do with Kaito’s mental state – except when it vanishes for most of chapter 6 – and is more just because this really is how Kaito will naturally refer to Shuichi and Maki together when not using their names. It still shows up at a lot of the same points that “hero” does, for obvious reasons. And then also in chapter 5 when his sidekicks are in SPACE, even though his mental jury is out at that point on whether or not he’s really a hero.

Friend: 29 words

This word only shows up once Kaito breaks down upon thinking he’s getting his friends killed. Impressively, he then manages to use it almost as many times as he used “sidekick” throughout the entire thing. Which is good. They are his friends and that is Important.

Having him not use the word for most of the fic was deliberate. I’ve talked in one of my commentary posts about the kind-of-heartbreaking fact that Kaito almost never refers to his sidekicks as “friends” and might not even quite realise that’s what they are. So at some point during this fic, along with getting Kaito to realise it’s okay for heroes to be vulnerable, I also wanted him to figure this one out, too. I wasn’t sure exactly when that’d happen, mind you, and just kind of winged it when I saw the best opportunity during the actual writing process. Being broken into believing that he doesn’t even deserve to call them his sidekicks any more and that he’s going to get them killed is, uh, not exactly the happiest way for Kaito to finally realise and fully accept that they’ve always been his best friends, but, well, it got him there.

And most importantly, he kept thinking of them that way even after regaining the ability to think of them as his sidekicks, too. They can be his heroes, sidekicks and best friends all in one.

#danganronpa v3 #kaito momota #kaito whump #ramble #kaito's hero issues #writing #torture #and now to finally move on to something that isn't about this fic! probably #that said i still have plenty more Thoughts about this fic #so still totally open for asks regarding it

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