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fluentmoviequoter · 1 month

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Find Another Moment

Pairing: Jim Street x fem!SWAT!reader

Summary: Through a trip to find his mom, a series of explosions and executions, and an impromptu dinner date, you realize that you need Jim Street by your side all the time. Almost as much as he needs you.

Warnings: spoilers for 2x22 "Kangaroo" and Cinque story line from s2, angst to fluff, Karen Street being a bad mom, lots of comfort and love!

Word Count: 4.2k+ words

A/N: I shocked myself by making a rewrite that isn't chock-full of verbatim lines from the show! I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think!🤍

Masterlist Directory | Jim Street Masterlist | Request Info\Fandom List

There are very few people you rush to answer the phone for. When Jim Street calls hours after your shift ends, you nearly trip over your feet to get to the phone and talk to him.

“Street, hey,” you greet when the line connects.

“Hey, sorry for the late call,” he says. “But I, uh, I wanted to ask if maybe you could get another ride to work tomorrow? I know it’s late notice.”

“Sure. Is everything okay?”

Street sighs, and your worry and concern for him grows.

“You can talk to me, Street. You know that. But you don’t have to.”

“No, I want to,” he answers. “It’s my mom. That thing with the credit card information worked out and I got an address. Now that I know where she is, I can do something. I’m going to go check it in the morning before I head to HQ.”

“No problem. Family comes first. If you want me to come along though, just wait in the car, I can. You shouldn’t have to do this at all, but it’s really messed up that you’re having to do it alone, Jim.”

You don’t often call him by his first name, so you hope he doesn’t take it as trying to force your way into his personal life. He gets enough grief from Hondo about his mom, and the last thing you want to do is make him think you want to interfere and give your opinion, too.

“Your decision,” you add. “But I can definitely call in a favor from someone else. And my car should be back from the shop this week, so I’ll finally stop asking you to chauffeur me.”

“I don’t mind. Just… with my mom, I don’t want to make anything awkward between us if she is there.”

“Street, there’s nothing that could happen that would change how I think of you or our relationship,” you assure him. “I understand if you want to go alone, though.”

“I don’t,” Street says softly. “I really don’t.”

“Then pick me up before you go. What harm can some moral support do?”

“Thank you.”

“What friends are for.”

“No, really. I don’t think you realize just how much you’re doing for me. Thank you.”

“Goodnight, Street.”

Street sits back and sighs. You said nothing could change your relationship, but after moments like this, he wants to be the one to change it. Being friends and teammates is great, but you could be more. And, for once in his life, Street wants to do something for himself, to be happy with you without any care for what others think. If his mother doesn't scare you away, by some miracle or chance of fate, Street will tell you that he has feelings for you. Then, you get to take it from there because Street has been manipulated too many times in his life to find comfort in causing others to rush into big decisions. Especially when his heart and happiness are on the line, too.

The following morning, you wait on the curb of your usual parking spot for Street. He seems nervous as he pulls in, and you hope that the moral support you came to provide eases him. You’ve heard the horror stories about his mom but haven’t talked to her extensively like some of your other teammates. If she is here, you’ll give Street room to do his thing and then navigate the rest as he instructs. Street is special to you, and you refuse to lose him by overstepping or pushing his boundaries. He’s your friend, and you stay there because if you lose Street, you lose everything that matters.

“This is it?” you ask.

Street leans over the steering wheel to look at the old, sinking apartment complex. People wander aimlessly around the building, and clothes and furniture hang from windows. A distinct sense of doom and gloom escapes through all the cracks and crevices, showing the building's age and lack of care.

“Come in with me?” Street requests. “Please?”

You nod as you open the door. As you walk toward Street, you have to step over broken beer bottles, cigarette butts, and empty nos canisters. At his side, you smile, trying to remind Street that you’re with him, no matter what.

Inside, you follow Street up a staircase lined with trash. The hallway at the top is dark and dirty, and the cheap laminate floor is peeling from the corners. No one deserves to live like this, you think as you notice someone sitting at the end of the hall, rocking back and forth.

Street slows beside an open door, and you stop as he pushes it open further. Music plays inside, and Street looks over his shoulder at you and nods once.

“Good luck,” you whisper. “I’m right here.”

You watch Street step inside, then turn slightly to see inside the apartment. It’s trashed and nearly unlivable, but Karen Street is sitting on the floor and laughing at an old cartoon. Your eyes move to Street as he tries to get her attention. A sound down the hall draws your attention momentarily, but you turn back quickly when Street asks who someone is.

“Bryce,” the unseen man answers.

“So, you leave the apartment and disappear for weeks without a word and starting using again ‘cause you chose this guy?” Street asks.

“Name ain’t ‘this guy,’ it’s Bryce,” Bryce says. “And you need to go.”

You can see Street, but not Bryce from your position in the hallway. When Street stands quickly, you step inside and watch as he shoves the man against the fridge.

“Okay,” Bryce pants.

“Hey, stop it,” Karen calls as she stands. “Stop it, stop it! Eddie, baby, please.”

While Bryce asks who Eddie is, you debate whether you should walk back into the hallway or try to help Street. When Karen hugs Street while talking to his father, you wait. You step toward him as he shoves his mom back.

“Oh, Jimmy,” Karen says when she realizes it's Street and not her husband. She pulls her robe closed and murmurs, “I’m gonna… straighten things up.”

She moves toward the kitchen, and you follow her, nodding at Street. You gently place your arm before Karen and smile when she turns toward you.

“Hey, Mrs. Street,” you greet softly. “I can straighten up for you, but why don’t we go somewhere else for now?”

“What’s she on?” Jim asks behind you.

“We took a mix,” Bryce answers. “A mix of a lot of things.”

“Maybe we could go get breakfast,” you suggest. “Wouldn’t you like some time with Jim?”

Karen nods and turns toward Street. “I can make waffles,” she offers. “I might have to go to the store though.”

“I don’t want waffles, Ma,” Street answers.

Street grabs a blanket from the table and drapes it over his mom’s shoulders. “I’m taking her home,” he says as he places his hand on her back. “Bryce.”

You follow Jim and Karen for a few steps, then stop. “Bryce,” you call. “If I find out that the mix of a lot of things was your creation, I’ll be back.”

“It wasn’t!” he yells after you.

You wave your hand over your shoulder as you exit, leaving the door open behind you. When you catch up with Street, he’s almost back to his car.

“You take her home, I can call someone,” you offer.

“I’ll drop you off. Tell Hondo I’ll be late?” he replies.

“Sure.” Street closes the car door, and you catch his wrist as you ask, “Are you okay?”

He shrugs, and you nod in understanding. You squeeze his hand gently, then release him to get in the car. Street means more to you than he’ll ever know, and you’ll do everything you can, even covering for him to Hondo, to be here for him.

“Street, it’s me,” you say to the voicemail. “Hondo knows you’re running late, but I didn’t tell him anything specific. I’m going to the courthouse with Cortez. Um… if you need anything, let me know.”

After you hang up, you exit the car and meet Jessica on the sidewalk. She knows who you called, you’re sure of it, but you’re hoping that she won’t try to meddle or give you advice. The walk into the courthouse is a comfortable silence, which you’re grateful for. As you sit, Jessica speaks to the reporter on her other side, but you keep your eyes on the defendants before you. When they stand suddenly and begin chanting, you roll your eyes. They’ve been saying the same thing since they were arrested.

“The time to be good to each other has passed,” they add. “The system will be burned to ashes, starting with this courthouse.”

You look at Jessica as you lean forward.

“That’s new,” she says.

Outside the courthouse, people begin yelling, and you don’t hesitate to stand and walk toward the door. Jessica follows behind you, and when you enter the hallway to see Cinque on the screen, you stop in your tracks.

“Cinque,” Jessica says. “He must have hacked the feed.”

She raises her phone to film the live video, but you listen to Cinque rather than focus on who is with him or where he is. Hondo and the rest of your team will be watching back at HQ, but if you can help, you want to be prepared.

“So,” Cinque continues, “this time we don’t want money and we don’t want to bargain. We’re going to burn the system down and rebuild on its ashes.”

Cinque raises a phone and presses the screen. Several cars outside the courthouse explode, and you duck down as the people around you scream. Jessica pulls her gun and instructs people to move farther into the courthouse. You stay beside her and fight every instinct to run out and help the people closest to the explosion.

“Cortez, this isn’t over,” you say over the chaos behind you.

Jessica holsters her gun and pulls her phone out of her pocket. “He’s going to sentence a politician on live television every hour,” she tells you. “He’s just getting started.”

“That was the 4th Street bridge, but he’ll move. You need my team.”

Your phone rings before Jessica can respond. Street’s name on the screen is the best thing you’ve seen all day, you think as you answer the call.

“Street,” you greet when the call connects.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“I’m fine. Cortez is good, too. No casualties here. How are things there?”

“Hectic. When are you coming back?”

“When am I coming back?” you repeat, looking at Jessica. She shrugs, it’s your decision. “I’m not. I’m going to stay with Cortez and keep an eye on everything here.”

“Be careful,” Street implores. “Keep me updated.”

“You, too.”

“Councilman Strub’s body, hanging from the 4th Street bridge, it seems familiar.”

“Figure it out, Street, we both know you can.”

“I have to tell Hondo all is good there.”

“I’ll see you later, Street. I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Less than an hour later, you’re still at the courthouse when Cinque executes another politician. You don’t watch this time, but you text Street to be careful immediately after the broadcast ends.

Back at HQ, Hicks tells Street, “Get the rest of your team and go grab Cinque!”

“The rest of my team isn’t here,” Street mumbles as he and Deacon exit the situation room.

“I know you’re worried about her,” Deacon says, “but she’s okay. If we want to get her back here safely, we have to stay focused, Street.”

Deacon joins Luca as Street calls for Chris and Tan to visit the location of Cinque’s last IP address. As he works, Street realizes that Deacon is right and wrong at the same time. He doesn’t just want you back to be part of the team, Jim Street wants you by his side all the time. Having you at his side, as a teammate, when things are bad, is great, but that’s not all he wants. He needs more.

After successfully saving Councilman Washington, 20 Squad is surprised to see Jessica back at HQ. Street, however, only looks for you.

“She’s still at the courthouse, waiting for things to settle there,” she tells Street. “Deputies didn’t mind the help.”

Street nods and watches Jessica walk to her office with Hondo. He’s glad you’re okay and safe, but he’d prefer to see you in person. You stepped up this morning to help him with his mom, and now, Street isn’t sure when he’ll see you again.

“We need to find Cinque,” he tells Luca.

“For personal reasons or the public’s safety?” Luca asks knowingly.

“Why not both?”

Your phone rings during a conversation with a bailiff. Jessica’s name on the caller ID makes you answer it before you even excuse yourself.

“Cortez, hey,” you greet. “Everything okay?”

“It will be. Cinque is in custody, and Deacon and Hondo are reviewing all the intel we have to find the last Emancipator. I need you to join me at City Hall, if everything is under control at the courthouse?”

“As under control as it can be. They’re understandably freaked about the explosions and the live broadcasts, but they can spare me. I’ll be there in twenty. Do you think we’ll actually find anything or have to wait for another lead?” you ask as you exit the courthouse.

“I wish I had an answer for you.”

Before you leave for City Hall, you text Street to let him know where you’re going. You hesitate over the ‘Send’ button, then add, I’ll see you soon. It’s a promise.

“Find anything?” Street asks as he enters the situation room.

“There’s a live press conference at City Hall, we think it’s the next Emancipator target,” Hondo answers. “Cinque’s been planning all of this for a while. Was there anything going on at City Hall in the last year?”

“Let me see,” Deacon murmurs. After a quick search, he pulls up a record and photos. “They installed new security cameras four months ago, and the installation crew had to scan IDs to gain access to the building. And that work crew sure looks like our Emancipators on trial.”

“They used the installation job to plant explosives inside City Hall,” Hondo realizes.

Street’s phone buzzes, and he continues listening to Hondo as he reads your message and rereads it.

“Cinque likes an audience. Now he’s got one on live TV,” Hondo adds.

“Tell Cortez,” Deacon urges.

“She’s not the only one there,” Street says, looking up from his phone. “They’re both in a death trap.”

“Call her,” Hondo commands as he raises his phone to his ear. “We need everyone out without raising flags.”

Standing in the crowd at City Hall, you watch as Cortez turns to the side and answers her phone. Your phone begins buzzing immediately after, and you step back to answer the call from Street.

“The Emancipators are planning to blow up City Hall,” Street says, skipping his usual greeting. “Hondo wants everyone out.”

“Got it,” you answer.

“No, hey, listen to me. You get out of there.”

“Street, I will.”

“Don’t wait, just get out of there and come back here. Okay?”

“I’ll be back soon, Street. I promised, didn’t I?”

Now, you just have to keep that promise.

Back at HQ, Hondo preps 20 Squad, and they roll out in Black Betty less than five minutes later. In his seat, Street forces himself to pay attention to Hondo. If he doesn’t focus on his job, his mind will run rampant and make him think of everything that could happen to you.

When people begin exiting City Hall, the final Emancipator detonates one of the explosives hidden inside. You’ve strayed from Hicks and Cortez to make sure everyone gets out safely, and when the building shakes and the first explosion echoes through the halls, you cover your head.

“Go, get out of here!” you yell to a man in the same hall.

The explosion sounded like it was on the two-side of the building. Though you know the sound may have been distributed oddly and you could be wrong, you begin moving that way. Street told you to leave, but you’re this close; you can’t sit back and do nothing.

“Go,” you call as you run past civilians exiting doors off the hallway.

You near the two-side as the explosions continue, ranging in speed and location. Without communications with your team, you have no idea if the bomber is even in the building. Or anyone else, for that matter.

“22-David, Chris got the bomber,” Luca alerts.

“30-David to D-Team. Status,” Deacon requests.

“26-David, clear,” Street answers.

“25-David, clear,” Tan adds.

“20-David, all clear,” Hondo reports after a moment. “And I’ve got Cortez.”

“Just Cortez?” Street asks.

Street doesn’t wait for an answer before he rips his phone from his pocket and calls you. You don't answer, and Street runs toward one of the only standing entrances. As he enters the falling building, he yells your name, screams through the dust, ignores the burning in his eyes and throat, and climbs over the rubble.

“Talk to me!” he yells, feeling ready to collapse. Leaning against a pile of debris, Street yells your name once more.

Each explosion disorients you more. Between the dust, the noise, and how the closer explosions throw off your balance, you lose sight of the exterior wall and your escape. Instead, you focus on moving forward and keeping your hope of finding any door.

Someone yells in the distance, but you can’t decipher where they are. Everything is muffled, and your steps are growing slow and heavy in your oncoming lethargy.

“Street,” you whisper, reaching for your phone before remembering you dropped it while running past a falling pillar.

Your eyes flutter closed as you lean against a wall. Investigators will be inside soon, so you rest amongst the wreckage and consider simply waiting for them. Until someone yells your name, that is.

“Street?” you ask without opening your eyes. You try to imagine the voice in your head again, and the simple thought of Jim Street gives you the strength to stand. “Street!” you yell. You’re interrupted by a cough, but you call for him again and hope you aren’t imagining his presence.

“What can you see?” Street yells.

He sounds closer now, and you smile as you reply, “Dust!”

“Cute,” Street says, his voice quieter but clear.

You turn to the side, and your eyes widen when you see him. Street steps to you and pulls you against his chest, hugging you tightly. He cradles your head against his chest for a moment before he pulls back and lays a hand against your cheek to look at your face.

“Let’s get out of here,” he suggests. “You feel okay?”

You nod and agree, leaning against Street as he follows Luca’s radioed directions to a clear exit. In the light of day, you can see that you and Street are both covered in dust, but there’s no one else you’d rather have beside you for support. You like having him by your side, you realize, and you wouldn’t mind staying at his side even when you’re off-duty.

“Thank goodness,” Street sighs. “I thought I’d forgotten what you looked like without all the City Hall powder on you.”

“You stare at her enough it should be burned into your mind,” Luca teases as he waves at you. “Have a good one.”

“You too, Luca,” you call.

“You want to come over?” Street offers, pulling his backpack onto his shoulder. “I can make you dinner.”

You smile as you close your locker. “I really want to, Street. But isn’t your mom at your place right now? Don’t you need to spend time with her, before, you know?”

“Is that the only reason you’re saying no?”

“I didn’t say no,” you argue with a smile. “I don’t want to intrude, though.”

“Come with me,” Street repeats, offering his hand.

You lay your palm over his, and you know you are home. Your place has always been by Jim Street, and you’re finally seeing that.

“Go ahead,” you murmur at Street’s door. “I’ll either be here to take you to my place or I’ll come in later.”

Street nods and squeezes your fingers gently. As he enters his apartment, he sighs. “Hey,” he tells his mom.

“How was work?” she asks.

“It was good,” Street lies. You were in danger, it was terrible, but his mom has enough to deal with already. Not that he would have told her the truth anyway. “How you feeling, Mom?”

“My headache’s cleared away, so… Thank you so much for coming and getting me. Uh, thank your friend, too. You okay?”

Street doesn’t answer, his eyes straying to the door, where you’re waiting to be everything he needs and more. Not because you have to or feel some obligation or twisted sense of responsibility for him, but because you want to.

“I’m so sorry, Jimmy, that you had to see me like that,” Karen continues. “Sometimes your mom’s just pretty sick.”

The door opens, and Street doesn’t turn around because he knows it isn’t you.

“Mrs. Street,” Karen’s parole officer says, “I have to remand you back into state custody for parole violations. You missed several check-in appointments and were found under the influence or narcotics.”

“You reported me?” Karen asks Street.

“So that you can get treatment, get better,” Street explains.

“I can’t go back to jail. Jimmy, I can’t go back to prison, I can’t. After all I’ve been through and all I’ve done for you, you’re sending me back? What kind of son would do this to his mother?”

“The kind that doesn’t want you to die.”

You watch as Karen is led out of Street’s apartment. With her back to you, she never sees you, but you heard everything. The door is still open, but you knock regardless as you step into Street’s home. His eyes are on the floor until you enter, and then he looks up with sadness evident on his face. Jim Street has never been one to wear his heart on his sleeve, but with you, he’d rip it out of his chest and place it in your loving hands without second-guessing that you’d treat it better than he ever could.

“Jim,” you say softly. “I’m so sorry.”

Street gently grabs your left wrist, closing his fingers around your skin and feeling your pulse thump beneath his touch. With his other hand, he pushes the door closed. When you step closer to him, Street pulls you into his arms and drops his head to your shoulder. Carefully, you move your hands to rub between his shoulders while gently brushing through his short hair.

“You did the right thing,” you promise him. “You love her. Even if she can’t see it, you did the right thing.”

Street’s arms tighten around your waist, and you close your eyes as you hold him.

“What do you want for dinner?” Street asks against your shirt.

You chuckle at his sudden change of subject, but neither you nor Street move. The comfort, the peace, the love you feel at every point of connection you have with Street is better than anything you’ve ever felt or will ever feel in the future.

“What if we order from your favorite place?” you suggest.

“Why?” Street mumbles, his hands clutching the back of your shirt.

“Uh, because you like it.”

“No, I mean, why stay with me, be here for all of this?”

You gently push Street back to look into his eyes. With your hands on either side of his face, you smile and answer, “Because I want to be. Right here is the best place I’ve ever been.”

Street smiles, his dimples appearing beneath your thumbs at your honesty. With his hands at your side, Street leans his forehead against yours and sighs.

“I really am hungry,” he admits.

“I thought we were having a moment,” you tease, brushing your thumbs over his dimples.

As you look into Street’s eyes, you desperately want to kiss him. After everything that’s happened, you don’t want to make him uncomfortable or force him into something he isn’t ready for yet. So, you wait.

“You didn’t listen to me. When I told you to get out of City Hall… you were all I could think about and when we realized what Cinque’s crew was doing, I realized that I need you, all the time,” Street confesses.

“I thought you were hungry,” you whisper.

“You can’t have it both ways,” Street replies happily. “Unless you want it both ways, and then I’ll find a way to make it work.”

“I want you, Street,” you say. “Now and forever, I want nothing but you.”

“Even with all the drama?”

“And the trauma,” you affirm with a nod. “We all have pasts and baggage, Street.”

“Would kissing you immediately after sending my mom back to jail be weird?”

“Now that you’ve pointed it out, yes, it would.” You step back and suggest, “Dinner and then we try to find another moment?”

“Only if you’re in it,” Street answers.

#jim street x fem!reader #jim street x reader #jim street fluff #jim street fic #jim street imagine #jim street #swat cbs #fem!reader #hanna writes✯#swat x reader #swat #the comfort Street deserves

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arrowfleur · 6 months

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Sam fandom thoughts

Although I can honestly see both sides of what the fandoms been saying about the recent Sam developments I think it’s important to remember that Sam and Darlin are both extremely traumatised characters. Their relationship isn’t going to be ‘normal’. Their coping mechanisms, their timing with events, everything to do with their relationship is different to one of non-traumatised characters if that makes sense?

There are definitely a lot of ways to look at how they handle things, like how Sam being ready for sex and biting with Darlin were both after life-altering events. Would it be nice for them to come to these points in there relationship in a ‘healthier’ way? Yes it would.

But that’s literally not how their brains work. I’m not trying to patronise their characters. Their actions are still their actions, they are grown adults and shouldn’t be minimised to just what’s happened to them. But the things they’ve gone through aren’t just side story’s or plots for comfort audios.

Trauma scientifically changes the way your brain works, it can literally change who you are as person. And for Sam in particular he’s canonically never been in a healthy situation besides his relationship with Darlin (and the Shaw pack).

So if the way they do things kinda seems off to the average folk, that’s normal. Sam literally says ‘it’s not weird, it’s us.’ It’s how THEY handle things.

There’s nothing wrong with disliking it, with wishing it was different or with completely enjoying it. But I think it’s something we don’t keep in mind in this context enough.

I’ve been an avid Sam fan since he got a playlist on the channel and even to me some things seem rushed or ‘strange’ but that’s because I’m not the characters, I haven’t gone through what they have, and in some lights it’s kind of refreshing to see how relationships between different people with different pasts can develop. Instead of a character going through something horrendous having a cry about it and then going back to their old self.

Plus both of their main traumas come from their past sexual partners so yeah sex is gonna be involved in how they deal with things makes sense

#there’s alot more to say but I don’t like being negative on here #not that I mean this in a neg way #also Sam has lured me back from my hiatus so hi folks!#redacted audio #redacted asmr #arrowsqueue #redactedverse #redacted sam #redacted darlin

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hbyrde36 · 5 months

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NOW COMPLETE!!!

For my beloved @penny00dreadful 💜🖤

My fandom bestie, writing soulmate, and one of my absolute favorite people in the entire world.

Happy (early) Birthday 🌈👠💖

Huge thanks to @pearynice and @hitlikehammers for all your help in making this story come to life!

WC: 3483 | Ch 1/4 | AO3 <-

Chapter 1: Over the Rainbow

To be perfectly honest, Steve always felt a little unsafe riding around in the van with Eddie. It wasn’t that he was a bad driver, per se, but he was definitely a distracted one, constantly needing to be reminded to keep his eyes on the road instead of the tape deck. He also tended to treat speed limits as more of a suggestion than something enforceable by law.

Tonight was no exception, the feeling of unease even worse than usual because of the storm raging outside. They shouldn’t have even been on the road in these conditions, a fact Steve had tried in vain to convince Eddie of. Hawkins was under a tornado warning for fuck’s sake! But the other boy wouldn’t hear it, their errand was too important.

They had plenty of beer, but they needed snacks.

According to Eddie there was absolutely no way they could enjoy Friday the 13th part 27, or whatever ridiculous number sequel it was that he wanted to watch, properly without the three basic food groups: Pringles, Twizzlers, and some form of chocolate.

They were having a movie night, just him and Eddie. It was no big deal, really. Steve wasn’t nervous about it at all. They’d been getting along fine since Vecna had been defeated, better than fine! They just… hadn’t spent a lot of one-on-one time together.

Typically, at least Robin, and some-or-all of the kids, would join them on a night like this, but the kids were set on going to the arcade, and Robin—who’d finally gotten over her fear of driving and managed to get her license on the first try—was taking Vickie out for what may or may not be a date, and borrowing Steve’s car to do it.

Therein lay the source of the problem, actually. It was usually Robin’s job to procure movie night snacks, and in her absence neither of them had thought to pick up the slack.

Which is what had led them to this moment.

Flying down the road at 15 miles per hour over the posted speed limit, minimum, in a fucking downpour, at night. They were just asking for a deer or some shit to come bounding across the road and then—BAM!

As if on cue, just as Steve had the thought, something did indeed dart out from the side of the road to cross in front of them. Fortunately, for once, Eddie was actually paying attention. He slammed on the brakes, simultaneously jerking the wheel, allowing them to narrowly miss hitting the poor wild animal.

Unfortunately, that combination of evasive maneuvers caused them to spin out, and sent the van careening into a ditch on the side of the road. The vehicle flipped, and Steve had just enough time to think how glad he was that they’d both been wearing their seatbelts, before something from the rear came flying up to smack him hard in the back of the head.

Steve came to slowly, blinking awake, wincing as the bright light of day attacked his retinas.

Day?

But it’d been night, hadn’t it? It was dark, and it was raining, and…

The evening before came back to him in a sudden rush. The van sliding across the road, the sickening crunch of metal as it rolled, gravity doing what gravity does. He didn't remember anything after that, but it looked like somehow they’d managed to land upright in the end at least.

He rubbed at the nape of his neck, pleasantly surprised to find no lumps, bumps, or blood, nor did he feel the telltale nausea that sometimes came with a really bad blow to the head. He wondered if Eddie–

Oh my god, Eddie!

Steve looked to the left, finding the driver's seat empty and was instantly gripped by panic. He scrambled out of the car, nearly falling on his ass in his hurry.

“Eddie?” He called out, fear churning in his gut. “Eddie?!”

He spun a circle, relief washing over him as he found the other boy only a few feet away.

Eddie was sitting on a large tree trunk, rocking ever-so-slightly back and forth, gnawing on his fingernails as he stared at the backside of the van.

“There you are! Dude, you scared the shit out of–” Steve trailed off as he rushed to Eddie’s side to see what he was looking at, and swallowed hard. It was a pair of legs in striped stockings wearing a killer pair of red heels, sticking out from under the rear tires. The shoes glittered cheerfully in the sunlight. “Oh, fuck.”

Eddie dropped his head into his hands. “I thought I swerved in time. I thought we missed it.”

“I thought it was a deer.” Steve mumbled.

Eddie cut him an annoyed glare. “Clearly not, Harrington.”

“Hey,” Steve said softly. He knew Eddie well enough by now to tell when he was scared—when he felt guilty, even if he was trying to act otherwise. “This isn’t your fault. It was an accident.”

“Yeah,” Eddie huffed. “Tell that to the cops! They thought I was a murderer once already. It’s only been a few months where I can actually be seen in public without someone calling me a devil worshiper, or worse. Now they’ll think they have proof that I really am a killer!”

“You know Hop will go to bat for you again, and I’m here. I can be a witness.”

“That’s not all.”

“It somehow gets worse than us accidentally killing some lady?”

Eddie sighed, raking a hand over his face as he rose from the stump. He turned, gesturing to something behind them, but Steve was still stuck on those legs. He couldn’t look away.

“Why the hell was someone out in shoes like that in the middle of the night anyway?” Steve mused. “It was pouring.”

“Steve, look.”

“What if we just said I was driving? Then we– “

“Steve!” Eddie gripped his upper arms, forcibly turning him around.

Steve’s eyes went wide. They were standing right on the edge of a little town. Little, not only in the way that the town itself was small in, like, area, though it was that—about the size of one city block—but for the fact that all the colorful little buildings and bungalows were miniature. The whole thing was surrounded by gardens laden with all sorts of beautiful plants, shrubs, and trees, with flowers of every shade in bloom.

“What the fuck,” Steve breathed, taking a few tentative steps into the vivid village.

“Yeah.”

“Eddie, what the fuck?! Where are we? And why is everything in technicolor?”

Eddie stepped up from behind to clap him on the back.

“I don’t think we’re in Hawkins anymore, big boy.”

Steve shot him a look over his shoulder. “What was your first clue?”

“I see where Dustin gets his tone from.” Eddie mumbled.

Steve chewed on his bottom lip. “Do you… do you think it’s like the Upside Down?”

“In the sense that it’s another dimension? Maybe, but I don't get the feeling this one has any terrifying monsters. It’s too clean. It even smells nice, like roses and shit.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. Eddie had a point, nothing about this place screamed danger. “The Upside Down always smelled like mold and rotting flesh.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.”

“What do we do? How do we get back?” Steve asked, not really expecting Eddie to have all the answers, but he did his best thinking out loud with company.

“No idea.”

“Should we start walking? Maybe try and find a payphone?”

Eddie scoffed. “A payphone?”

“Do you have any better ideas?”

The other boy was quiet for a moment, a rare occurrence, but eventually threw his hands up in defeat. “No, actually. So, I guess walking it is.”

Steve turned back, intending on pilfering the van for things that might be useful, like water, weapons, or one of the many lighters that littered the floor, when something in the distance caught his eye.

“What the hell is that?” He asked aloud, pointing up to the sky at a giant pink bubble that was headed straight for them.

Eddie squinted up at it. “I think there's something inside.”

“Should we run?”

“Maybe we should pop it.”

“You just said there was something inside! Wouldn’t that let it out?”

Eddie shrugged.

In no time, the bubblegum colored sphere settled near them and faded away, leaving behind a woman with long dark wavy hair. She held a long scepter, and wore a tall crown and a poofy ball gown, of all things. There was also something very familiar about her face.

“Wait.”

“No.”

“Is that?”

“It can’t be.”

“Joyce?!” They both said, in tandem.

The woman in the ballgown tilted her head. “Who’s Joyce?”

“You are.” Steve said.

She shook her head, offering him a kind smile. “I’m afraid not. I’m Glinda, the Witch of the North, and who might you be?”

Eddie leaned in, speaking out of the corner of his mouth. “Is she serious?”

Steve snorted a laugh, quickly trying to hide it with a cough.

“What’s so funny?” Not-Joyce asked.

“Nothing, uh, I’m Steve, and this is Eddie.”

She stepped carefully around them, pointing her sparkly stick at the half-a-dead-body that jutted out from under Eddie’s van. “What do you boys have to say for yourselves?”

“I’m sorry?” Eddie said, sobering quickly. At the same time Steve insisted, “It was an accident!”

“Stop giving them a hard time, Glinda. They did us a favor!” A strangely familiar voice called out from behind a nearby bush, and a moment later 6 small-ish figures came popping out of the surrounding foliage.

“They killed The Wicked Witch of the East!” The one with curly hair shouted, as the others cheered.

Eddie jumped. “Jesus H. Christ, where did all you little fuckers come from?!”

“Oh my god.” Steve muttered under his breath.

It was the kids, except they were actually kids. The 11-year-old versions of Dustin, Will, Lucas, Mike, Max, and El pushed and shoved their way past each other, all trying to be the first to approach.

“Who you calling little?” Baby-Lucas said.

“Okay, what the hell is going on here guys? Why are you so young, and what’s with the outfits?” Steve asked, completely dumbfounded.

Once he’d gotten over the initial shock of their appearance, Steve realized they were all wearing costumes or something. The girls wore pink frilly dresses and tall pointed bonnets, something he knew for a fact Max would never have agreed to, and the boys had these funny little shorts with long socks and matching tops—except for Dustin, who donned long pants and an even longer coat, along with a striped bow tie and a giant pocket watch hanging from his side.

Eddie looked similarly stunned. “How did you get us here? And how did you get Joyce in on it?”

“Who’s Joyce?” Mini-Mike-Wheeler asked.

“I think they mean me.” Not-Joyce said.

Tiny Dustin’s face twisted up in confusion. “But that’s not your name.”

She shrugged. “I tried telling them that.”

Steve groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay fine, she’s Glinda. Who are you?”

“Oh! I'm the mayor of Munchkinland.” A wide, gummy smile spread across tiny-Dustin’s face as he stuck his arm out, er, up, for a handshake.

Steve stared down at him, unimpressed. “You’ve gotta be shitting me. I'm done playing whatever game this is. How do we–”

A sudden explosion went off in the middle of the town square only a few yards away, creating a thick cloud of red smoke. On instinct Steve and Eddie both moved to place themselves between the oncoming threat and the Munchkins.

The air cleared quickly, revealing a woman in a long black dress and matching cloak, carrying a broom and wearing a hard scowl.

Steve blinked at her, then looked at Eddie for confirmation that they were seeing the same thing.

“Mrs. Click?”

Eddie nodded.

Her complexion was all wrong but the resemblance was uncanny.

Steve leaned in, whispering, “If that’s Click, who do you think the one we hit was?”

Eddie grinned. “O’Donnel.”

“I am the Wicked Witch of the West. You killed my sister. Prepare to die.” The newcomer declared loudly, sneering at the two of them.

Eddie rounded on her, pointing a finger right in her face. “Look lady, we’ve had just about enough–”

Steve grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him back. “What my friend here means to say is, it was an accident and we’re very sorry.”

“I’ll show you an accident, young man,” The Wicked Witch said, raising her green hands and long pointy nails threateningly in their direction.

“Aren't you forgetting something?” Glinda raised her voice, as she too moved to protect the little ones.

“The ruby slippers! Yes!” The Wicked Witch smiled gleefully and made a beeline for Eddie’s van.

When her back was to them, Glinda winked at Steve and did some kind of wavy-woo with her stick, which, in hindsight he realized was a wand, and the red shoes disappeared from the dead body’s feet right before their eyes, reappearing in Steve’s hand a second later.

“They’re gone!” The Wicked Witch gasped, whirling on the spot and narrowing her eyes at him.

“Why is it always me?” Steve grumbled, resigned to the fight, only to find Eddie taking a protective step in front of him as she approached.

“You! Give them back. I’m the only one who knows how to use them. They’re of no use to you!”

She wasn’t wrong, but Steve felt like maybe it wasn’t the best idea to give what he suspected was a powerful magical object to a woman whose sister they’d just murdered. All those months of spectating while the party played D&D were finally paying off.

“Put them on and stay tight inside of them, Steve.” Glinda said, her tone grave. “Their magic must be very powerful, or she wouldn't want them so badly.”

Nailed it.

“You stay out of this, Glinda, or I'll fix you as well!”

The Good Witch waved her off. “You have no power here. Now be gone before someone drops a… a… a…” She stuttered, waffling as if searching for the right word.

“A van?” Eddie supplied.

“Ah, yes. Thank you, Eddie dear.” She cleared her throat, pausing for what Steve could only assume was dramatic effect. “Now, be gone before someone drops a van on you, too!”

“Very well, but I'll be watching.” The Wicked Witch hissed, zeroing in on Steve once again. “I’ll get you my pretty-boy, and your little dog too!”

“Hey! Who are you calling a dog? You looked in the mirror lately?! Witch.” Eddie spat.

She huffed, raising her broomstick high above her head and bringing it down hard against the road at her feet, sending more red smoke billowing up from the spot to quickly engulf her form. When it was gone, so was she.

“Little dog. Pfft.” Eddie muttered.

“It’s the hair.” Little-Max said, matter-of-factly.

“Yes,” Tiny-Dustin agreed, nodding as he rubbed stubby fingers against his small chin. “The word scruffy does come to mind, to be fair.”

“Watch it, Mayor.” Eddie warned.

“That, and the way you were guarding your friend there.” Little-Max spoke again.

Eddie glowered as she dissolved into giggles that quickly spread through the small crowd. Soon all the Munchkins, as well as Glinda, were clutching their sides with laughter.

Steve didn’t get what was so funny.

“Don’t listen to them, Munson. I like your hair. It’s very… metal.”

Eddie put on a show of rolling his eyes, but under it all was a shy pleased smile. “Thanks, Harrington.”

“That’s rough, boys. You’ve made quite the enemy. The sooner you get out of Oz the better I think.” Glinda said, when the laughter had finally faded.

“And how do we do that exactly?” Eddie asked. “The van’s broken down, and even if it wasn't, I have no idea where the hell we are or how we even got here! Let alone how to get back to Hawkins.”

“The only person who might be able to help you would be The Great and Wonderful Wizard of Oz himself.”

Steve pursed his lips. “Okay, I'll bite. How do we find this Great Wizard?” It took all his strength not to put those last two words in air quotes.

“He lives in the Emerald city.” She said.

“And how do we get there?”

“Follow the yellow brick road, of course.”

Eddie shook his head. “Of course, she says.”

“Do you not have yellow brick roads where you come from?”

“No.” Steve snapped. He was already so tired of this shit, and somehow he knew that the end of, whatever this was, was nowhere in sight.

“My, my, you two are grumpy.” Glinda muttered. Without another word she took a few steps away from them and waved her wand, conjuring a new pink bubble around herself.

“Wait, you can’t just leave us here with these kids!” Steve shouted, but it was too late, The Good Witch had already started to float away.

“We’re not kids, y’know.” Tiny-Dustin said.

“You look like kids.”

“Whatever.” The boy shrugged, taking one of their hands in each of his. “Come on, we’ll walk you to the edge of town.”

The edge of town turned out to be roughly 10 feet away from where the van had landed, which wasn’t a surprise given the compact nature of Munchkinland as a whole, but it did have Steve wondering why they even bothered.

At least the kids—sorry, the Munchkins, had been helpful enough to point out the yellow brick road.

As if they could have missed it.

Eddie let out a long whistle. “Wow, that is YELL-ow. Like, I know they said it, but I guess I expected it to be dull or dirty or something, not this bright sunshine color. Kinda reminds me of that sweater you used to wear.”

Steve tucked the pair of heels awkwardly under his arm and started down the path, wishing he had a bag or something to put them in. Holding onto them like this was going to get annoying fast.

“Aren't you going to put those on first?” Eddie asked.

“Are you serious, Munson?” Steve slowed his pace, turning to gape at him.

Eddie grinned, bumping their elbows together when he caught up. “What, afraid you can’t walk in ‘em?”

“I wear a size 13 men’s shoe, they’re never gonna fit me!”

For a fraction of a second Eddie’s eyes went as wide as saucers. “Jesus, guess I was onto something with that nickname, big boy.”

Steve rolled his eyes, shoving the shoes in Eddie’s direction. “Why don’t you put them on?”

“No, that Glinda lady gave them to you, expressly.”

“I'm telling you they’re not gonna fit.”

“Magic shoes, Steve.” Eddie wiggled his fingers for emphasis. “Magic shoes! Just try, I'm sure it’ll be fine.”

Steve glared as he toed his sneakers off, tying the laces together before throwing them over Eddie’s shoulder, and finally slipped his feet into the sequin adorned pumps.

They fit like a glove.

He twisted at the waist, glancing behind his own back, sticking first one leg out, and then the other, as he looked down at himself. “Hmm, they do make my ass look nice, I guess.”

He also just so happened to be wearing his date night jeans, the ones that hugged him in all the right places, and with the addition of the shoes? It was a good look, if he did say so himself.

A high pitched noise escaped Eddie’s throat. “As if you needed any more help in that department.” He mumbled under his breath.

Steve swallowed hard. “What’d you say?”

“Nothing.”

Eddie was always doing that—flirting, making little comments and then pretending he hadn’t. It drove Steve crazy, never sure if Eddie actually meant it, or if he just liked to tease—not quite sure which answer he hoped was the truth.

Steve turned on his heel, literally, and strode away, tired of wasting time. His first few steps were a bit wobbly, a little like a newborn calf learning to walk, but he got the hang of it pretty quickly. He wasn’t, like, swaying his hips side-to-side confident or anything—yet—but he was reasonably sure he wasn’t going to randomly fall over. It was good enough for now.

“What are we looking for again?” He asked without turning around.

“The Emerald city.” Eddie replied, falling into step beside him again, cheeks a little pink. “The little guy who looked like Will said we’d know it when we saw it.”

“Nicely vague, figures.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it. They seem to take everything very literally around here, so my guess is if we see a place with a lot of big bright green buildings, that’ll be the one.”

Chapter 2

#steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things #steddie wizard of oz #post season 4 #eddie lives #steve harrington/eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie fic #gift fic #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #the party

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cosmererambles · 11 months

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Kelsier and Anti-Social Personality Disorder: An Essay

Thank you sooo much for editing this @ladyartichokie! You were a massive help!

Kelsier Essay

I hope the dear reader will forgive my use of a proper noun as I write this essay; it removes somewhat of a formal aspect from its words but I must admit, it does come from a personal place of my heart. While this essay is meant to be persuasive, it’s also meant to be constructive and to drive a point home that I have been musing on for quite a while. This essay has major spoilers for the entirety of the Cosmere. If you haven’t read up to SP3, please refrain from reading this.

In the endless expanses of the Cosmere, there are hundreds of characters whom many hold dear and just as many whom people hate. You could say this is due to the brilliance of the author, who, despite his busy schedules and near constant time spent behind a keyboard, finds time to sign sheets and answer questions. Why is signing sheets and answering questions relevant to beloved and reviled characters? Read on.

Brandon Sanderson answers hundreds of questions, many of whom are inane, innocuous, or silly. Some are deeper, others delve into the basis behind some of his choices while writing. Still others pertain to characters. We get to the meat of it. This particular character is known, through the writing, as a brutal man, who let nothing stand in the way of his goal, who, while cleaving the noble class of his society in twain, uplifted the peasants and upended the thousand-year reign of his deity and ruler. Yes, we’re talking of Kelsier, the Survivor of Hathsin, hero of the Final Empire, and a character that leaves many people puzzled.

Reddit forums are frequented by questions about him. r/Mistborn and r/Cosmere alike have had their fair share of debates, and there was one thing I noticed in many of these: they take the words of Sanderson very, very seriously. Why shouldn’t they? He’s the author, is he not? Back in 2013, Sanderson had a Q&A session where someone asked him who his most disturbing character was. The WoB is as follows:

I_are_pant

1.Which of your protagonist characters do you dislike the most as a person? Taking in account that you know all of their inner secrets and motivations. 2. On the flip side, which of your antagonists do you connect with the most? The Lord Ruler seems an obvious choice as he was misunderstood by everyone for so long. But still, I’m curious.

Brandon Sanderson This is a tough one, as while I’m writing, I HAVE to like everyone. However, the most disturbing of them is probably Kelsier. He’s a psychopath—meaning the actual, technical term. Lack of empathy, egotism, lack of fear. If his life had gone differently, he could have been a very, very evil dude.

This Word of Brandon has had a decided effect on the fandom, namely in the fact that critical thought surrounding Kelsier, his motives, his struggles, and his successes, has all but been erased. He has been branded a psychopath, and there is nothing anyone can say against it.

The word “psychopath” is a very negatively charged word. To preface things, I want to be clear that this essay is going to refer to “psychopathy” as Antisocial-Personality Disorder. The term psychopath is very old, and largely refers to individuals with this particular disorder. The traditional definition of psychopath is someone who both lacks a conscience and lacks empathy.

Through this essay, I plan to painstakingly showcase that Kelsier fits neither the outdated term nor the criteria for the actual disorder, through canon book citations. I will break down each diagnostic criteria for Antisocial Personality Disorder (Henceforth shortened to ASPD) and Kelsier’s character traits at large. I wish to not only prove Brandon wrong (It is a very old WoB and I doubt very much he still believes this.) but to prove to the fandom at large that Kelsier is a good man. A flawed man, but a good man. I will also note specific character traits that I feel are of note in discussing him, his motives, and his current ideologies.

(Please note that there are plenty of individuals with ASPD that are not bad people. Your actions make you bad, not your mental health. I will be using terms such as “bad” and “wrong”, but this is in regards to a fictional character, NOT a real life human being.)

Antisocial Personality Disorder is a disorder characterized by the DSM-V as a Cluster-B personality disorder. It shares its family with Narcissistic, Borderline, and Histrionic disorders, and is characterized by a “continuing disregard and violation of the rights of others, occurring since the age of fifteen. To be diagnosed with ASPD, you must show a pattern of three or more of the following characteristics:

· Failure to Conform with Laws and Social Norms

· Deceitfulness (Repeated lying or conning of others for personal profit or pleasure.

· Impulsivity or failure to plan ahead.

· Irritability or Aggressiveness (Repeated physical fights or assaults.)

· Reckless disregard for the safety of others.

· Consistent irresponsibility. (Failure to keep a job or honor financial obligations.

· Lack of remorse.

Psychopathy is a term that was coined before this disorder was identified and refers specifically to a person lacking in both empathy and a conscience. The term is still widely used today, along with the term Sociopath, often interchangeably. For this essay, I’ll be largely relying on the psychiatric standards set in the DSM-V.

With this in mind, let’s jump into the criteria necessary for one (In this case, Kelsier) to be diagnosed with ASPD. While Kelsier waits in the waiting room, rather annoyed, let’s overview his case file. I will be pulling The Final Empire (TFE), Secret History (SH), and Eleventh Metal (EM). To make things clearer, I am using the Arcanum Unbounded version of SH and EM.

Failing to Conform with Laws and Social Norms

“Yes, he pocketed the gemstones in the vault, but that was more out of pragmatism than anything else.” (SH)

“Individual must show a pattern of Failing to conform with laws and social norms.” This one is tricky, as we are speaking of a fictional character in a brutal society hell bent on slaughtering those like Kelsier. Him becoming a thief was his way of surviving. While a thief, he was known as trusting, fair, just, and great to work with. When speaking to Vin after saving her from Camon’s beating, he explains just what sort of thief and crew leader he is, which puzzles her for quite a few pages as she notices the level of trust he places in other people.

“…Well Dox and I, we’re scavengers too, we’re just a higher quality scavenger. We’re more well bred, you might say-or perhaps just more ambitious.” (Chapter 3, page 56, TFE). After Clubs leaves in a huff, Yeden exclaims that he has to be dealt with, and Kelsier shuts him down.

“You’re just going to let him go?” “…I don’t work that way, Yeden. I invited Clubs where I outlined a dangerous plan-one some people might even call stupid. I’m not going to have him assassinated because he decided it was too dangerous. If you do things like that, pretty soon nobody will come listen to your plans in the first place.” (chapter 4, page 80, TFE).

Clubs, upon his return, remarks he’s heard that Kelsier would never use emotional allomancy to sway someone to his side. “You’re a smoker Clubs. He couldn’t do much to you, not if you didn’t want him too.” “I don’t like Soothers…Men like that…well you can’t trust you aren’t being manipulated when they are around. Copper or no copper.” “I wouldn’t rely on something like that to get your loyalty.” “So I’ve heard.” (Chapter 5, page 87, TFE).

If we mark his thieving and conning as a pattern in this trope, we also have to mark it against Doxson, Hammond, Breeze, Vin, and Clubs, not to mention hundreds of other Skaa and half-skaa that are just trying to live. Thus, this particular criterion is being ignored due to the outstanding circumstances of the Final Empire and how it was run.

Deceitfulness for Profit or Pleasure

“And the third…well, that was Kelsier’s favorite. It involved a tongue coated with zinc. Instead of a knife it used confusion, and instead of prowling it worked in the open.” (SH)

As a con-artist and thief, Kelsier throughly enjoys his trade. He made it a mission in life to con his way to the top of the thieving world, becoming the most “Infamous crewleader in Luthadel” (Chapter 5, page 89, TFE). He loved terrifying the Ire out of their possessions and the orb of Investiture. The man enjoys his profession in life; he didn’t fall into it out of necessity or trick. He even states, in narration of his own in the Eleventh Metal, that when he Snapped as a Mistborn, he immediately gravitated towards Zinc and Brass, as they could “manipulate other people’s emotions.” (Eleventh Metal, page 159). “We’re thieves, gentlemen- and we’re extraordinarily good ones. We can rob the unrobbable and fool the unfoolable…” (Chapter 4, page 75, TFE). That being said, he doesn’t lie to his crewmembers. (Ghostblood’s are a bit different, and I’ll get to that later.) He is upfront and honest with his crew members, never expecting them to go into something without all the information. He has never used emotional allomancy to manipulate his friends. “Despite what Breeze says, it’s bad manners to use emotional Allomancy on your friends.” (Chapter 11, page 212, TFE).

His dealings with the Ghostbloods get a little trickier. I do not think lying to them about having powers has anything to do with profit or pleasure, more, it has to do with his position and what he is. A little mystery aids his position, and I’m sure those closest to him know quite well he lacks powers.

To sum it up, Kelsier does meet this criterion. He enjoys the con, lives for it.

Impulsivity with a Failure to Plan Ahead

“Oh hell,” Kelsier said. “There’s actually a God?”“Yes.”Kelsier decked him. (SH) Impulsiveness, in regards to ASPD, is described as someone who is not only impulsive, but also fails to plan ahead. To quote the exact text. “Impulsivity with a failure to plan ahead.” They lack any way of preparing for large tasks or what they are going to do in the future. In regards to Kelsier, he can certainly be impulsive. Heat of the moment decisions is one of his major strengths, along with one of his major flaws. He’s fond of brash decisions against those he deems slighted him or others (Punching Leras/Ruin in Secret History.) He will jump headlong into danger in order to save those in helpless situations. (Running to save the army, only to be stopped by Vin.) His foray into Kredik Shaw could be called impulsive, though I read it as him believing that since he didn’t plan at all, there was no way he could be betrayed, as had happened last time. Him taking Vin was certainly a foolish choice, though I wouldn’t call it impulsive.

Speaking of his impulsiveness, other characters are aware of it as well. Vin, inspecting the crates that will be shipped to the caves, says that “Even the new, more responsible Kelsier was an impulsive man.” upon learning he planned to go to the caves with Yeden to inspect the army. (Chapter 20, page 331, TFE).

His slaughter of the noblemen and women in the town of Longsfellow after they murdered a young girl could be seen as impulsive. He did it without regard for their plan, which angered Mare.

That being said, Kelsier does not fit this criteria, despite being an impulsive man, as he does not fail to plan ahead. All of Kelsier’s life as a thief was nothing but planning; job after job, all planned out and discussed with his friends/crewmates.

“It was an unfamiliar experience for him. [faltering/indecision] He’d always had a plan, before. Plans upon plans…” (Eleventh Metal, page 152).

“…all those plans, all of those heists, all of his grand visions.” (Eleventh Metal, page 164).

Beginning in Eleventh Metal, Kelsier forms his plan that we see enacted in The Final Empire. Specifically, this line. “Nobody fights, he thought, Nobody thinks they can fight. But they’re wrong. We can fight…I can fight.” (Eleventh Metal, page 165). “A plan began to bud, a plan he barely dared consider for its audacity. Vengeance. And more.” (Eleventh Metal, Page 169).

This plan carries us into the main narrative of The Final Empire. Every major event, barring a few hiccups, is fully orchestrated by Kelsier. He planned for the House War, long before he sat down with his friends and discussed it in Club’s Shop. The beginnings of it were at Trestings Plantation, where he “stirred up a little trouble.” (Prologue, page 12, TFE).

His death, at the end of the novel, was part of a plan; hidden deep under other sets of plans, a hidden leaf of paper among many: A plan to get the Skaa to rise up.

I doubt I need to fully list all of Kelsier’s planning and plotting throughout the books; it’s extensive and would fill several sheets of paper. While we can all agree that Kelsier is an impulsive man, I believe a suitable picture has been drawn up that proves that he doesn’t fit this particular criteria.

Irritability or Aggressiveness

“He’d been in street brawls before, but not many. He’d tried to avoid them-brawling had been an old habit of Dockson’s. For once, he wished he’d been less refined in that particular area.”

Kelsier’s anger throughout the first novel, and indeed Eleventh Metal, is mostly internal. In Eleventh Metal, he doesn’t lash out at Gemmel, despite the man deserving it. He instead focuses that anger on other, more deserving targets. Through most of the novel, he’s rather numb, incapable of any emotion, until he finds the Skaa, hanging up and nearly flayed from the experiments at Shezler’s hands. He murders Shezler brutally with a shard of glass punched to the throat. (Eleventh Metal, page 167). His actions with Hoid in the Well of Ascension could certainly be touted as aggressive, however I disagree with this line of thinking, for reasons I’ll outline in greater detail later in the essay. (Part 2, Chapter 1, page 231, SH)

“Kelsier kept smiling. He’d do so until it felt natural. Until that numbness, tied in a knot within him, started to unravel and he began to feel again. If that was possible.” (Eleventh Metal, page 149).

“…the only thing he could feel these days was rage, and that rage couldn’t guide him.”

Irritability generally means lashing out at those around you. Kelsier doesn’t do that. He gets his angriest towards “friends” in the caves, when manipulating Bilg to speak of his doubts. Diction is very important here. Kelsier wanted Bilg to die for speaking against him. (Something that was, unfortunately, very common in military groups in prior eras (of Earth). It was labeled as treason, and execution was the usual punishment.) “Kelsier paused. This man should die, he thought angrily. On the ground, Bilg groaned quiestly. Kelsier could just barely see his twisted arm, its bone shattered by the powerful strike. It was bleeding. No, Kelsier thought. This is enough.” (Chapter 21, Page 351, TFE).

Note that, despite his anger and irritation, he changes his mind quickly. The heat of the moment, the trauma of being back in caverns similar to the ones he was tortured in, the looming threat of their deaths drawing ever closer, got the better of him, and he stoppered it.

Despite Vin disobeying him many, many times, following him, and contradicting him, Kelsier never snaps at her. When he catches her following him to Kredik Shaw, he sits down and speaks to her. Yet more evidence is seen in his speaking with his brother. Marsh gets angry; Marsh snaps; We can’t deny him this. Yet Kelsier, despite his inner monologue saying that Marsh is the only one that can get under his skin, keeps his relative cool.

““Oh?” Marsh asked, tapping the word atium on the board. “Why the games, Kelsier? Why lead Yeden along, pretending to accept him as your ‘employer’? Why act like you care about the skaa? We both know what you’re really after.” Kelsier clenched his jaw, a bit of his humor melting away. He always could do that to me.””(Chapter 7, Page 130, TFE).

During Secret History, though technically before the events of Eleventh Metal and The Final Empire, Kelsier kills seven people in retribution for murdering a girl for spilling tea. He remembers this as he wanders into the town of Longsfollow. You could definitely argue aggression in this case. (Part 4, Chapter 2, page 282, SH).

Kelsier does not fit this criteria. Random acts of aggression spaced throughout a lifetime of traumatic events and death at every corner are to be expected, and throughout it all, he’s a wonderful man to those around him; supportive, charitable, and loyal.

Reckless Disregard for the Safety of Others

“The best practice is doing.” Vin said. “My brother trained me to steal by taking me on burglaries.” Kelsier shook his head. “It’s too dangerous.”

Kelsier is shown to care, deeply, for the safety of those surrounding him. We don’t see much of it in Eleventh Metal, but we can assume, based on him helping the Skaa get out of the city at the end of the novella, that he cared for their safety.

In TFE, he is constantly aware of not only his crew’s safety, but his army’s as well. They walk a very fine line; one that, if broken, would result in their immediate deaths. Multiple lines of safeguards and protections, of smoke and mirrors, goes into making sure there is no chance of betrayal or accidental mis-step.

“...Renoux nodded. Ostensibly we’re sending this all via canal barges to my plantation in the west. However, the barges will stop to drop off supplies–and many of the canalmen–at the rebellion caverns. The barges and a few men will continue on to keep upon appearances.” “Our soldiers don’t even know that Renoux is in on the plan,” Kelsier said, smiling. “They think he’s a nobleman that I’m scamming.” (Chapter 20, page 329, TFE)

The security of his troops, and indeed, all of their heads as well, was paramount. The three guards at the entrances at all times, were stationed to keep everyone in that cavern safe from potential betrayal. After they find Marsh “dead”, Kelsier sends the entire crew to the bolt lair before leaving for the Pits of Hathsin. He also tells them to send for Renoux, to tell him to pull out. This happened after a night of thought; it wasn’t an impulsive act.

Upon the attack on Vin’s former crew…

“Should we move our base?” Ham asked. Kelsier slowly shook his head. “When Clubs came to this lair, he would have worn a disguise to and from the meeting, hiding his limp…We should still be safe. (Abridged, Page 208, 11)

Upon finding Vin tailing him as he observed Camon’s hanging…

“What are you doing here?” “I wanted to see what you were doing!” “This could have been dangerous! What were you thinking?” (Abridged, 211, chapter 11)

Upon Kelsier catching Vin tailing him, beginning a back and forth about Kredick Shaw, and Vin deciding she’ll tail him regardless of what he says, Kelsier reads her thoughts. “I’m serious, Vin! You can’t go with me.” “Why not?” she asked, abandoning pretense. “If what you’re doing is so dangerous, wouldn’t it be safer if you had another Mistborn watching your back?” “You still don’t know all of the metals,” Kelsier said. “Only because you haven’t taught me.” “You need more practice.” “The best practice is doing.” Vin said. “My brother trained me to steal by taking me on burglaries.” Kelsier shook his head. “It’s too dangerous.” (page 241, 13)

Upon Vin awakening from her coma the second time…

“Vin,” Kelsier said hesitantly. “I owe you an apology. I nearly got you killed.” Vin snorted quietly. “It’s not your fault. I made you take me.” “You shouldn’t have been able to make me,” Kelsier said. “My original decision to send you away was the right one. Please accept the apology.” (Page 268, Chapter 16, TFE).

“I don’t want to be responsible for something happening to you, Vin. Not again.” (page 287, Chapter 17, TFE).

Are there instances where he disregards the safety of others? He doesn’t care for noblemen. He certainly doesn’t care much for the Ire, though they were trying to forcibly take his God. Many people may argue he doesn’t care for those on Roshar, but this has never been explicitly mentioned in the novels; we hear from players that are literal lightyears away from Kelsier, operating under his orders but without his oversight: they can bend rules and hurt people without being chastised.

Kelsier does not fit this criteria, as the above examples clearly illustrate he cares deeply for the safety of those under his wing.

Consistent Irresponsibility (Inability to hold a job, etc)

“A successful crewleader needs to know how to divide labor, especially on a job as big as this one.”

Throughout the novels, Kelsier has shown consistent responsibility. Before the novels take place, we know he led a successful crew of thieves to the point of massive wealth and infamy. After the Pits, he takes the downfall of the Final Empire under his wing, organizing and spearheading the entire operation on largely his own dime and merit. (It was a multi-headed approach, yes; without Dockson, many things would not have gotten done as well as they had with him, but this just showcases Kelsier’s ability to organize work well.) If we’re getting into the more psychological definition of responsibility (the feeling of being responsible for a person, place, or thing(s) wellbeing) he takes responsibility for the entire planet in Secret History, going so far as to cheating final death, taking up a shard for safe keeping, and giving it up, all to keep his planet, and those he loves, from Ruin.

Leading the Ghostbloods is similar to him leading his crew, only on a far wider and grander scale.

As for him being consistently irresponsible, it’s safe to say he doesn’t fit this. There are a few times when he makes brash decisions that could be labeled as irresponsible, but they fit being impulsive better, which is a trait we know he has.

Lack of Remorse

“Kelsier stood up, turning his back toward the sight. For all his cleverness, he’d gone and broken the poor girl’s heart. I must be the smartest idiot around, Kelsier thought.”

Probably one of the most contentious topics in the fandom is Kelsier’s feelings towards the nobles he kills. Chapter 5 into the beginning of Chapter 7, we are confronted with how he feels towards the men he kills in pursuit of his goal.

It is very safe to say, he doesn’t feel remorse for these men. It’s explained as he descends from the roof, pushing two guards off the balcony to their deaths. He’s angry, he’s determined, and has no pity for those who hold up the Final Empire, especially if their skaa. He does, however, feel remorse for hurting those he cares about; those he wants to protect. The best example of this is Vin: he feels terrible when she’s nearly killed because of his stunt at Kredick Shaw, he feels bad for how he spoke to her before he died, and he’s stricken by his actions in “killing” Elend in an effort for her to keep the power.

Note the actions at the beginning of this scene: “Kelsier was there when she awoke. He sat on the stool by her bed, hands clasped with his elbows on his knees, watching her by the faint light of a lantern.” (Chapter 16, page 267, TFE) Based on Sanderson’s word choice, it is safe to say he’s been watching her for hours, agonized. This is further cemented by a later observation by Vin. “What did one make of a world where a crewleader agonized over his people?” (Chapter 16, page 269, TFE).

He’s also broken up by how he spoke to the army, leading Yeden to “test” the army by striking against a nearby garrison. The entirety of page 419 showcases Kelsier’s thoughts and emotions about this, but I’ll break it up.

“He sat with hands clasped before him…” Remember when he was watching Vin? Similar behavior. “Kelsier shook his head. So many dead. They’d gathered nearly seven thousand troops before this fiasco, but now most of them lay dead. Yeden had apparently decided to “test” the army by striking at night against the Holstep Garrison. What had led him to such a foolish decision?” “Me, Kelsier thought. This is my fault. He’d promised them supernatural aid. He’d set himself up, had made Yeden a part of the crew, and had talked too casually about doing the impossible. Was it any wonder that Yeden had thought he could attack the Final Empire head on, considering the confidence Kelsier had given him? Was it any wonder the soldiers would go with the man, considering the promises Kelsier had made?” “Now the men were dead, and Kelsier was responsible…But, he couldn’t get over the twisting in his gut…the fact that they’d likely died expecting some sort of divine protection from Kelsier…that was disturbing.”

Kelsier fully feels the weight of hubris here, of the secret plan he’s been working on by himself the past few months, that we get a window into during his time in the caves. He feels terrible for what he caused, he fully understands that this was because of him. Safe to say, he feels remorse. You could say this is the comeuppance for his actions with Bilg.

When witnessing the executions, Kelsier opens up about his remorse, as well.

“I wish to the forgotten gods that those boys hadn’t died. Unfortunately, we can’t change that now—we can only use the opening they gave us.” (Chapter 26, page 439, TFE).

Kelsier does not want remorse; he’s full of it. He knows when to put it aside, however, and not let it flood him. Kelsier does not fit this criteria.

Deep Dives Specific scenes in Mistborn are contentious, especially with Kelsier. I have gotten into many arguments with people whom I feel miss the point of the books, and because they have a grudge on a character, fail to see things from their perspective. Therefore, I’m going to go into these specific scenes, break them down, and lay them flat. Imagine it’s a UV Map of a 3D model; all little edges exposed so we can get a good look!

Kelsier and Bilg: Chapter 20 of TFE

Kelsier’s manipulation of Bilg is a key point in the evidence FOR him to be a psychopath, and I want to point out that while Kelsier had very good reasons for doing what he did, I am by no means saying he was moral in doing it. With that out of the way, let’s discuss WHY Kelsier manipulated Bilg into doing what he did, and the emotions that brought him to this point.

It’s not explained outwardly in the text, but Kelsier has some pretty major PTSD surrounding his time in the pits. He pauses before entering the crack, and uses this moment to impress the men; but inwardly he’s not enjoying having to enter this thin crack in the earth and delve into darkness. We get to hear his inner thoughts, but to all others, he’s putting on an act of confidence and bravado. (Pages 346, 347, 352, 353 of Chapter 21, TFE).

During the first tour of the caves, Kelsier is thinking of Mare, her betrayal, and it gets to be so much he asks Hammond to tell him “what he’s thinking about.” Hammond proceeds to ask him a question that seriously disturbs him.

The question, which was if Skaa are meant to be ruled over by the nobility, stayed with him the rest of the week, along with his darkened mood. He realizes, as he’s eating the feast at the end of his visit, that the skaa don’t really believe they can succeed. They need a symbol, a sign, and Kelsier decides to use himself as that symbol.

The reason he chose Bilg and his friends at the table was to scapegoat them into taking the proverbial L for the army. It was all to use his allomancy to empower Demoux and show them they can and will overpower the Final Empire. The reason BIlg had to die was the keep up appearances; those who question their commanding officers were executed. You can argue we don’t know enough about how a militia is ran in the Final Empire, or that it’s nothing like Earth’s military, but as it’s written by an Earth bound man with Earth bound references, I believe it’s a safe thing to assume. Kelsier, whom we’ve already discussed is an impulsive man, got caught up in the moment: his anger from the week spent cooped up in a cave that reminded of hell overcame him. He truly wanted Bilg to die in that moment. He superseded this thought process, reigned himself in, and let him live.

The morality of his actions here can be discussed, and no, it wasn’t ok to manipulate Bilg and Co’s emotions like that. It wasn’t ok to use them as a scapegoat. But I can sure see how it was necessary for a single man to be sacrificed in order to bolster several thousand.

Hoid in the Well: Secret History

When it comes to this scene, I won’t argue that Kelsier was being extra here. The man has been cooped up in a 5x5 spot for a long time, with no answers and seriously questioning his logic at becoming what he’s become. His only companion is an insane, unraveling god who barely speaks most times he “visits.” So when an actual man comes by, floating on what looks to be a corpse, Kelsier is immediately on edge.

All quotes are taken from pages 228 – 233, of Part 2, Chapter 1, of Secret History.

“ “Who are you?” Kelsier asked, stepping to the edge of his prison, eyes narrowed. “A spirit?” “Alas,” the man said, “death has never really suited me. Bad for the complexion, you see.” He studied Kelsier, lips raised in a knowing smile. Kelsier hated him immediately.” “

Seen from Kelsier’s perspective, this is a man that knows things and is holding back. This is a schemeing, conniving man, that is similar to the nobles he’s dealt with all his life. It doesn’t help that Hoid and Kelsier have similar personalities. Note Hoid’s words, “bad for the complexion.” A similar line is used by Kelsier at the very beginning of TFE.

“Fieldwork hasn’t ever really suited me.” Kelsier said. “It’s far too hard on my delicate skin.” (Prologue, page 6, TFE).

“Got stuck there, did you?” the man said. “In Ati’s prison…” He clicked his tongue. “Fitting recompense, for what you did. Poetic, even.” “What I did?” “Destroying the Pits, O Scarred one. That was the only perpendicularity on this planet with any reasonable ease of access.” Kelsier has no idea what a perpendicularity is. Yes, he destroyed it. Did he know what he was doing on a grand scale? No. He was, to his knowledge, destroying the Empire’s main economic driver. Hoid treats him like a criminal when Kelsier was fighting against an unjust Empire, one that Hoid is very familiar with, having been to Scadrial before. Calling him names doesn’t help.

“Who are you?” Kelsier said. “I?” The man said. “I am a driver. A miscreant. The flame’s last breath, made of smoke at it’s passing.” “That’s…needlessly obtuse.” Well said, Kelsier. Hoid plays games, this we know from dealing with him in Stormlight. However, with Kaladin and Shallan he gives half answers, or none at all, in a playful, non-demeaning way. Here he’s laden with vitriol and spite, for no good reason. It gets worse.

“And you claim to not be dead?” “If I were, would I need this?” the Driver said, knocking his oar against the front of his small loglike vessel. [Kelsier notices Spanky for the first time, not knowing what a cognitive shadow just is yet.] “A corpse,” he whispered. “Oh Spanky here is just a spirit. It’s damnably difficult to get about in this subastral—anyone physical risks slipping through these mists and falling, perhaps forever. So many thoughts pool together here, becoming what you see around, and you need something finer to travel over it all.” “That’s horrible.” “Says the man who built a revolution on the backs of the dead. At least I only need one corpse.” Hoid is being ridiculous here. Yes, Spanky is a cognitive shadow, but as I’ve stated, Kelsier has no idea what that is. To his knowledge, this man is riding a corpse around. Hoid is also forgetting that the people Kelsier murdered were far less than innocent; Kelsier can make distinctions here. A rapist and murderer who regularly abuses his peasants is different from a corpse used to wade down a lake of thoughts.

Kelsier folded his arms. This man was wary—thought he spoke lightheartedly, he watched Kelsier with care, and held back as if contemplating a method of attack.

Note the diction here; Kelsier is reading Hoid’s body language as he should; Hoid is planning to use the well to gain purchase in the spiritual realm and take that bead of Lerasium. He isn’t planning anything wrong per se, but Kelsier has no way of knowing that. All Kelsier sees is a man preparing to attack.

“He wants something, Kelsier guessed. Something that I have, maybe? No, he seemed legitimately surprised that Kelsier was there. He had come here, intending to visit the Well. Perhaps he wanted to enter it, access the power? Or did he, perhaps, just want to have a look at the thing Beyond?”

Wrong guesses, but good ones all the same for an ignorant man. Hoid does want something. So far, Kelsier’s waryness is completely justified. He tries to be polite, asking a simple question. “Well, you’re obviously resourceful,” Kelsier said. “Perhaps you can help me with my predicament.” “Alas,” The Driver said. “Your case is hopeless.” Kelsier felt his heart sink. “Yes, nothing to be done,” the Driver continued. “You are, indeed, stuck with that face. By manifesting those same features on this side, you show that even your soul is resigned to you always looking like one ugly sonofa—" “Bastard!” Kelsier cut in. “You had me for a second.”

Instead of even offering Kelsier a crumb of help, he instead insults him, for…very little reason. Hoid rarely kicks people when they’re down; he instead punches up. We notice this with the Rosharan nobility. He doesn’t insult the peasant waitstaff. Why is he insulting Kelsier? There is no reason to do so; he’s just being an ass to be an ass. Kelsier hasn’t even mouthed off yet.

So far Hoid has treated him like an inferior, insulted him and been “needlessly” obtuse, all while showing suspicious body language. Is it any wonder Kelsier is on edge and ready to defend the Well? He knows it’s for Vin; he means to protect it until she can have it.

The two go back and forth for some time, speaking of Kelsier’s bastard nature, skaa versus nobility, and Hoid applying some (I believe it to be dor, but I’m not sure) glowing stuff to his oar. (in an effort to prevent it from de-manifesting). As they speak, Hoid edges closer to the well. Kelsier has been watching him this entire time.

He begins to ask a question again, despite Hoid’s rudeness. “Is there a way to escape this prison?” Kelsier asked. “How about this?” the Drifter said. “We’ll have an insult battle. Winner gets to ask one question, and the other has to answer truthfull. I’ll start. What’s wet, ugly, and has scars on it’s arms?” Another insult to an innocent question, and now Kelsier is very on edge. He’s obviously deflecting. So Kelsier decides to be as extra as possible in an effort to scare him away. Now, a cognitive shadow would, realistically, be as scary as an earthworm to Hoid if it’s not on Threnody, but Kelsier doesn’t know this. Which is why he brings out his “I’m-going-to-murder-you” routine that goes into lurid detail and leaves Hoid speechless. Kelsier even throws in a shrug.

Hoid then dives for the well, and Kelsier grabs him, determined to disable him, kill him, or just prevent him from doing whatever he wants to do in the well. Which leads to their fight, where Kelsier does zero damage to Hoid and Hoid proceeds to torture him incessantly as a “lesson.” He did not need to go as far as he did. If Hoid had been truthful with who he was, what he was after, and perhaps offered explanations, Kelsier would have been less inclined to act rashly. Instead, Hoid is needlessly obtuse, rude, mocking, condescending and tortures him.

It makes his words at the end of RoW amusing to me, as Hoid cheats in this fight and was the aggressor in every definition of the word. Hoid strikes first by the very fact he jumped for the Well. Kelsier was merely defending it.

“Deal with your own stupid planet, you idiot. Don’t make me come there and slap you around again.” (Chapter 115, page 1238, RoW).

To tie this long, rambling, and somewhat insane essay up, Kelsier is not a psychopath. He fits only one of the criteria, and only somewhat fits another. Since one needs to fit three of the traits in order to be diagnosed, the man is free from ASPD. Through the essay, I have showcased his empathy, his understanding, his patience, his trust, and his love of those around him. Hell, he says as much in Secret History when wandering, his soul cracking from loneliness. He’s a flawed man; he can be arrogant, egotistical, and impulsive, but he wants what is best for his people. No one can deny that.

#kelsier #mistborn #cosmere #mywriting #Essay #The Final Empire #Secret History #Eleventh Metal #Brandon Sanderson #Marsh #Vin #ASPD #DSM-V #academic essay #long post

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marvelslut16 · 1 year

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Acquaint Yourself With The Avengers

Prompt number: 29 "That's all? Easy."

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!reader

Rating: E(veryone)

Word count: 4.2k+

Warnings: Maybe some swearing. Slow Burn? Reality TV show hate. Bucky (and readers') self hatred. Talk of death.

A/N: Hey guys! I feel like I've been gone forever- work is killing me! But I'm back for Fictober and I'm really hoping I'll finally do the whole month. This is part 1 of 2 I think- but I'm open to writing more in this universe. Part two will be up in a few days if not tomorrow. I have never watched a reality TV show, so please bare with me for the mistakes I no doubt made.

“This has to be a joke,” you deadpan, throwing the joke of a contract onto the table in front of you. Steve murmurs in agreement on your left, and an increasingly uncomfortable Bucky shifts in his seat to Steve’s left. “Tony, reality shows are crap. What were you thinking?”

“This is coming from higher up than me,” he rubs his temples, giving away his exasperation. Over the years Tony started to slowly step out of the spotlight, no longer seeking out media coverage. “It’s directly from Fury, and the few Congress members that are still on our side. Since the Accord drama our ratings have been dipping, we need them to see that underneath it all we’re just human.”

“And if I don’t agree to it?” your voice hardens as you have a staring contest with the billionaire.

“Then you’re out.”

“So you’re telling me if I don’t exploit my life, if we all don’t exploit our lives- we’re kicked to the curb. Just like that? Years of work and helping people just flushed down the toilet?” you’re on the verge of angry tears.

Your mother had drilled into your brain since you were a young impressionable child, that reality shows were trash, that they did more harm than good. The worse things people did on these shows the more famous they got, it teaches young children that they’ll get rewarded for their bad behavior. You wonder what she would think of you now, about to agree to become that trash just so you can continue to help the people that are bound to talk shit about each and every one of your friends online.

“I agree with (Y/N/N),” Steve finally speaks up, quickly glancing at Bucky’s clenched fists. “Bucky shouldn’t be subjected to having twenty cameras shoved in his face, not so soon after rejoining society.”

It’s been a month since Bucky came to live with everyone at the newly built compound, he had spent the previous three months after the Accords in Wakanda receiving the best help Shuri could provide. You wouldn’t say that you and Bucky are friends, but you two are definitely friendlier than he is with most of the team. You’ve never pushed him to talk, you two can sit in peaceful silence, something Sam does regularly because of his experience with PTSD and the benefits of talking about it.

“You’re just worried that more people are going to start speculating that you're dating him,” Sam joins the conversation, referencing the newest gossip article published today. Some ‘news’ site wrote a fifteen paragraph article speculating on a non-existent romance between the super soldiers, stemming from one single photo of Steve standing half in front of Bucky and pushing a camera out of his face on the way into a restaurant- for a team dinner.

“On the topic of relationships, I don’t really want a bunch of cameras in mine and Clint’s,” Natasha speaks up from the other side of the table, Clint nods along.

“The last thing people need is hours of footage of Vis and me to analyze and bully us about, I already get enough judgment and hate,” Wanda adds, crossing her arms over her chest. Vis rests a comforting hand on her soldier, he’s learned enough about human emotions- especially Wanda’s- to know not to add anything.

“You guys are overreacting,” Sam rolls his eyes. “Plus this could be a good time to promote things we’re passionate about, like group therapy for Veterans.”

“It sounds fun,” Thor booms, you roll your eyes. No one will say anything about him, he’s conventionally attractive, has a sexy accent, and he’s a literal God. He has nothing but adoring fans.

“All publicity is good publicity,” Tony grimaces. “We can’t go any lower, we’re already at the bottom of the barrel.”

“Peter’s lucky he’s a minor and anonymous,” you pout, out of the corner of your eye you can see Bucky crack a small smile. With that one final comment you're signing the contract, because at the end of the day you’ll do whatever it takes to be able to help those in need. Everyone has a similar vein of thought, all signing their own contracts.

Later that night you're sitting in the living room with Bucky, the News is playing in the background, but neither of you had been paying it any mind. You’re too focused on coming up with worst case scenarios about the impending reality show. Bucky can practically hear the gears whirring in your head, he keeps glancing over at you to make sure you're okay. Not that you notice because you're too wrapped up in your own little world.

“What if they edit it to make one of us the villain?” you ask out of nowhere, this is the first time you’ve broken the peaceful silence in the months you’ve been sitting with him. “Sorry, forget I said anything, I’m gonna head to bed.”

“It’ll be me,” Bucky whispers when you stand up from the couch. “They’ll take this opportunity to show everyone what a monster I am.”

“You aren’t a monster Bucky,” you squat down in front of him when you see that he’s staring at his lap. “You can’t be blamed for what Hydra made you do. And anyway, they usually pick an unsuspecting person on one of these shows and edit it so their words and actions are all twisted. They ruin people’s characters, not make hard hitting political statements.”

“You think they’ll target you?” he asks it like it’s a question, but it’s more of a statement.

“Yeah I do,” you sigh, standing up and plopping on the couch beside Bucky for the first time. “I’m mysterious, or at least that’s what Tony and Peter keep telling me. I don’t have a big social media presence, I do my best to avoid the paparazzi when I go out, and I very rarely speak at press conferences. If they don’t make me the villain, I’m worried they’ll hyperfocus on me until I slip up and become one.”

“I think it’ll be Vision, since he’s a robot,” Bucky adds after a minute of silence, and you can’t help but smile at him.”

Before you know it, Wednesday rolls around, and the fifteen person crew shows up to invade your lives. You start to get overwhelmed by the ten cameras they are setting up, two in a confessional area, and the other three in the living room where you are all supposed to do your opening scripted talk- where Tony will explain why you guys are doing the reality show Acquaint Yourself With The Avengers. On top of those cameras, the crew are setting up hidden and security cameras to catch the action when they aren’t there filming on the main ones. Once you're all seated on the couches- your stuffed between Bucky and Sam- the PA, Alice, comes over to talk to you all.

“So filming will happen Thursday through Tuesday most weeks, unless a big event falls on an off day, crew leaves by ten PM at the latest, and the hidden cameras will go dormant after midnight. No children will be in the final product- as requested by Scott, we can evaluate on a case by case basis if any of the rest of you choose to have children down the line and want to show them. Are there any questions?” she asks, but gives a look that screams not to ask any. “Well if there aren’t any, we should get to shooting, we’re already twenty minutes behind.”

You say your two scripted lines in the beginning scene and then zone out through the rest, you’re a little worried your face will give your lack of enthusiasm away, but none of the crew says anything so you assume you're fine. Soon enough, you're dismissed, but not allowed to go far because the first interviews for all of you are about to take place in the dining room. You and Bucky both stay firmly planted on the couch while most of the others go to the kitchen to get something to drink, or lurk in the dining room to watch said interviews- Steve being the first to be interviewed.

“Just act like the camera’s aren't there,” you say unhelpfully when you notice his gaze shifting uneasily from one camera to the next. In reality you too are struggling with them watching you from every possible angle.

“That’s all? Easy,” Bucky deadpans, a laugh bursts out of your mouth and his eyes twinkle.

“Did you just make a joke,” you laugh again, this time far quieter. For the first time since the camera crew arrived you forget they’re there, too lost in this one real moment with Bucky, too lost in his gorgeous crystal blue eyes. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him let his guard down with anyone other than Steve.

“And if I did?” he asks playfully, leaning in closer to you, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Then I’d say do it more often, it’s a good look on you,” you grin back at him, and you're only broken out of your trance when Alice calls for Tony.

She calls you after Tony, hair and makeup come rushing over to give tiny last minute adjustments to your appearance after you're seated in front of a ring light. You start to fidget with the hem of your shirt as the PA flips through her paper to get to her list of questions about you, the suspense just making your anxiety skyrocket.

“To start off we’re just going to ask some easy and basic questions to get you warmed up. So (Y/N), you’ve been with the Avengers since it was first formed, tell us what that’s been like, and make sure you put the question in your answer.”

“I’ve been with the Avengers since 2011, I was the second one Director Fury recruited, right after Tony. I’ve loved all of the good deeds we have been able to do for people all over the world, and I’ve made some lifelong friendships too. It’s amazing being able to do something you love with the people you love.”

“Good good,” Alice nods, looking down at her questions. “Now tell us how you feel about all of the new auditions to the team since then, and don’t hold back.”

“We’ve had some pretty great people join since the seven of us were originally put together, not only are they good, friendly people, but they are also all very skilled at what they do. I love watching the team grow, it just means that we have more skills and manpower to be able to help even more people,” Alice rolls her eyes at your response.

“For this next part we’re going to put up article headlines talking about how you’re the most private Avenger, even more so than Natasha. So just tell us why you’re so private.”

“There isn’t all that much to say, I’m just a private person,” Alice makes a keep going gesture from behind the camera. “I’ve always been pretty private and I was only thrust into the limelight when I joined the Avengers Initiative. I do my job to help people not to get recognition, that’s what my career has always been about. I never felt the need to post a lot of selfies online or make a tweet about the workout I just did. People are allowed to do those things, and there’s nothing wrong with that, I’ve just never understood why people would care what I’m doing in my day to day life.”

“Do you feel safe in the compound?” the question comes out of left field and you aren’t sure why it’s being brought up.

“Of course I feel safe! I’m in a highly secured compound with my fellow Avengers, there’s nothing safer.”

“One last question, everyone is dying to know, what’s your relationship status?” Alice even seems like she’s interested in the answer.

“Like I said before, I am a very private person, but I suppose I could answer this. For the whole two people wondering about my relationship status, I am single at the moment. I’ve just been really focusing on my job, and I’ve learned that people don’t necessarily like coming second to my job and my friends.”

“Thank you,” Alice smiles. “Can you send Bucky over next?”

You do as you’re told, search out Bucky and send him on his way to the dining room. Instead of heading to sweet freedom, your room, you loiter and watch Bucky’s intro interview. “Sergeant Barnes, what has it been like joining the Avengers and how has everyone treated you?”

“It’s been okay and mostly everyone-” Bucky gets cut off by Alice.

“Make sure you put the question in your answer.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bucky is clearly starting to get agitated with all of the focus and cameras on him.

“Say something like joining the Avengers has been really good, it’s helping me get better with teamwork again blah blah blah. The team has welcomed me in and it’s reminiscent of my time in the Army, something like that,” Bucky gives one nod, turning back to the camera in front of him.

“Joining the Avengers has been really good, it’s helping me get better with teamwork again,” you bring your hands to your mouth to stifle your laugh at Bucky repeating you word for word. “The team has welcomed me in and it’s reminiscent of my time in the Army.”

“Okay,” Alice draws the word out at Bucky’s lack of originality. “Who would you say your best friends on the team are?”

“Steve,” Bucky responds without thinking, and Alice tells him to mention at least one other person. “Other than Steve, probably (Y/N).”

You're shocked, but flattered, by his response. Sure, he may have just said that because you were right there and staring at him, but maybe he meant it. Maybe all of those nights on the couch with him meant something to him.

“Oh really?” asks, clearly liking whatever spin she’ll eventually put on this conversation in editing.

“Yeah, she um, she was the first one to really welcome me and spend time with me,” he rubs his neck nervously.

“Just like (Y/N), you’re really private too,” you take a step forward seeing that the questioning is starting to put Bucky on edge.

“Cause it’s no one's business,” Alice, thankfully, doesn’t push.

“Are you ever worried you may do something to put your team members in danger?”

That’s enough!” your voice comes out firmer and louder than you imagined it would, drawing the attention of the rest of the Avengers. “Bucky isn’t going to sith there and take your abuse, his interview is done.”

You hold your hand out to him, and he jumps to grasp it, gripping it like it’s his lifeline. You’ve never touched Bucky before, and you keep your brain from running at how warm and nice his right hand feels in your own. You lead him out of the room, away from the prying eyes, and the now constant camera presence. You pull Bucky to your favorite room in the compound, the library. You deposit him on the comfy chaise lounge in the middle of the room while you go grab two books. You come back with Harry Potter for you, and The Hobbit for him, you had heard him talking to Steve about the movies once and learned he read it back in the day.

Little do you know, the littlest action of knowing Bucky’s favorite book on top of the way you stood up for him out there means more to Bucky than he’ll ever know how to express. It thaws his frozen heart just a little.

#fictober23 #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #kat rambles #bucky barnes imagine #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine

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liaromancewriter · 4 months

Text

It Happened One Miami Night (5/5)

Series Premise: A work trip to Miami means finally accepting that some risks are worth taking. Or are they?

Fandom: Choices Book: Open Heart Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine) Rating/Category: Teen. Angsty Fluff Words: 1,125

Series Masterlist

A/N: Finally we come to the end of this series (the longest I've ever taken to write one). If you've read it so far, thank you! I appreciate it. If you haven't, see the series masterlist link above 👆🏻😉

Submission to @choicesmaychallenge24 prompt "Everything is more beautiful because we're doomed. (The Illiad)"

What did it mean when a man went from depriving himself on a moonlit balcony to aching for a lover’s scent in the dark? That, for a few heavenly moments, he’d been willing to take the risk, steal the girl, even when he knew he shouldn’t?

Unable to sleep as useless thoughts crowded his brain, Ethan Ramsey folded one arm behind his head and stared at the shadows dancing on the dark ceiling.

He bent his knee and pulled his bare feet back under the covers. The pull-out couch in the living room wasn’t designed for tall frames, and his feet hung off the edge whenever he stretched his legs.

The silence in the hotel suite was deafening. But Ethan was also hyperaware of Cassie Valentine sleeping on the other side of the thin wall separating the living space from the bedroom.

He turned on his side, punching the pillow, and watched his reflection in the glass pane of the door leading to the balcony — the scene of his downfall. A reminder of his weakness.

Never before had a woman tempted him like this. In recent years, he’d become particular about who shared his bed. But he certainly wasn’t a monk. He enjoyed sex and, depending on the woman, the intimacy that followed.

What was that line from The Illiad? Everything is more beautiful because we’re doomed.

And that was the real kicker. Despite his early rationalizations, Cassie wasn’t the right woman. Maybe once she finished her residency — and if she stayed in Boston — they could have a chance. Once they were peers. Equals.

But as long as she was in the running to join his team…. He sighed.

Even if she didn’t get the fellowship, he wanted to be responsible for her professional development. When he observed her around the hospital, often from a distance to preserve his objectivity, he saw a doctor who could be great with the proper guidance.

She’d told Delarosa she chose Edenbrook because of him. He’d selected Cassie because he’d seen the potential in her application. He owed her the best of him.

That was that, as far as he was concerned. From now on, he would keep things professional. He was an attending and had to set an example.

First thing tomorrow, he was going down to the reception desk and forcing the issue until the hotel gave them separate rooms. Ethan exhaled, closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep.

He had a plan. He could do this!

The sun was high in the sky when Ethan’s eyes drifted open. Groggy from oversleeping and late-night musings, he yawned loudly and shoved the covers aside, feet falling onto the carpeted floor.

He grabbed his wristwatch from the coffee table and stilled at the envelope with his name scrawled across the front. His lips were pursed as he removed the notepaper tucked inside. Stunned, he read the hastily written words, his mind in shambles again.

Cassie sipped coffee from her to-go cup and watched the view from the window of her new hotel room. It was definitely not as lovely as the couples’ suite—there was no balcony either—but it was the safer option.

During a restless night, she’d come to a decision. She couldn’t avoid Ethan forever; that would be counterproductive to her goal of becoming a doctor. But she needed space from him for what remained of this trip.

Knowing hotels always kept inventory for last-minute bookings, Cassie pulled up the property’s website and reserved the first available option. The room was small—barely the size of her bedroom in Boston—but it was hers, and hers alone.

When she saw Ethan next, she’d be strictly professional (even if it killed her) and pretend that she hadn’t felt his hardness when she straddled his thighs. It might be cowardly, but faking temporary amnesia never hurt anyone.

For a moment, everything between them had been legendary, from one kiss to almost going all the way. And then it had come crashing down, like the waves below, washing away everything in their wake and leaving behind flotsam.

Cassie knew it wouldn’t be easy. But she couldn’t break down now. She’d already done that last night, and it was enough.

In a few days, she’d look back and know it wasn’t hopeless, that it wasn’t their time yet. She wouldn’t be a resident forever, and his excuses wouldn’t hold up then.

Just get through today, tonight and tomorrow, she repeated to herself like a mantra.

Her phone pinged the arrival of an email. Her breath caught in her throat as she glanced at the screen, only to release it when she realized it wasn’t Ethan. Check-in for the return flight was now open.

Cassie thought about it, clicked on the email, waited for the website to load and logged in to complete the process. She quickly changed her assigned seating, likely beside Ethan’s, selecting a single seat at the back of the first-class cabin.

She reminded herself that it was better this way and, as a precaution, took a screenshot of the confirmation message.

That done, she grabbed her bag, checked that her conference pass was tucked inside, and left the hotel room with her morose mood behind.

She could do this, she consoled herself as she stepped into the elevator. She was a Valentine, for Christ’s sake! Perseverance was practically the family motto!

---

Ethan glanced surreptitiously at Cassie. This was the first time he’d been alone with her since that night on the balcony. He’d caught glimpses of her weaving through the crowds, but aside from texts to coordinate their departure, she’d been out of touch.

They were in the back of a cab heading to the airport for their early morning flight, dawn breaking through the rain clouds that had moved in overnight. She was staring out the window; her face turned away from him, lost in her thoughts.

He’d worried about seeing her as they met in the lobby after check-out. Concerned that she’d mention what had happened between them. Demand that they discuss it or reproach him for taking advantage of her, something.

But she hadn’t done any of those things; she just gave him a small smile and walked out the revolving doors.

His gaze had sharpened at her calm, practically indifferent attitude. As if twenty-four before, he hadn’t cupped her breasts in his palms, thumbed her nipples or devoured her lips.

Ethan thought it was for the best. They didn’t need to say anything that hadn’t already been said. This time away from time was coming to an end. When they returned to Boston, things would go back to normal.

He was an attending. She was a resident. Strictly professional.

A/N2: Want to know what happened once they returned to Boston? Check out Words We Never Say.

When I planned this series, I wanted to ensure it fit within the narrative of previous Miami-adjacent fics: Out of Control, SOS: A Text Fic (last section) and Words We Never Say. This way, it's a continuation and not a stand-alone.

---------

All Fics & Edits: @bluebelle08 @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @jerzwriter

@lady-calypso @mainstreetreader @peonierose @potionsprefect @queencarb

@quixoticdreamer16 @justyourusualash @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction

Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Ethan & Cassie only: @cariantha @custaroonie @youlookappropriate

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart choices #open heart fanfiction #playchoices #open heart fanfic #choices fanfic #choices fanfiction #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #ethan ramsey x cassie valentine

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miserymerci · 6 months

Text

Fluffy February Day 7: Recovery - Some Assembly Required

@ // fluffyfebruary

Fandom: Lego Monkie Kid

Characters: MK and Sun Wukong, Sunburst duo

(Father-son, mentor-apprentice relationship, sick Sun Wukong)

Summary: Set during “The Emperor’s Wrath”, after Azure’s defeat but before the beach scene. In the wake of their win, the Monkie Kids are free to drag their sore bodies home for some much-deserved rest. For Wukong, it takes the form of sleep. For MK, it takes the form of something else entirely.

Sun Wukong needed to eat because he got hungry, groom because he got fleas, and sleep because he got tired. Though age would never kill him, his body still lived ; he bled and he breathed and, yeah , he did scramble together a nest with leaves and stray cloth and fall face-first into a deep slumber right after the battle.

At the time, everyone else had had the same idea. Everyone went home to tend wounds and sleep the aches away.

So Sun Wukong slept. And he slept. And slept.

Eventually, someone shook him awake.

They were saying something. Though it was muffled to Wukong, it was a kind, familiar thing that did nothing but warm him.

‘What are you doing here?’ he wanted to ask MK, but the sun was too bright in his now-destroyed not-cavern, and he shut his eyes firmly. Blindly, he lifted one lazy hand up, made an ushering motion, and let it drop down to his side.

Wukong heard MK settle somewhere close by. In the next moment, he drifted back to a dreamless slumber.

The next time Wukong woke up, it was of his own accord. He blinked up at the starry sky on a day he did not yet know the name of (and was not yet eager to find out). Part of him hoped that not too many days had passed yet. He wanted to sleep for much longer, and he wanted to do so without worrying if his new friends had succumbed to their own age.

But Wukong reached out in the dark and found MK’s shoulder, and he shut his eyes once more.

“–fficient way of teaching multiplication.”

Wukong blinked. The sky stretched with orange and pink colors, like a watercolor painting that was only halfway through drying.

“No … don’t think … the way I learned it. Wait, where did the twenty come from? That’s not– there’s no ‘two’ anywhere in this equation.”

“Kid,” said Wukong, “ what are you doing?”

The sky was eclipsed by MK’s not-moon and not-sun face.

“Monkey King!” he said, all smiles and nervous energy. “Are you okay?”

“I’d like to go back to sleep,” he said.

“Yeah,” said MK, “but maybe eat something first?”

Wukong looked past MK toward one of his monkeys, who kindly offered him a peach that didn’t look quite ripe yet.

“Thanks bud,” he said. He reached over as far as he could (not very far) and patted the monkey on the head. With a slow movement, he took the peach and let it rest in MK’s hands instead, “but I’m not very hungry right now. Another time?”

Something passed through MK’s face: some sort of disappointment, maybe surprise, but most definitely something that gnawed at Wukong’s insides.

“Okay,” said MK. He sat back on his heels and looked down at the peach.

On one chilly night, Wukong found himself snuggled up in a fuzzy blanket with an armful of kid.

A little star– no, a little reading light– glowed in the darkness. A pencil glided across paper, strokes careful and lazy all at once, as if the lines were in sync with how MK breathed or blinked or smiled. They were easy like that. Practiced– natural, even. Like it was the easiest thing in the world right now.

“How are you drawing like that?” whispered Wukong.

The head that was nested on his arm tilted up.

“It’s not very comfortable,” he admitted, smilingly. He sniffled, tried to wiggle into a less spine-breaking position, and titled the sketchbook for Wukong to see.

“You’re drawing me,” said Wukong. He scanned the page filled with those easy lines. “I look awesome. And cheeky.”

MK tucked the notebook face-down into his chest and stared at Wukong. It was like a child caught with something they shouldn’t have– not shyness, but shame. MK didn’t say anything, but Wukong stared right back and smiled.

“Not very awesome and cheeky now, am I?” asked Wukong, trying to read his thoughts.

“You still are ,” argued MK, “just taking a break.”

“A long break. I’m exhausted, bud. I feel like a ping pong ball– or, well– the ones with the strings. You know?”

“Tennis?”

“What– no. It’s like… the ones that come back.”

“Boomerang!”

“Stop guessing. Go away.”

MK snorted, and even though Wukong didn’t mean what he had said, MK unstuck himself from his mentor’s side and sat up.

“I got you water,” said MK, twisting around. He shoved away a pillow that wasn’t there before and then ruffled around in a pool of blankets. “I’m not sure if you’ve got thirst immortality or something, but I figured: ‘hey, wouldn’t hurt. Water’s great. It’s for everyone.’ Nothing can go wrong with water– except for drowning. But you can’t do that, so… drink?”

Wukong blinked drowsily.

“It’s only been a week,” said MK once Wukong took the bottle. At Wukong’s look he added: “since the battle. If you wanted to know.”

Wukong swallowed. He had wondered, but now that he knew, he admitted that it definitely wasn’t as long as he thought. Maybe he could sleep for another ten weeks. That would do it.

He took another long drink of water. The coolness of it soothed the burning in his throat and brought some consciousness back to his body.

“Where is everyone?” he asked.

“Asleep,” said MK, quickly as if he had been waiting to say something. “Not asleep-asleep– but mostly asleep. Pigsy hasn’t opened up the shop since, Tang’s never even left his apartment, Sandy hasn’t invited me to any yoga sessions, and Mei’s phone is either on silent or she’s sleeping through all of the alarms– she’s a deep sleeper. It’s just… quiet. Everyone’s taking a breather, but it’s quiet .”

“It’s for the best, kiddo. It’s not like we went strolling in a flower field. We need this.”

MK tsked and turned his head off to the side.

“I know, I know. It’s not like I’m judging. Trouble’s been clear from Megapolis, I have time to kick back, and nobody’s being killed. It’s great. I really love it. I do!”

“MK…” said Wukong.

MK tapped his palms against his knees and faced Wukong again.

“I have food,” he said, “in my backpack. Oh , and snacks ! Fruit, even…! If you’re hungry.”

Wukong frowned. In the dark, the only light that graced them was the stars and moon above and that little reading light clipped to the sketchbook. It fuzzed across MK’s face and illuminated something that Wukong desperately wanted to understand.

“Yeah, I’ll eat something,” he said, not actually having any appetite, “what did you get?”

For the first time in a week, Wukong sat up. There wasn’t a dramatic moment of clarity or any call to action, and he didn’t stretch as if he had just had the greatest sleep of his life. (Because really, it was more on the same level as blacking out into nothingness and then waking up somewhere else in the span of one second).

Wukong sat up and huddled the blanket around himself like an old lady. Only when he was halfway into the custard bun he had picked from MK’s snack hoard and five pages into MK’s sketchbook did he say anything.

“I need to rest more,” said Wukong, opting to continue staring at MK’s little drawing of Mo. Mo was a little less out of practice than the drawings of Monkey King– the lines a little scratchier, a little heavier. He felt MK shift beside him. “I don’t feel too hot, bud. Maybe it’ll be another week or two until I’m– we’re– ready again.”

“I get it,” said MK. His tone rang with something kind like water yet mournful like rain. “Do you need anything, Monkey King?”

Wukong frowned.

There was plenty for them to explore. MK’s new identity, for one. Who gave Azure the Scroll of Memory, for another. Neither of those things would go away any time soon. One of the two, at least, Wukong didn’t mind to help explore.

“Time,” said Wukong, finally. “To rest my body and my mind. Do you need anything, bud?”

MK’s brows pinched. It was a funny thing that was comforting to know would never change. MK reached over across his lap and clicked the little reading light off, allowing the night to consume him.

“Not really,” he said. Wukong could hear him zip up his bag and reposition his blanket.

Wukong blinked against the darkness, the cogs trying to turn in his head.

“Well… what is it?” he asked.

“What?” said MK somewhere in the dark.

“You said ‘not really’, which implies there’s something , just a little bit of it. Consider myself a curious monkey.”

“It’s just… a thing you say. It’s modern, so you’re probably too old to know that.”

MK laughed, and Wukong tried to humor him with a smile that he couldn’t see.

“Uhh, disrespectful much? I’m more modern than you think,” said Wukong. It was harder to read MK now that the light had turned off. Still, MK huffed with what Wukong thought might have been another laugh. “You know you can stay, right? If you want.”

A shuffle, but nothing else. Maybe it was MK’s way of accepting it; just as quietly, blending into the cool tone of the night. Wukong didn’t really know. Yet, MK stayed where he was, sitting by Wukong’s side in the dead of a cold night– maybe watching him, maybe watching their surroundings, maybe watching nothing at all.

Wukong shut his eyes. His tail, in his body’s stillness, continued to coil this way and that against the soft blanket. For a moment, they were quiet. The wind hummed through Flower Fruit Mountain and whispered a lulling tune to aching muscles and buzzing heads. Those who listened too closely let their conscious lilt up and up with the wind.

Wukong felt the warm, fuzzy embrace of sleep grabbing hold of his shoulders.

“Really?” said MK, minutes later.

“…Hnn?”

“I can stay?”

Something lazy came out of Wukong’s mouth: not really a yes, but not really a no– because MK couldn’t speak tired monkey fluently yet, and Wukong wasn’t in any condition to be able to clarify.

On that seventh night, Wukong continued to sleep.

On the Eighth day, Wukong woke up to no MK. The blanket he had used was folded neatly some distance away and was being occupied by a trio of sleepy monkeys and one backpack.

Later that night, his kid was here again.

“You’re late,” Wukong tried to joke even as his vision fuzzed. It warbled and shook until he could see MK looking down at him. MK’s focused lines between his eyebrows ceased, and he pulled back what looked like a rag from Wukong’s forehead.

“I am?” asked MK, either genuinely worried or horrendously distracted.

Wukong blinked at him, frowned, and then saw black.

“It was a joke,” said Wukong a few hours later to absolutely nothing.

“…What?” came a quiet response.

“ Oh thank you Buddha– where are you, bud?”

That little reading light clicked on, and Wukong carefully tilted his head off to the side where MK was rubbing at his eyes. The boy– the poor thing– looked like he had just been rattled from his own slumber.

“What?” MK echoed.

“…Do you have any water?”

MK blinked very slowly. Wukong imagined a little loading icon spinning just above his head. He turned and zipped open his bag. Quickly, Wukong found himself with a water bottle in his hands.

“Thank you,” he said and took a drink.

Wukong watched MK from the corner of his eye. His successor sat quietly beside him, eyes closed and breathing steady. They were both underneath the stars again. In all honesty, Wukong thought it fit MK the best: the stars.

But MK was silent now. He opened his eyes, and they made eye contact within the dark.

“Are you okay?” croaked Wukong.

MK smiled at him and shrugged.

“I’m sorry I was gone earlier. I was with Pigsy— he’s starting to feel better. I made him some noodles and helped him with some utility bills that he missed last week. Tang was there too. But then I got a call back from Mei, and I stopped at the gas station for some snacks and pads, dropped them off, tried checking on Sandy… but he’s trying this new meditation thing and I didn’t want to get in the way.”

“Sounds like a busy day,” said Wukong, passing back the water.

MK shrugged again. Maybe it was out of Wukong’s own exhaustion, but MK looked like Wukong had been dragged off a cliff with the way he was looking at him.

“It was,” said MK.

Wukong heard the clacking of plastic against plastic, and he quickly opened his eyes (when had they closed?) to see MK pouring some orange serum into a little cap.

“What’s that?”

“Um,” said MK, peering at the stuff, “medicine.”

“…For you?”

MK looked away from it and blinked over at Wukong. Heis face was carefully blank, like he was trying to be innocent, but something was stopping him from doing so completely.

“It’s for you, Monkey King,” he said. “You have a fever.”

“I do not ,” said Wukong immediately, shooting up to sit. His head spun with the movement and he found himself back down on the ground not even a moment later.

“You definitely do,” said MK.

MK scooted closer to his dizzy mentor and offered him the medicine cap.

“I know you’re a stone monkey, but I think you should give it a chance. Before you pass out again– that was a little scary. Try not to do that next time.”

“I’ll be sure to give you a heads up the next time I do,” said Wukong, trying to be sarcastic but sounding way too confused to really drive home his point. “But I’m not going to drink that.”

MK frowned, clutched the medicine tighter, and accepted the challenge.

For the first two days, Wukong was stubbornly set on not being sick.

MK, the sweet kid he was, never gave up on him (not like he ever had before). He came every day or night, dawn or dusk, with medicine and cool water and food .

“Pigsy helped me make this one,” said MK on the second day. “It’s a vegetable broth.”

“Is Pigsy bothered that you’re here?” Wukong had asked, sipping the soup. The flavors were warm and hearty, but were easy on his tongue; and easy on his stomach. MK had gone on a long tangent about the foods that Pigsy had allowed him to eat when he was sick. Wukong had taken a mental note for potential later use.

“Not really. Shop’s only taking pick-up orders right now, so I’m off duty,” said MK.

“That’s not what I meant.”

MK paused in his sketching and looked over at Wukong. The gleam in his eyes twinkled and he frowned, nose scrunching in concentration.

“…Don’t you need rest, MK?”

The boy’s mouth formed into a quiet ‘oh’ and shook his head. His eyes darted to his lap. There, he began to pick at his nails, but there wasn’t much to pick in the first place.

“He doesn’t mind,” said MK, eventually, but struggled to elaborate. He released a breath and shrugged. “And I don’t mind either.”

There was the sound of water dribbling. In Wukong’s now-quiet haze, MK returned to cooling down his fever with his wet rag.

The three days after that was much better, in Wukong’s opinion.

He slept less, could move more, and finally— finally — he could stop drinking that rancid medicine. (It said it was ‘cherry’ flavored. Wukong almost had the desire to contact his lawyer for the first time in two decades just to sue whoever lied about that ).

Most importantly, MK was a lot happier about it, too.

“Feeling cheeky, yet?” his successor asked with an innocent tilt of his head. His smile, however, told a different tale.

“Almost,” said Wukong, taking the last bite of a peach. “I might be a bit out of practice.”

“That’s okay— I’m up for anything. Give me anything . I mean, I’ve been doing some practices with Macaque here and there but—!”

Wukong spun his head to him and blinked.

MK grinned and then said, “—bbbbuut huh? What? What did..? Ahem . Crazy, I don’t remember what came out of my mouth. Brussel sprouts?”

“Ah— no thanks bud,” Wukong was sick of kale, brussel sprouts, and bok choy right now. “We can do anything you’d like. I’m sure I’ll be up for it tomorrow.”

Wukong watched the way MK perked up.

“You really think so?” asked MK, mid-chew, sounding more like: ‘phu philly phink pho?’

“Let’s be honest, kiddo,” said Wukong. He took a deep breath, stepped over to MK, and then sat down in front of him on his knees. “You’ve spent this entire time looking after all of us— this entire time looking after me . That… shouldn’t have been your job in the first place. It’s the least I can do.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” said MK, even though Wukong could tell he struck some sort of nerve in the kid. His voice warbled and his eyes had gone big and vulnerable.

Wukong squinted his eyes, trying to really look over MK under the bright light of the sun. The bright, clear clarity of day exposed MK in a way that the night could not. MK belonged most with the stars in the sky. While being out in the sun was out of his nature, it helped Wukong, and the gears in his head finally clicked and whirled to life.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, reaching out and grabbing MK’s arm.

MK stared widely back. The tips of his mouth threatened to quiver down, and those worried lines began to form again between his brows.

“Well,” said MK with a weak laugh, “I’d hope not.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” said Wukong.

“Hahah… seriously, Monkey King—.”

“I’m not going.”

“I know that—.”

“I’m here for you. We all are,” MK paused at that, so Wukong carefully continued, “so thank you for taking care of us when we needed it. Let me help you.”

“But,” choked MK, “I don’t need help with anything . It’s why I’m here helping you, and helping Pigsy, and Tang, and Mei and Sandy…”

MK trailed off, gaze dropping down to the floor. Even the stone below was bright and glowy with sunlight.

Wukong leaned forward. His other arm, recovered almost to full strength, curled around MK’s back and pulled him into a tight hug.

“How do you want to recover, bud?” he asked.

MK shifted in the embrace and buried his face into Wukong’s shoulder. His hands, callused by battles, settled at Wukong’s shoulder blades.

“With time,” said MK, “when it passes with you guys.”

Wukong swallowed. Okay, that was a little heartbreaking. MK had wanted support and friendship and love throughout the past two weeks; something that had been, honestly, difficult to give recently. Now, however, Wukong held him closer.

"I'm sorry, bud," he said, but then realized that he may have said that too many times over the past few months, so he cleared his throat and tried again. "Thank you for holding through. How about, after we're all a-okay again, we go have a nice day on the beach. All of us."

MK snorted against his shoulder.

"All of us?" MK asked quietly, cheekily.

"Ugh," said Wukong. "except him."

MK's next laugh was muffled, but Wukong could already see his kid's next scheme brewing.

A few days later, watching Macaque slink up beside him, Wukong wasn't completely happy knowing his hunch had been correct.

#lmk sun wukong #lmk mk #lego monkie kid #lmk fanfiction #lmk sunburst duo

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nuttytani · 8 months

Text

When your boss and his "friend" are too lovey dovey

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Pairing: Tartaglia | Childe x Zhongli

Premise: In which, Ekaterina makes the mistake of posting about her boss and his "friend", and the entire Liyue goes crazy

A/N: This is a social media au fic cross posted from my ao3! which you can read here

chapter 1

Ekaterina . @ katyaaa

My boss and his “friend” better hook up, or I’ll seriously kill someone. How is it possible to not notice the heart eyes your “friend” looks at you with, for like every time you talk??!?? 2 years. It’s been 2 years since both Master Childe and Mr. Zhongli have been dancing around each other. 2 YEARS!!!!

And just now… You literally won’t believe the level of PDA I had to witness. Mr. Zhongli lent his coat to Master Childe because his official uniform is too “risque” and “insufficient” for Liyue’s winter.

It’s not even 9 am yet… I need coffee for this shit.

| Vlad . @ vladaddy

Replying to @ katyaaa

You’re not the only one. Sweet Tsaritsa, have mercy on us.

Ekaterina . @ katyaaa

Update: He finally went out to have lunch with his “friend”. Thank archons.

| Nadia . @ spynadia

Replying to @ katyaaa

You gotta admit, they’re pretty much couple goals, even without the dating.

| Xiangling . @ cheflingling

Replying to @ spynadia and @ katyaaa

[Insert blurry image of two people, one with ginger hair and another with dark brown. The brunette looks like he’s feeding the ginger haired man. They’re both basically glue to each other’s side]

Awwe, look at them!! How cute!

| Felix . @ felixis

Replying to @ cheflingling

Definitely did NOT need that image on my home feed and it definitely does NOT make me feel sour ass single pringle.

| Ekaterina . @ katyaaa

Replying to @ cheflingling

What happened to something called privacy ?

| Yunjin . @ operagrandis

Replying to @ katyaaa

Privacy went out the window the moment you decided to post about your “boss” crushing on his “friend” and vice versa

Show replies

Signora . @ thefairestlady

Hey. @ katyaaa , dig up some more pics and info on the two idiots in love. Tsaritsa’s orders

| Ekaterina . @ katyaaa

Replying to @ thefairestlady

What ?

| Pantalone . @ theregrator

Replying to @ katyaaa and @ thefairestlady

Don’t bother asking why, it’s strictly confidential. Oh and also, make it quick :)

Show replies

Ekaterina stares at her phone in horror as the notifications from her socials go blasting off every- freaking- second. Not to mention, the weird, suspicious and vague “mission” about digging more information on her boss and his “friend”

Ugh. Why is she the one who has to suffer?

chapter 2

First thing Ekaterina does is to mute her socials. The constant pinging of the notifications started to annoy her and it might overheat her phone too.

“-terina”

She shouldn’t have posted about her boss. Worst decision she ever made in her entire life- well… not exactly the worst but definitely ranks up high somewhere in the regrets list.

“Ekaterina?”

But to be fair, it was getting on her nerves recently, since Mr. Zhongli got very bold with his affection towards Master Childe recently, and well… her boss being the oblivious and dense person he is, hasn’t even noticed the advances, and instead he just shoots his “friend” an extremely blushy smil-

Woah —

Something- no - a pair of hands grab Ekaterina’s shoulders and shake the living soul out of her body. “Oww.”

“Katya! Come on! I’ve been calling your name so many times now. Where is your mind at?” Nadia, one of her colleagues and friend, stares at her with concern.

“Sorry,” Ekaterina replies, pushing her hair back. “Was thinking…”

“Is it the new mission?”

“Yeah.”

She shoots Ekaterina a pitiful look before handing her a cup of coffee. “Better start the hustle then. Call me or the others if you need help. And boy, we have a lot of work cut out for us.” Nadia ushers her away to her office, “Go, go, time is mora. Don’t waste it.”

With that, the door to her office closes. Ekaterina places her coffee on the table and pulls out her chair, before remembering to check her phone.

Notifications

Signora . @thefairestlady

3 messages

Pantalone . @theregrator

1 message

Back to regretting my life choices, I guess.

It took about a week to stalk gather intel on Master Childe and Mr. Zhongli’s time together. Stacks of brown envelopes and manila folders, labelled as “CONFIDENTIAL : FATUI ONLY” covered the entire top of Ekaterina’s dining table (scouring over reports about a harbinger’s rendezvous with a funeral consultant during working hours would have been too much on the nose)

The mission became a joint effort between her and other agents working at the Northland Bank. It was found out on their first day, that it wasn’t an easy task observing their extremely lovey dovey targets… The PDA displayed by them was too much (it was lethal to the agents’ health to watch them longer than an hour).

As the mission is classified to be confidential, and specially ordered by her majesty, Ekaterina and the agents couldn’t take any risks to get information leaked about whatever the heck they were doing. So, everyone opted for hard copy reports which could be destroyed once it fulfilled its use.

But no one expected it to be a massive headache as Ekaterina and her colleagues went through each one of them.

“When will this end?! There’s too many,” Felix breaks the silence with a groan, then slams his head down on the table.

“I feel like I’ve already read the same report a million times now, just worded differently.” Vlad rubs his eyes with a heavy sigh. “Every single day, they eat lunch together at Chef Mao’s, go to Yun Jin’s plays, or sometimes to Third-Round Knockout and finally crash at either one’s home for dinner, did I get that right?”

“You’re correct, except for one thing. Everything and everything is paid by Lord Tartaglia,” Felix responded, seemingly recovered from his exhaustion.

Everyone hums in union.

To be fair though, the mora used by Master Childe on his outings weren’t really his, but Lord Pantalone’s. Hell, even Ekaterina would exploit 9th Harbringer’s mora (if she had a higher standing in the fatui, of course)

“Lets not forget these.” With the most deadpan expression, Vlad tosses pictures of the “dates” their boss and his “friend” had, but many many cropped pictures of Master Childe’s chest framed perfectly by his leather harness, stood out from the stack.

“Who took these?” and “Why?” was left unsaid amongst them all.

Nadia choked suspiciously on air just then. Nervously shifting her eyes around.

Thinking to save her friend from embarrassment, Ekaterina tries to change the subject. “Ahem, anyway, since all the reports are basically the same, let’s just summarise it.”

“Umm something along the lines of … Master Childe is a sugar daddy for Mr. Zhongli and they act like a married couple?” Felix says while rubbing his chin in deep thought.

“Let's… At least try to rephrase our wording, not so straightforward.” Vlad smiles, or at least tries to.

chapter 3

Childe . @ tartaglia

Why did I receive an emergency summon from her majesty?

| Signora . @ thefairestlady

Replying to @ tartaglia

Idk, you probably did something. Again.

| Pantalone . @ theregrator

Replying to @ tartaglia and @ thefairestlady

Only one way to find out.

| Lumine . @ thebettertraveller

Replying to @ tartaglia

GL, I hope you don’t get your ass kicked.

Ekaterina . @ katyaaa

Phew! Mission successfully completed and with a generous reward too! I’m glad all that stalking of Master Childe paid off.

| Childe . @ tartaglia

Replying to @ katyaaa

You were spying on me? Don’t tell me this is the reason why I’ve been summoned…

| Ekaterina . @ katyaaa

Replying to @ tartaglia

Spying ? hahaha what spying ? I don’t know what you’re talking about :DDD

| Felix . @ felixis

Replying to @ katyaaa

You’re so fired. Stupid ass.

[ insert facepalm GIF ]

| Childe . @ tartaglia

Replying to @ felixis and @ katyaaa

Oh don’t worry, you’re both in trouble, and so is Nadia and Vlad ;)

| Ekaterina . @ katyaaa

Replying to @ tartaglia

Please have mercy, my lord!

Show Replies

Meanwhile, in the privacy of Zhongli’s home, an elegantly written note addressed not to Zhongli, but Morax, materialises right in front of him.

“You shameless old dragon, get your broke ass to Snezhnaya now! We need to talk”

Never in his life did Childe feel as nervous and scared until today. He was shaking in his boots as he looked back and forth between her majesty and Mr. Zhongli (alternatively Rex Lapis, as he just found out… but that can be discussed later). He didn’t think that he’d get summoned by The Tsaritsa nor did he expect Mr. Zhongli, who was supposed to be in Liyue doing his job, to be invited to her majesty’s garden for tea.

Tea? Nope this isn’t tea, this is basically an interrogation session!

“Now, let me get this straight. You gave the boy a pair of marriage chopsticks and he accepted it?” Tsaritsa raised her teacup to her scowling lips slowly.

Hold on, wait a minute… Marriage chopsticks?

“That is correct–”

“And you thought that my youngest, born and raised in Snezhnaya would understand the meaning behind this act? You didn’t think this through did you, Morax? How embarrassing, I suppose Barbatos is still right, you ARE a stone blockhead.”

Mr. Zhongli coughed discreetly to disguise his embarrassment, before taking a sip from his cup, “Now please, Tsaritsa, there’s no need to chastise me for it.”

“I must, with how you shamelessly court my youngest Harbinger without my knowledge.” Tsaritsa’s eyes narrow down at Zhongli, like a mother ready to scold.

Childe watches the entire exchange in shock– courting ? Mr. Zhongli and courting ? Just what in Celestia is happening ? He must have looked like a dumbfounded monkey, staring at them, until her majesty’s words interrupt his inner turmoil.

“Well,” she says curtly “Has the wedding date been set? If not, I shall take care of it.”

Sputtering and hacking on his tea, Childe replied, “W-What!??”

Bonus scene

“Lord Tartaglia! Congratulations, we heard you’re getting married–”

“My my! What good news! I can feel the tears of joy in my eyes already”

“How shocking… It feels as if just yesterday you were but a little boy running around the palace”

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bicheetopuff · 3 days

Note

There's a post from a long time ago asking "was this queerbait or was the ship just really popular" to criticize how people will put the label on anything they swear to god there was gay and "the writers were just too homophobic to make it canon"

and just to add onto your post about kr/////bk, this is exactly what a lot of people in the fandom started claiming, together with saying that Hori did it on purpose and then "threw their relationship away in favor of another".

Like, there's a whole conversation that i think should be had on this thought alone. It's fascinating.

Writers don’t owe their fandoms anything so saying they’re “too homophobic” to make them canon just feels off to me. Most of the time stories are written with outlines so the ending is usually already determined in a loose sense. That doesn’t mean it can’t change, but if an author doesn’t intend to make two characters end up together, then they won’t end up together. It’s their decision at the end of the day.

That being said though, compulsory heteronormative writing is definitely a thing so a lot of ships that seem undeniably romantic, aren’t even considered by authors because of that. While it’s a result of internalized homophobia, it’s usually not purposeful, nor does it come from a malicious place. However, I don’t think that’s the case for kr/bk at all.

I’m not sure what major undeniably romantic moments there are for Katsuki and Kirishima because I wasn’t apart of the fandom when the ship blew up, so I never really saw anyone talk about them much in a meaningful way, but I’ve always seen their relationship as underdeveloped. I think they definitely had the opportunity to have more growth as friends outside of Hori just confirming that they’re such, so their friendship just feels unsatisfying. Then again, Katsuki isn’t the main character so it makes sense that there wouldn’t be as much focus on his relationships with other characters.

While I do think their relationship could’ve used more screen time outside of an interaction once every fifty chapters or so, I don’t think their relationship was tossed to the side either. Bkdk has always been a focal point since chapter 1. Literally almost everything leads back to them in some way and I think it’s kind of juvenile to deny that whether you ship them or not. You can’t really throw something away for the sake of something better when that something better has been there and favored since the beginning. That something better has always been the star but that doesn’t mean the other thing needs to be thrown away, it’s just never been as important as people made it out to be.

No hate to the ship but I can only think of three significant moments between katsuki and kiri and they all happen over 50 chapters apart from each other, and none of it felt romantic to me. If anything, I think their most meaningful connection is how their relationships with Izuku and Mina parallel each other.

I genuinely don’t understand how people can say that Hori cowered away from kr/bk for the sake of bkdk when the story literally revolves around them and I can’t think of any other reason why outside of just pettiness… which just kinda feels disappointing. It’s a fictional ship between two boys who have only a handful of interactions from a shonen anime… it not being canon shouldn’t be the end of the world just like bkdk not being canon isn’t the end of the world. There’s no use in accusing hori of being homophobic just because something didn’t go your way, especially when he was better queer representation than most other shonens.

#bnha #bkdk #bakugou katsuki #ask puff #puff speaks #puff answers #fandom discourse #fandom discussion

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sageistri · 3 months

Note

I personally do not think Jin should be blamed in any of the translations with what’s going on today 😭 Army translators already clarified it. I know most PJM’s on my timeline are also not blaming him, but I saw some PJM’s doing it. I also think what happened to that army was too much. I used to follow her when I was an army and she was not a shipper. She shouldn’t have tweeted that, yes, but I also think it’s a genuine mistake. Some people are saying she did it deliberately, and I just don’t think she did.

I've been feeling sick and honestly I've not had the energy to do anything more than scroll through these posts and I also do not have the energy to go back and forth with anyone today or interact with anyone who in anyway believes that army account was definitely thinking "yeah... This will definitely get Jimin dragged, I'm going to post this"

Because yeah she is also an army account I see all the time and she doesn't even engage In fandom discourse and infighting and Everytime they're on my tl it's always related to jjk or one piece. I think it was an honest mistake and was tweeted in the heat of the moment.

Another thing was that I literally saw that exact same translation by a translation account When I first came online and genuinely believed that was exactly what Jin said but as someone who's in these spaces I just knew some people are going to be shady with it and so I would know not to tweet something like that but the truth is not every army is as involved in the this stanning thing as we are , especially when it comes to our flights with kpop stans or akgaes and these type of people don't really think of what antis could say before they make a tweet.

Also saw more vitriol for the army than the antis like her deactivating would stop blinks from using a screenshot they got from weverse. You might say she should have been very careful especially knowing how things about BTS are taken out of context but with them feeling so excited I doubt they were thinking about all that. And then I see people claim she left the tweet up on purpose like they can't comprehend a reality where someone would be off their phone for more than a few hours and then they come online explaining they never meant to bring him any hate and in true Twitter fashion they were still being asked to deactivate.

Now on to Jin, even if he did say that exact same statement I do not get attacking him because there's nothing wrong with it. He just came back from his military service, and it was his welcome live so I highly doubt he was trying to shade Jimin or get him hate. There are a lot of moments where I think members should have pondered on their words more before uttering them but this isn't one of those cases.

It's no one's fault that blinks are deranged, not Jin's and not that army's. Yes as an army you should realize certain things should not be tweeted but it's still baffling that she was dragged over a statement that was technically not a drag to Jimin. For repeating exactly what was translated by weverse? "She shouldn't have taken weverse translation as is and should have checked to make sure it was correct"… I guess.

Like how is Jin's statement even a drag? So what if Jimin actually said he forgot how to sing and Jin repeated it? We only know that it would be used as one because we've been fixated on what people say about his vocals. It would have been a lighthearted joke between them and no one with sense would try to use that as shade but being a Jimin anti seems to have stupidity as one of it's requirements so here we are.

I'm all for army-bashing when deserved, but something about the whole thing just weirded me out I'm sorry. And I wish we would just stick to saying she should have known better, which she should have as someone who's been an army for years than claiming she did it on purpose in order to justify the weird tweets directed at her. Like the way pjms were going in, you would think she was elsedonda's side account.

And honestly I just feel like they couldn't do much to that blink account so that army was used as a replacement for their anger. Like how careful can one be with their tweets, every little thing sets the members up according to everyone...

I think pjms have been engrossed in the hate, which of course makes sense because kpop stans won't keep him out of their mouths that they believe everyone's out to get him and there's no way that could have been a genuine mistake on the armys part or no way Jin's statement was harmless when to the average person who isn't an obsessed kpop Stan or angry pjm, it literally is harmless.

But at the end of the day everyone's free to feel however they want and honestly I'm too sick right now and still on my Jimin high to care too much about this whole thing so good luck to everyone lol.

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kanatajelly · 7 months

Text

illogical processes

yandere!five pebbles x reader

author's note: hello rain world fandom... i have no idea if y'all are interested in yandere fics lmao, but i love pebbles so i wrote one anyway. also reader is an ancient in this fic.

warnings: general yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, forced isolation, a lot of angst, major character death (reader)

word count: 4134

There was most definitely something wrong about all of this.

It had been so long since someone had come to visit you. Of course, it wasn’t like you weren’t used to being confined to one room for hours and even days on end, but eventually there was always someone who came to visit. Your father, or your aunt, or some of the few friends you’d managed to make in your early childhood, or even sometimes colleagues and acquaintances of your father, who would ask you of his great innovations as if you actually had any worthwhile knowledge of their inner workings.

But now it was just you.

And Five Pebbles.

“Pebbles, I’m bored,” you complained, sluggishly tossing aside a pearl you’d been turning around in your hands for the past few minutes. A pearl that you’d read over and over and over again, just like the rest of them. A sigh came from the robot suspended above you. His umbilical cable moved down the wall as he lowered himself to your level, looking you in the eyes. “Then read something. Or listen to music,” he said matter-of-factly. You glared up at him, annoyed with his response. “I’ve read and listened to everything in this room hundreds of times now,” you pointed out, your voice strained, “Can’t I go outside for once? Or talk to Big Sis Moon and the others? It’s been such a long while since you let me chat with them over communications.”

Five Pebbles mirrored your expression, although his glare contained a venomous iciness that yours lacked. “Don’t you dare say that name,” he seethed. You knew that something had to have happened between him and Looks to the Moon, since he had recently started speaking of her as if she were a horrible person (which she was not); but you had no idea what exactly had happened. Every time you tried to ask, Five Pebbles simply dismissed your inquiries. However, now that you had his full attention, you thought it’d be worth another try. “Why shouldn’t I? I love Big Sis Moon, and I miss her a lot. I know I can’t go and see her anymore, but I want to talk to her at least,” you said, trying to keep your voice as free of frustration as possible so as to not anger Pebbles too much. He avoided your eyes and mumbled something under his breath.

Tilting your head to the side, you pressed, “What was that? I couldn’t hear you.” Pebbles’ eyes darted up to yours again before he repeated, louder this time, “I said, that’s not possible.” Clenching your hand into a fist, you retorted, “Why?! Why isn’t that possible?! You never properly tell me anything, Pebbles! You never tell me about Big Sis Moon… or about my father. Why can’t I see them anymore? Where have they gone?!” Your shoulders heaved along with your breaths. You had been trying to be calm, but his constant dismissals were really starting to grate at your nerves. An odd emotion flashed in Five Pebbles’ eyes for a moment. He looked almost… guilty. But before you could properly process it, it was gone, being once again replaced by the ice-cold annoyance that always seemed to rest on his face. “You ask too many questions. I’m going back to work,” he concluded, returning to his previous position, suspended above you like some sort of god or otherwise ethereal creature.

You were silent for a while, lost in your thoughts. The only noise in the small space was the low hum of Pebbles’ operating system as he worked through his calculations as always. He really never did anything but work, did he? You wondered what he was always doing. You had faint memories of your father explaining why he built Moon and later Pebbles; something about ascension and the Great Problem. You never really understood your people’s obsession with transcending in the first place - you had other things to worry about, after all.

“Pebbles?” you tried again after around ten minutes had passed. He let out another sigh upon hearing you call him, but it wasn’t as exasperated as the last had been. “Yes?” he responded without moving from his spot up in the air. “Can I at least go outside? Just for a bit,” you asked gingerly. Pebbles put a hand to his forehead, rubbing at his temples in frustration. “There’s never an end to the questions with you, is there?” he remarked, surprisingly not sounding as irritated as you assumed he would. You pouted, saying, “Well, if you’re like me and you’re stuck in a plain-looking room for hours on end with your only company being a literal supercomputer who’s always busy and never has time for you, you would do nothing but ask questions too.”

Five Pebbles’ shoulders twitched at your scathing words. He was quiet for a moment, before you felt yourself being lifted off the ground and towards him; a result of his gravity manipulation, no doubt. Once you were close enough to him, he tentatively placed a hand on your shoulder. The contact shocked you a bit, as Pebbles had never been the type to initiate physical affection. Even when you gave him hugs and such in the earlier days of your time together, he would simply grumble and begrudgingly accept, but never reciprocate, the contact. His next words were spoken in a very soft tone that was also out of character for him, “Look. I’ve told you this more times than I can count, and I’ll say it again. You’re sick. Going outside could potentially be dangerous for your bodily condition. Even if I send an Overseer with you, there’s no guarantee of your safety. What if you collapse and nobody’s there to bring you back to me? What if you get found and eaten by some sort of creature? There’s too many unknowns. Just stay here.”

One look at his eyes told you that Pebbles wasn’t budging on his point. Your expression fell, the little bit of hope that you felt from his unusual treatment of you having been extinguished once again. “...You used to let me out,” you murmured, “You used to let me go into the city. I want to do that again. I want to be able to see the view from the top of your superstructure again. Please, Pebbles. I can’t handle being stuck in this room anymore… Please.” His hand fell from your shoulder, instead reaching out to take your hand, but stopping halfway. “That’s not possible anymore. The city isn’t what it used to be,” he replied, his tone almost pensive. He then quickly recomposed himself before turning away from you and continuing, “Either way, I’m busy. If you have nothing worthwhile to say, I’d like for you to stop bothering me now.”

That statement was the last straw for you. “Hah, I’m always bothering you, aren’t I? If you don’t want me around so much, then why don’t you just let me die,” you spat angrily. Five Pebbles snapped his head back around to look at you. “How utterly illogical,” he retaliated, “The way your mind works is impossible for me to understand sometimes. Just do as I say and occupy your time with something other than continuously questioning me about such… ridiculous topics. As I say all the time, I am busy.” With that, he floated you back down to sit on your makeshift bed, and resumed his calculations. As per usual, when Pebbles decided that the conversation was over, you had no say in it anymore.

Your body formed a little ball on your bed, trying to hide the tears that threatened to fall from your eyes. “Things were better when I lived with Big Sis Moon,” you whispered, curling into yourself. Suddenly, the mechanical whirring of Five Pebbles’ computer processes stopped all at once, almost like he’d short-circuited. “What did you say?” he asked, his voice dangerously low. When you didn’t reply, he repeated his words, this time in a furious shout, “I asked, WHAT DID YOU SAY?!” All the electronic systems in the room abruptly flared back to life as soon as Pebbles had raised his voice. Multiple discharges of light that looked almost like thunderbolts projected out of the holographic circle which was always behind him. He was really angry this time, and it honestly scared you. You huddled further into yourself, as if doing that would put you in some sort of safe shell where Five Pebbles couldn’t harm you.

Before either of you could say anything, a loud beeping started ringing out in the room. “Shit!” Pebbles yelled, the expression of profanity an unusual thing to hear from him, “Ugh, of COURSE you made me make an error in my processing! All of you are so absolutely unbearable! Both you, and Moon! You’re always interfering, always getting in the way!” Sticking your head out of the ball you had curled into, you softly said, “Pebbles, I’m so-” Turning to you, he screamed, “SHUT UP! I don’t want to hear anything out of you anymore!” You flinched at his harsh tone, and the tears that had been threatening to spill from your eyes all this time finally came out. As you sobbed quietly, you could hear Pebbles frantically working, trying to fix the apparent error that your interruption had caused him. He was mumbling things to himself, most of which you couldn’t hear. There was one thing you could make out, which he repeated several times, “I hope this didn’t make things any worse…”

Quite a bit of time passed after that - you honestly weren’t sure how long it had been. Pebbles seemed completely engrossed in his work, the multiple screens around the room telling you that he was computing way more parallel processes than he usually did. A thought suddenly occurred to you. Since he seemed so wholly focused on what he was doing, maybe this was your chance. Maybe, just maybe, you could finally get out of this godforsaken room.

As quietly as you could, you crawled off of your bed and slowly walked over to the wall, enough so you were right under the pipe that would take you outside. You glanced over at Pebbles. He was turned away from you. Perfect. You bent your knees to get more momentum, then jumped as high as you possibly could. With the help of the low gravity, you got about halfway up the wall. While floating in the air, you kicked yourself off the wall to further propel yourself upwards, and reached your hands above your head. When you managed to catch the edge of the exit pipe, you used all your strength to pull your body up into it. Although it took a little while and left you feeling exhausted, you eventually managed to pull yourself through the pipe and outside Pebbles’ room. Somehow, you’d done it.

Once you were outside, one look around told you that you’d gone through the wrong pipe. Instead of ending up in the access shaft that would take you on top of Five Pebbles’ can, you had accidentally taken the pipe that led to the inner workings of his superstructure. You considered going back to change pipes, but figured that it was too risky. If Pebbles had already noticed your absence and you went back in, he could use his gravity control to render you essentially immobile. Shrugging, you decided that you’d try and find another way out by going through his superstructure. As long as you avoided the dangerous-looking mechanical parts, you should be fine… right?

As you floated through the center of Five Pebbles, you marvelled at all the colours and noises that filled the large space. Sure, it was a little overwhelming, but it really emphasized the fact that you were inside the heart of a supercomputer. You could see all his neuron flies and other biological parts around you. When you reached out to catch a neuron in your hand, it felt oddly warm, almost like holding someone’s hand. It was a nice feeling compared to the cold metal that Pebbles’ puppet body was made out of. You hugged the neuron fly to your chest for a brief moment before letting it go. Suddenly, you felt awfully guilty for leaving Pebbles alone. Shaking your head, you told yourself that it was fine. You could never understand why he was always so dramatic about you leaving; it wasn’t like you’d be gone forever.

Not long after you’d started your journey, you made it out of what seemed to be the central area of Five Pebbles, and ended up in an area that sported mostly white walls, along with more biomechanical parts. This area was a lot less visually striking than the central part you’d been in before, but it was still fascinating to you. You’d never known that the inside of this superstructure consisted of so many different looking spaces. It just made you admire Pebbles all the more. Of course, this admiration also extended to your father, since he was one of the people who built all of this. You missed your father. Maybe you’d be able to see him after finding a way out, and then you could tell him that you finally understood how amazing his creation was.

Eventually, you exited the white-walled area, and moved into an area which was much darker than the other two you’d been in; although there was a dull, teal-coloured light that illuminated the chamber enough to see. The other odd thing was that this area seemed to have little blue lights along the walls, as well as blue ropes running between them. You continued downwards, wondering if those blue ropes and lights were also some of the biological parts of Five Pebbles.

Suddenly, the entire room shook violently, causing you to freeze, before you suddenly found yourself free-falling. You let out a yelp and managed to barely catch onto one of the blue ropes before you hit a solid surface. Was the gravity on now? The teal background lighting had turned red, so maybe that signified that the zero gravity controls were disabled. That was strange… This hadn’t happened in any other part of the can that you’d travelled through. You wondered if Pebbles himself had been the one to stop the gravity, maybe as a way to prevent you from moving any further; though that theory was quickly debunked once you noted that it also prevented you from going back. Pebbles would never act that “illogically”, as he would say.

As abruptly as the first time it had happened, the room shook once again before the light turned teal, and you felt your body floating. The zero gravity was back on, it seemed. Pushing yourself off the rope you’d been holding onto, you used the momentum to propel yourself further downwards, grabbing onto another blue rope soon after to ensure you didn’t fall when the gravity turned back on, which it soon did. This was definitely strange, but you didn’t really see the point in pondering it too much. After all, you knew very little about the inner workings of the iterators; maybe this was necessary for some specific purpose.

While you waited for the gravity to switch again, you observed the little blue lights on the walls of the room. Suddenly, one of them twitched, almost like it was alive. Your eyes widened, and you decided to look closer. That’s when you realized that these blue lights weren’t a part of the wall; they seemed to belong to fleshy, black creatures that were attached to the wall. The creatures also had stubby little tentacles that protruded from them, wiggling back and forth in the air. As soon as the gravity switched, you let go of the blue rope you’d been holding onto, now very aware that those weren’t part of Five Pebbles, but some other… thing. Whatever they were, you didn’t want to go near them. Unfortunately, as those “ropes” were the only things to hold onto in the open space (other than the occasional metal pole), you were forced to latch onto another one to avoid falling to your death once the gravity turned off again.

Something flashed in the corner of your eye. You looked to the wall next to you, only to jump when you noticed something new coming out of a section of the wall that was devoid of the weird black creatures. Your initial shock faded when you realized it was one of Pebbles’ Overseers. The little robot was projecting a holographic arrow at you, pointing up in the direction which you’d come from. It then added a little picture of Pebbles next to the arrow, obviously trying to convince you to go back to him. “I’m not going back yet,” you told the Overseer, “I want to go outside for once. I’m not leaving forever, I’ll be back at some point. I know you can hear me through this thing, Pebbles - so don’t freak out too much, okay? I promise I’ll be back.”

The Overseer did not seem happy with your reply, shaking back and forth violently as if it were trying to say “no”. It then projected an X in the air, later adding a drawing of a mouth behind the X. “What? Are you asking me to stop talking? My god, Pebbles, you can be so annoying sometimes. I’m leaving,” you stated, propelling yourself off the blue rope you were hanging onto. Pebbles’ Overseer seemed incredibly distressed at this, and went back to trying to convince you to return to Pebbles by pointing upwards. You simply ignored it, huffing in annoyance.

Suddenly, you started to hear a squelching sound. You couldn’t really compare the sound to anything else you’d ever heard in your life, but whatever it was, it made you shudder. You looked below you to see what was producing that sound… only to see a large, spider-like creature advancing up towards you. The main part of the monster looked like the fleshy black things that lined the walls - only this one was mobile and had several long tentacles, some of which it was using to climb upwards. The tentacles that weren’t propelling the creature up were reaching up, reaching towards you. You screamed and frantically swung your limbs upwards, as if you were swimming. The Overseer pointed you upwards once more, towards a metal pole that you could use to pull yourself away from the creature. Reaching out towards the pole, your fingers barely brushed it before the room shook and the zero gravity turned off.

As your body catapulted downwards, you tried to reach for something, anything, that you could grab onto to prevent yourself from falling into the tentacles of the terrifying black-and-blue creature. However, your efforts were in vain. You felt a tentacle wrap itself around your ankle and pull you down towards the creature’s bulbous body. “PEBBLES! HELP!” you cried out, reaching towards his Overseer. Unfortunately, his Overseer could only reach so far, and it wasn’t far enough. And what could it even do for you if it could reach you? Nothing. It was only an Overseer; its only capabilities were hologram projection and acting as a camera for its iterator.

Even as the zero gravity came back on, you were still being dragged downwards, closer and closer to the creature. As you neared it, it latched more of its tentacles onto your other limbs to stop you from struggling. Once you were close enough, it began to shove you into what you assumed was its mouth, despite being unable to see any sort of facial features on its body. First went your legs, then your hips, then your torso. It felt so painful; as if your body was getting crushed up into mush, every bone in your body slowly shattering and the remnants of your limbs being forcibly pushed together as the creature squeezed you into an easily digestible pulp. Before the creature totally consumed your head, you were able to let out one final, broken cry of Pebbles’ name. The last part of you to go was your hand, still outstretched towards the Overseer, something that couldn’t even help you in the first place.

~~~~

After Pebbles had finally managed to correct the error that he had caused due to his anger at your final statement, he turned back towards your corner of the room, ready to apologize and smooth things over with you (as much as he didn’t want to admit his own fault). However, he was shocked to find that you weren’t there. He called your name a few times, only to receive no response. Had you somehow slipped out of his room while he was busy fixing things? “No… How could I have let them get out?!” he shouted, angry at himself. He sent a large number of Overseers out to look for you, covering every part of his can, as well as the exterior of it.

Eventually, Pebbles found you. But he found you in the worst possible place you could be in. You were in the area of his superstructure that he called “Unfortunate Development”, as it was the place where the Rot infecting him was the most virulent. He told his Overseer to convince you to come back as quickly as possible - there was no way you could survive in Unfortunate Development. He could hear you speak through the Overseer, “I’m not going back yet. I want to go outside for once. I’m not leaving forever, I’ll be back at some point. I know you can hear me through this thing, Pebbles - so don’t freak out too much, okay? I promise I’ll be back.”

“Don’t be stupid! You’ll never get out of there alive. Come back, come back right now!” Pebbles shouted, even though you couldn’t hear him. He told his Overseer to tell you to stop speaking, as some of his observations had shown that the mobile Rot cysts reacted mostly to noise. “What? Are you asking me to stop talking? My god, Pebbles, you can be so annoying sometimes. I’m leaving,” you declared through the Overseer, then pushed yourself away from it. Shaking his head, Pebbles screamed, “No, no, NO! LISTEN TO ME!” He continued commanding the Overseer to try and convince you to come back, but his efforts were futile. There was a Rot cyst advancing towards you, and Pebbles couldn’t do anything about it. He had completely lost control over the gravity system in Unfortunate Development some time ago, so he couldn’t propel you away from the Rot cyst; and there was nothing his Overseer could do except project holograms. He could only watch as you were consumed by the Rot.

Five Pebbles had failed once again.

It was all his fault. If he hadn’t been so antagonistic towards you, maybe you wouldn’t have thought of leaving in the first place. If only he was more like Moon; kind, caring, friendly, and warm. But he wasn’t any of those things. He didn’t know how to be kind, didn’t know how to care for others, didn’t have any friends except Seven Red Suns (who he had lost by now), and he was so, so cold. If only he could have made you love him as much as he loved you, maybe this would have never happened. A little voice in his head told him that that wasn’t true. Even though he loved you, it wasn’t like he’d ever told you that. He always treated you horribly too, locking you inside his room with no entertainment other than the pearls that you’d read or listened to over and over again until even they became a source of boredom.

The mechanical whirring that rang out through Pebbles’ room became almost inaudible as he slowly paused or shut down all the processes he’d been working on, as well as all the Overseer camera feeds. They didn’t matter anymore. Nothing did. He’d gotten so used to your presence, and now that you were gone, potentially even dead, Pebbles couldn’t bring himself to do anything. Even if you somehow weren’t dead and you did reincarnate into the next cycle, why would you ever come back to him? There was no way you would. After all, why would you want to be with someone who kept you locked in a tiny room for cycles on end? Pebbles sank to the bottom of his chamber, his legs hitting the floor and putting him in a hunched-over sitting position. He hid his face in his hands; he was sure that if he could cry, he would be right now.

Now he really had nothing.

He was all alone.

Just as he deserved.

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