#focus on the positive peaceful side of fandoms as much as possible

[repressedqueen]

"The effect of art is to make something special."

-Dissanayake (1992)

[sith-qween]

Sign On The Line

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairings: Reader x Lucifer, Reader x Alastor

Words: 1.8K

Rating: M

Warnings: Teaser, Blow Job, Masturbation, Real warnings to come if this is finished

The days were definitely not the same as they used to be. Since the last extermination, Hell had been in overdrive. Everyone had been scrambling to try and make the most of what little pathetic after life they had - be that begging for their lives, to kill and maim as many creatures as physically possible, and others just trying to party and fuck as much as they could. 

Maybe you would’ve gotten in on that action but unfortunately for you, you had a lovely little bargain that had you on the ropes. You would’ve been so lucky to get away with murder and just enjoy what was left of your pitiful existence. However, like anything else, there was a sick plan for you. 

You had hoped that one of those disgusting angels would’ve made a pit stop and taken you out of your misery but, that was too easy. Everyone was on edge waiting to see what Lucifer’s little duckling would do, and to everyone's surprise - the bloodbath had been a holy one. Then the news went around and suddenly the first man was gone. The one who had led the charge was now nothing more than ash. It was a frost day in hell that was for sure. No one knew what to do once the panic ceased, some returned to normal while others started asking questions, what did this mean now? Did they stand a chance against Heaven?

Bah. You couldn’t care less. Mind you, you never intended to get much closer to the victoring side. Mind you - one moment you were in the safety of your friend’s bar, and suddenly you were face to face with a very familiar grey face. Ever since that red haired antler fuck came around and sealed the deal he had you waiting in the corner. Sure you were a lot stronger now that you’d made that deal - but at what cost? It wasn’t like you could go out and enjoy that power and take whatever you wanted, you had to behave.

And just like that, your peace and quiet was over. Ever since the Hotel won their little war, there was an increase in crowds around the place. Some begging for redemption - and some burning with the desire to get closer to some obvious powerhouses, minus the Overlords. 

Alastor had deemed you a credible source to play greeter and take care of any guests that arrive personally. Those also came with the job of making any swift removals if someone wasn’t playing by the rules. Basically you were there to give Vaggie a break and let her focus on other things. 

There was one thing that had caught your eye though. Every now and again you would catch the slightest glimpse of the King of Hell. You had been there for about a month now but it was rare to see the man sauntering around with the lessers. You don’t think you’d say he was repulsed by the likes of demons, but more disappointed. The few times you had seen him he was a very pleasant man - he definitely carried himself with a very regal air, and it was something of a dream. Maybe it was just the part of you longing to have done a few things differently in your own life. Maybe then you could’ve been up there living a fantasy instead of being stuck slaving away down here. 

A few interactions had taken place between the two of you, but you wouldn’t exactly chalk them up to being overly positive? You were never out right rude to the short King - but you also didn’t kneel and kiss the very earth he walked. You were a lot of things - but a kiss ass was not one of them. While your attitude made some of the others a tad nervous, he never seemed to mind. In fact he got a small kick out of it once in a while. 

After running laps around the hotel to try and manage the requests of some newer guests you felt a deep growl rumble in your chest. You had no ties with these people and they were driving you up the wall. You couldn’t be bothered to care about this redemption nonsense, but if these idiots were serious they would have to work on a lot of things. All they were doing was getting on your nerves and you had to admire the patience that they others had. You could never. 

Making your way down the halls you noticed a shadow in the corner of your eyes and it quickly caught your attention. Not on your watch.

You weren’t about to let anything come in here and get you in trouble with your deal. Satan knows that Alastor would have you begging for death if you didn’t hold up your end of the deal. The very thought caused a shiver to run along your spine. That could wait - narrowing your eyes the growl continued as you turned down an unfamiliar hallway to track the shadow. Maybe it was someone playing a prank on you, but you’d rather be made a fool then let a danger slip in here. 

The shadow was quick and always just out of sight. Picking up speed you were sure you could get a pass on using some of your power if it was for the Hotel. Slowly two dark horns with careful curls started growing from the top of your head, eyes glowing red you darted with extreme speeds down the halls to catch up. Finally it turned into a door that was ajar, and you slipped in after it.

However, what you found was far from the last thing you expected to see. The adrenaline that had been building and starting to flare as you chased down the threat seemed to vanish in seconds. 

The room in question was on a newer wing of the Hotel, one that was not meant for guests. In fact if you had to put a label to it - it was much more on the administration side of things. The walls were not the normal royal red - these walls were tall and a nearly blinding white with golden accents. You could feel your blood run cold. 

It was one thing to add a little sass in a conversation with the King of Hell - but it was another thing to burst into his own personal room. Let alone like this.

It wasn’t just his room, no he was there. Not in any old way either. In a way that would cause Heaven to weep. Your lips moved to speak but nothing would come out, you couldn’t help the disrespectful stare as your eyes landed on the man in the large regal bed. It was a lavish bed, much larger than any single person could ever need, and the canopy on it draped perfectly to enclose the whole thing - except the front of it. It was the perfect little window to see the man lounged, his legs spread wide as your eyes locked. 

He was completely unphased at seeing you appear in the room, in fact his face grew into a wide grin. This only made the blood run colder in your body, completely flabbergasted and lost for what to do or say.

“Well,” he started as he looked you up and down, “that worked a lot better than I thought it would.” he chuckled, crooking his head as he studied your expression. You hated the fact that you could feel the blood rushing to your cheeks, you weren’t no prude - but this was something else. 

“Wait,” you managed to mumble out, trying to keep your eyes on his face and not straying to the careful motions happening in his lap under the sheets “that was you..?”

“I was curious how devoted you are to this Hotel. I don’t want anyone here that might let harm come to my little girl and her dreams,” he started, making it seem like some nonchalant and totally normal reason to have dragged you down to this side of the building. 

“I might not care - but I have a deal to uphold. So long as Alastor is invested you can count on me to do what is needed.” you scoffed. Noticing the momentary anger that reached the other's face. It amused you how much the two men hated each other, and yet both craved the same desire to push and support Charlie.

“Is that so..?” he hummed, eyes slowly shutting for a moment. AS they slowly rolled back open he was once again locked onto you, his smile turning lazy before he spoke again, “well since you’re here, perhaps you would like to keep me company. After all it seems as though you’ve have a rough day today”

HIs voice was deep and enticing. No wonder Eve was so easily pulled into his promises of free will. What soul wouldn’t find themselves entranced in him. 

“Come here”

Your mouth was dry as you found yourself moving towards the bed. Everything about him was so inviting, so pure and yet so down right sinful. Reaching out his free arm in a welcoming manor you knew then and there that there wasn’t going to be any turning around and second guessing this. Letting your tongue run along your bottom lip, you weren’t going to give up this chance. How many can say they laid with Lucifer himself?

Reaching the end of the bed his hand flicked, shutting the large doors and locking them. 

“Remove your clothing and then crawl to me, darling” he purred, the words silky as they rolled from his tongue. You weren’t about to be told twice as the shirt came over your head in a flash, and your pants were quick to follow. Dropping them in a contained mess on the floor your hands met the sheets followed by your knees. Keeping some modesty in front of the Holy King, you could feel your heart race as the excitement surged through your body. Carefully crawling towards the man, you watched him, taking in as much as you could. 

Your motions slowed as you neared the small man, your knees on either side of his leg. He looked so blissful and perfect in every way. Pulling the sheets away you could see his hand doing exactly what you thought it would be doing. Wrapped around his sizeable dick you could feel your mouth water at all of the sinful thoughts that raced through your mind. Seeing what you were doing his hand stilled and you wasted no time taking over the stimulation he had been doing. He was heavy in your hand and you couldn’t help yourself from rubbing your thighs together for some kind of friction before leaning forward to take him into your mouth.

“What do you think about adding a third party?” a staticy voice chimed from behind you.

AN: This is a teaser fic - I might finish this if anyone else is interested. Until then pay me no mind. I'm gunna go thirst after these two and Adam, cause I have no standards.

[go-to-the-mirror]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: Major Character Death

Category: Gen

Fandom: Doctor Who (2005)

Character: Tenth Doctor (Doctor Who)

Additional Tags: Whumptober, Whumptober 2023, Tenth Doctor Whump (Doctor Who), Episode: s04e11 Turn Left, Canonical Character Death, Drowning, Suicide, Suicidal Tenth Doctor (Doctor Who), He/Him and It/Its Pronouns for the Tenth Doctor (Doctor Who)

Words: 598

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

In another world, this would've been just another life-threatening adventure. This is not another world. This is this world. This is the world where the Doctor dies. OR The Doctor's fate in "Turn Left." --- Written for Whumptober 2023, day 14. Prompt used is water inhalation.

Warnings:

Death

Drowning

Suicide

“MY CHILDREN!” the Empress screams. The Doctor barely acknowledges it.

“NO!” She’s screaming so loudly it would be distracting if he was focusing on anything, if it could focus on anything. Move the baubles in position, detonate them, flood the place, drown her before she can escape.

(In another world, someone would be standing there, horrified. In another world, they’d tell him he could stop. In another world, he would listen to them.)

There’s a way out, there’s always a way out, he’s done what he came here for, baubles are detonated, Earth has been saved.

She’s screaming as she dies, screaming for her drowned children.

There’s a way out, there’s always a way out, but not for much longer, so it has to make the decision now, do you want to make it out of here?

“You did this,” the Doctor says, and she’s screaming, still screaming, doesn’t she know they’re all gone?

There’s always a way out, always. But not for this.

No, this is just how it ends.

(In another world, he ends while saving someone. In another world, he regenerates, gets another chance, and another, and another. In another world, this is just one more life-threatening adventure. This is not that world. This is the world where it dies hurting someone. This is the world where there are no second chances.)

There’s no way out, even it wanted to leave, to save himself.

This is where they both drown.

The Empress shrieks as she’s finally pulled under. He doesn’t move from where it stands.

There’s almost… a calm, despite the rushing water and the chaos that’s surrounded him. It’s reached a decision, a conclusion. There is no way out. This is where he drowns. This is where the Time Lords end, underneath the Thames in 2006. It would almost be funny. This is where the oncoming storm finally meets his match, and its match is just water, it’s just water.

It’s not just waiting for the water to submerge him. It’s a choice. Climbing over the railing, standing at the side, and letting go.

It’s instinct to try and delay the moment of death for as long as possible. Your body doesn’t want to inhale water. So you hold your breath, only breathing in when you’re moments away from unconsciousness.

And then there’s the thing about Time Lords, they can hold their breath for a lot longer than humans can. They can have enough time to regret, to try to escape, to realise it’s hopeless. They can thrash as they’re pushed down by the water, they can try to resurface. Then they can fail.

Eventually, under the water, as the edge of its vision goes black, the Doctor breaths in.

Immediately its panicking, he can’t even move properly, but he needs to. Its trying his damndest to get to the surface, but the whole room is flooded now.

There’s no way out.

Drowning isn’t calm, or peaceful. It feels like he’s being ripped apart from the inside. There’s no escape, it’s inside him, outside him, killing him, after nine hundred years alive it’s killing him.

Drowning isn’t calm or peaceful, until it’s over.

In another world, his best friend would tell him about it, about his body recovered from underneath the Thames. In another world, he would’ve been a bit disturbed. In another world, there would’ve been so many more important things to do, better ways to go.

This is not that other world. This is the one where he dies. And it’s so much more different than he ever thought it would be.

[likealittleheartbeat]

I deeply appreciate how ATLA depicts all the main characters responses to trauma. Aang’s, for me, however, stands out for its rareness in media. And we are not hammered over the head with the idea that Aang (or any other characters) repeatedly act certain ways because of a single traumatic event. Sure, there are key moments in our lives when a certain event comes to the forefront, but no one experiences the world as constant flashbacks. Rather, we see only in retrospect the way our sarcastic sense of humor or our heightened friendliness were protective responses to a deep emotional injury. Being able to understand Aang’s approach to loss is essential for the show. The structure of the series is founded on his arc (despite an incredible foil provided by Zuko). Our little air nomad initially confronts the loss of his people with a full-on meltdown in the episode “The Southern Air Temple,” where Katara’s offering of familial belonging soothes him. But this kind of outburst is not Aang’s primary response (and actually the literally out-of-character apocalyptic tantrums align with Aang’s overall process of grieving). Instead of constantly brooding (hey Zuko!), Aang leans heavily toward the monk’s pacifist teachings and toward his assumed destiny “to save the world.” He becomes overtly accommodating and joyful, constantly trying to see “the good” in everything with a perfectionist’s zeal. This is not to ascribe his bubbliness only to his trauma. Rather, he comes to emphasize this part of his personality for reasons related to the negative emotions he struggles to face.  Book 1: Water

In the first season, Aang is simply rediscovering his place in the world. “Water is the element of change. The people of the water tribe are capable of adapting to many things. They have a sense of community and love that holds them together.” This is vital to Aang as he initially faces his experience. He won’t get through this if he is not prepared for his life to change. Even if he hadn’t been frozen for 100 years, his world would never be the same. This fact involves eventually finding new people that he feels safe with. After such a massive loss, he’s learning who to trust, and also often making mistakes; not only does he find Sokka and Katara (and I’d argue he’s actually slow to truly open up to them), this is the season where he helps save a fire nation citizen who betrays him to soldiers, befriends the rebel extremist Jet, and attempts to befriend an actively belligerent Zuko (his moral complexity had only JUST! been revealed to the kid!). He’s constantly offering trust to others and seeking their approval in opposition to the deep well of shame and guilt he carries as a survivor of violence. This is also the season where Aang swears off firebending after burning Katara in an overeager attempt to master the element (one will note how fire throughout the series is aligned with, above all else, assertiveness and yang). Aang is so eager to be seen as morally good to others that he refuses to risk any possible harm to them.  And asserting himself carries a danger, in one sense, that he might make a mistake and lose someone’s positive regard, and, in another sense, that he is replicating the anger and violence he’s witnessed. He has no relationship to his anger at this stage of his grief, so it comes out uncontrollably, both in firebending and the Avatar State. It’s through the patience of his new family that he can begin to feel unashamed about his past and about the ways his shame is finding (sometimes violent) expression in the present. Book 2: Earth In the second season he begins to trust himself and stand his ground. Earth, after all, is the element of substance, persistence, and endurance. The “Bitter Work” episode encapsulates how Aang must come to a more sturdy sense of his values. First, there is the transition of pedagogical style. While Katara emphasized support and kindness, Toph insists on blunt and threatening instruction, not for a lack of care towards Aang. Instead, it’s so Aang learns how to stop placing the desires of others above his own--to stop accommodating everyone else above his own needs. Toph taunts Aang by stealing one of the few keepsakes from the monastery that he holds onto. This attachment to the lost airbending culture is echoed in the larger arc with Appa. And, by the end of this episode, it is Aang’s attachment to Sokka that allows him to stand firm. This foreshadows the capital T Tragic downfall in the “Crossroads of Destiny.” Aang gives up his attachment to the other member of his new found family, Katara, despite his moral qualms. Although he has access to all the power of the Avatar state, his sacrifice is not rewarded. Season 2 illustrates Aang coming to terms with his values. He is learning about what he stands for, what holds meaning to him. Understanding himself also includes integrating his grief, and there’s a lonely and dangerous aspect to that exploration. We see Aang’s anger and hopelessness over longer stretches rather than outbursts in this season. It’s hard to watch and hard to root for him. That depressive state leads to actions that counter his previous sense of morality, as he decisively kills an animal, treats his friends unkindly, and blames others for his loss. Letting these harsher feelings emerge is an experiment, and most people discover their boundaries by crossing them. Finding ways to hold compassion for himself, even the harm he causes others, is the other side of this process. Our past and our challenging emotions are a part of us, but they are only a part. Since Aang now has a strong sense of community and is learning to be himself rather than simply seeking validation, we also see him having more healthy boundaries with new people. He’s no longer befriending villains in the second season! He’s respectful and trusting enough, but he’s not putting himself in vulnerable situations nor blindly trusting everyone. Instead, he’s more likely to listen to his friends’ opinions or think about how the monks might’ve been critical towards something (they’re complaints about Ba Sing Se, for example). By knowing what he cares for, he can know himself, the powerful, loving, grief-struck monk. And he can trust that, though he might not be everyone’s favorite person, he does not need to feel ashamed or guilty for who he is or what he’s been through. Book 3: Fire However, despite a sense of self and a sense of belonging, Aang and the group still find themselves constantly asking for permission throughout their time in Ba Sing Se. It’s in the third season, Fire, that initiative and assertiveness become the focus. And who better to provide guidance in this than the official prince of “you never think these things through,” Zuko. It’s no longer a time for avoidance or sturdy defensiveness. It is the season of action. Fire is the element of power, desire, and will, all of which require us to impact others.  We see the motif of initiative throughout the season: the rebels attempt to storm the Firelord on the Day of the Black Sun; Aang attempts to share his feelings and kiss Katara; Katara bends Hama and a couple of fire nation soldiers to her will. In each of these examples, the initiators face disgrace. Positive intent does not bring forth success, by any means, only more consequences to be dealt with. This is perhaps Aang’s biggest challenge. He is afraid that his actions will fail, or worse, they will succeed but he will be wrong in what he has chosen. The sequencing in the series, here, is important. We have already seen how Aang has worked to care for (and appreciate) the well-being of others and how he has learned to care for his own needs. With this in mind, he should be able to trust that his actions will derive from these wells of compassion. But easier said than done. Compassion can also trap him into indecision, hearkening back to his avoidant mistake in the storm, in which the whole mess began. Aang’s internal conflict, here, becomes more pronounced as the finale draws nearer. I think it’s especially significant that we witness Aang disagreeing with his mentors and friends. He must act in a way that will contradict and even threaten his sources of support if he is to trust his own desires. Even the fandom disagrees about the choice Aang makes, which further highlights the fact that making a decisive choice is contentious. There is no point in believing it will grant you love or admiration or success. For someone who began (and spent much of) the series regularly sacrificing himself just to bring others peace, Aang’s decision to prioritize his own interests despite the very explicit possibility of failure is the ultimate growth his character can have and the ultimate representation of him processing his trauma. (This arc was echoed and made even more explicit in many ways with Adora in the She-ra finale.) The last significant time Aang followed his desire, in his mind, was when he escaped the Air Temple in the storm. To want something, to trust his desire and act on it, is an act of incredible courage for him, and whether it succeeded or failed, whether anyone agrees or disagrees with it, it offered Aang a sense of peace and resolution. Now I appreciate and love Zuko’s iconic redemption arc, but Aang’s subtler arc, which subverts the “chosen one” narrative and broke ground to represent a prevalent emotional experience, stands out to me as the foundation for the show I love so much.

[kusagrasskusa]

Fell! Sans X Reader - "Boss is gonna kill me-"

Here at the Hamilcult, we support fluff fanfics in cringy fandoms that likely implement OOC cannon characters. That was sarcasm but even so, just know that this might be sorta OOC and this is fluff :3

Also, prepare for a Wattpad level written story and a shitty plot. I just got done writing a 7000 worded fanfic and frankly, I need a b r e a k.

Forgive me for I have sinned writing this

~~~~~~~

Y/N yawned, rubbing her tired eyes before laying back on her chair. She sunk deep into her warm coat, the fluffy fur on the hood making her feel more relaxed. The coat was oversized black and red with big pockets, perfect for a human in a place like Snowdin. After all, at the post near the conveniently shaped lamp, Y/N was waiting in the blistering cold. Well, the scenery looked peaceful but it definitely was snowing and the air was terribly cold. The fur on the coat rubbed against her face, making her cheeks turn red from the contrast heat of it and the cold air.

She whined and pulled the coat over her head when a few snowflakes touched her face. "Cold," she mumbled tiredly. Y/N flipped her body to the side and whined again. This time, the problem was how uncomfortable her position was. So she tossed over to the other direction and laid her head against the chair. "...the chair is uncomfortable," she tiredly whined.

"If it's that bad then just fucking leave," a rough, annoyed voice spoke. It was Sans, the slightly taller skeleton with a red sweater on and without his coat. "I want my coat back anyway. You're getting ya' human scent in it and I don't want that kinda trouble," he continued. Y/N huffed and sat up straight. She was around his size to sat the least, but a bit thinner and shorter.

"But I thought you wanted me out here," she retorted. "You clearly get lonely here after a while so I wanted to stay with you."

"Yeah, well stayin' with me hasn't brought more customers, has it?" He replied, turning his head towards the younger girl. His red eyes seethe into her soul basically, but Y/N just giggled at his serious expression. The hood covered half her face so her eyes were widen, which they usually were. It's strange because even without the hoodie, something is always covering her eyes whether it's her hair or not. And without a barber in Snowdin and hundreds of people who want to murder her for being human, Y/N hair is bound to grow out anyway.

"You're so funny sometimes Sans," she complimented with a sweet smile on her face. "You have such a cute look when you're mad...well actually, I don't think I've ever seen you not mad before. I wonder what a genuine smile would look like..." she mumbled sleepily. Sans felt his cheeks light up a bit so he turned away from her, rolling his eyes. He wasn't used to such words at all.

"Huh?–" Sans jumped as he felt the girl's arms wrap around his body softly. She had slipped her arms out of the coat for Sans to out his arms in.

"Put the coat back on. It's big enough for me to fit back here," she giggled quietly as she rested her head on Sans's shoulder. Sans felt his fa e turn red and his body tense; he growled and turn his head towards her.

"I gave the damn thing to you, so wear it properly !"

"But you're cold and you're coat can fit us both."

"I don't care!" Sans hissed back, making Y/N giggled. The two friends often had times like this; wholesome and adorable with Sans getting all flustered. Sans barely even saw her a friend as he promised he would never let anyone get too close to him so he doesn't turn soft. But Y/N's persistent and sweet personality really struck him hard. Of course, he wouldn't go as far as to crush on her, right? No, their just good friends...

Y/N' cheeks puffed out and she pouted her lip like an upset toddler. "Sans, please? Just this once?" She asked as she squeezed him into a tighter hug. Sans scoffed and shook his head.

"No! What am I, some pueny pawn? I will not sink that fucking low," Sans seethed. Y/N was silent for a few moments before simply letting go of her tight grip and going lip against Sans's back. She head remained on his shoulder and luckily his sweater cushioned the feel of his bones, making this a comfortable position.

"I like this much better," she said tiredly with a warm smile on her face. Sans was sitting on a rather large chair that he got in order to find better sleeping situations without sliding off it, but because he was sitting on the edge of the chair, Y/N could easily slide behind him. She sat on her knees that were either side of him and yet it was so comfortable for her. "You're more comfortable than a chair." Her voice got lower and softer each time he spoke but it didn't lose its sweetness once.

"Yeah, well I ain't no damn pillow Y/N. Get the hell off me... Hello?" He asked when he didn't get a response. He turned his head to face the girl and saw her completely emersed into the dream world. It's true that he couldn't see her eyes, but he still could tell. He sighed heavily and turned his head in front of him.

"Huh‐ Ah!-" Y/N shrieked as she was pushed into the freezing snow.

"Ahahaha!" Sans laughed hard as he watched Y/N freak out. "I told you I wasn't no damn pillow!" He laughed as he put his hands on his knees. Y/N whined she stood straight up and glared at him. She walked over to him with a pout on her lip and lightly punched his arm.

"Hmph!" Sans chuckled at her adorable attempt at being angry and bopper her nose rough enough to push her away a bit.

"Was that supposed to make me feel bad, human? Well lemme tell ya', that just won't do," Sans spoke as his smile grew cockier.

"I wasn't even trying to hurt you, so don't start that," Y/N retorted. Sans rolled his eyes while he kept up his cocky smile. He shrugged and pu

"Yeah, sure. You fists are as strong as a fly's. You couldn't hurt me, even if you tried," he pushed. Y/N hmphed and shook her head. She pulled her arm back and punched him right in the shoulder as hard as her tired arm could. Sans just snickered and didn't even flinch.

"Wait, was that the best you got? I heard you humans are supposed to be strong." Sans shrugged his shoulders before pulling his hands out of his pockets and stretching. "Whatever, I guess it doesn't matter all that much. If you ever did decide to attack me, it's not like you'd live long enough to be able to lay a hit on me. And anyone else down here would have no problem given all they got to some little girl."

"I'm 20."

"Doesn't matter," Sans said as he put his hands back in his pockets. Y/N sighed and shook her head.

"You know I wouldn't hurt anyone down here as much as I know you wouldn't hurt me, Sans," her soft replied. To be honest, his name being spoken so sweetly had a good ring to Sans' ears.

"Yeah, well you can't blame me for being cautious. You humans put us down here, remember? You humans murdered so many monsters for no fucking reason then trapped the rest of us down here with your strong souls as aid. Then a few fallen human children came down here and either murdered a little, a large portion, or one of us. Still, you humans seem to be naturally turned to a genocide even though you have fucking everything you can possibly want on the surface. Us monsters have nothing, not even a real sun or moon, to make us happy, so our rage is justified." Sans finished his train of thought with a scowl; he turned his head towards the snow building up on the ground and glared at it. Y/N frowned, holding her arms to her chest.

"...Hey, Sans. It stopped snowing, so we don't have to worry about a blizzard keeping us from going to Grillby's," Y/N said as she looked out of the post, finally noticing the snow had stopped falling.

"Why would I worry about a blizzard? I got a shortcut that'll get us there in no time," he smirked and looked up at her. Y/N cocked her head questioning, humming. "Just follow me, aight," he spoke as he walked behind the post. Y/N caught up with him in no time while holding the sides of the coat close to together instead of zipping it. The sleeves just hung by her sides as she still wanted Sans to wear the coat with her cuddling up behind him, mostly because she could still use the hoode that way.

As they walked up to a tree, suddenly, Sans chuckled. The next moment, they were at the doorway of Grillby's and the absorbed by heat and warm light. Y/N looked around her frantically and confused, "how did you do that?"

"Ya humans got strong souls, us monsters have magic," he explained with a cocky smile. "Now let's go sit down at the bar instead of the booth this time. That drunk bunny annoys the shit outta me," he mumbled the last part as he walked over to the bar with Y/N following.

As she passed the dogs, one of them called out, "wait, is that a human? Isn't that the one we fought before?" It was Dogamy who spoke out, then causing her husband to talk back.

"I think so, yes, the one that turned into a puppy that liked to pet other dogs!"

Y/N giggled tiredly as she sat down at the bar besides Sans, listening on their conversation a few seconds longer before returning her focus to Sans alone. "I want a burger," she mumbled.

"Aight," Sans replied. He signaled for Grillby to walk over after he finished making a drink for another customer. The being of purple fire had what looked like a jagged white frown for a mouth, and he wore a skintight black vest with a white undershirt with rolled up sleeves and black jeans as his attire. He vest was also low cut, so an outline of his chest was visible. Although he had a serious tone, he definitely seemed like he could flirt successfully to any person he wanted.

"What," Grillby's echoy voice rung. The purple fire that made up his body flickered and cracked, making Y/N smile from the satisfying sound.

"Two burgers, put it on my tab," Sans replied, leaning on the counter with a mustard bottle in his hand. Grillby wrote down his order and walked towards the kitchen door with a "fire onlt" sign on it. He walked inside the kitchen and came out with a drink; it was F/D, something Y/N typically ordered when she came to the bar. He set the drink down in front of her.

"On the house," Grillby spoke. Y/N smiled softly at him, thanking him. "Tch," he responded before tending to other costumers. Grillby didn't really like Y/N, but he appreciated the little work and silence she brought him. She only spoke when spoken to, and she didn't order things that were hella hard to make and then complain about it. Sans growled, rolling his eyes.

"Fucking simp," he hissed. Y/N tilted her head, humming.

"Hmm? Why?" Y/N asked before taking a sip if her drink.

"He's losin' money by given out free drinks. And of anyone, to you."

"Well," Y/N smirked sweetly. "I come here a lot and that attracts monsters who want to see the human. So by being tourist attraction, he makes more money," she explained. Sans scoffed, his cheeks reddening.

"Whatever." Aww, our bebe skeleboi is jealous of the big, tall, muscular fire dude! Y/N giggled, patting him on the shoulder.

"I really appreciate you bringing me here with you. When you decide to pay your tab, remind me to contribute enough money to help." Sans shrugged, smirking.

"People like you are too nice down here, really."

"It feels nice to help someone."

"It's not so nice when people try to kill you over it," Sans retorted. Y/N frowned, nodding.

"I guess I didn't grow up down here so there isn't much for me to say, but I can't help but think everyone down here is kind but hurt. I mean, there's a lot about you I noticed that aren't so...pleasant, but you managed to treat me like a person with emotions and opinions. I doubt that of hundreds, you're the only one down here like that," she explained. Sans sighed again, rubbing his eyes.

"Like I said, people like you are too nice down here." Sans finished the conversation this way and then came a long moment of silence. In that time, Grillby came over with two plates with burgers on them. He set them in front of the two.

"Here."

"Thank you, Grillby," Y/N thanked with a warm smile on her face. Grillby silently nodded at her before walking away. She grabbed the ketchup and poured some on her burger, whereas Sans barely acknowledged what was happening around him. He was getting caught up in his thoughts right now, a bit overwhelmed with them actually. Finally, he stood up and walked away from the bar, heading out the front door. Y/N hummed and took a bite of her burger, watching Sans leave.

She set her food down and ran after him, leaving the restaurant right when he did. "Is everything alright?" She asked worriedly, making Sans scowl.

"God, y'know, you gotta stop assuming something's wrong. I'm fine. And either way, I wouldn't tell you some edgy shit no one cares about," Sans replied. Y/N was silent at first, then she took off the coat she still had on. Her hair brushed over her eyes as she did that, making them impossible to see. She put the hood on top of Sans' head before wrapping her arms together coldly. "Why do you're eyes always do that?"

"Do what?" She asked.

"If they ain't covered by a hood, it's covered by your hair. If not your hair, someone's or something's blocking your face. If it's not that, then you're head it turned away from view. It's weird," Sans explained. Y/N hummed, not noticing that until now.

"Well... Do you want to see my eyes?" She asked as she brought her hands up. She was wearing one of Sans's red shirts, which sorta made this moment more cliche but who cares. Sans slowly nodded, curious. Then Y/N pushed her hair out of her face, revealing her normal looking E/C eyes. Well, aside from the kindness and care that laid within them. And it was that feature that hit Sans first.

"Woah," he mumbled, tuning his full body towards her. "That's beautiful!" Y/N giggled, making Sans' face redden. He opened his mouth to form a quick insult to her in order to make him seem like he didn't mean it, but Y/N spoke first.

"Thank you. Your eyes are very pretty as well. It has a nice color to it, too," she replied softly. Sans huffed silently, looking to the side.

"I, uh...thanks," he mumbled as he put his hand in his pockets. He sighed and put coat on right, burying his face in the hood fur. It was obvious that he was pretty flustered right now and reddened, as he did truly feel his chest warm when he was around Y/N. It was strange for him to feel this way so he typically pushed his feelings away and told himself that he was just her guardian per say. But he knew deep down in his heart it wasn't true.

"Look, I got something to say to you," Sans pushed more harshly then intended. "And I don't wanna hear any of this being told or heard by other monsters, got it? This is us and us alone, ya understand? This shit is hard to say, so..." he drifted off. The snow was started to pick up again, making the scene look more aesthetic.

Y/N nodded, listening to him closely when began talking. "This shit isn't said very often down here; no, it's not said at all actually. But you're human, and you have a different heart so..." he trailed off again, scratching the back of his head. He looked Y/N in the eyes and gave her a flustered glare like if he was embarrassed, which she took no offense to. "I don't just give anyone the right to take my coat, waste my time, bother me, stop me from sleeping, and more. It's just you and Boss, and even he has less power than you."

He continued after a deep breath. "And its not because you're human or I pity you. In fact, I couldn't care less if you're soul is strong, since I could still break it; I couldn't care less if you fell down here, since we're trapped down here too. I let you do because... it's like a bandaid, just gotta say it... I care about you. Not even like a sister or close friend, no, I mean if you were about to be shot, I would jump in front of bullet so you could liev put your life happily. I love you."

Y/N was silent, sorta just staring. Her whole body was shook, frozen, and in shock. She didn't even know what she just heard or if she was dreaming. She even forgot that she was freezing due to being too caught up in her feelings. Sans stood there silently for about 10 seconds as well, before he face-palmed and grew red jn embarrassment. That's when a tear escaped the corner of Y/N's eye and a large smile grew on her features.

"Sans," she replied sweetly as she walked over to him. She fell forwards on him and wrapped her arms around the inside of the coat, around his sweater. The embraced him tightly and said, "I love you too!" Sans felt his heart move a little and a new feeling wash over him. Without being able to control it, he felt a genuine smile grow on his face as he hugged her back tightly.

"I'm so...glad," he breathed out heavily, his nerves relaxing. The two stayed in that position for a while before eventually breaking off. Y/N pecked him on the cheek before grabbing his hand.

"We should go back inside, hehe. The food'll get cold," she said as she motioned to the door. Sans nodded nervously, chuckling.

"Yeah, and Grillby will be pissed if we wasted food. I don't wanna deal with that again." The two fo them walked inside the restaurant/bar, they started their way back to the bar. Yet when they got in, the bar was silent. I mean, the restaurant was pitch silent; not only that, but many eyes were on them as they walked in. Y/N completely ignored their exists' and sat down on the barstool, picked up her burger and ate it. Luckily was still warm. Sans on the other hand was hella nervous. No, he was fucking terrified.

Grillby walked over to the two and leaned forward, so than when he whispered, only they could hear. "The bunny chick saw you two hug and kiss. Just play it cool, and they'll forget all about it in a few days." Well shit, Sans thought. Boss is gonna kill me when he finds out.

Y/N just ate her burger in peace, not really caring if other people knew about them. After all, it's their choice to laugh about like a boy kindergartener complaining about holding hands with a girl because it means their "dating," or to hear about it and mind their own business.

[selkiewife]

So I was wondering if you have any thoughts on Robb and Dany parallels?

Obviously there is a lot of stuff out there that considers Dany and Sansa and whether they are in opposition as characters or not. And people consider the parallels between Jon and Dany, or Arya and Dany, but in my mind the Stark who's arc she has most in common with is Robb, both thrust into positions of power and responsibility, both succeeding in conflicts which clearly leave devastation their wake and then having to learn how to rule (as a side note I would prefer if asoiaf young team were learning how to govern not rule but it's a feudal society so what can you do?)

Anyway have you ever thought about this (probably you have and have said something insightful and I've not noticed). Thanks.

Oh no. You know when you get an ask and you are suddenly like, oh shit, I have fooled people into thinking I know what I am talking about. I have really not explored their parallels in depth. Mostly because I have not been as obsessed about Robb’s ruling arc as much as I have about Daenerys’. And my obsession with her ruling arc was a direct result of Season 8 and me being like... if this was where it was all leading, where is the evidence in the books? And going back to reread and finding... well, no evidence lol. 

Thank you for this ask though @st-clements-steps! It is really interesting. Especially since you are right! It is strange that people don’t seem to focus a lot on Robb and Dany parallels compared to the other Starks, especially since they are both in ruling positions. I am going to post some of my thoughts but I’m also going to tag @rainhadaenerys who might have written or know of metas written about their parallels. I ramble a bit about the parallels I see in them under the cut, but it is not well researched or backed up with textual evidence. But hopefully this might start an interesting discussion at least. And please feel free to point out inaccuracies and such!

One of the cursory parallels between them off the top of my head is that they are both such young rulers. And yet, they are both incredibly introspective and strategic rulers that honestly don’t get enough credit for their intelligence or wisdom from the fandom. They are also both fantastic examples of how difficult ruling is. They are both often faced with horrible choices- where it is not a choice between a good thing and an evil think, but rather, two equally bad things. And they try to choose the thing that will do the least amount of damage. 

They both have a magical beasts (though I’ve never seen anyone say that Robb would be “nothing” without Greywind. lol sorry. My saltiness jumped out.) There also seems to be a parallel where they are both called upon to chain up their magical beasts (which again, leads to Robb’s death... but not Daenerys since she ends up being able to tame and ride Drogon.) I think there may be an inverse parallel there where Robb has wolf dreams, like all his siblings, but doesn’t completely understand what is happening, whereas Daenerys understands her dragon dreams and that is possibly what saves her from death. We see that with Jon again later- where he does not completely understand the dreams or their bond which leads him to ignoring Ghost’s warnings the night he is assassinated. 

Both Daenerys and Robb are idealistic and want to do the right thing to the detriment of their own rule at times. They also have parallels about duty vs desires. Though, I don’t really want to compare the inverse parallel of Daenerys putting aside her personal feelings to marry Hizdahr for peace vs. Robb marrying Jeyne Westerling instead of his Frey betrothed. Because in the books, Robb did not marry her for personal romantic feelings but because of his sense of duty towards her. Though interestingly, this action led to his death and Daenerys marrying Hizdahr almost led to her being poisoned by the honeyed locusts (though I know there are other theories that is was someone else who poisoned them).... hmm I mean, there might be something there but... I don’t know. Anyone else have any thoughts? 

I also think it is very interesting that Daenerys sees Robb at the Red Wedding in her visions in The House of the Undying: 

Farther on she came upon a feast of corpses. Savagely slaughtered, the feasters lay strewn across overturned chairs and hacked trestle tables, asprawl in pools of congealing blood. Some had lost limbs, even heads. Severed hands clutched bloody cups, wooden spoons, roast fowl, heels of bread. In a throne above them sat a dead man with the head of a wolf. He wore an iron crown and held a leg of lamb in one hand as a king might hold a scepter, and his eyes followed Dany with mute appeal.

The idea that his eyes are following her with mute appeal... that is so sad and  creepy- and what could it mean? Is it a silent cry of empathy towards her, echoing his, “Gods be good, why would any man ever want to be king?” Is it a warning that she could also be assassinated (but she definitely knows that- she has always been the victim of assassination attempts since birth.) Does it have something to do with Jon and the fight against the Others? I don’t know, but I think it’s interesting.

These are a few of the parallels that I thought of right away. But I am sure there are many more. I will definitely keep my eyes open as I reread and maybe at some point write an actual meta about it. But again, if anyone knows any metas or discussions about Daenerys and Robb’s parallels, please let us know!

[randynova]

𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐮 𝐎𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐢 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ♡ 𝐆𝐍! 𝐒/𝐎

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A.N.: I hope you enjoy these and this is what I feel would apply to Shirou. At the moment, I am not taking requests but when I do, I will announce it! 

Also thank you, dear people, for liking my last NSFW headcanons! It really motivated to write this and made me feel better about my writing. I’m still gonna be inactive due to school but hey! My health is much better and I’m focusing on school at the moment.

Enjoy!

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Shiro is a 1,000 year old virgin and has no experience, but he knows a basic amount of knowledge about the world of sex and its wonders. Sort of.

But it’s only because he was so focused on the peace and happiness of his fellow beastmen that he neglected this aspect of himself. Plus, it never really came up and if it did, he got distracted with something else. 

So imagine when he meets his S/O, who may or may not be experienced or know more about sex than him. If you do have experience, cool! You can show and lead him steadily into the unknown. If you don’t, that’s okay! This will be a learning experience for both of you and you’ll both be at roughly the same pace.

Shirou is mainly vanilla for a majority of the time, being interested mainly in love-making at first rather than just ‘fucking’. It takes time for him to move into having sex for other reasons; such as stress-relieving, for fun, to experiment, etc. Be patient.

At first, Shirou’s natural instincts do kick in and he’ll automatically resort to the traditional doggy-style position. But don’t worry, he does start going into other positions as more time passes.

His favorites are missionary, modified doggy-style/leapfrog, cowgirl/cowboy, and the chairman. 

As time goes on, it’s discovered that Shirou is a bottom; please don’t argue with me on this. He’s between a power bottom and pillow prince. A perfect mix of wanting to show his S/O some pleasure and teasing them but also just sitting back and letting his S/O take the lead.

On the rare times that he tops, he has two preferences. Most times, he is still gentle but shows a possessive side and gets a bit rough. So prepare to be more sore than usual. I'll go more into detail in a bit. Very rarely does he get rough.

Shirou isn’t that kinky, I’m saying it now. As much as I love other fandoms, I just can’t see Shirou Ogami as being extremely kinky. He’ll have a few kinks that seem a bit extreme (no, not BDSM)  but that is once he gets really comfortable with his S/O.

But keep in mind, people change and I might write him indulging in certain kinks if you guys want me to. Like, I’m pretty open-minded but for certain things.

There is a safe word and all sexual activity must stop once it’s used. Shirou decided it to be “Beast Peace” as it kind of goes with the situation; you want peace, he wants peace, we all want peace. There is also a safe word for outside use and it’s mainly used when someone is upset, the occasional arguing/fighting has gotten to be too much, or when one of them is in a dangerous or uncomfortable situation. It’s “Spring on Jupiter.” 

Random SFW HC: He likes the song “Fly me to the Moon.”

Moving on, he has a praise kink. Tell him how good he’s doing, how handsome he is, how much you love him, how amazing it feels, and more. Hearing his S/O’s beautiful voice praising him in his most vulnerable state makes him feel euphoric and quite relaxed; it makes him feel loved.

He doesn’t really like dirty talk, but it’s mainly the degrading kind. His S/O can dirty talk to him only if they praise him while doing it. Once, his S/O tried the really dirty talk and he couldn’t take it, it actually hurt him a bit and he immediately stopped, using the safe-word.

If his S/O apologizes right away, he’ll forgive them. But if they don’t, he’ll be a bit cold and hurt for a while - he needs some alone time as being emotionally attacked while vulnerable made him feel threatened and attacked. He doesn’t wanna be hurt that way again.

Please, apologize right away if any slip ups do occur or else he’ll be emotionally distant for a bit.

He likes the occasional rough sex, as mentioned before. Maybe after a stressful day working to keep the peace in Beast City or just to let his pent-up emotions out somehow. This is the rare times he’ll top, like I mentioned before. He’ll ask before he does so though and if his S/O agrees, he takes them then and there. He likes doing it quick for a majority of the occasional times as he doesn't really like being rough with you. 

Let’s say you’re in the library.

Shirou pulls his pants and underwear down hastily, doing the same to you as he bends you over the couch’s arm. He quickly plunges himself into you, drilling his hips at an inhuman speed and relishing in the way your walls wrapped so snugly against his pulsing cock. One hand brushes against your hips, digging his nails into your skin while the other trailed over to your nether regions. The beastman quickly began to stimulate your sacred parts, his nimble fingers working wonders and pulling sweet and sinful sounds from your mouth . God, how lucky he is to have such an amazing person as you? Very lucky he was.

His hands leave their respectful places, one of his hands moving to your head and grabbing a fistful of hair, his finger clutching locks at their root. He yanked it back with one quick move and he threw his head back in bliss. 

Low growls rip from his throat, melting into soft whimpers as he picks up the pace, if it’s even possible. The quick , small moans he hears invigorates him and he releases your hair, his hands going back to their previous spots. He leans over, his hands never leaving their place as he bites your shoulder harshly. You yelp, groaning at the sensation of his teeth pricking your skin, sucking hungrily as if you were his last meal, surely leaving a dark welt.  

You shiver as you feel Shirou’s hot tongue run over the area, only to repeat the process on your neck. The hand on your hip left and soon Shirou’s arm wrapped itself around your waist, pulling your bodies closer. “So beautiful,” he whispers, his thrusts beginning to get messy and erratic. “You’re so good to me, [N/N]... Ah! Ngh..” He harshly thrusted into you. Shirou’s fingers, sensational love bites, and numbing thrusts soon became too much and you felt yourself unwind. You squeeze around him and release over his hand, releasing a loud and broken moan.

Shirou whimpered, his eyebrows knitting together and his jaw tightening at the pure ecstasy he was experiencing. With a few final quick and deep thrusts, Shirou releases his seed in you and lets out a low moan. Both of you stayed in that position for a few minutes, panting and indulging in the moment. You peered over your shoulder and smiled at your lover.

“That was… something, huh?”

I feel like some people wonder if he’ll go down on his S/O in his beastman form. The answer is yes. There are occasions where he gets so into it that he transforms subconsciously/involuntarily, but there are also occasions where he does it willingly.

The high chances of him turning into a beastman is when he’s stressed, gets overwhelmed, or if his S/O asks. 

Shirou’s moans are like a beautiful note being played by Apollo’s harp - absolute music to the ears. They’re soft, mellow moans that stimulate something within and they’re beautiful. Sometimes he whimpers, whines, or groans but his moans are the best.

He likes to try and stay quiet but soon the pleasure gets too much and he starts moaning a bit louder, whimpering his S/O’s name and muttering incoherent words of how he feels.

Let me get this out of the way - Shirou has howled in the bedroom before. He has howled many times in fact. But our wolfman can’t help it, I mean, you treat him like absolute royalty as you focus on his pleasure, making sure he’s satisfied no matter what. For example:

He feels himself being pushed over the edge as your velvet walls squeeze around his throbbing member, milking him for all he’s got as you bounce on his cock. Shirou’s hips wildly buck upwards, throwing his head back into the pillow whilst he shuts his eyes at the overwhelming pleasure that was enveloping his whole being.  He squeezes your hips tightly, digging his nails into your delicate skin. The beastman could hear the sweet sound of your voice, purring praises of how good he was and how well he was receiving you.

Small whimpers leave him, strained moans and pants roll off his tongue, and he’s muttering your name like a mantra. The euphoric ecstasy soon gets to be too much, feeling a familiar coil start to tighten and threaten to unwind. Shirou feels your walls tighten even more around him, noticing how you bounce faster on his cock and more erratically. You lean over and bury your face into his chest, your own climax fast approaching. 

Shirou growls, running his hands to your bottom and firmly grasping it, ramming his hips up at a godly speed. “Shirou, so.. Ah! So good!” You moan, everything becoming too much for you. You release a high-pitch moan, spilling your juices over your lover’s skin. 

Shirou soon followed, suddenly spilling his hot seed deep into you and releasing a deep, broken and raw howl; the sound of his howl was surely heard throughout the city.

Hopefully you enjoyed that little excerpt of one of the times Shirou howled in the bedroom.

Now let’s get into the kinks.

He likes mirror sex

He absolutely loves the way your face scrunches up in pleasure, how your eyes roll back as he bucks his hips into you, bouncing as both of you chase your own climaxes.

Seeing how he can make you crumble under his touch, moan and whimper his name, making eye contact as the knot in your stomach snaps.

*mwuah* Beautiful.

He likes having sex in different locations, but rarely.

Occasionally, he likes taking you on the kitchen counter, the couch, or the floor. His top three favorite places, right next to the bedroom of course.

You look like a whole meal in the kitchen? He’ll gently take you then and there on the counter, missionary or doggy-style, your choice.

Both of you happen to get a little handsy in the living room or get bored watching a movie, both of you will get a lil’ freaky. He takes you from behind, lifting your leg a bit as he inserts you slowly.

If you want to cockwarm, he’ll absolutely go along and just lie down with you like that. His member held firmly by your velvet walls.

Listen, the only reason you guys fuck on the floor is because on some instance, both of you will fall off the bed or couch and just continue your business without moving.

He sorta likes semi-public sex. 

You know how wolves have ruts and heats? Yeah, Shirou has that period of his testosterone levels rising and he goes f e r a l. 

He wants to fuck you here, he wants to fuck you there, he wants to fuck you everywhere. This man needs some sort of relief, alright? However, usually his self-control is pretty good and he can hold back from pouncing you in public - most of the time. 

If he can’t take it anymore and you happen to be out with him at the time, he will take you then and there. He drags you to a nearby closet or bathroom and fucks you raw, having your legs wrap around his waist as you bounce on his cock or he drills his length into you as he pushes you against the wall, thrusting and rutting until both of you reach that sweet release.

Luckily, he carries some tissues with him and cleans both of you up. He kisses your forehead and attempts to fix both of you up, trying to get rid of the fresh-sex look before either one of you step back out.

Shirou does not like to be called daddy/sir/master/etc. It makes him feel weird and uncomfortable. If his S/O tries to, he immediately shuts them down with a look, explaining how it makes him feel. He sees no point in it and rather be called by his name or a sweet nickname - he wants to keep this simple. I believe it's because he's had bad experiences with most authority figures so he feels a bit powerless and in some sort of danger.

If you want to call him that, then good luck because Shirou won’t accept it and only wants to be called by his name/nickname(s). If you don’t like it and keep pushing for it, Shirou will eventually suggest his S/O to find someone else if they can’t respect and accept the boundaries he has set.

And if you're thinking just because he's a bottom, he'll like it, you're wrong. Period.

That being said, Shirou won’t really indulge in the daddy/mommy kink, he feels uncomfortable. 

He has a biting kink. Shirou Ogami loves biting his S/O and leaving marks on their skin; it gives him a primal sense of intimacy. He won't do it right away though, he'll reveal it later in the relationship. 

Shiro loves grazing his teeth against your skin, nibbling it before sinking his teeth in, and sucking the soft flesh until he leaves a noticeable red welt behind.

The moans you make as he makes one feels him with pride and love.

Oh but hey! He loves them too! When his S/O gives him his own markings, he can't help but whimper and hold them close, feeling so happy that you, his mate, has decided to grace him with.

Now you may be wondering, "hey, does shirou have a breeding kink since he's a wolf??" 

Oh yeah, definitely. He has a breeding kink and wishes nothing more than to fill you to the brim with his cum if it means there's a chance you'll carry his pups. Even if his S/O can't have children, he still enjoys the thought of filling them up.

However, he is pretty shy about it and usually pulls out. If you two are using protection, he'll unload and just toss the condom in the trash.

Shirou is still gentle, he’ll only turn it up a notch if you beg him to reorganize your guts and milk him for all you got.

Oh, aftercare? Don’t worry! Shirou has already got that covered.  He’s already carrying you to the bathroom, running a nice hot bath for you and rummaging through the fridge for your favorite snacks. He returns and gently helps you bathe yourself. Once both of you are done, he carries you to your shared bed and pulls out your fav snacks, letting you happily eat them as he goes to take a quick shower. He joins you in bed soon afterwards and starts to softly rub all the places he hurt, muttering small apologies and praises.

He turns into his beastman form as he knows you love cuddling into his fluff, especially after sex. 

Remember how I said he likes “Fly Me to The Moon”? You two hum the song after sex, especially after a rough, draining session.

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©𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚟𝚊 || 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚍 || 𝚗𝚘 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜, 𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚜, 𝚌𝚘𝚙𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚎𝚝𝚌. 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚌𝚒𝚛𝚌𝚞𝚖𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜.

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[rnelodyy]

C!Dream, the status quo, and why conflict is okay sometimes.

In this fandom, there is a lot of talk about conflict, who causes it, who avoids it, who is to blame for it, et cetera. An argument often heard from c!Dream apologists to justify his abysmal treatment of L’Manburg in general and c!Tommy in specific is “He was just trying to stop people causing conflict! He was protecting the server by stopping these conflict-causing maniacs!”

And it’s not hard to see where they get this idea from, because c!Dream repeats this sentiment a lot, from his “happy family” speech, to the speech during the final disc war about how c!Tommy causes constant conflict, to the fact that he always portrays himself as a reasonable authority figure trying to calm down these feral creatures always fighting with one another (and we’ll get to that idea…).

My reasoning for explaining how c!Dream’s worldview is deeply flawed may be a bit controversial, so I decided to write this essay to explore the following idea:

Sometimes, conflict is good actually.

(all /dsmp /rp, names refer to characters, not content creators)

Conflict, in itself, is morally neutral. It’s the context surrounding the conflict that allows us to ascribe morality to it. This fact makes this topic a LOT harder to discuss, because morality is subjective. What I’m writing here is all my own opinion, you may agree or disagree on some points, I just ask that you read it through and please don’t start shit over this.

Anyway, the context. It’s dependent on a number of factors.

Justification. Why was the conflict started?

Intent. What is the desired outcome for either party?

Proportionality. If the conflict is started out of revenge or punishment, is it proportionate to the wrong committed?

Power Dynamic. Is the person on the receiving end more, less, or equally as powerful as the person starting the conflict?

For example, let’s compare the L’Manburg War for Independence with the intervention during the Final Disc War.

Justification:

Dream declared war on L’Manburg because he saw them as traitors, and the land they occupied as rightfully his. Therefore, them making a country of their own where his rules didn’t apply was a violation of the status quo he wanted to uphold.

Punz and the others intervened because they didn’t want Dream to kill Tommy and/or Tubbo, and were tired of his constant meddling in their affairs.

Intent:

Dream’s intent was to attack L’Manburg until they surrendered, no matter how much hurt he’d cause or how many lives he’d take.

Punz and the other’s intent was to stop Dream from killing Tommy and Tubbo, and stop whatever plan he had to keep the server under control.

Proportionality:

L’Manburg declared independence in response to brutal violence as retribution for clumsy attempts at crime, on land nobody except Wilbur was using, were explicitly pacifistic and invited Dream to make an embassy in their land to discuss trade. Dream responded by declaring war, destroying their land, luring them into a trap and killing them, and continuing to beat them down until they surrendered.

Punz and the others intervened after Dream dragged two teenagers out into the wilderness to fight him, with little chance of them ever returning. This was after months of Dream’s meddling in conflicts he had nothing to do with, trying to control people’s actions, ripping Tommy away from his home and abusing him in secret and, in the end, destroying the place most synonymous with freedom from his rule. They intervened by getting Tommy and Tubbo to safety, letting Tommy (the kid who arguably suffered the most at Dream’s hands) take his items and beat him to death twice, then locking him up in prison.

Power Dynamic:

L’Manburg was significantly less powerful than Dream and his goons, with less skilled fighters and heavily inferior gear. They held their position fairly okay at the start, but after the Final Control Room, they were basically defenseless against Dream’s assault.

Dream had always had unprecedented power on the server. He’s leveled entire countries, crowns and dethrones kings when he feels like it, overruled the decision of a court of law, and in the end, had Tommy and Tubbo completely at his mercy before the intervention. Even beating Dream was seen as such an insurmountable task that it took fourteen people (excluding Clingyduo) to take him down.

The thing about conflict, even violent conflict, is that it’s not always negative. If your sister is being abused by her boyfriend and refuses to report it out of fear, you’re gonna be hard-pressed to find someone unable to sympathize with you if you go over to his house and break his nose.

What is a defining feature of conflict, is that it disrupts the status quo.

That’s not to say that some characters are always disruptors and others always preservers of the status quo. For example, during the Disc War, Tommy is the one trying to preserve and Dream the one trying to disrupt (the status quo being: Tommy owns the discs), and during the L’Manburg War for Independence, Tommy and Wilbur are disrupting while Dream is preserving (the status quo being: Dream has absolute power and the entire server needs to follow his rules).

It’s ALSO not to say that this disruption is always bad, because sometimes, the status quo fucking sucks, and throwing it on its head is the right thing to do. Overthrowing Schlatt is seen by everyone on the SMP and pretty much every fan as morally correct, as while Schlatt being president was the status quo, it meant he was ruling as a dictator, exiling his political opponents, imprisoning and heavily taxing dissenters, being verbally and physically abusive to his cabinet members, and forcing a guest at his festival to execute a sixteen year-old boy for spying for the political opponent he exiled.

Conflict being a genuinely good force of societal change isn’t usually brought up in the fandom though, at least not consciously. A lot of people, both on the server and IRL, see conflict only as a source of hurt and pain, and try to prevent or avoid it as much as possible.

And here’s where Dream differs from someone like Ranboo. Because while both Dream and Ranboo operate on the assumption that all conflict is bad all the time, Ranboo shows this by becoming conflict-avoidant to the extreme, to the point where he refuses to pick sides in pretty much any conflict, no matter how obviously good or evil one side is. Meanwhile, Dream shows this by becoming controlling to the extreme. Mitigating conflict isn’t enough, he needs to control everything to prevent all conflict ever.

In Ranboo’s case, this is less due to ideology and more due to personality. Ranboo is a deeply anxious person, and hates being in the middle of fights. He’s also… not very self-critical? He has issues with self-worth, but he very rarely takes a look in the mirror to inspect what it actually is he believes and says, making him very gullible and convinced of his own righteousness. But while that’s a VERY interesting character trait, Ranboo’s conflict-avoidance doesn’t make him a very good character to examine in the context of conflict and what it means.

So let’s look at Dream. Because, despite claiming to want to stop conflict, Dream CONSTANTLY starts conflicts or escalates existing ones. The L’Manburg War for Independence could’ve been entirely avoided if Dream hadn’t lashed out so heavily at a nation of pacifists who made their own area to avoid violence from authorities. As I explored in my George Vod Analysis, the griefing of George’s house would’ve been a lighthearted dispute between two people if Dream hadn’t taken over the entire thing and turned it into one of the biggest diplomatic crises in the server’s history. Mexican L’Manburg hadn’t even existed for an hour before Dream came by to kill its residents and destroy its land.

So why is Dream so focused on stopping conflict, despite constantly starting it himself? Why is THAT his hill to die on?

Simple. Dream wants to prevent disruptions to the status quo. That status quo being “Dream is the one in power and everyone has to listen to him.”

But you can’t say that out loud. If you say “everyone needs to listen to me otherwise it’s not fair”, you sound like a whiny five year-old at best, and a tyrant at worst. So, instead of saying that, Dream says “I just want to prevent conflict, keep the server peaceful.”

Remember what I said about one party being the disruptor and another being the preserver? Well, Dream’s status in the early days of the server is almost always preserver of the status quo. The only times he’s the disruptor is if disrupting that status quo serves to strengthen the status quo of him being in power. For example: Stealing Tommy’s discs is a disruption of the “Tommy’s discs are his and his alone” status quo, but strengthens the “Dream is the most powerful dude on the server” status quo, because the discs give him power over Tommy.

By fighting L’Manburg, he was trying to preserve the status quo, because having a government on the server meant he no longer had absolute power. Hell, REALLY early on, he decided to kill George and burn all his stuff because George had full diamond while everyone else was still running around in iron armor.

However, after L’Manburg’s independence, Dream’s focus shifted. Instead of preserving the status quo, he’d disrupt it in order to return to the status quo as HE wanted it, with no nations, and himself at the top.

But again, that wouldn’t look good. Making yourself the undisputed ruler of the entire server is not good for optics, so instead, Dream hides behind the excuse that he’s just trying to stop conflict, or seeking retribution for slights against his nation.

By this point, Tommy, the only person who CONSTANTLY refuses to bow to his demands, becomes his scapegoat. Tommy is loud, enjoys chaos and getting on people’s nerves, and causes, admittedly, a LOT of conflict. Lighthearted, non-serious conflict with very little actual consequences, but conflict nonetheless. It’s not hard for him to start smearing Tommy’s name, painting him as this feral child at fault for every conflict ever, mostly because a lot of people already believed something like that to be true.

The idea that Tommy is uniquely destructive or chaotic is complete bullshit. Tommy is definitely on the more chaotic side, but he’s not that much more chaotic or destructive than your average server member, he’s just really loud and annoying about it, which makes the things he DOES do stick out more. But Dream, especially during the Exile Conflict, continuously pushed the idea that Tommy is the only one creating conflict on the server, that Tommy is responsible for all conflict ever, and that without Tommy, everyone would be at peace.

And at some point… Dream started believing this himself.

His speech during the Final Disc War illustrates this perfectly. He tells Tommy that ever since he joined, there’s been nothing but war and terrorism and conflict, and that those originated from the attachments Tommy brought to the server. That, by cutting off his own attachments, exploiting everyone else’s, and getting rid of Tommy, he could restore the old status quo, before L’Manburg, before Tommy, when everything was peaceful and no conflict existed. Except, Tommy is too fun to fuck with, so instead of killing him, Dream was going to lock Tommy up in Pandora’s Vault, probably for the rest of his life, to continue breaking him.

This is a prime example of Dream falling for his own bullshit.

First of all, Tommy didn’t cause all those wars, he was actually on the receiving end of most of them. A vast majority of the wars and terrorism Tommy got caught up in were actually started by Dream, or Dream was actively helping the guy who started it.

Second, Tommy didn’t bring the concept of attachment to the server. He gets very attached to things, true, but attachment is a very basic part of the human condition. Even Dream, the guy openly shunning all attachment, isn't immune to it, in the end, he’s attached to the server as a whole, and Tommy, who he gave almost biblical importance in his narrative. Like Tommy said, if you have no attachment to things, why does anything matter at all?

Third, getting rid of Tommy and controlling the entire server with their attachments… that wouldn’t have restored the status quo, because the status quo exactly as Dream envisioned it never existed. He’s not chasing a past that was ruined by Tommy, he’s chasing an idealized fairytale version of the past where everyone was friends and frolicked around in the fields and there was never any conflict, before Tommy came along and ruined everything. Before Tommy joined, there was a SHIT ton of conflict, from minor disputes over theft, to the above-mentioned incident where Dream destroyed George’s stuff, to the lemon tree conflicts that wound up being taken to court!

Except, even this idea of Dream wanting to restore an idealized, made-up past is only partially true. What Dream is looking to return to and uphold is a world where he was the only authority and nobody questioned him. The status quo he wants to return to, no matter how much he denies it, is the one where everyone was at his mercy and he could do whatever he wanted without impunity. However, because he’s convinced himself that conflict is the issue, not disobedience, even if his plan succeeded, he’d have to keep the entire server in a chokehold to get them to follow his ideal plan.

Because conflict is inevitable. Anywhere where there’s two or more people sharing a space, you’re going to run into conflict at some point. People will have disagreements, they will fight, they will have miscommunications, they will have a bad day or accident and antagonize someone else.

Resolving these issues through conflict, whether it’s verbal, physical or legal, will result in a healthier community in the long run, because people’s pent-up frustrations will get an outlet, and people will try to hash out compromises or accommodations based on the reactions they get. It’s not always the ideal solution, but it’s better than just sitting everyone down, telling them to play nice, and smacking them over the back of the head as soon as they start complaining.

But conflict threatens the status quo. And as Dream involves himself in more and more conflict, they increasingly start threatening HIS status quo. So in order to maintain his status quo, conflict needs to be stomped out as soon as it crops up, no matter how minor it is.

So, now to paint a timeline through this lens.

Dream started off as the ultimate power on the server, able to do whatever he wanted without consequence. Tommy joined and threatened that status quo, but he was just one guy, so keeping him away and occupied wasn’t too hard. It was fun, even.

Then L’Manburg came, and posed the first substantial threat to Dream’s rule. Dream tried crushing this rebellion before it had a chance to take root, but in the end, Tommy traded his discs (the things Dream was using to control him) for L’Manburg’s independence. The status quo changed, L’Manburg was here to stay.

However, L’Manburg still posed a threat to Dream’s rule, so manipulating events to destroy it became Dream’s next priority. He supported Schlatt during the election in the hope he’d destabilize the nation, then sided with Pogtopia in secret to help overthrow the government, then helped Wilbur with the TNT to blow L’Manburg sky high, then betrayed Pogtopia for Schlatt’s side for the revival book. When Pogtopia won, Dream was egging Techno on through whispers to try to get him to go ape shit, so with Techno’s withers and Wilbur’s TNT, L’Manburg was gone, and the old status quo had been restored.

Except it hadn’t been. L’Manburg was rebuilt, with Tubbo at the helm this time, and a new status quo was put in place, with L’Manburg still there and still a threat. However, with Wilbur’s death, Tommy was left almost completely unprotected, and Dream took his chance to get Tommy thrown out of the country, hoping to get his biggest threat out of the way, as well as being able to sink his claws into the L’Manburg Cabinet.

Dream isolated Tommy in exile and tried to break him to the point where he wouldn’t put up any resistance. During this time, he also commissioned the prison, which he claimed to only be for the most dangerous members of the server, but is a pretty transparent attempt to enforce his rule by making a place where he can stick anyone who disobeys him. The server is slipping more and more out of his control, with more factions popping up and more people outright defying him, so like any dictator, he takes harsher and harsher measures to stay on top.

Tommy escapes exile, and while Dream is keeping tabs on him, he can’t directly control him anymore. So, to prevent Tommy from returning to L’Manburg and stopping his plans at disrupting the status quo, he blows up the community house, frames Tommy for it, and goes to Tubbo to demand Tommy’s disc, the only reason destroying L’Manburg was disadvantageous for him. Tommy jumps in to defend himself and takes L’Manburg’s side, but in the end, Dream takes both the discs, then destroys L’Manburg with Techno.

By this point, the status quo Dream wanted to craft is almost complete. L’Manburg is gone, there are no other major factions threatening his rule, and he’s pretty much set a precedent for what happens to dissenters. All he needs to do now is get rid of Tommy.

Except he can’t kill him. Over time, Dream has become obsessed with Tommy, to the point where he’s started seeing Tommy as the lynchpin of the server that everyone else gravitates around. Tommy is almost a living MacGuffin: he brings chaos and attachment which gives him power, but in the right hands, that power can be harnessed to create order.

(This is absolute nonsense of course, Tommy is just A Guy, his presence itself doesn’t create chaos, and controlling him doesn’t mean controlling the entire server because a lot of people just plain don’t give a shit.)

So instead of killing him, Dream tries to put him in prison. He even outright says that he wants to finish what he started in exile, this time with even tighter control and no possibility for escape.

He goes to kill Tubbo for multiple reasons: Tubbo is no longer useful to him, Tubbo can be used as leverage to keep Tommy compliant in prison (the possibility to revive someone’s best friend is a pretty valuable bargaining chip), and Tubbo would absolutely raise hell if Dream threw his best friend in jail for no reason.

If Dream had gotten his way, he’d be able to blackmail everyone on the server into compliance. Tommy, his scapegoat, would’ve been in prison, so now without a scapegoat, he could’ve probably gone one of two ways.

He could’ve created a new scapegoat to blame all new conflict on. Quackity would’ve been a good candidate, he’s VEHEMENTLY anti-Dream, and would’ve had no qualms about starting shit with him. Whether it was with El Rapids or with Las Nevadas, Quackity would’ve been the biggest anti-Dream voice in Tommy’s absence. So c!Dream would keep Quackity around, blaming him for everything that goes wrong… Until Quackity would get too uppity and either gets murdered or put in jail with Tommy, and the cycle repeats until either people rise up, or everyone who isn’t completely subservient is in prison.

Or, he could’ve cracked down EVEN HARDER on conflict. Anyone creating a new nation gets stomped into the dirt, anyone fighting over resources gets murdered, anyone squabbling over griefed property gets thrown in prison for weeks at a time, all the while their property and pets that they care about more than anything else get dangled in front of their noses. Anyone who’s ever read any more than five pages about the dynamics of dictatorships can see that this kind of repression is basically ASKING for revolution, especially since Dream has shunned all friendships at this point and his only ally is only there because Dream pays him.

(this is all speculation, we don’t know what would’ve actually happened, dont yell at me)

The status quo Dream is trying to return to never existed, and the one he creates in the process isn’t sustainable. Stopping every conflict ever is completely unsustainable and detrimental to the larger community, which Dream knows, because he uses conflict CONSTANTLY to get his way, while still presenting himself as a peacekeeper. What he’s really against is disruptions of the status quo, because the status quo allows him to do whatever he wants and control the server as much as he wants.

Conflict isn’t inherently bad. Some conflicts are harmless, some are necessary disruptions of the status quo. Conflict itself is morally neutral, and trying to prevent all conflict ever leads into some… iffy territory. Remember when Ranboo yelled at the L’Manburgians for participating in conflict the day before Doomsday?

Anyway. Please examine situations with more nuance than “conflict bad”, it’ll make for much better analysis. Trust me. /nm

[bigskydreaming]

I know that you don't think there should be conflict between Dick and Jason because of Robin and I get that, but I was just wondering since it so often does happen that way or is referenced happening in the past what do you think the most ideal resolution for that would be?

I mean to be honest, I don't think there is any ideal resolution if its JUST between Dick and Jason, is the thing? Like its not even that I dislike the trope because its not canon based, its that it COULD be an okay conflict if it kept the right things centered instead of just casually bringing them up but without ever putting focus on them.

What I mean by that is like....the reason this trope is usually such a problem IMO beyond just being unnecessary, is that.....people always try and just address it as this issue that exists between Dick and JASON.....

Even while acknowledging - but just in passing - that the REAL issue is and always was between Dick and BRUCE.

So like, you can't EVER adequately resolve a conflict IMO, if you're not actually resolving it between the right parties. Its not something that can be 'fixed' just by Dick and Jason because it isn't something that was CAUSED by Dick and Jason. It wasn't even caused by Dick! The conflict in as much as it does exist, stems entirely from possible reactions Dick did or could have had to BRUCE's ACTIONS.

And people keep trying to erase Bruce from that equation on the back end, even while paying lip service to the acknowledgment that he's part of the equation on the front end, and that just doesn't work and it never can, IMO. You're retroactively making it a problem between the wrong people entirely, and it shouldn't be surprising then that resolutions that only involve those specific people don't ever fully adequately resolve the problem caused by another person entirely.

Like, the 'resolution' is almost ALWAYS just Dick saying he realizes he was an ass to Jason and it wasn't Jason's fault, and then makes it all about making it up to Jason. And there's soooooooo many ways to address this issue, that for that to be the one and ONLY resolution we pretty much ever see - and with it not even involving Bruce at all - that's a problem.

There are SO many ways to still have this as a kind of conflict to some degree or another and resolve it WITHOUT just throwing Dick under the bus and acting in PRACTICE like he's the one doing something wrong even while saying something else about Bruce.

But pretty much all of them involve BRUCE doing SOMETHING....because ultimately....it all goes back to Bruce and not Dick.

So if Dick is behaving like an ass to Jason in a story? Dick 'realizing this' and apologizing still isn't that strong a resolution, because either Dick explains his side of things and why he reacted that way, in which case there's a high likelihood that its going to still read to a lot of readers like him weakly making excuses for himself but not actually justifying anything he said or did to Jason in the story....or the other possibility is that Dick takes full responsibility so as to NOT come across as just trying to make excuses for himself, and dives into the reparations and accountability whole-heartedly, in which case Dick never actually gets his side of the story delved into and his emotions and reactions upheld as valid or even just understandable or sympathetic to any meaningful degree.

But the problem I have even here is then.....well, why is it treated like Dick is the only possible person who can even speak up on Dick's behalf? Why does he always have to self-advocate? Even if Bruce is still being obtuse about what he did wrong - Alfred was there, he knows what happened and is more than capable of grasping the real root of Dick being upset, you can have Barbara explain to Jason why this hit Dick so badly and how it really had nothing to do with Jason, one of the other Titans can step in on Dick's behalf, Clark or Diana can say something....

There's a dozen other characters who can advocate FOR Dick and speak up for him TO Jason, explain the FULL situation and try and put Dick in a better light so as not to sour Jason on his new brother and try and preserve whatever potential relationship they build in the future once Dick's better able to move past his hurt or make his peace with it, via Jason having just....more information and being in a position to be more sympathetic about it rather than just hurt and reactive on his OWN behalf - which is literally all Dick is doing in the first place, so Jason's more than capable of understanding that mindset!

Like, Jason's a very empathetic character, and he more than ANYONE else in the Batfam is capable of grasping the nuances of having barely anything left to remember your family by, anything good to hold on to, and to see THAT just given away to a total stranger by someone who has no right to give it away in the first place? Jason is the MOST likely person to be outraged on Dick's behalf if he hears the whole story from someone unlikely to downplay it the way Dick usually does in order to not make Jason feel worse about it. He'd be like...what the fuck, who the fuck thinks that's okay?

It is so, SO easy to preserve Dick and Jason's potential brotherly relationship by just....letting someone else speak for Dick and cast him in a positive light specifically because Dick DOES believe in accepting full accountability when he thinks he's done anything wrong to any degree. He's not someone who tries to spin his own mistakes, he takes more blame than he usually deserves.....so its kinda what I was saying earlier about how people tend to take advantage of him being an unreliable narrator. Why is his side of things so often limited to just HIM defending himself to others when its well established that a core part of his character is he doesn't really believe in going all in on defending himself in the first place? That he's more than willing to take the fall? (With this of course having a ton to do with his self-esteem issues and his uncertainty or lack of trust in the security of his place in his home or family, but I digress).

But you see what I mean? We KNOW Dick's not the best advocate for himself because of his well advertised guilt complex....so why is he so often left to be the only one to advocate for himself even in situations where there are many, MANY other onlookers with as full a grasp of the problem as he has himself, and no reason to pin the blame on Dick or cast him in a negative light?

And for me, it always comes back to fandom's tendency to try and divert attention away from Bruce's own accountability in this matter - because refusing to have anyone else speak up for Dick comes from the same place IMO as not having Bruce step up to volunteer his own accountability in the matter. People don't WANT Jason being mad at Bruce for this or resenting Bruce for getting his relationship with his new brother off to such a poor start by literally giving away the only thing Dick had left of HIS family, the one thing in the world he still had that didn't come from Bruce originally, the way Dick didn't himself.

So like....the answer to your question is I don't think there can ever be a true resolution between JUST Dick and Jason alone, because the second you make any kind of real conflict between them on this matter even if just initially, Jason IS valid in being hurt by ANY degree of distance or being treated coolly by Dick, because Jason did absolutely nothing wrong....so its not on Jason to resolve this......but by the same token, there is this tendency for Dick to default to being an unreliable narrator here and UNDERSELL how much he was actually HURT by this rather than just acting like an ass because of this specifically - which means the FOCUS is still always going to be on WHAT Dick did rather than WHY.....and thus ensures that there's never going to be a true focus on WHY Dick felt hurt and HOW Dick felt hurt.....and thus there's never going to ever be any real resolution to THAT specifically, either.

And THAT'S the ultimate problem. That addressing this conflict between Dick and Jason - its not enough to just have Dick 'get' that he's hurting Jason who doesn't deserve it, and apologize for that and do better, and thus things are resolved and made better for JASON.....but ONLY Jason. Dick still, in this scenario, has to essentially just get over it.

And if your conflict on any level acknowledges to any degree that Dick's attitude or whatever is still ultimately just coming from a place of hurt....

Dick 'getting over it' isn't good enough. That's not actually a resolution. That's writing Dick as settling for an acceptance that HE'S never going to get a resolution so the best he can hope for is to get over it himself in order to make things better for him and Jason instead of just spreading the hurt all around. And that sucks, pretty much.

So I'd say in any case, you're still better served in this conflict by having literally anyone OTHER than Dick broach the subject with Jason first and at least pave the way for Jason to be sympathetic and understanding, so that Dick's not just 'immature' or 'spoiled' or 'acting like an asshole' as the prime takeaway - no, he's a nineteen year old who's been on the outs with Bruce for well over a year by this point and he's hurt by Bruce's seeming thoughtlessness over how he'd be affected by not just giving away Robin, but adopting someone else without even notifying Dick himself of a new addition to their family, or even attempting to first clarify with Dick what the status of Dick in relation to this family actually even is.

But ultimately, I'm always going to fall back on saying that if you're going to make this a conflict between the brothers initially, to ANY degree....the only TRUE resolution requires BRUCE being the one to take the initiative and resolve things for ALL of them, by being frank and just saying hey, he fucked up here, and explaining to Jason why Dick was hurt by what he did and how it had nothing to do with Jason, which in the process of that demonstrates for Dick that Bruce actually GETS how what he did was wrong and how it hurt Dick and why Dick feels the way he does about it....thus allowing everyone to get on the same page via the resolving actions of the one party who ACTUALLY had the most to do with setting this particular conflict in motion in the first place.

Anything less will always read like a half measure IMO because like....the conflict began with Bruce and what he did.

It should end with Bruce and what he does too.

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Re: Star Wars prequel novelizations - the Revenge of the Sith book is genuinely one of the best things I have ever read and changed my life.

THANK YOU, anon, for reminding me about the Revenge of the Sith novelization.  I just reread it, and my crops are watered, my skin is clear, and — I cannot overstate this — I actually remember why I love Star Wars.  That love has been for too long stolen by The Fandom Menace sucking the life out of those movies to invent a new definition of suffering while digesting them slowly over a thousand years.

Revenge of the Sith by Matthew Stover is one of the greatest works of adventure fiction I have ever read, and it continues to inspire the way I write action sequences and character conflicts.  It does so damn much to transform a movie that is, to be honest, just okay.  There are a couple of big additions from the novel that make the whole Skywalker saga richer, and there are about five hundred little tweaks that deepen the lore in a way that shows that Stover loves Star Wars to the core.

First big addition: having Obi-Wan tell Padmé that he’s in love with Anakin. This is great because yay, queer representation!  But within the specific context of RotS, it also sets up the super-important contrast between Obi-Wan and Anakin.  Obi-Wan, Stover’s novel makes clear, is the quiet and unassuming embodiment of everything a Jedi is supposed to be: he’s selfless, loving, hard-working, and incredibly skilled with the Force.  Obi-Wan falls in love with Anakin, realizes that Anakin doesn’t love him back in that way, and... lives with it.  He spends time with Anakin, supports Anakin, enjoys Anakin’s company, and doesn’t act like the world will end if Anakin isn’t his.

Anakin loves Obi-Wan, in a siblinglike way, and he loves Padm��.  But he’s got a nasty habit of expressing that love through possession and control, through going behind Padmé’s back to “fix” her life without her permission.  Anakin falls in love with Padmé and immediately concludes that he cannot possibly live like this: they must begin a secret relationship, and he must both marry her and remain a Jedi.  Later he destroys the Jedi and eventually Padmé herself because he sees himself as having no way out of that dilemma.

And all the while, Obi-Wan is there in the background.  Also in love with someone with whom he cannot have a relationship, and just… dealing with it like an adult.  Because millions of people are in love with people who don’t love them back, and that’s just how it is sometimes.  It’s selfish to obsess over “having” their love at all costs.  For Anakin, that obsession with saving Obi-Wan and Padmé eventually leads to him killing them both.

When Yoda tells Anakin that he must deal with his fear of losing Padmé through letting go, Anakin takes this to mean “let her die.”  But what Yoda means is not “let her die,” but rather “love her the way Obi-Wan loves you: quietly, selflessly, and with a willingness to do what’s best for her, whether or not that means you get to have her.”  And Anakin never understands that, because Anakin’s view of the world is so intensely egocentric.

Second big addition: updating the Force to explain the Dark Side. Revenge of the Sith, even more so than any other Star Wars, is all about the contrast between the Dark Side and the Light Side.  Here, Stover’s contribution is brilliant; he makes the Dark Side egocentric and the Light allocentric.

Terminology! “Egocentric” in psych refers to the perspective that focuses on how the world affects you and how you affect the world.  At the extreme, egocentric thinking can be believing that a baby is crying in a deliberate effort to annoy you, or that every person in a crowded cafeteria will remember what shirt you wore when you ate there a week ago.  “Allocentric” refers to the perspective that the self is one of several disparate elements buffered around by the world.  At the extreme, allocentric thinking can be failing to realize that others are reacting to your presence, or viewing your own life as one thing you can give to help others.

Stover doesn’t use those terms, but he does describe how Dooku “drew power into his innermost being until the Force itself existed only to serve his will” (p. 64).  Later, Obi-Wan “gave himself to the living Force… the Force moved him, let him collapse as though he’d suddenly fainted, then it brought his lightsaber from his belt to his hand” (p. 285).  Dooku ultimately loses his fight against Anakin because he focuses on how everyone is responding to him, and misses that Anakin and Palpatine are beginning to build an alternate alliance right under his nose.  Obi-Wan ultimately wins his fight against Anakin because he allows the Force to shove him around, and sets aside his concern with both his own life and that of his best friend while fighting for the greater goal of peace.

Not only that, but Obi-Wan’s understanding of the Force moves beyond that of most Jedi.  He compares “the will of the Force” to “the will of gravity,” in essence stating that simply because it is beyond human comprehension doesn’t mean it doesn’t have its own rules.  One can be a Jedi without needing to understand the Force in the same way one can be a pilot without needing to be a physicist.  In RotS, we see that his refrain of “search your feelings” is a way of calling on a Force user to be mindful enough to accept realities that are already evident, if one can only allow oneself to have that knowledge.

Stover also uses these competing perspectives — allocentric and egocentric — to explain why the Jedi Order falls.  The tight control the Order exerts over the Jedi moves them away from the will of the Force and toward the will of the Council.  Its insularity creates a sense of superiority, which is the reason so many Jedi fail to see their clone troopers as threats until it’s too late. Stover tweaks the Jedi Purge scene to emphasize that the only reason Obi-Wan and Yoda survive is because of their selflessness.  Obi-Wan takes the time to befriend his alien mount, repeatedly confirming her well-being, and then she shields him with her body when his troopers open fire.  Yoda respects the Wookie command and puts himself in a position to assist rather than lead the resistance movement on Kashyyyk, meaning that when a fight breaks out between him and his troopers the Wookies don’t hesitate to side with him.  Yoda and Obi-Wan are the only two Jedi who truly give themselves to the service of others, and thus they are the only two to survive the Purge.

...and the million little favors this book does for the movie.

During the opening battle, having Obi-Wan tell Anakin to “use the Force” to fly a narrow trench and having Anakin roll his eyes at such an obvious suggestion.  It’s a callback to A New Hope, but one that drives home how much more the Force is integrated in the lives of Old Republic Jedi than it is in the lives of Imperial kids like Luke.

Fixing the minor continuity error from Episode III to Episode IV — why would Admiral Motti dismiss Vader as following outdated superstitions if there were millions of Jedi within his lifetime? — by explicitly stating that the Sith are considered a dead culture.  Ergo, Vader’s “ancient religion” isn’t the Force in general; it’s specifically the Sith creed.

Making Palpatine scarier and more seductive than he is in the movie.  Stover’s rhetoric about killing even the Jedi children is frighteningly rational and coherent, and he uses it to give Palpatine some stomach-churning speeches while corrupting Anakin.

Using the novel format for all it’s worth.  Stover skims over the physical-comedy elevator sequence in favor of having Dooku and Palpatine discussing their plans for the war.  He only tells us about Anakin’s conversation with Yoda after the fact, in scattered flashes as a panicking Anakin runs through the halls of the Jedi temple.  He gives us intense focus on Anakin’s mindset while trying to land the broken halves of Invisible Hand, less on what the ship itself is doing.  He cuts away from Anakin and Obi-Wan’s final battle, toward R2D2 and C3PO as they struggle to drag a dying Padmé into her ship out of a desperation to find some small way to help her.

Revealing that Palpatine spends the entire story trying to kill Obi-Wan.  This gets hinted at in the movie, but Stover includes several moments throughout Palpatine’s “rescue” from Dooku when Palpatine sets Obi-Wan up to die, and mentions like eight other attempts on Obi-Wan’s life as orchestrated by Palpatine.  It’s a great character addition, that Palpatine assumes he cannot get Anakin to fall unless he first eliminates Obi-Wan.

Expanding Padmé’s role in the movie (set dressing, and later refrigerator filling) by having her secretly organize and launch the Rebel Alliance right under Vader and Palpatine’s noses.

Those are just examples of how Stover clearly knows the Force, gets the Force, and strives to make the Force more internally coherent.  How he sometimes translates, sometimes preserves, and always improves the pacing and tone of the film.

I haven’t even touched on the FUCKING AMAZEBALLS imagery or introspection in the book yet, but this post is getting wicked long, so I’ll go ahead and leave it here for now.  Point is, all y’all should go out immediately and get a copy from your library and/or used bookstore, because Nonny is right and it’ll change your life.

[rhetoricalrogue]

Fiction Type: Fanfiction Fandom: Dragon Age Prompt: "You have no proof"

Continuing @fictober-event with the AU of the AU of the AU @alittlestarling and I are up to our eyebrows in, this time focusing on my son Vincent.

Running and fighting. Fighting and running. Catch a few fitful hours of unrestful sleep, then repeat. It seemed that was all Vincent had been doing these past few months. First, there was the running and fighting that had been expected of him when he had been conscripted into Empress Celene’s army, then the running when a templar on their side had turned on their unit – Vincent was still healing from the many arrow wounds he’d received when the smite had hit him from behind, the barrier he had put up to protect the solders on their side crashing down at the worst possible moment – and then running from where he had dragged himself, almost near death, to heal and recover back to his side of the army out of fear that they would think he had abandoned his post and hunt him down to drag him back or worse, give him the Brand and use him as an example of battlemages who thought they could take advantage of chaos on the battlefield to make a run from the Circle.

There had been a brief respite from the fighting as he traveled back east, the days of interrogation he’d undergone to prove that he spoke the truth about what had happened that day finally paying off. Vincent knew that his noble birth was one of the main reasons he had been allowed to return to Ostwick, injured in the line of duty – if conscription into a war not of his making nor even in his homeland could ever be called duty – and he wasn’t going to argue with his commanding officers once they signed the paperwork for his release back to the Circle. He’d set a hard pace from the Exalted Plains to Jader, worry that word of his untimely death – once they couldn’t find a body, the army had been quick to declare him killed in action – had already reached those he cared for.

Maker, if Roz ever thought he was dead, it would gut him to think of putting her through unnecessary grief and agony, no matter how brief.

Travel back home was on a decent pace, then he heard word of a contingent of mages traveling to Haven, which was decidedly closer than boarding a ship to sail from Jader back home. Vincent’s mind was made up when he heard that there were mages from Ostwick in the company and joining up with them was far more preferable than sailing across the Waking Sea.

Vincent and boats went together just as well as oil and water.

And then the unthinkable happened. He hadn’t even been anywhere close to Haven when word got out of the explosion, rumors quick to jump to the conclusion that mages had been at the root of the calamity and had taken a page out of the apostate from Kirkwall a year or so ago and blown up the Divine to enact change. Vincent was fortunate that his physical build wasn’t what one stereotypically thought of when they pictured a mage, and he used that to his advantage to flee. Templars were suddenly everywhere, killing on sight. Whatever brief rest he had from running and fighting was well over, and Vincent found himself hiding among pockets of mages similarly running for their lives in the wilds of Ferelden. He lost count of the days, catching sleep when he could and helping as many mages as possible while looking out for himself. It was selfish and he would feel guilty later but running, even if running meant leaving people behind, was the only way that he would possibly ever make it back home again.

Back home, and back to Rosalind. The image of her was seared into his mind and it was one bright thing he had to cling to. He would be damned if he had survived everything that had been thrown at him so far only to succumb to a templar’s blade before he could see her in person again.

Who knew how many days later, Vincent found himself close to Redcliffe. There were rumors that the village was a safe haven for mages everywhere and it was the closest thing to hope that he’d felt since leaving Orlais. He didn’t know how much further it was, but there were abandoned crofter’s cottages dotting the landscape that he dared to take shelter in. He couldn’t risk lighting fires in the hearth, but fitfully sleeping with a roof over his head instead of out in the open was a welcome relief.

And then the demons came. The most direct route to Redcliffe was cut off and Vincent found himself running from shrieking monsters that he had only encountered during his Harrowing. The only positive was that the demons didn’t discriminate between mage, templar, or regular civilian, so if he were really looking to put a positive spin on an otherwise absolute shitshow, he told himself that there were fewer templars trying to kill him in the area.

He came across a group of mages one evening and they readily welcomed him into the shelter of the woods they had named the Witchwood. He listened halfheartedly at their more radical ideas, silently resolving to abandon them for the preferred safety of the nearby crossroads once daylight broke, when he heard someone call him by name.

“Enchanter Trevelyan?”

The light was dim in the cavern, but he didn’t need it to recognize one of his favorite pupils. “Noemi?” He made to get up from where he had sat on the floor but didn’t even make it to his knees before the fourteen-year-old girl flung herself in his direction. He muffled a pained grunt as her arms wrapped just a little too tightly around his shoulder, the last of his injuries having to heal on their own as he used whatever magic reserves he had to fight off daily attacks instead of tending to himself. “How are you here?”

“How are you here? They told us you were dead!” Vincent froze. Oh no.

“Noemi, who else is here with you? Did you come with the people going to the Conclave?”

She wiped at her face, her tears making clean tracks on dirty cheeks. “No. I ran when the Circle fell.”

His eyes widened. “What?” Reaching out, he gripped her shoulders in his hands and focused on her. “Tell me everything. Where’s Roz? Is she here?” Maker, please, he begged, his pulse roaring in his ears. I’ve never been a devout man, but please, let her be safe.

“We were heading to dinner after lessons when she took me and a few of the little ones aside and told us to head to the greenhouses for a special project. She said that she would be there as soon as she could, but there was something that she had to do first. Then all at once, there was a lot of yelling and fire and…” she swallowed. “The last I saw of her was when she was running to the greenhouses. She told me to take the little ones and run.”

He couldn’t breathe. “What do you mean, the last you saw of her?”

“Ser Barnabas grabbed her by the hair and hit her with a smite.” Noemi’s lips trembled. “She screamed for me to run, so I ran. I ran and I ran and I haven’t stopped running.”

No. No, he refused to believe she was dead. “Did you see her fall?”

“No, but…” She scrubbed at her face. “We were all scared of Ser Barnabas, you know that. You know how much he liked to threaten hitting us. I didn’t see it, but Vincent, I think she’s dead.”

Vincent shook his head and sat back against the cavern wall. There was something building in his chest, a wail that wanted to break free and rip past his throat. “You have no proof though,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm as to not scare her. “You thought I was dead, but here I am. Roz is strong, and she’s clever. She had to have made it out of there alive. We have to hold onto the hope that she made it and she’s somewhere out in the world, just like we are.”

He took one look at Noemi and knew that she didn’t believe him, yet she nodded. “Okay.”

“We’re leaving here tomorrow morning. There’s a town, Redcliffe. Have you heard of it?”

Noemi shrank back from him. “No, you can’t make me go back there!”

“What’s wrong?”

“I was there. I took as many of the little ones as I could find after we scattered and we got on a boat. The older instructors said that Redcliffe was safe, but something in that town feels wrong. I made sure that the little ones were looked after, but then I snuck out in the middle of the night to find somewhere safer. I thought that I could go back, take the children with me to wherever I found, but…” she spread her hands as if to silently express the chaos around them. “They’re safer where they’re at for now, but I don’t want to go back. Please, don’t make me go back.”

Vincent winced as she huddled at his side, her entire body shaking. “Okay. Okay, we won’t go there, I promise.” He wrapped his arms around her, his mind whirring, desperately trying to focus on Noemi instead of the great yawning grief that threatened to swallow him whole. “Have you heard of the Crossroads? I don’t think it’s very far from here, we can make our way to that in the morning, okay?”

She nodded. “And look for Roz?”

Vincent squeezed his eyes tightly. There was no way that she was dead; she was such a fixture in his life, a lifeline even in the most peaceful of times. He loved her so completely that he was certain that he would have felt something, some sort of connection that tied his heart to hers sever, should she be truly gone.

He ran his hand soothingly over his former pupil’s back while trying to speak over the lump of unshed tears that had built in his throat. “Yes. And just you wait. We’ll find her.”

Maker, how he almost believed that.

[wildlittlefoxsworld]

I couldn't live without you | The Old Guard | Booker x Reader

I couldn't any other pictures of Booker. If someone has some, feel free to send them ne, please ;)

Summary: A routine job, you got hurt by a knife and died from the injury. But it took you too long to wake up and Booker got scared that you wouldn't come back to life. When you finally did Booker is a crying mess and you gonna comfort him. You end up confessing your feelings...

Warnings: angst, reader's death (but comes back to life), fluff, confession of feelings

Author's note: My first story with my sweetheart Booker, my second story in this fandom. Thank you for the likes there ;) I hope you have fun!

The Promise (Nicky and Joe)

***

It was a routine job, nothing special, there was a bank robbery and they were kepting hostages, the bank stuff and a few clients, including three children. Problem was the local police were overstrained and the criminals already killed two of the people. Nicky insisted to take the job, because they would doing the right thing and he has a soft spot for kids.

Andy and her team infiltrated the bank without noticed by the criminals. Booker took the first man with a precise shot down and aimed for another one, when he realized that they were more men than expected. One of them freaked out and fired uncontrolled around him. You were right behind Booker and a man came from your left. You shot three times in his abdomen and he fall to the ground.

Andy and Nile took the freaked out madman down and Nicky and Joe helped the hostages to exit the building without being harmed.

You heard Nile screamed “Clear” from behind you, which meant they catched all evil men. You went with Booker to search for more possible targets.

“Be careful,” Booker whispered and you didn't mind his words. You were always careful and he was always worried. You knew he hated you getting hurt, but it was part of your work.

“Watch out!” you shouted and Booker turned around. He fired his gun, but the man had still enough strenght to throw a knife. It didn't go in Booker's direction, but in yours and a second later the knife stuck out of your chest. It went right in your heart.

“No,” you heard Booker scream agonizingly and you felt two strong arms that catched you before you hit the ground, but then everything went black.

“No, no, no,” he repeated quietly and breathless.

You were dead, of course, your eyes wasn't focus on anything and you stopped breathing at all. Booker grabbed the sheft of the knife and pulled it out with a squishing noise. He searched in pathetic hope for a pulse on your throat, but he couldn't find one.

“What happenend?” Andy shouted when she ran towards Booker and you. She looked at your dead body and groaned. “No one is harmed, but her. Fuck.”

Booker stroked a hair strain out of your face and waited impatiently for you to wake up. Usually it didn't take you long, even if you were the second youngest of the group of immortals.

“Come on, little one, wake up,” Booker begged with a broken voice, but you just stared back with cold eyes.

“We need to leave. Come on,” Andy hustled everyone and Booker scooped you up in his arms.

Nile, Nicky and Joe waited on the back door and Joe frowned when he saw that Booker carried your body.

“What happened?”

“A man throw a knife and killed her,” Andy explained flatly and left the building at first.

“She hasn't healed yet?” Nicky asked confused with a worried expression. But Booker didn't respond and followed Andy outside where two cars waited for them. He went for the car with Andy sitting behind the steering wheel.

Andy watched him laying your body on the back side and he sat down next to you. He bedded your head in his lab and caressed your cheek.

Booker didn't understand why you were still lifeless, it had been minutes since he removed the knife. Carefully he took the collar of your shirt between his fingers and raised the material, the wound was still open. Maybe you were healing from the inside and there was more damage than he could see.

“Nothing?” Andy inquired and Booker shook his head with tears collecting in his eyes.

“She can't be dead, right?” Booker insisted weary.

“No, she is too young,” Andy assured him.

The car ride to the safehouse took half an hour and after seven minutes your chest started rising slightly and a few seconds later you came with a deep inhale back to life.

Your hands searched for something and Booker grabbed your right. “It's okay, Y/N. You're alright, you're safe,” he laughed relieved and tears streamed down his face.

You took a few breaths and inspected your surroundings. “Sebastien,” you whispered and laid your hand on his cheek to wipe the tears with your thumb away. “Don't cry, I'm here.”

“I know… it's just…,” he tried to say, but couldn't find words. You frowned meditatively. You never saw Booker crying and you were shocked that you were the cause for his condition.

“You really thought I was dead?” you asked him softly and both of your eyes were locked. “You thought I wouldn't wake up?”

Booker closed his eyes and nodded slowly, a few tears found their way down his cheeks again and he exhaled shakily.

“I can't stand when someone hurt you…,” he whispered only for your ears to hear.

“Shhh, it's okay. I'm not going anywhere,” you tried to soothe him and he nestled his cheek against your hand. Booker looked again in your eyes and to your surprise you saw something like deep adoration or fondness in his.

“Come here,” he mumbled and pulled you in a sitting position on his lap and burried his face in the crook of your neck, you felt him taking a deep breath and snuggle you closer.

You were a little bit thrown of your guard, because you weren't used to this kind of affection from Booker, but you wrapped your arms around his trembling shoulders. He was usually reserved and you never got more than a short hugging. But this situation was new to you and you were sure that it was new to him, too.

Andy parked the car in front of your currently safehouse, well, it was an old church in Goussainville. But you hoped that it wouldn't for too long, you didn't like the lack of privacy, even if all of them felt like family to you.

Andy turned around and watched the two of you curiously and still a little worried. “Are you alright?”

“We're fine,” you answered with a slight smile and Andy nodded relieved.

“Do you come inside? Or…,” she asked uncertain and opened the car door.

“Give us a moment.”

She didn't respond and got out of the vehicle. The others waited for you and all of them with a worried expression. Andy told them to gave Booker and you some alone time. You watched them enter the church and sighed heavily.

You began to stroke through Booker's hair and you were glad that he calmed down.

“Are you still with me?” you giggled and tried to lighten the mood.

“Yeah,” he just said and didn't move an inch. You felt comfortable with him in your arms, you had to admit. He was warm and you savoured the feeling for a moment longer. But you knew that the two of you needed to talk.

“Do you want to tell me what… okay, that's stupid, you know… you didn't seem to me like you were a cuddler.”

“I'm sorry, I can let you go if you're uncomfortable. I think I got carried away at some point…,” he apologized and started to move away from you.

“I kinda like it,” you confessed and shoved a hand in his neck to stop him from pulling away. Booker frowned, but nodded slowly in understanding. His hand caressed your back and leaned his forehead against your temple.

“I like it, too.” You felt his warm breath in your face and closed your eyes again.

“Can we do this again sometime?” you asked carefully with hope in your voice. You wished for a long time that the two of you would share moments like this. Since you joined the group a year before you met Nile, you felt attracted to the handsome blonde man. But Booker never showed anything else towards you, he always acted like a friend to you. You were sure he didn't notice your crush on him, but others did, Nicky at first. Nicky tried to encourage you to tell Booker about your feelings, but you were scared that it could destroy your friendship and the dynamic of the group.

“You doesn’t know what you do to me, do you?” Booker observed and you inclined your head.

“What do you mean?”

He surprised you so many times with his actions and words today that you made so confused, you weren't sure if you should believe him or he was simply kidding you.

Booker sighed and looked at you. Your beautiful eyes studied him for an answer. He knew he had to tell you the truth about his feelings. Little did he know that you were feeling the same way.

“I can’t imagine my life without you in it. You are so important to me, you are such a big part of my life, that I just…I can’t imagine you aren't here.”

Now you were speechless and starred at him in a dither. “That was very specific,” you determined. You weren't aware that you meant so much to him.

Booker took your face in both hands and you touched his wrist with one hand.

“I don't want lose you. I was so scared… I need and want you by my side, every day, I didn't realize it until now,” he explained and you heard the desperation in his voice. “Is there any chance you feel the same as I do?”

You smiled happily. “I like you for a while now and I'm happy about your words.”

Booker chuckled and stroked your cheeks. “Back in the 19th century I would ask you to marry me, but for now it's enough… well, do you want to be my girlfriend?”

You loved his homour and laughed along with him.

“Yes, I want to be your girlfriend,” you declared.

Booker grinned happily like a little boy who got the biggest lollipop ever.

You needn't more words for explanation. The fear and sadness from the past hour were forgotten, you pressed your foreheads together and lingered in peaceful and quietly atmosphere. This moment was owned by the both of you and it marked the beginning of your future as a couple and the growing of a love that will be stronger than everything you expierenced before.

“Is it okay if I'm gonna kiss my girlfriend now?” Booker asked gently and his right hand wandered in your neck. Your eyes flickered to his lips and you were curious if they were as soft as they looked.

You nodded one time, it was enough as an answer for him. Slowly he pulled you towards him, again you felt his warm breath on your skin and then was his mouth pressed softly on yours. He started with placing little kisses from time to time to your lips, but you wanted more.

Your body shivered when your mouths found a pleasant rhythym and you shifted yourself that you stradled his lap.

Your upper body were so pressed to close together that not even a paper would fit between you.

You imagined many time what it would feel like to kiss him, it was marvelous. When his tongue traced your lower lip and asked for entrance you opened your mouth a little. With a grin he licked past your lips and you moaned when he began a playful battle for dominance.

“I could get used to that,” Booker mumbled against your lips and kissed you again with all of his passion for you.

***

What do you think?

[jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets]

I Loved Him... Once - CH 1

Title: I Loved Him... Once

Author: jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Heid (Aaron Hotchner x Spencer Reid)

Rating: This ones General but eventually as the series goes it will be Explicit

Tags: canon typical violence and gore, eventual smut as the series goes, angst, fluff, pining., its gunna be a slow burn guys.

Summary: A series following the team as they solve crimes and take down the bad guys.

     In Part one of this series, we follow the team as they take down a serial killer that has taken a piece of one of their own. And through it all, Spencer and Hotch come to a few conclusions and realizations of their own.

AO3 Link 

Masterlist

*** My works are not to be posted on any sites without my permission! But comments and reblogs are love! <3 Please and thanks!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 1

Spencer: 

     “What we have done for ourselves alone, dies with us. What we have done for others and the world remains and is immortal.” - Albert Pike

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

     “Fourteen days, fourteen days, fourteen glorious days!” 

     Spencer barely looked up from the book he was reading, sat at his desk, leaning back in his desk chair as Derek Morgan sashayed across the bullpen and perched himself on the corner smiling down at him.

     He opted to ignore the over the top, ray of sunshine, mood Derek was in, and flipped the page of his book. Derek was not giving in, he was not going to be ignored when he was in such a good mood, so he swiftly swooped his hand and stole Spencer's book, eliciting a whine of protest as he sat forward and reached for it. Though he didn't make any more effort than that, he knew very well there was no way he would be able to get the book back from Derek through force.

     “Come on, Morgan, give it back.”

     Derek laughed, his eyes shining with mirth as he kept playing keep away with Spencer, “You really want it back that bad?”

     “Yes, actually, it was just starting to get good!” He made another jolt forward to reach for the book but it was in vain. Spencer’s brain might be fast, but Derek Morgan's reflexes were always faster.

     “Really, kid, you're reading…” He turned the book over and eyed the title with a raised brow, “‘The Art of War’. You planning on taking someone down, Reid?” Spencer just eyed him as he closed the book and tucked it under his crossed arms, knowing full well that the genius would remember not only the page number he had been on before Derek closed the book, but the exact word he had read last. “Now, like I said before, we have fourteen, I repeat, fourteen glorious days of vacation starting right now. And you're telling me that your only plans are to sit here at your desk, at work, and continue reading ‘The Art of War’ instead of going out and doing something, anything, other than that?”

     “It never hurts to educate yourself, Morgan, and yes, that's exactly what I'm telling you,” he replied, a little short, then tried once more to swipe unsuccessfully for his book, “now give me back my book.”

     “Good god, man, live a little, you're killing me.” Derek stood and moved the book even further out of Spencer's reach, so he just huffed and sat back in his chair again. “You don't have any plans? No dates? No trips to exotic lands to meet fine exotic ladies?”

     “When have you ever known me to ever have plans? Or dates for that matter. It's not like girls are exactly lining up to date the lanky, boy genius.”

     “Oh you're much more than that, pretty boy, you know that.” Morgan perched himself on the side of his desk again.

     “Not to mention the fact that seeing this in a bathing suit on a beach full of, more than likely, gorgeous people, is not something that is on anyone's bucket list, I'm positive of that. I'm so white I'd probably end up blinding half the beach with my legs alone.”

     Derek was laughing, near tears at this point, “Oh, come on kid, it can't be that bad.”

     “Oh, it is,” Spencer was slightly laughing at this point too, “I went to a pool party once in university and I was asked to put my shirt back on because the light was reflecting off my skin and ‘hurting people's eyes’... Derek, it was ten at night. My skin was reflecting the pool lights so severely it was hurting people.”

     Derek barked out a laugh so hard he nearly fell off the table and Spencer couldn't help but join him. “So you just need a little bit of sun, cancel out some of the white. Why not come with me to Barbados? Little sand, little sun, and a whole lotta’ fun.” He shot a quick wink at Spencer who just scoffed and looked away. “Give me two days with you on the beach and I guarantee I could get you a couple shades darker, at least.”

     “Oh, yes,” he nodded, smirking, “as well as skin cancer.”

     “I promise I won't let you get skin cancer, but that being said, once we get you all sunkissed and confident, I can't promise I'll be able to keep all those fine ladies off of you.”

     “You're not making this sound any better. Skin cancer, STD’s, and multitudes of random women hanging off of me, no thank you.”

     “Well, if you don't want to be swarmed by the fine exotic women,” he paused, smirking down at a waiting Spencer, “I'm sure I can help you land some handsome exotic men, then. I'm not here to judge. More women for me.”

     Spencer reached to the side and grabbed the small pile of papers that were sitting there, and swiftly smacked Derek on the arm with them, “Get off my desk.”

     “That doesn't sound like a denial,” he ducked as he was swatted at again, “come with me and I promise you'll have a good time.”

     “Go!”

     Derek chuckled once more, before ducking under his own desk to grab his bag, then turned back to toss the book back to Spencer who barely caught it, “My flight doesn't leave till tomorrow night, think about it!”

     “I don't need to, I'm not going!”

     “Think about it!”

     “What's the point anyways!?” He called as Derek was almost out of ear shot, but he continued anyways, “When has vacation ever worked out for us? I'd buy a ticket and pay for a room, and realistically we'll probably end up right back here in two days, four tops!”

     Derek was gone by this point, not having heard most of what he had said, more than likely already knowing that this was probably their reality, but not wanting to have to accept it. Though his complaints didn't fall on deaf ears.

     “Oh, now you've gone and jinxed it. Just know that if our vacation gets cancelled due to a case, I am definitely coming after you first, Reid.” 

     He gazed up at Emily over the edge of his book, having indeed remembered the exact word he had left off on when it was stolen from him, and gave her a playful smirk. “I am only stating statistics. If you factor in every vacation we have had since we started here at the BAU, the odds that we will have a full, uninterrupted ‘fourteen glorious days’ as Morgan put it, are less than ten percent. Eight point five-six-three-two percent to be exact.”

     “God I hate you sometimes,” though she laughed as she said it, “so you really don't have any plans?”

     “I never said I didn't have any plans,” he sighed and closed his book on his desk, resigned to not getting any reading done until everyone was gone, “just because I don't have plans involving a hot beach or women, doesn't mean I don't have plans.”

     “Oh!” She perked up and moved closer, intrigued. “So what kinds of fun are you up to then?”

     “Oh, loads!” He shifted in his chair, moving to lean towards her with his elbows on his desk. “I'm signed up for a lecture series that starts tomorrow, but the one I'm most excited for is a lecture called ‘Synthetic Metals: A Novel Role For Organic Polymers’ presented by Dr. Alan G. MacDiarmid. It's a Nobel lecture all about possible engineering applications for, and the inner workings of, organic and conductive polymers. It sounds completely fascinating! I was also thinking of taking a trip to Colonial Williamsburg. I mean, how amazing would it be to walk the same streets as Thomas Jefferson, or eat in the same place as George Washington! I was also thinking of visiting the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts. They have over twenty- two thousand works on display that are largely focused on modern and contemporary art, especially with a focus on European art after the nineteen hundreds. They are also having a workshop there next week focusing on-”

     “Woah, woah, take a breath,” she laughed a bit, then asked with a hint of concern, “aren't you doing anything that doesn't involve… learning? Like, no info intake, no lecture series, no workshops, just relaxing? Letting your brain just take a break?”

     Spencer pouted his bottom lip in thought then looked back up to Emily, “No? Why would I want to waste two weeks doing nothing when I could spend them increasing my knowledge?”

     “Wouldn't you want to sit back and…” She stared confusedly at an equally confused Spencer, then just shook her head with another laugh, “Nevermind, look who I’m talking to. Of course you would think that spending two weeks learning would be an ideal vacation. To each their own I guess, right.”

     He just nodded, picking his book up again as she moved away from his desk.

     “Well, have fun with your jam packed knowledge filled two weeks, see you in fourteen days.”

     “Or in two to four days. Don't forget the eight point five-six-three-two percent chance that I will see you before-”

     “Blah, blah, blah!” She covered her ears as she walked away from him, “Can't hear you, already on vacation!”

     “Very mature,” though he was smiling, “have fun with your mother.”

     She threw a quick wave at him then disappeared. When she was finally gone, he sat back in his chair with a content sigh. Now that Emily was gone, it was just himself, Rossi, and Hotch who were left in the office, and he knew there was a very low chance that either of them would interrupt him to inquire about his vacation plans. He was finally able to finish his book in peace before catching the last train home. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

     “Knock, knock.” 

     Aaron looked up from where he had been bent over the front of his desk, the pile of papers he had been sorting through covering every inch of it, and towards the door. “David, come in.”

     The man did, eyeing the mess, but merely stood in the middle of the room and tucked his hands into the pockets of his very expensive suit. “Always one of the last to leave, huh?”

     “Has everyone gone?” Aaron asked without looking up this time.

     “Everyone except the usual suspect.”

     “Reid.” Aaron sighed. ‘Not last to leave,’ he thought. Spencer always seemed to still be there, even in the late late hours of the night. After a case, before vacation, even sometimes during vacation. Aaron always felt bad for the man, worried that he was lonely, though nowadays he could relate. 

     “I overheard him talking with Emily and Derek before they left. His most exciting plans seem to have something to do with a Nobel lecture series,” Rossi moved closer, taking up the chair in front of Aaron’s desk, “that kid needs to learn how to slow down and relax, I'm worried he might burn out someday if he doesn't. He should go out, have some fun from time to time.”

     “Well I'm not much better,” Aaron turned, leaning against his desk with his arms crossed, now facing David, “my plans for the next two weeks pretty much consist of staying home, catching up on more paperwork, and if I can swing it with Haley, taking Jack for a few days. If I play my cards right, the park will be the most exciting adventure of my vacation. I'm not exactly going out to paint the town red either.”

     “Yeah, you two are wild,” he drawled with a smirk, “you know, maybe a date would do the kid well. Loosen him up a bit.”

     Aaron eyed him warily with a tilt of his head, seeing right through his attempted ruse, “What exactly are you suggesting?”

     “Perhaps, while you both have the time off, you and Spencer could plan something together.” Aaron closed his eyes with a sigh and shifted, opened his mouth to say something in protest, but David beat him to it, hands up to stop him. “I'm just saying, you're the only two people on the team that aren't out of town for the next two weeks. I’ll be in Italy visiting family, JJ is taking her family camping, Prentis is visiting her mom, Garcia is, quote, ‘on a shopping tour of all the best malls in the northern hemisphere’, and Morgan is hitting the beach in Barbados. That leaves you and Reid. So all I'm saying is that maybe you can stop fantasizing about the kid and actually do something about your infatuation.”  

     Aaron just gaped at his friend, shocked, speechless for the first time in as long as he can remember. “I… how…” Was the only thing he was able to manage to stutter out.

     David just smiled up at him mischievously and stated, “I'm a profiler, Aaron, and a damn good one. I've seen the way you look at Spencer, the way you stick close to him, and it's very obvious you care about him. It doesn't take a genius to figure it out, yet ironically the only one to not have figured it out yet is the only actual certified genius.”

     Aaron still didn't know what to say. He had never told anyone about how he felt about Spencer. It was hardly appropriate for him to attempt to pursue the man considering he was his superior, not to mention older than him. Something that had plagued him since the very day he met the cute, quirky doctor on his first day with the BAU. 

     “I can tell you're over-thinking, Aaron.” Rossi speaking brought him out of his small internal panic and he looked down at him. “What is it? That you're his boss? Strauss?”

     He shifted, crossing his arms impossibly closer to his chest. No point in denying it now. “A bit of both, I guess. Not to mention the age difference between us.”

     “First off, I wouldn't worry about Strauss. If anything were to happen between you and Spencer, as long as you navigate the correct channels and immediately disclose your relationship, sign the proper papers, then there is nothing Strauss can do against either of you or your jobs. As for you being his superior, I wouldn't even give that a second thought. No one on our team would think anything of it, no one would ever even entertain the thought that you took advantage, and neither would Spencer.” David then leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he spoke. “And the age gap, who cares. Love, is love, is love. Take it while you've got it and don't ever let it go. Age is but a number and love knows no bounds.”

     “Very profound of you, David.” He couldn't help but let a small chuckle slip.

     “What can I say, I am the embodiment of love.”

     “Right, and is that why you've been married three times and are on wife number four?”

     They both laughed, hearty and full, and for the first time since they started talking, Aaron found himself feeling a lot lighter. It was nice to finally have someone who knew his secret feelings for the young genius, and be able to actually have someone to talk to and confide in about it. 

     Rossi's phone ringing broke the moment though, and he reached into his pocket, just looking at the screen and not answering. “Well, my ride to the airport is here. I will see you in two weeks, do not call me.”

     Aaron let loose one last light chuckle, moving along with Dave to see him out. With a smile and a pat on the back as they reached the door he said, “I'll try not to, enjoy your time in Italy.”

     “Oh I intend to,” he opened the door, then turned back at the last minute, “but do me a favor will ya. Don't call me, but do call Spencer.”

     Aaron just smiled, gave Dave a small push out the door, and answered, “Good bye, David.”

     Once he was out the door and down the stairs, Aaron closed the door and took a step to the side to watch him cross the bullpen. He gave a quick goodbye to Spencer as he passed, and then he was gone. Then his eyes wandered over to the last person left besides himself, still sitting alone at his desk, leaned back reading his book. He sighed, watching Spencer for a moment longer before thinking to himself, maybe David was right. Why should he worry about all that other nonsense? Besides, he would never know if Spencer felt the same unless he asked.

~~~~~~~~~~~

     Aaron finally finished organizing the paperwork explosion on his desk, filing away what was finished and adding the rest to his bag, then was finally able to head out. 

     It had been a good two hours since Rossi had left his office, leaving Aaron with all kinds of things to think about, and the man that those thoughts were all about was still sitting in the same spot he had been in since vacation officially began. Though now, Spencer was already halfway through his second book. 

     As he passed him, the younger man not even so much as lifting his eyes from his book, he said a quiet, “Have a good vacation, Reid.”

     “You too, Hotch,” he answered back, and Aaron just about kept walking, but stopped himself at the last minute and turned back.

     They were currently alone, no one else around but him and Spencer, so now was just as good a time as any. “Reid…”

     At the questioning tone to his name, Spencer looked up at Hotch who was now standing right in front of him, “Yeah?”

     “I… I was…'' Spencer was still looking up at him with concerned eyes, a furrowed brow, and if Aaron was being honest, a super cute frown. Now, what Aaron wanted to say was ‘Spencer, I know that you and I are the only two who will be remaining in town for the duration of our vacation time, and I was wondering perhaps, if you would like to take advantage of the fact and allow me to take you out to dinner tomorrow night?’ But what he actually managed to come out with instead, was a sad and defeated, “I… I just wanted to wish you well. I hope you have a good fourteen days, and I heard you will be attending a lecture series, I hope it's informative.”

     “Right…” Hotch couldn't be certain, but he was sure that Spencer almost looked… disappointed? “An-anything else?”

     “... No, I don't believe so.” And before he could stumble his way through any more embarrassing sentences he quickly said, “Good night,” and left before Spencer could even return the sentiment. Leaving him staring, still confused and a little down, after a fast walking Aaron, not having the courage to even look back as he left.

~~~~~~~~~~~

     Derek woke for the first time well rested and relaxed. No case to solve, no unsub on his mind, no high speed chase down unfamiliar roads, and no showdown with a psychopath in some dark abandoned warehouse. It was just him, the sun, the sand, and two weeks of relaxing and sleeping late, eating more than he probably should and shoving as much fun into two weeks as was completely possible.

     Now, those were Derek's original plans. The plans he made before he left Quantico, Virginia for the beaches in Barbados. For the all night parties, the beautiful ladies, and the all inclusive never ending free drinks. And yet, here he found himself, within arm's reach of all those things, and not doing a single one of them. 

     Instead, Derek walked down the beach and found an empty lounge chair tucked under a very colourful umbrella. A sprite and lime with ice in hand, he stood and looked out at the calming ebb and flow of the ocean, letting the soft crashing of the waves take over and clear his mind completely. It was nice, the best he'd felt in a long, long time. 

     A volleyball skid to a halt at his feet, covering his toes in warm sand, caught his attention and he turned to face the small group of women off to his side. He kicked the ball back over to them, each one of them very obviously interested in getting to know Derek, even if it were just for one night. But to his own surprise, he found himself flashing a smile and a wave in decline of their invitation to come play, and instead took up his seat in the covered lounge chair. 

     He took a second to breathe in the fresh air, took a sip of his drink, then reached down to the small bag he had tucked under the chair, rifling through until he found what he was looking for. He settled back in the chair, not able to help the smile that spread across his face as he read the title of the book in his hands, 'The Art of War', and settled back to read it with a quietly muttered, "Damn you, Spencer Reid."

~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: So there is chapter 1, chapter 2 to come soon! I’m super excited about this guys XD

And if anyone wants to be tagged for future updates please let me know <3

[impishnature]

Breaking Point

Thanks for waiting guys! This was 3.9k in the end so yeah haha! Which while normal for me, isn’t going to be attainable daily throughout October. 

Imptober Prompts so far

AO3 Fandom: Gravity Falls Rating: T+ (Warning for possibly graphic details on injuries.) Prompt: Broken Down/Broken Bones. Summary: Accidents at sea happen, however careful you may be. Unfortunately for Stan, some can dredge up memories with them.

.

It was strange, quite how quickly the world could turn upside down.

All it takes is one wrong turn, a blink, an exhale of breath, and suddenly all the air is punched out of your lungs and the open sky spins like a fairground ride you never meant to take. Off kilter, ready to take you down as the ground crumbles beneath your feet.

At least, that's how it always seemed to be for Stan. The world was always ready to throw him in the deep end at a moment's notice.

He'd hoped that after everything, the universe might stop trying to push him around.

He'd been quietly humming to himself, a serene smile on his face, tapping calloused fingers on fraying trousers as he sat, staring out to sea. There wasn't a cloud in sight, the sun beaming warm and bright against his arms and back, and the small bobber on the end of his fishing line was all that really kept him linked to reality. Otherwise, his mind was elsewhere, a peaceful static drone buzzing through his blank mind, as seagulls screeched overhead, hoping to snag his catch before he did if he wasn't careful and prepared. Behind him, he could hear his brother as if in the far distance, soft footfalls padding along as he absorbed himself in whatever anomaly had brought them here in the first place.  

One moment, under the bright blue sky, Stan felt at one with the world, like all the planets had finally aligned, the puzzle pieces had fallen into place and finally he was living the life he was always meant to lead.

The next second, a loud crack tore through the air and the folding chair he'd been sitting on jerked to the side, toppling, as the boat lurched beneath him. Something hit the metal railing of the boat with a long clattering ring that ricocheted around his ears as he promptly smacked into the floor shoulder first, head bumping slightly after with another flare of pain. 

Amidst this, another softer, though no less unpleasant crunch filtered through his disorientated senses. He felt something solid give beneath his fingers, breaking sharply in two and any air in his lungs choked out of him as a flood of pain washed over him. He curled up into a ball on the ground, breathing shallowly, heart thumping rapidly as his brain overloaded with sensation.

"Shit, that was- Stanley?!" 

Stan let out a hiss of a response, unable to open his mouth further than the gritted grimace it was locked in. He'd felt this kind of pain before, years and years ago, of course he had- young, homeless, running for his life, still, despite that it didn't really prepare him for a repetition. It was the kind of pain that your mind slowly forgot the true taste of, time taking the edge off. The body, however, never truly forgot. Like, that gut feeling not to put your hand near a flame even if you couldn't quite recall how much it had hurt the last time. And so, adrenaline pumped abruptly through this system, nerves sparking, his body trying it's best to keep him level-headed. His hands clenched tightly at his thigh, pushing down around the wound without being able to look at it. The memories from the last time this had happened were rising from the depths to greet him, skewing reality as all the interlocking recollections, that had quite never made their way to the surface since his 'lapse in memory', were now exposed to the light. 

It had been a baseball bat that time, a sudden solid snap to his leg that had made his eyes smart and black dots fizzle across his vision. It had knocked all the air out of him, a wheeze all that he could pull forth from his lungs, even though he felt the need to scream through the agony. Looking down had not been his most sensible idea. As soon as he saw the damage, his vision had blacked out, his muscles going limp. Even now, he had no idea how long he passed out for. It could have been minutes or mere seconds before he joltingly came to again, still locked in a terrible situation he'd found himself in with little means of escape. 

But now he was smarter, his body reacting to the pain as if it were an old adversary, a familiar routine that his muscle memory knew how to respond to. 

He turned his gaze away, eyes tightly screwed shut and took as steady a breath as he could muster, reminding himself that this time- this time- he wasn't alone to deal with it.

"F-Ford?" The word barely made it past teeth and a pain addled tongue. Heavy footfalls vibrated through the wooden floor, rattling around his skull where it lay. They should have made him flinch, would have if he'd had any sense to spare through the pain. But as it was, the much heavier, louder thump right beside his head of two knees hitting the deck without a care and the warm hand that fell atop his shoulder, instead caused a swell of relief to muddle into the mix of heady adrenaline coursing through him.

"I'm here. I'm right here."

Stan tried to relax under the slow soft movements on his forearm, the reassuring warmth that ran soothing circles across his skin, tried to lock on to the comforting voice, the familiar safety that he hadn't been able to rely on the first time. But the bolts of pain that snapped all the way up his spine, and the bright flare of his injured leg outweighed any optimism he could latch on to. All he could do under the tidal wave of agony was ride out the storm, curling up even further and pulling his leg in tighter to his chest.

"Stan? Stan, can you hear me?"

Ford's voice was an echo of worry at the back of his skull. As much as he couldn't respond to the frantic urgency his brother was trying to urge him with, the cold release of his arm as his brother moved away almost made him sob. 

No- no, please don't leave me. 

He hadn't even realised he'd latched onto the warmth to keep him tethered. The storm held him in it's thrall and the knowledge that someone else was there with him had been a rope, a life line that connected him to reality even if he couldn't quite break the surface of the water.

I can't do this alone.

He was drowning, water muffling his ear drums until all he could hear was the dissonant ring of a metal bat being swung, over and over with every pulse of pain, a death knell growing louder with every stuttering heartbeat. A distorted laugh bubbled through his skull, bouncing and splintering, increasingly scrambled until it became a cacophony of all the people he had double crossed. Scornful, mocking sounds, jeering at his plight. All of them shadows that surrounded him in the darkness, pushed him deeper and deeper into the water, flashes of yellow sparking up to fill the empty spaces in between that he might have somehow escaped through.

And the one person who might have been willing to help him, the light that might have helped him resurface, was on the other side of them all, pulling further and further away the more he let him, fading from his view with every sinking second.

If only he could open his mouth, if only his jaw wasn't locked and his entire being trembling. If only-

I'm sorry, I can't- It hurts- I'm sorry, I'm sorry-

"Stan."

The word was solid, determined, laced with a hint of fear but none of the anger that he was so despondently sure would follow. 

Pull yourself together. What are you? A Child? 

"Stan? I'm here. Whatever's happening in there, I need you to focus on me."

It was weird after so many years to hear his brother and father in the same vicinity, even if that vicinity was his own mind.

Especially when they seemed so at odds with one another.

"Please. Please open your eyes."

The warmth from before returned, now resting on his cheeks, small circular embers that dotted across his temples and his eyelids. The heat pulled him from the dark eddies, dragged him out of ice cold waters- but it was the edge to his voice that cut through him. That fear, that urgency, the thought that Ford needed him right that instant. It hushed the laughter, the mocking cries, until with all the energy he possessed, he squinted his eyes open.

The sunlight burned.

But he found solace in Ford's face above him.

Ford's shoulders slumped, arms shaking in tremors that Stan felt travel across his cheeks, but he held him fast, still continuing the soft motions against his skin. "There he is. Welcome back."

"For-" Stan grunted, close to uttering his name but without enough mobility to get his tongue to move in the correct pattern.

"Shh, it's OK." Ford's eyes became focused, quick fleeting glances at the rest of him even whilst his hands continued to soothe and his gaze so obviously wanted to latch to Stan's face. "Just- just tell me what hurts- if you can- whatever you can manage." His words were soft, sharply urgent but with no actual bite to them.

Stan didn't know whether it made him feel fragile or protected but either way he couldn't help the gratitude welling up inside him as his brother stayed at his side.

"Leg." 

It was probably pretty obvious with the way he was clutching it, but if he knew Ford, then he'd want to be sure. Either way Stan knew he was in capable hands even if he couldn't quite bring himself to try and struggle out of the foetal position he'd managed to curl himself into.

"Your leg?" Ford nodded, relief awash in his eyes at Stan's utterance. "OK. We can deal with that- we will deal with that, OK?" Stan wasn't sure which one of them the words were for exactly but he took comfort in them nonetheless. "I'm going to take a look, is that alright? I just need you to stay with me." 

Stan swallowed, the lump in his throat, solid and unyielding. He nodded once, a sharp tense motion as he braced himself for more pain.

"Easy. Easy- just, stay calm." Ford kept one hand on his face, moving it to act as a divider between his head and the floor. The other hand slowly pulled away, moving to cover Stan's hand on his thigh. "It's OK, Stan, just let me take a look." The hand slowly pried at his fingers, insistent and gentle, urging him to pull away from the pain. Ford's eyes found his again, reassuring and calming. "You trust me, right?"

And just like that it was as simple as breathing. 

Stan hissed, an annoyed sound that would have made them both laugh in any other circumstance at the low blow Ford had levied. Instead it did at least lighten the mood ever so slightly, relaxed the tight coil of his muscles enough that even if he couldn't move it himself, Ford could slowly pull his hand away and lay it gently on the floor after giving it a tight squeeze of thanks.

"That's it, you're doing great, Stan."

Stan didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the sentiment. 

He didn't feel like he was doing good, let alone great. When he'd been younger...

Well, younger him hadn't had Ford to take care of him. It was deal with the situation or get a much more fatal blow to the back of the head.

So hopefully he'd be forgiven for allowing himself to give in, now that he was a lot older, and greyer, and his brother was knelt beside him, offering to do whatever he could to help.

The soft push on tender flesh snapped him from his desolate thoughts. He whimpered, biting down on the noise almost instantly as Ford's eyes snapped back to his face, watching every subtle change and he couldn't help but try to turn away from it, not wanting to be seen this weak.

"Stan. It's OK." Ford's hand moved, running over his forehead and into his hair before reclaiming its spot around his neck. "It's just us, no one's judging you on how well you deal with this. Besides-" His mouth twisted up into a smile that didn't reach the concern gleaming in his eyes. "I'm the one that's had to patch you up after you've got yourself into fights before. So, out of everyone I think I know your pain thresholds." He kept their eyes locked, hoping to distract as his hand gently pressed again, following the line of his thigh, testing the waters with each ministration. "And I know that you aren't one to let pain get the better of you like this unless it's serious."

Stan tried to scoff, each lance of pain stopping his progress as he took deep breaths in and out. "Y-you say that like it's only me who gets us into fights."

Ford's smile brightened, more genuine than before. "True. True." He hummed, happy to divert attention as Stan's eyes focused more and more on his face. "Then again I've also seen you cry when the twins manage to send us a care package. Remember? That sweater you refused to take off for like a week? So, maybe I don't know what I'm talking about. Maybe you have gone soft in your old age."

Stan's breathing hitched, a half chuckle escaping him. "Shut it, nerd." 

"Never." 

Ford shifted back onto his haunches, relief marring his expression as he smiled down at Stan, hand moving away from his injury to find his shoulder. "Well, it doesn't seem to be broken, so that's a relief." 

Stan blinked blankly at him, the pain a dull ache in the background as he stared at him. "Wha-?"

Ford frowned, glancing back over as Stan's hand moved once more to cradle his wound. "There's no break from what I can feel. No cuts or blood either... It's a strange place for a sprain but there's obviously something going on. If you can sit up, I might be able to get a better look?"

The world was becoming fuzzy around the edges again, his ears ringing, as Ford continued to talk. Not broken? What does he mean not broken? I felt it- And even as he got lost in his thoughts, Ford was slowly pushing and prodding him to move, his body letting him take the reigns as his mind succumbed to the confused buzz of pain still fizzling through his system.

"There we go. Still with me?"

Stan flinched back to reality, the hand on his shoulder tight and firm as it shook him ever so. He nodded, staring down at his own legs, trying to find the source of the pain, to visualise the break he'd felt beneath his fingers. His vision doubled for a second, black spots forming as his leg deformed and reformed, superimposing memory and present day before realigning every time he blinked. His hand trailed down but Ford caught it, putting it back beside him with a few small taps.

"Let me. I'm the Doctor here, remember?"

Stan snorted. "Not a medical one though." His head felt heavy, exhaustion tugging at his every movement as he watched Ford continue his examination. Sparks of pain still zapped through him as he was checked over but it felt strange, on his peripherals. Like it was just out of sync, each flare of pain linked to what he was seeing instead of as soon as the touch physically came. "What happened?"

"Hmm?"

"To the boat, what-?"

"Oh." Ford glanced back at him before continuing his ministrations. "We hit something. Nothing too serious, just an outcropping we hadn't picked up on when we chartered the course by the looks of it." He grinned sheepishly. "Guess that'll teach us for relying on autopilot."

Stan let his head fall back against the railing he'd been propped up on, eyes drifting shut, too heavy to hold open. "Ehh, once in a while we're allowed to make a mistake."

"Quite right." Ford hummed back. A few more moments passed before he finally sat back, turning to Stan once more. "There really doesn't seem to be a break. Can you stand?" 

Stan pushed himself up, staring wide eyed at him.

Stand? On a broken leg?

Sure, he'd hobbled on one before. The pain had been excruciating as he stumbled agonisingly away from captors that wanted him dead, biting on his knuckles to keep from making any noise as he all but dragged himself through dark winding corridors. But - well, there was a time and place for that kind of foolhardy response to a broken leg.

And now didn't seem like one of those times.

"But it broke."

Ford frowned, eyebrows furrowing as Stan spoke. "What?"

"It broke. I felt it break."

"You felt it-" Ford's frown deepened, alarm flashing in his eyes as he took in Stan's expression. "Stan, I really can't find a break, are you sure?"

Stan nodded, own mind racing as the dull throb persisted in his leg. "I had my hand on my knee and I felt it-" Nausea flared up then, thick and fast, his entire body listing to the side as he felt the need to heave. His fingers tingled with residual feeling, the unnatural creak and bend of his bones still lodged inside his grasp.

"Whoa, whoa, easy-" Ford's hand propped him up again, gently sitting him upright as he coughed on air. The next words out of his brother's mouth were hesitant, worried, but in a way that suggested he was scared to start an argument. Which didn't make any sense at all to Stan given the circumstances.

"Now, Stan. Are you sure... and don't get mad at me- but are you sure you didn't feel, well... that?"

Stan followed the line of his pointing finger, frowning in disappointed irritation- why didn't Ford believe him- before they finally alighted on what Ford was trying to show him. He stared, uncomprehendingly, at the strange heap of fibreglass and string that he was sure hadn't been there when he sat down earlier that day. 

It took a few long seconds to realise it was actually his fishing rod- or what was left of it.

...Oh.

It was neatly snapped in two, held together only by the fishing line that ran through it's eyelets. A line that was now also impossibly tangled around his folding chair and the railing he'd been propping it against. 

"Stan?"

He couldn't speak. What could he say?

"Stan... have you broken your femur before?"

"Hmm?"

"Your leg. Have you broken your leg before?"

Stan's head was turned back to the conversation, Ford's face holding a different kind of worry, one that by now he was used to, what with everything they had been through before they'd left on their journey across the sea. It didn't, however, make him feel any better, his heart sinking to rest in his stomach, in a churning mass of shame.

The pain in his leg was dissipating, like clouds dispersing once a storm has passed. As if nothing had ever happened in the first place.

"But I really felt it."

He hated how small his voice had gone, how pleading and childish he sounded. He just needed his brother to believe him- it had to have happened.

Because if it hadn't-

Stan swallowed, lump once more firmly lodged in his throat.

If it hadn't...

"I know you did, Stan." Stan scrunched up his nose at the pity filtering through his brother's voice. "But whatever the memory was that latched on to you, I need you to know you're safe. You're alright." Ford tilted his head to catch his eye, guilt swirling in his gaze and Stan wasn't sure if he hated it more or less than the pity. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Stan let his head fall forwards, hiding his expression from Ford's inquisitive gaze. His fingers fisting in his trousers, above the old wound, the old scar that pulsed in tandem with his heart but only as if to remind him of the memory. "It's not broken?"

"No." Ford's voice was genuine, a doctor letting someone know they were completely healthy and could face the world again.

He didn't feel like he could face the world though.

Stan laughed, a hollow sound as he covered his eyes with his hand. When had he started to well up? How much more shame did he have to go through today? "Great. Brilliant. Fantastic."

"Stan-"

"So, it's just my head that's broken then?" Stan dropped his hand to stare at his brother, almost wishing he hadn't said anything as he physically saw Ford's heart break across his face. Stan tried for a crooked grin, heart hammering in his chest in guilt. "What? It-it's not a new observation, now is it, Sixer?" 

"Lee." The old nickname cut off his dark laugh, sobering him up from whatever hysterical road he'd been about to wander down. Ford's eyes were harder, sharper as he came closer and for a second there was fear. That awful paranoia that Ford was about to up and leave, snap at him for being a nuisance and go back to whatever he was doing before he got in his way like he always did. "Lee, don't you ever talk about yourself like that."

"What?"

"I can't listen to you do that. Not anymore."

Ford sat beside him, arm curling around his shoulders before tugging him in against his chest. Stan felt him breathe heavily against his hair, puffs of air that felt and sounded shaky as they sat against the railing together, the boat peacefully bobbing in the water. 

"You're not broken, Stan. Anyone whose been through what you have-" There was a definite swallow as his voice cut off, a tightness to his words that Stan couldn't help but blanch at. 

Had he made Ford cry?

"Ford-"

"No one's been through what you've been through, Stan." Ford rested his head against the top of his skull, taking a deep breath in and tightening his hold, as if scared that by letting go, Stan would vanish entirely. "You've been through so much and done so much and no one will ever be allowed to judge you, least of all me."

Stan's throat constricted all the more as he struggled to regain control of the conversation. "Ford-"

"I won't hear it." Ford kissed the top of his head. 

"You're not broken."

A tear fell then, one that Stan couldn't hold in any longer. He turned, pushing himself into the hug that was being offered and choked out a soft protest as he did so. 

"It's alright." Ford muttered above him, slowly rocking them as they sat safe in their own little bubble, their small slice of home gently swaying on calm seas as the empty blue sky stretched far above them. "I promise you, everything's alright."

Warm water hit Stan's scalp and he tightened his hold, a physical apology for making his brother cry, but Ford just gently shushed him, rubbing a hand down his back. 

"You don't ever have to feel broken again."

[connorinabeanie]

A slightly salty take on North and fandom

Disclaimer: Nothing in this post is meant as an attack on anyone. Fandom is subjective and you have the right to interpret media, form your own conclusions, and create whatever you want. These are my opinions about what I’ve seen, as well as my experiences in previous fandoms and the patterns I’ve seen play out over and over again. It’s okay to disagree with me, and it’s okay to have a respectful discussion in reblogs/comments! Just keep it civil. That out of the way…

North. She’s polarizing character in DBH; she tends to be loved or hated, and I’ll admit it: I didn’t like her at first either. I wanted to, but as I played through my first time I just couldn’t get past one of her traits in particular, which was that she was so convinced she was right; she blamed Markus for every mistake, refused to adapt her tactics or consider other methods, and seemed more driven by vengeance than anything else. So as much as I wanted to enjoy her character, I found her to be a poorly written “strong female character” archetype that fell flat in execution, as most characters of that type do.

Honestly, I think this is the reason most people who dislike North dislike her, at least consciously. They genuinely think she’s a terribly written character, and they’re not necessarily wrong. One playthrough on a standard route, with no extrapolation or extra consideration, combined with a lot of people getting the awkwardly forced romance (I actually avoided this, completely unknowingly, on my first playthrough) leads to a dislike of this character. That’s understandable! I would expect this from people who played the game once. But that’s where the problem comes in, for me.

People active in a fandom usually haven’t consumed the media they’re into just once. They usually don’t engage in surface-level interpretation, and they usually don’t lack context. But I find it hard to believe that so many of the opinions and interpretations regarding North could possibly come from people who have approached her character with an open mind and additional information, because just one major path divergence shows a completely different side to North’s character.

I’m talking, of course, about North’s leader route. When we see her in Markus’ role, leading instead of advising, her true motives come out: she loves her people and is willing to fight for them. She isn’t interested in playing nice with her oppressors, and why should she? There’s a whole discussion here about how oppressed people are judged for how nicely they fight for the rights they should already have, where there’s a ‘good’ way of protesting and a ‘bad’ way of doing it (which is, ironically and showing how tone-deaf Cage can be, supported in the narrative of DBH as well), but I won’t go into that in depth; other people have posted really good takes on this already. I’ll just mention it here and there where relevant.

Once of those relevant places is that, as I said, in North’s leader route she isn’t interested in peaceful protesting. And you know what? When I played this game the first time and had Markus, I had been peaceful up until Night of Soul, which is where North would be making her first major decision as a leader if you don’t have Markus. Yet when it came down to it I made the same decision with Markus that North makes on her own, because you know, as a Jewish woman, I wasn’t super interested in peacefully protesting at the gates of camps that were currently killing people. Playing nice hadn’t worked, and it was time to fight.

So maybe I’m in a different position that some others when it comes to interpreting North’s choices, and as I saw that she made the same choice that I did when playing Markus, I’m just… Not impressed that the fandom tendency to criticize this choice as warmongering, unreasonable, and a ‘betrayal’ of Markus’ peaceful actions (always assuming that Markus had been completely peaceful before, which is the way the story pushes on you, but certainly isn’t a given.) As far as I’m concerned, North is taking the action needed to save her people who are in danger right that instant, and humans don’t deserve a nice civil protest (and if I were in her position with Markus alive, I would be furious that he wanted to just sit and talk while people were dying.) They need to be stopped, and she’s going to stop them.

But it wasn’t just her choice in the church that brought me around to North’s side during her leader route, it was her behavior during Crossroads. Specifically, it was her behavior toward Connor, and how it contrasted with some of her actions earlier. So, going back a bit to Spare Parts, where the Jericrew goes on a mission to steal parts from the Cyberlife warehouses at the docks, and you run into John. North votes against taking him with them, citing that they can’t trust him and it’s too dangerous. Moving on a little, to Stratford Tower, if (or, more likely, ‘when’ since it’s pretty difficult to avoid) Simon is injured, North suggests shooting him. These are pretty harsh marks against her, because they seem needlessly ruthless, but are they really?

With John, the answer is maybe yes. But think about it from her perspective; they’ve never seen the ability Markus used, in turning an android deviant. So as far as North is concerned, John was a threat to them about two minutes earlier, and now wants to go with them? With no traumatic catalyst or trusted android vouching for and giving him the key to Jericho? To North John is a potential threat, a potential danger, and she has no reason to trust him. But as the story goes on, North never makes another objection to an android joining them in this way, because she knows they’re truly deviant. As soon as an android is deviant, they’re one of her people.

With Simon, the answer is probably no, because North is exactly right; if Simon lives, and Connor finds him, Connor finds Jericho. It’s that simple, and it’s not a rare series of events. North might be a little fast to jump on the option, because there’s a genuine argument to be made that it isn’t worth killing someone just because there’s a chance that something (even something very serious) might go wrong, but she clearly isn’t choosing this option because she wants it; she’s choosing this option because she thinks it’s the most guaranteed way to protect her people. It’s a difficult, ruthless decision to make, but it isn’t one made out of malice.

(It’s also worth noting that Simon suggests leaving North when she’s in danger in Crossroads, when the only people that would be at risk from saving her were Markus and Connor, and this happens whether or not North suggested killing Simon one the rooftop. Yet this choice is almost never criticized, because it comes from Simon, and I’ll get into that later.)

But with those particular attitudes from North out of the way, it’s interesting to see how she reacts to Connor in her leader route. North instantly shows concern for him, never blames him for the attack on Jericho, and—like Markus—tries to prevent him from going on his suicide mission to Cyberlife Tower. She’s kind and understanding, and it’s clear that she accepts Connor immediately as one of her people.

This is a place where I have some trouble with fandom interpretations of North and Connor’s relationship, specifically in terms of North being angry, cold, or extremely suspicious of Connor (a little suspicion, especially in a more ‘good end’ route where she has less direct interaction with Connor during the revolution, is reasonable; I’m talking about outright refusal to even consider accepting him.) It bothers me for two specific, and somewhat different reasons.

One is that it directly contradicts a theme of North’s history, which is that deviant androids are not their pasts. They’re not what they were before they woke up. The idea of North holding someone’s past, before they turned deviant, against them is just… I can’t imagine it. I can imagine her suspicion, as I mentioned before, until she's very sure Connor is truly deviant, but that seems very apparent to her right away in any route (I find it hard to believe she’d think he was faking deviancy after delivering the army to Markus.) Some concern or suspicion after finding out about the attempted hijacking makes sense, but the way I see it portrayed in fic is often jarring; it seems completely out of character for her to blame Connor for something like that, as opposed to being angry on his behalf, because North wants androids to be free (and, more deeply, she’s experience being used for something she never wanted.) She wants androids to have the chance to live, to become their own people, and to leave their pasts behind them. Why would she blame Connor for what he was made to do, whether before he was deviant or when Amanda tried to take control of him? It goes against everything North stands for, and that leads me to my second reason:

I think people choose this interpretation because it makes North a villain. Maybe it’s not an active conscious decision to do this (and in fact I doubt it usually is), but it reminds me very painfully of the trend in fandom of villainizing a character—especially a female character—in order to woobify a male character (and, often, get the female character out of the way of a ship) and I can’t help but see that here. It seems like a cheap, easy way to excuse other characters turning against North for her behavior, and therefore getting her out of the way as well as causing drama and conflict for the characters the writer really wants to focus on.

And that seems like a good segue into the big topic that people are gonna get mad about being called out on: misogyny. And even more specifically, misogyny when it comes to shipping.

I’m just gonna state this super clearly at the forefront: I have no problem with shipping whoever you want, whyever you want. I’m not personally into most ships for various reasons, but I do have some favorites (most of which other people aren’t into) and shipping is fun! Not everyone agrees on shipping, and that’s okay; not everyone has to like what you like, we can all still exist in harmony.

But that isn’t to say that people don’t engage in, for lack of a better word, ‘problematic’ behavior in their ships. As opposed to just going ‘hey, I like this, I’m gonna do it’, way too many people become obsessed with justifying their ship (and I think this comes from an underlying desire to ‘prove’ it’s canon or based in canon, as a way of making it seem more legitimate, which is a whole other topic I could rant about.) In the process of these justifications, and then often as a part of the fixation or obsession that some people develop about their ships/characters in their ships, any character or ship that ‘threatens’ someone’s favorite is a target that must be destroyed. And, in what I would say is arguably the vast majority of times, that threatening character is a canon female love interest.

Open bashing has (with good reason) gone out of fashion in fandom, so the way to get characters ‘out of the way‘ is to argue an unlikeable interpretation of them. I feel like this is what happens a lot of the time with North, and with the poor writing and flat portrayal of her character in the ‘good end’ route, it’s very easy for people to take the worst of her personality, say it’s canon, and then get rid of her. This is usually a bit side-eye worthy when it happens in any fandom, but it’s extra ridiculous in DBH for one very distinct reason:

North doesn’t have to be a love interest. As I mentioned before, when I first played through I never got the ‘lovers’ scene, because North said way back when Markus first met her that she didn’t want to talk about her past and so in the scene on the roof I just didn’t ask her (and I could write another whole discussion about how no means no and pressuring someone to tell you their past is NOT how to get a romantic option with them, but that’s an issue with another time.) The rest of the game progressed completely as normal, with the only changes being a lack of kissing options in a few later scenes. There’s no reason why fic writers can’t just choose this option for their fic’s canon, and move on.

And yet I can’t tell you how many times North is an obstacle that has to be overcome in order to get Markus with Simon or Connor (because let’s be real, North, Simon, and Connor are the only major ships for Markus even though Josh is RIGHT THERE, but again that’s another topic for another time.) It’s completely unnecessary, and yet there it is: North is this unreasonable, horrible person who is terrible to [insert love interest here] and Markus has to overcome this internal struggle to break free and be with [whoever] and truly be happy.

It’s such nonsense. It’s using this ‘undesirable’ female character as a source of drama and angst for this poor sad male character to have to deal with, as opposed to taking even a moment to treat the female character as a person who might have motivations, experiences, and emotions, and I’ve seen this over and over and over in every single fandom I’ve ever been in. This isn’t a North-specific thing, it’s a female character thing, and honestly if Kara’s storyline weren’t so separate from the fandom favorite shipping characters then I think the same thing would happen to her (as opposed to her existence just being entirely ignored.) This is such a pattern in fandom that I find it very difficult to believe this is a special case where it’s somehow legitimate.

One of those reasons is that the ‘justifications’ for disliking North tend to be complete double standards between North and whatever love interest the writer is going for, whether that’s Simon or Connor. With Connor, it’s extremely obvious; almost all of North’s negative traits are traits he has to some extent as well (ruthlessness, solving problems through violence, stubbornness,) but those traits are not only not usually treated negatively in Connor (and instead are depicted as justified and necessary in context, which I’m not saying they aren’t, but that it’s unfair to say that about him and not her) but often erased entirely, leading to the obnoxiously delicate, wilting flower version of Connor that shows up in so much fic. But again, an issue for another time.

For Simon, it’s less obvious because North and Simon are quite different, but not in opposite ways; North and Josh are opposites in many respects, but Simon is, in a sense, perpendicular to the line North and Josh are at opposite ends of. Simon doesn’t have particularly strong opinions about anything, just going with the flow and being supportive; his strongest opinions are about being cautious and not taking risks. Except, of course, for that scene I mentioned before, where he outright says they should just leave North to die. For such an overall bland character, that needlessly harsh moment stands out to me and I find it kind of amazing how it’s just completely ignored, often while holding it against North that she suggested shooting Simon on the roof.

So I guess the whole point of this rant is that I wish people would think more critically about North as a character, rather than a flat archetype, especially in the context of shipping. It’s cringey and painful to see blatant flanderizing of her character for the sole purpose of being ‘able’ to ship other characters together, whether to use her as an antagonist or just to get her out of the way, when it’s completely unnecessary to begin with. It’s also very obvious where someone’s priorities and biases lie when they’re happy to write North off but then obsess over other poorly written, bland, or even outright purposefully antagonistic characters that they deem somehow to have more potential and be more worthy of attention and character development.

Overall, there’s no requirement to like a character. It’s totally fine not to like a character. But double standards and needless demonizing of a character go far beyond not liking them, and it’s important to stop and think about why it might be happening. Is it always misogyny with North? No, I don’t think so, there are definitely people who don’t like her for her traits and that’s fine. But I think it’s very telling when someone who claims to dislike North for her personality and behavior then spends time in fan works purposefully making her a villain for the benefit of drama in their pet ship. It’s even more telling when someone who claims to dislike North for her personality and behavior, yet they celebrate the potential of characters that are canonically far worse (but who just so happen to be attractive men.) And, unfortunately, both of those situations coincide quite often with vocally disliking North, and there are only so many ways to interpret such a correlation.

[colorseeingchick]

The Inevitable Dystopia of My Hero Academia (WITHOUT manga spoilers)

As noted by your local political science anime lover.

(This is a summary/rambling about a political science paper I wrote on My Hero. This is only based on the anime. I’m not caught up on the manga)

Warnings: Vague reference to abuse (Endeavor), discussion of political theory, discourse.

A/N: It’s lengthy and all over the place. It also might be impossible to follow. So I’m sorry in advance lol.

THESE ARE JUST MY OPINIONS AND A FORM OF DISCOURSE. I’m open to discussing if you have thoughts! Political science is about understanding policy and structures, not taking a stance. Any comparisons to ‘modern society’ are in reference to 1st world/developed societies, as those are the governments that parallel the My Hero Academia government. 

The politics of My Hero Academia is... pretty morbid if you ask me. It’s not worse than the real world, sure, but maybe that’s why it’s all the scarier. Even with quirks and super powers, the impossible becoming possible, it isn’t enough to save them from the undesirable. Their society seems to have fallen into a cycle of suffering and oppression that has no end. 

Now, I know no one really gets excited about political theory (unless you’re like me, then please be my friend), but there are some concepts that you’ll need to understand in order to follow along with my argument. So bear with me. 

First, utopia. Utopia is probably a term you’ve heard casually, but the definition political theorists hold it to is simply- “a good place.” Often times it is depicted as a far away dreamland, only possible in the realm of fiction (and this makes sense given that My Hero is fictional). It is very important to understand that utopia is not necessarily perfect. It’s just better than average. There are a few standards that characterize utopia, one being the utopian focus on having very strict laws to repress the unstable nature of mankind [1]. I’ll come back to this. 

Next is dystopia. Dystopia as an idea was actually made in response to utopia. It’s the ‘not-utopia,’ and is lumped with ‘anti-utopia’ (this comment is in reference to the semiotic square, if you would like to develop a further look into it). The simplest way to understand dystopia is to know it’s ‘a not-good place.’ [2] But that’s surprisingly broad. Dystopias can be a failed utopia, or they could have developed on their own as a result of any number of reasons. You’ve probably seen all sorts of depictions of dystopia (climate dystopias, medical dystopias, technology-based dystopias, literally any YA novel from my childhood, you get the idea). Its key to note that unlike an apocalypse, where there is utter destruction and it ends with complete annihilation of humanity, there is hope* inherently written into it. 

*Hope here meaning there’s theoretically a way for the government to be changed/overthrown without death of the majority. 

Now that all that boring stuff is out of the way- let’s talk about My Hero Academia. 

I’d argue that, at first glance, Hero Society seems to be working towards utopia. When reading from Deku’s perspective, especially in the beginning, you would think that their society is close to becoming utopian. The impossible is possible, being a hero is a reality, and a symbol of peace tangibly and definitively exists. When you compare it to pre-quirk society, these changes would appear to be developments. As for the ‘in progress’ aspect, I think Hawks verbalizes it best when he says his goal is for heroes to have too much time on their hands. They aren’t there yet, but if that goal is achieved, it would be a mark of utopia. 

They’ve achieved some level of utopian standards by meeting the ‘strict laws to repress the unstable nature’ standard. Think about the concept of licensing quirks, quirk regulation, and the government institutions that regulate quirk society. Remember when Tomura cornered Deku at the shopping mall and mentioned something along the lines of, ‘all these people could wield their quirks at any moment they want, but choose not to? Instead they smile and laugh.’ 

He has a point. Why is that? From a political theorist point of view, it’s honestly very shocking. For centuries, theorists have argued about how to manage human nature. It’s a difficult task as is. Give everyone superpowers? That would have to be 10x as chaotic. But in the My Hero world, it’s not. It’s well organized. The government took action to regulate the physical instability of humanity which arose from quirks. What’s so impressive to me is that they managed to mitigate (not eliminate) the instability of human nature/behavior along with it.

But if you take a step back to look at My Hero Academia, slowing down and stepping out of Deku’s shoes, I don’t think the instinct is to classify it as a utopia in progress. Of course, its superpowered with quirks- adding to the realm of possibility. But crime of all sorts is superpowered, just as the justice systems/law enforcement in the country. 

When I made this realization, I understood I had kind of been drawn into the propaganda the society puts out. It’s a sort of cloak built up by the positive media around the heroes, the narrative being focused on young heroes and their great mentors, and the universal title of ‘villain’ being put on everyone that breaks the government’s laws (this really bothers me, and maybe I’ll discuss it another time). Things aren’t better. Crime rates have gone down I believe, but the anti-hero sentiments being harbored are more intense than in certain real world societies. Hero society hasn’t necessarily resolved any of the problems that our society would have. The balance is the same, but the possible actions people can take, or the behaviors that are exhibited, are scaled up on both sides of the law.

What’s worse is that- even if its not a universal experience, this society is also a dystopia for many people. The first hint of this society being less than perfect is when we hear from Stain and his pursuit of a ‘just society’ by eliminating fraudulent heroes. His ideals are surprisingly level-headed, and very rigorous in standard, even if it is based in questionable morals. But it’s easy to brush it off. However, its less deniable as you learn more about these characters. 

Shigaraki was abandoned and waited for heroes to save him, but they didn’t. Overhaul was also an orphan living on the streets. Eri was abandoned by her mother because of her quirk. Twice was villainized, when in reality he has mental health issues (dissociative identity disorder I believe). It broke my heart when Twice said “heroes only save good people.” Who decided they were bad people? Why weren’t they saved?

Also, can we talk about the quirkism? (Which I don’t know if that’s a real term within this fandom yet, it might be, but just to be on the same page, I mean quirk-based discrimination) You have people like Shinsou, who’s treated as villain even though he wants be a hero- solely because of his quirk. I believe Toga was also treated poorly because of the nature of her quirk as well (correct me if I’m wrong). And then you have Midoriya, who was harassed and bullied for not having a quirk at all. Clearly none of them have control over the way they were born, and yet they all had to deal with how society treats them because of the uncontrollable. (At this point I’m sure its clear there are a lot of parallels with the discourse around quirkism, racism, and sexism, which is a whole nother conversation).

Having good quirks also seems to get you a pass, or puts you outside the reach of the law. The only example I need for this is Endeavor and his children. Despite all the abuse he’s done that makes him a villain in my book, he stays the number 2 hero. That’s all I need to say. 

The suffering of all these individuals is a direct result of the failure of the government. And this isn’t a ‘government should have taken extra steps to help them.’ This is a situation where the government’s structure, including the sensationalized media and monopolization of quirk use, has actively attacked and oppressed people who otherwise would have been untargeted. 

This is a world of misery for them- the people who make up the underworld. We call them villains and criminals because they are- but I don’t think its fair to call all of them bad people. They definitely didn’t start out that way. They are the results of suffering. They are created by a society that solely aims to remove them from existence. This hero society is so unjust that its faults create its own villains. The villains they aim to stop came to be because of the ‘heroes’ in the first place. The irony there is painful, and I hate that it’s a sort of self fulfilling prophecy. 

The reason why I think it’s morbid is because there is no escape. Quirk society in its current state is undeniably a dystopia for many. But the issue is (and this was the crux of my argument in my paper) dystopia and utopia inevitably and consistently coinhabit space. What is utopia to one will be a dystopia to another. There is no way to get everyone to uniformly view society. 

What that means is, somebody will always be suffering in this society. At least, that’s the cycle that’s been set up. In the episode where Tamaki got shot with a quirk erasing bullet and Kirishima fought the gangster on quirk enhancing drugs, that gangster did say that this was ‘their time’ to rise. “It’ll be the age of those who live in the shadows.” They’re not looking for resolution. They’re looking for revenge. They want to flip the script and be the ones living in utopia while everyone else is subject to suffering. The concept of everyone living happily in harmony and true peace isn’t even in consideration. 

There seems to be no middle ground, no solution to the push and pull between the ‘heroes’ and ‘villains.’ The unfairness will continue to be passed around, and unless someone can break the cycle, attack the corruption of the system at its roots,

the problem is not going to go away. 

Sources!

[1] Claeys, Gregory, and Fatima Vieira. “The Concept of Utopia.” In The         Cambridge Companion to Utopian Literature. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013.

[2] Robinson , Kim Stanley. “Dystopias Now.” Commune, November 17, 2018.            https://communemag.com/dystopias-now/.

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