#god its been so long i genuinely thought i was aro | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

troquantary · 4 years ago

Text

Didyme, Part 2: Something, Something, Plato's Allegory of the Cave

Continuing from here, and we’re doing sub-parts for this bit. I’m genuinely surprised I had this much to say. (And fun fact, I almost lost the entire goddamn post, but fortunately I was copy-pasting into Word just in case. Not today, Satan.)

2.1. What Canon Tells Us

Didyme’s murder by Aro (and with Caius’ apparent assistance, either during or afterwards), is only mentioned on the page in Life and Death, the 10th Anniversary gender-swapped version of Twilight. Edythe/Edward mentions it briefly when discussing the painting of the leaders Carine/Carlisle brought back from Volterra, but it’s just background information with little narrative weight. I bring it up just to highlight Caius’ involvement and knowledge -- I’ll get back to that.

Now, here’s the “canon” backstory we have to work with. Per the illustrated guide, Didyme was Aro’s younger sister, and he turned her at some point after meeting Marcus, Caius, and Athenadora. Interestingly, the Guide doesn’t say anything about Aro returning to Didyme out of brotherly love; apparently he just wanted to see if she would have a powerful gift like his, only to be underwhelmed (”disappointed,” according to his Guide entry) by her actual ability -- she made people happy just by being around them. Then she and Marcus fell in love, sharing “the strongest romantic bond of any of the Volturi” (from Marcus’ Guide entry), and this prompted a suddenly very single Aro to seek out his own mate, Sulpicia. The Guide says Didyme “distracted” Marcus from Aro’s goals, and that the pair eventually made plans to split off on their own, leading Aro to murder Didyme so he could hold onto Marcus and his valuable gift. Although nothing written so far suggests that Aro even liked his sister, the Guide does state that Aro “truly loved her” and that his grief upon killing Didyme was genuine.

Apparently Caius’ role in all is was something Meyer thought up later, because none of the leaders’ Guide entries mention him being in on it. (You can’t see me, but I’m staring pointedly at Part One.)

2.2. Fuck Canon, Actually

(This just seemed like the funniest place for a cut. Continued below~)

I’ll be honest with you, person who’s persistent/unfortunate enough to still be here: very little about this murder scenario makes sense to me. I’m going to start with the “disappointing” nature of Didyme’s gift and that it was supposedly much less useful to Aro than Marcus’, because that’s just...stupid, frankly, and there’s no way Aro would have missed the inherent utility of Didyme’s gift. I don’t even have to read into anything to get this idea -- the Guide itself shows us how useful it is! It says right there in Marcus’ entry that Aro went off to turn Didyme, and returned with his sister, “along with the first members of the guard -- vampires who were drawn to Didyme’s aura of happiness.” That is a direct quote.

Just -- I practically shrieked when I read that. You’re telling me that Didyme’s gift was the stated reason their coven got its first subordinates, and I’m supposed to believe that Aro thought that was disappointing? Fuck off! Fuck off!! Even if Didyme’s happiness aura isn’t as powerful as Corin’s opium haze, well, Aro doesn’t have Corin yet, does he? He has every reason in the world to want to keep Didyme around, drawing other vampires to his cause -- even if most of those vampires aren’t gifted or skilled enough to join the guard, it’s still good PR.

At this early stage in the Volturi’s rise to power, it isn’t a good time to lose Didyme -- or any of his inner coven, really. Yet Aro apparently considered her disposable enough that he killed her. I can’t square this with what we know about Aro: that he’s still coherent despite holding god-knows how many people’s lives in his head; that he’s very intelligent; that he’s cunning, charming, and persuasive. Aro, once he learned they were thinking about leaving, would have tried to talk to Didyme and Marcus and done everything in his power to convince them to stay just a bit longer, until the Volturi’s position was more secure. And maybe he did; the timeline of all this is hazy, but nothing in the Guide suggests that Aro jumped straight to duplicity and murder. Clearly, though, whatever negotiations or arguments he presented failed. So what does their desire to leave the Volturi at this critical stage say about Didyme, or Marcus for that matter?

2.3. What It Says About Didyme and Marcus (Mostly Headcanon)

Brace yourself, because we’re into full headcanon territory now. To follow me, please refer to @therealvinelle ‘s meta about the larger mission of the Volturi and why they’re necessary, because I’m starting from the perspective that the Volturi are ultimately a force working in vampires’ and humans’ favor. While Meyer and the Guide would have you believe that Aro’s just power-hungry, actually looking at the impact of the Volturi and the benefits of enforcing secrecy shows that his broader vision isn’t just world domination, but establishing a world in which vampires and humans can both thrive and endure. There’s no way the rest of the inner coven was unaware of this goal; we know Aro talks a lot, so he’s certainly talked his coven’s ears off about this.

Now, we know very little about Marcus and what he was like before he was all dead inside. Based on what would be a logical balance of personalities, with Aro as lead decision-maker and Caius as ruthless enforcer, it seems likely that Marcus was originally the voice of reason and/or mercy. I also think Marcus would have had a strong sense of duty. The Guide says that Aro was the first friend Marcus had as a vampire, and I believe that Marcus cared about him very much and was committed to the Volturi. I think he would have been genuinely conflicted about leaving, especially considering the stabler, safer world the Volturi have been striving to build, and which they haven’t yet secured. Again, it’s a very bad time for any of the leadership to split off -- but in the end, Marcus and Didyme are going to do it anyway.

What for, though? Why leave? @theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin has an interesting take on that question here: that Didyme saw that she and Marcus would be locked into the Volturi life and a thankless existence for eternity and tried to opt out while she still could. I like it a lot, it’s a great post and that scenario makes sense, but the tone of it feels...too forgiving. Maybe that’s because I’m evil. But the way I see it, given the magnitude of the Volturi’s mission, and its (at best) very tenuous grip on power at the time Marcus and Didyme plan to leave (they haven’t even defeated the Romanians yet), jeopardizing the entire operation so that they can pursue their romance unburdened strikes me as...well, fundamentally selfish on some level, so much that I find myself side-eyeing Didyme and Marcus for it. Although to be clear, it’s not the desire to live their own lives apart from the Volturi that I find selfish, just the timing of their departure.

Honestly, I’d like not to vilify another female character if I don’t have to. Given everything I’ve just said, I see Didyme in much the same way as I see Bella: not a bad person, but someone with definite selfish tendencies. At best, she’s likely short-sighted or naive if she doesn’t see how leaving the Volturi at this stage is fucking them over in a big way. However, I hesitate to read into the happiness aura as a straightforward indication of Didyme’s fundamental goodness; I think she probably was kind, charming, and delightful to be around, hence the nature of her gift -- but that capacity for selfishness is still there. (I’m certain Meyer wants us to take her gift as proof of Didyme’s goodness, to reinforce how evil Aro is for killing her...but I think I’ve made my disdain for what Meyer wants me to think pretty clear.)

2.4. MURDER MOST FOUL

I am not saying it was justifiable or okay for Aro to murder his sister. I’m really not. It’s actually better, from a character standpoint, that it isn’t okay -- that Aro has to carry this with him for the rest of his life while Marcus sits in the throne next to him, reduced to a husk, so that in effect Aro has lost them both after all. It’s got that Greek tragedy element @theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin mentioned in her post. (Even better from that standpoint, the Guide implies that Aro found Chelsea relatively soon after killing Didyme, which compounds the tragedy.) I mean, it’s terrible, and it hurts me because I love Aro, but it’s compelling stuff.

What I am saying is, I can see how their insistence on leaving might have deeply hurt and offended him. And that brings me to my issue with the calculated murder scenario the Guide gives us -- I still think Didyme’s gift is too valuable for Aro to throw away by killing her in cold...venom (or whatever), even as the price for keeping Marcus in the fold. Plus, there’s the fact that Aro does love Didyme, and I imagine her gift makes it very difficult for people to think of harming her...when they’re calm, anyway.

Yeah, the only way I can really see the murder happening is if Aro killed Didyme in the heat of an argument about her leaving, possibly even by accident -- except you can’t accidentally kill a vampire, can you? It’s a very deliberate process wherein you have to dismember them and burn every piece, which also means it probably takes long enough that any irrational, overwhelming rage would wear off before you were done. But now that you’ve started....

I mean, at that point it would certainly be awkward to put your half-rubble sister back together, and Aro would be in a whole other load of shit even if he did. It’s possible, given what we’re told, that Aro could have lashed out and yanked Didyme’s head off before snapping out of it, only to realize that his sole option now is to finish the job. If he doesn’t kill Didyme now, she and Marcus won’t just leave, they’ll be sworn enemies of Aro from then on. And thanks to Didyme’s gift being the draw for a lot of the guard, and the inherently bad look of a leader who would brutally attack his own sister, a chunk of the guard would probably leave with them, destroying Aro’s plans. No, the only way to salvage it is to follow through.

Then Aro has to call in Caius for help with the cover-up, because it wasn’t actually planned and it’s just pure luck that no one walked in on the murder as it was happening.

And maybe Aro learns a hard lesson about learning to let people walk away, leaving the possibility open that they could be drawn in again. Because if Aro had just waited, he would have found Chelsea, and with her gift he could have had Marcus and Didyme back again.

Assuming everything didn’t fall apart as soon as they left, of course. But that’s a whole other what-if scenario.

#and those are my thoughts on didyme #...mostly #but i need a break now #twilight #twilight renaissance #twilight meta #i stared too long and the twilight abyss gazed back #didyme volturi #aro volturi #marcus volturi #sources cited:#therealvinelle #theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin #i'm going to go lie down

72 notes · View notes

genderbinaryisforlosers · 4 years ago

Note

everyone on the carte blanche for the ask meme

everyone? oh boy this is gonna get long ajfhdsf

JUNO

First impression: i, like a lot of people who get into the podcast without knowing a great deal about it, was expecting at most an ambiguously bisexual angst machine with a closely-guarded heart of gold. juno being an explicitly bisexual genderqueer angst machine is perhaps the most pleasant surprise of my life. the angst machine heart of gold characters were kind of my type at the time, so i loved him right away

Impression now: every time i think about juno’s arc from depressed mess held together by bad coping mechanisms, safety pins, and a few good strong puns into someone who can talk about his feelings, feel comfortable about being happy, and recognise when he needs to change, i want to cry about it a little bit. the depth of my love for juno steel has only grown along with him

Favourite moment: juno has a lot of great one-liners and i’m still a big fan of the “on the other hand i wasn’t wearing a watch” bit and who can forget such classics as juno finally deciding to stop moping over nureyev and move on only for him to open the door to his apartment and find nureyev sitting in the dark dramatically, but honestly nothing will ever hit me harder than his sudden, pissed-off declaration of “i can’t die yet, i still have shit to do!” in promised land. god.

Idea for a story: oh i have so many and i want to write most of them so no spoilers, but juno accidentally kidnaps a baby during a carte blanche heist and shenanigans ensue

Unpopular opinion: obviously we all know he’s dummy thicc but i feel like a lot of people forget he’s an actual genius, like the stuff he notices and how he strings it together is sometimes so obscure and he’s almost always right. oh, also juno is not skinny and i will not be taking criticism on that

Favourite relationship: this is so tough because every dynamic is so good, but i think it has to be juno and rita. those two are so good! the best best friends in the world!! i’m really a sucker for any dynamic that’s ridiculously in-sync so i loved these two as soon as juno saw rita’s notes in prince of mars and went “makes perfect sense to me” (which it probably didn’t, because rita, but he trusted that she knew what she was doing which is the important part)

Favourite headcanon: this isn’t really a headcanon but i still think about how juno is (was?) deathly afraid of heights but when he heard rex glass coming he still attempted to climb out of the window. either his aversion to working with dark matters/other people in general was so strong is overrided his fear, or his office was actually on the ground floor. not sure which of these is funnier.

NUREYEV

First impression: we’ve all seen the memes about nureyev knowing juno steel for one (1) day and deciding to Risk It All by leaving him with his name, look at this Hopeless Romantic, this utter DISASTER of a homosexual. the fact the very next time we hear from nureyev (at least directly) he’s patiently waiting in juno’s dark apartment to surprise him with a heist definitely supports this image.

Impression now: even after literally being inside peter’s head, i feel like we didn’t get a real sense of who he is until man in glass, where we find out he aggressively compartmentalises everything that causes him stress. he’s also distinctly someone who’s had his heart broken before, i think, which makes those first appearances of his very strange. but it does remind me of what juno says about diamond, and how he decided to provide the trust first and wait for the trustworthiness to grow in (only to get severely hurt), and i think that’s exactly what nureyev did. i am also... very uneasy with how suspicious he’s behaving this season because obviously i want to believe he’ll sort it all out and not betray the crew but... oof

Favourite moment: the beginning of what lies beyond pt1 where he’s affectionately bullying juno into taking care of himself? cleared my crops watered my skin etc etc etc

Idea for a story: i’d love to hear more about his past as a young thief idolising buddy and vespa (i can’t actually remember if that’s canon or fanon but anyway i wanna read it!)

Unpopular opinion: i think people often cling to an image of him that more resembles his first impressions in season 1 instead of seeing the depth that we’ve been given about his character in season 3

Favourite relationship: him and juno but honestly it’s a close call between them and his budding friendship with rita. even though she learned it by accident, his name is still a point of intimacy and it’s one less secret to keep around her which has to be a weight off his shoulders, at least a little? they seem like they could be really good friends once ultrabots is out of the way. juno steel love (and also bullying) zone activates whenever they’re together

Favourite headcanon: i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again - nureyev has never done a household chore in his goddamn life. he doesn’t know the water needs to be hot when you wash dishes.

RITA

First impression: honestly i’m not sure? i don’t remember having a big awareness of her in murderous mask but i remember loving her “note-taking” in prince of mars, i thought she sounded really fun and cute

Impression now: rita is really fun and cute, she’s also an extremely hardworking and dedicated woman who had the guts to throw in with a detective fired from the force and then invest all of her time and money into helping him help people.

Favourite moment: Rita Gets A Knife. enough said

Idea for a story: i don’t know honestly! i really struggle to write rita because her thought processes are so wild and i don’t think any story i could come up with would match mega ultrabots of cyberjustice.

Unpopular opinion: this shouldn’t be unpopular because juno steel himself shares this opinion but all future-jupeter headcanons are incomplete without rita also being a huge part of their lives

Favourite relationship: rita + franny 4ever obviously.. jk it’s juno & rita have you heard rita minute 3 they’re too adorable for this world. im still Soft over their conversation at the end of soul of the people when he said he couldn’t stay in hyperion anymore but he wouldn’t leave with the carte blanche if rita wasn’t coming because he was done leaving her behind, and she threw out all her hesitations on the spot and said call the big guy. speaking of, rita & jet are a close second. instant best friends i love them.

Favourite headcanon: i think this is basically canon now but rita being literally half the height of jet is so good

JET

First impression: “haha lorge funny man puts juno in the trash”

Impression now: jet sikuliaq is one of the dearest characters to me out of anything ever. he is a huge, menacing, polite, kind, sincere man who i would very much like to give me a hug. he’s the best aro ace in outer space and while being generally very levelheaded and straightforward, also takes every opportunity to fuck with juno because it’s very easy and very hilarious to him personally. he is everything my autistic acearo ass needed and i’m so glad to have him

Favourite moment: all of them every single one. him putting juno in the trash is of course a classic and every moment jet chooses to be funny makes my heart happy, but also every piece of genuine advice he gives. i’m a particular fan though of buddy recounting her years in the lighthouse and him saying he became concerned when she didn’t come downstairs at the usual time. “you took the door off its hinges.” “i was deeply concerned.” king of understatement

Idea for a story: again no spoilers for you but..... tools of rust time loop au

Unpopular opinion: this isn’t “unpopular” as much as it is unknown but jet is buddy’s queerplatonic partner and i will keep saying it until everyone believes it

Favourite relationship: jet and buddy,,, just everything about them. the way he suspects when she’s lying, the way she makes tea for him when she expects him to drop by. the fact he comes to check on her when she is 41 seconds late to the family meeting because it’s unlike her to be late and the last time she was late for something her brain was turning to radiation soup. but most especially the way she snaps at him to stay out of her business and he said he could not because he made her promise eight years ago to never stay out of the business of her health, no matter how many times she asked. they r literally in a qpr

Favourite headcanon: i don’t think this is true but i still think it would be funny if the ruby-7 used to be painted red but when jet got it he had it painted green because he Just Really Likes Green (as evidenced by his hovercycle). it’s very funny to me.

BUDDY

First impression: it’s been a minute since i relistened to time gone by but i’m pretty sure the first thing she ever says in the podcast is sliding up to depressed accidental whiskey thief juno and say “that’ll be ten million creds,” scaring the shit out of him, so needless to say i was in love instantly.

Impression now: my love for buddy aurinko has only grown and if it sounds like i already said that in this post it’s because i did about juno and it’s appropriate because the parallels are astounding. the heart of it all gave us such depth to buddy’s internal monologue and why she always sounds like she knows exactly what to say and what that’s like and honestly will i ever be over the heart of it all as an episode? unlikely. i think i’m gonna have a little piece of it in MY heart forever.

Favourite moment: everything she’s ever said is iconic as hell i especially like “in an impressive fit of hubris i’ve decided not to prepare my words for this vow” which made me laugh out loud but once again i must give it up for her iconic “I WANT TO LIVE” moment. honourable mentions to her taking rita out for ice cream and giving juno shooting lessons while she’s in her actual wedding gown. i love her

Idea for a story: buddy and vespa as sun/moon dieties.... that’s all

Unpopular opinion: stop drawing her with a fancy high-tech eye like the theia!! it canonically looks like garbage and it’s described in detail, please, i’m dying, also don’t minimise her scars you bastards

Favourite relationship: buddy and vespa invented romantic love and the entire carte blanche crew’s relationship to her is great but you know by now i’m a slut for buddy & jet out-of-this-world queerplatonic partners. the way she checks in on him during tools of rust to make sure he’s not relapsing and he comes to find her when she is 41 seconds late in the heart of it all to make sure she’s not having a heart problem!! it’s the trust,, the devotion,, the mortifying ordeal of being known

Favourite headcanon: she can sing. absolutely tears it up at karaoke. i’m right

VESPA

First impression: knife lesbian goes STAB. she will heal your wounds but she will be threatening to give you more the whole time

Impression now: she is extremely strong, heart-rendingly tender, and despite being in the older half of the carte blanche crew somehow has unmistakable little sister energy which makes her downright hilarious. i’m so glad she got to marry buddy and they’re official space wives now they’re so good for each other

Favourite moment: both from shadows in the ship, either “GUN!!” “KNIFE?!” (iconic) or when she clocks the dark matters drone pretending to be juno because it called her crazy and juno wouldn’t call her crazy. i’m always a sucker for “shapeshifter fails to fool mark because they Know Each Other Too Well” and it was just *chefs kiss* so good

Idea for a story: i really want to write something about when she was first staying at the lighthouse with buddy post-reunion, and getting to know jet and stuff. i think it would be cute

Unpopular opinion: i know vespa doesn’t canonically have lots of scarring but people who don’t draw her with scarring? cowards.

Favourite relationship: once again, although buddy and vespa invented romantic love, i just love the dynamic between vespa and juno so much. they’ve come so far with each other and their weird sibling dynamic gives me life. at the end of what lies beyond when juno says “we’re not gonna kill her, vespa” and instead of sounding full of Rage and Suspicion she’s like “whyyy notttt?” and he’s like “because i said so!” and that’s just good enough for her even if she’s a bit grumpy about it. i love it.

this took.. a hot minute to do! jshkfjsdgsa thank you dyl ily <3

#michaelburnnham #riley replies #be gay do crimes in space #the penumbra #juniverse

25 notes · View notes

stormyblue90 · 3 years ago

Text

Writing Tag Game!

Tagged by @my-soliloquy-chamber

How many works do you have on AO3?

Just 5 humble fics. All but one are oneshots. Ok one is actually a twoshot but...

What’s your total AO3 word count?

29069 (at the time of this post)

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Blessed by the Gods at 95

Patches at 75

Remembrance at 52

Flowering at 26

Under Your Scars with a humble 9

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Of course I do! Why wouldn’t I? Unless its hate or troll comments, but thankfully I don’t get those....

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Uhh... Remembrance. It has a bittersweet ending.

Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the strangest one you’ve written?

No. I’m not big on crossovers, at least ones that are meant to be taken seriously. However if they’re done for humor, or the crossover genuinely makes sense for the world to crossover. (for example Kingdom Hearts and any animated kids movie)

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Once. A long time ago when I was just STARTING to write fanfic as a teenager. It actually stoped me from writing ANY fic until fairly recently. Tragic really, because it’s likely I could’ve improved SO MUCH as a writer. I’ll admit, the fic I wrote back then WAS bad, but it was a simple Canon/OC oneshot I wrote while bored in school. And this was also back when Canon/OC ships were “cringe” “instant Mary-Sue” (which the OC of the fic was called), and just in general looked down upon.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I have NEVER written a single line smut EVER! I...honestly don’t know IF I ever will. It would end up being a matter of if I’m COMFORTABLE writing such scenes, which, if you asked me that 5 or 10 years ago, I’d say “EW GROSS! No way!” However now...I’m not entirely sure...

But I have been told once IF I did, I’d probably write some really good stuff. Apparently Aces and/or Aros can be like...scary good at writing sex and romance.... I know if I did, I’d focus primarily on the INTIMACY and SENSUAL aspect of it as that is sooooooo much more interesting to me than just raunchy, kinky, hard sex. I’d prefer to write “love-making” and not “fucking”. Yes there IS a difference IMO. The former allows the characters to show more of their characters, what they like, don’t like, exploring each other, LEARNING about each other and bonding closer!

I will NEVER write dub-con/rape scenes EVER!!!!! I don’t wanna read it OR write it...

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Once. LOOOOOONG time ago. I found it and confronted the “author”. It was straight up PLAGERIZED. They just changed the name of the character. Worst part was that it was a GIFT FIC for someone else and their OC! Thankfully the thief DID take it down and apologize.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope. Never thought about it honestly, but it sounds like it could be fun so long as there’s plenty of communication to make it coherent.... unless you want it to be an absolute disaster for funsies.

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Of ALL TIME? Uhhh.....I don’t really know. I’m not the biggest shipper to be honest. But frankly the one I’ve shipped the longest, since discovering “shipping” almost 20 years ago, would be Zutara (Zuko/Katara of Avatar the Last Airbender)

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Weeeeeeeell.... I’m HOPING Under Your Scars DOESN’T become this.... otherwise... hmm... Probably the Voltron Fix-it-Fic I started writing a few years ago, but never posted, because I essentially rage-quit the series. (the ONLY show I’ve rage-quit!)

What are your writing strengths?

I’m not sure honestly... Maybe writing (non-sexual) intimacy between characters? No one’s ever really told me what I’m GOOD at in my writing...

What are your writing weaknesses?

FINISHING A MULTI-CHAPTER FIC!!!! I’ve NEVER been able to do it! I hope I will be able to finish Under Your Scars.

Also, fight scenes. Like, I understand HOW to write them, but it’s writing the... “choreography” of the fight. Like...what moves are used, how its reacted to or countered, etc.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Uhm...for dialogue? Sadly I’m not bi or multilingual, and don’t trust Google translate to be accurate enough. So, unless it was a single word or phrase taught to me by a native speaker of that language, I wouldn’t use it. But I’d be sure to give a translation of course. Whether in the author notes, or have a character translate it in the story.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

I....think it was some (terrible) Kingdom Hearts fanfic I wrote with two friends in highschool, circa. 2007-2008...

The second was an ATLA fic (the one that got the hate comment)

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

You DARE ask me to choose? Might as well ask a parent who their favorite child is! But seriously, I....really don’t know or have a fav... There’s different things I like about all the stuff I’ve written.

I’m tagging.... whoever wants to do this....

#writing #tag game #my writing

1 note · View note

blessedarethebinarybreakers · 5 years ago

Note

Hey, so I'm force to go to this xenophobic church in Manhattan- they even have an organization where they go to abortion clinics and coerce people w/ uteruses to not go forward with the abortion (they are very open with promoting this organization). I stopped paying tithes to them a long time ago, because knowing what I know abt the intricacies of childbirth & what it's like to be LGBTQ+ in particular, I literally cannot support what the church is doing bc I believe its harmful (1)

Today my mom and I were talking about finances and I’ve been in a sort of bind recently because I’ve had to pay off credit cards, one of which I used to pay for repairs to my car & another person’s car when I got into an accident over the summer, plus I still have my biweekly car payments to worry about. I’ve been managing, but I dont really have much money to myself, and because everyone’s out at either work or school, I normally buy food for myself because no one is home to cook. (2)

My mom straight up told me that the reason why I have been broke is b/c I’m not paying tithes, which kind of took me off guard bc I thought it was because I wasnt putting in as much hours for school (I have a two day break on Monday-Tuesday but decided not to put in any extra hours because I didn’t want to overwork myself like last semester + my mental health has been extremely poor). (3)

Since she said that I’ve been in a sort of panic mode, that maybe I won’t be able to be myself in the future and get surgery/HRT and find a suitable partner (I’m an aro/ace trans guy and I desire to be in a qpp with another guy), which has been debilitating because I’ve been seriously struggling with my social skills, and have literally only two friends that I’ve been keeping contact with occasionally, though its difficult because we have all gone on separate paths due to life basically (4)

Anyways this is a super long ask but I felt like it needed context because the fact that I suck as socializing & making friends has affected my self-esteem and mental health to the point where I have thoughts of s*icide, among other things, including flashbacks of traumatic events that I wouldnt have otherwise remembered. Basically I wanted to ask- am I wrong for not paying tithes to this church? Will God punish me for not paying tithes to this church? (5)__________

Hey there, anon. I’m so sorry for the delay in answering this, I’ve been having some mental health issues of my own so I’ve been taking a little break from this blog. I hope that you are hanging in there, and that things might even be looking up for you since you sent this in.

I’m sorry that you are experiencing so much distress right now; and that your mom’s comments have added to it. I know that money is tight for you right now, but if at all possible, I recommend seeking professional help to guide you through dealing with the flashbacks of traumatic events and all that; some therapists offer sliding scale payment options for patients who need it. I know that’s not what you’re asking about though, so on to tithes.

I 100% think you’re making the right decision not offering your money to this church. You disagree with their ministry and do not see God’s will in it; giving them money would be contributing to those ministries.

People offer tithes (or a smaller fraction of their financial income) to their faith community as an expression of gratitude to God, a willing response to God’s activity in that faith community. You see God’s movement in a community, and you want to be a part of that movement; so you offer financial gifts to keep the movement going. Generosity should never be pressured out of a person, it should never feel like an obligation; if the Holy Spirit is moving you to give, you’ll feel a real desire to give.

Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 8:11-13 about our financial offerings coming from a place of desire, not obligation:

“And in this matter I am giving my advice: it is appropriate for you who began last year not only to do something but even to desire to do something—now finish doing it, so that your eagerness may be matched by completing it according to your means. For if the eagerness is there, the gift is acceptable according to what one has — not according to what one does not have.“

That above quote teaches us several things about offerings made to our faith communities, the first of which applies directly to your current situation, while the other two apply to giving in general:

It assures us that we should give what we desire to give – that desire and eagerness will come to us naturally when we truly hear God’s Word read, proclaimed, and acted out.

The quote also assures us that one only has to give “according to what one has, not according to what one does not have” – so even if you one day find a faith community wherein the Spirit moves you to desire to give, 10% of your current income is probably more than you have to give at the moment, and that’s okay.

Finally, Paul doesn’t specify finances in this quote – what you give to a church whose mission you believe God approves of doesn’t have to be money, especially if money isn’t something you have at the moment. It might be your time or your skills, your voice or your strength, your art or your presence – whatever unique gifts God has given you that you can use for the good of God’s world.

If you don’t see God’s activity at this church, and thus are not moved to a genuine desire to offer what money you can, don’t do it. God does not oblige us to give money just for the sake of giving it; it’s not a task to check off the list of things you need to do in order to “earn” God’s love or blessing in your life. You don’t have to do a single thing to “earn” God’s love and blessing; God gives these things freely to each of us.

Sometimes we don’t recognize that love and blessing clearly, because for better or worse God isn’t a micro-manager who swoops in and makes everything work out perfectly in our lives. Instead, humanity’s free will has built up systems that keep many of us poor, many of us oppressed; people who don’t “deserve” to suffer…suffer. Not from any fault of theirs, not because they failed to “earn” God’s help or because they did something to bring God’s punishment on them – but because that’s just the way this world is right now. It hurts people who should be protected. Even so, we trust that God is there – God is there with you in the midst of your distress, your struggles to make ends meet, your pain at the trauma you’re reliving.

You aren’t broke because you’re not paying tithes; you’re broke because our world is broken and forces students to work long hours on top of keeping up with schoolwork and mental health stuff. I’m so sad and mad on your behalf that you’re stuck in this situation, and I hope things improve really soon.

Friend, I promise you, there will be a future where you’re able to go on hrt, where you are able to live as your full self, where you have friends and a qp partner and where you are happy and loved. There will be a future where you find a faith community that you’re thrilled to give back to, whether that’s your time and talent or your money or all of the above, because you truly see God’s activity in the work they do. It sucks that these things aren’t all true for you here and now, but I believe in that future for you. In the meantime, I promise you: God’s with you, unconditionally.

#tithes #offerings #finances #suicide ideation mention #mental illness and health #Anonymous #essays

38 notes · View notes

foxgloveburning-inactive · 5 years ago

Text

words like poison in my throat

wc: 1,846

pairing: jonathan sims/crowe feather (self insert)

tags: Fluff, Aromantic, aro jonathan sims, Self Insert, i can have little a self projection, as a treat

summary:

Crowe Feather is not good at love.

He’s never been. It’s not something that comes naturally - not like singing or reading the cards. Everyone around him seems to be able to just… feel it, but whenever he sees someone that he could be interested in, he has to pry his brain for answers about whether he’s in love or just delusional. And those answers are never clear.

loving words don't come easy to everyone

read on ao3

Crowe Feather is not good at love.

He’s tried asking his deck before, but whenever he reads about love, it’s like all the emotion and power usually packed into flipping over that card disappears, and he is left with nothing but a dull, twisting frustration and sickness in his gut.

He figures it’s probably just because love seems to be so damn unreachable, so unpredictable that even the cards have no idea what its true mechanisms are, so he just sighs and slips away his deck and goes back to doing a mental tumbling routine about whether or not he even cares about whatever person he’s decided to try and take a fancy to.

That’s another thing. He has to try. No one else seems to have to do that. He’s never heard a love song talking about the process of forcing those feelings into his chest and wearing them like a cheap costume. He’s never seen a romcom with a protagonist who stumbles over himself trying to grasp at whatever he’s supposed to feel.

He feels utterly alone in the way he seems to experience love. And it kinda fucking sucks.

It’s not that he doesn’t want that! He does! A lot! He wants kissing, and cuddling, and holding each other tight, and going through life with a person that you’ve dedicated your whole heart to. And maybe the words, all the “I love you”s and “you make my heart skip a beat”s and “you’re my everything”s don’t actually mean anything to him, but they’re still a nice sentiment even if he feels like a disgusting liar when he wrenches them from his throat, so he plays along with whatever will make him feel like he’s doing this right for once.

(Truly, deep down - he never feels like he’s doing it right, but it’s the illusion that’s actually important to him. Even if he doesn’t want to admit it.)

So, imagine Crowe’s pure and utter delight when he meets Jon, and for once?

For once, it’s fucking easy.

Their first date is a breeze. He doesn’t find himself trying desperately to draw up empty words and feelings. Instead, they talk for hours, and Jon’s a little stuck up and he’s got his guard up at first, but walls break down easily and by the end of the day he’s laughing at all the same stupid jokes Crowe is.

They never say I love you, never talk about any kind of romantic feelings or mushy ideas about love at first sight. But they talk, and talk, and talk, and Crowe is finding that far, far better than anything he’s ever had before.

He decides to label this new feeling, this spark of connection, as love. Finally, he’s feeling love.

(And honestly, he’s not wrong. But maybe it’s not the kind of love Crowe thinks he’s feeling.)

He dives headfirst into this new experience, and suddenly he’s seeing Jon almost every single day, usually on his lunch break when he goes to visit him down in the Archives (despite how odd that building makes him feel). They still don’t talk of romance - instead, they talk of everything else, and the words flow from Crowe’s mouth easily and readily.

Even the first time he gives Jon a kiss on the cheek - not even thinking about it, a kiss goodbye as Crowe realizes he needs to head back before his lunch break ends - feels natural, normal. It feels good, makes his chest flutter and makes his heart soar. Jon is flustered, stammering and more nervous than Crowe’s ever seen him but he’s smiling a real, genuine smile and brushing fingers over the place Crowe pressed his lips to.

When everything begins to happen, they still stay strong, and the connection they have only grows and toughens, weathering against the storm that has become their lives.

Nothing that whatever fucking awful fear gods control the world can throw at them even comes close to breaking them. They are in love, Crowe knows. They are in love and love is the most powerful fucking thing on the planet and maybe in this God-forsaken universe.

A lot happens, and they both change. For the better and for the worse. But by the end of it all, they are together, and they know that they are in love.

But they’ve never said it.

Years later, as they both relax in a cottage, bought with the stolen money of a certain avatar of the Lonely, they’ve still never said the words that most people would consider absolutely paramount to a stable relationship.

Because for all the things they’ve been through and for all the love that has grown, the words still feel foreign on Crowe’s tongue, heavy like a weight in his throat, blocking them from surfacing. Jon never asks, and frankly, they don’t have time to consider it at all, so it never comes up. Crowe is grateful for that.

But they’ve got all the time in the world now.

They’re on the couch one night, the TV playing but not being watched (ironically). Crowe is nestled under Jon’s arm, snuggled as close as they can get without some kind of horrific body horror. It’s comfortable, but Crowe can feel the tension in the air - something like words unspoken that make dread build in his gut.

He knows what’s coming, and as much as he doesn’t want it to happen, he’s going to let it. Because he is in love with Jon, and saying as much will not be hard, even if the words taste like empty bile.

Jon starts to say something, then hesitates, leaving the breath hanging in the air between them.

“Crowe, have we ever said I love you?”

Crowe shifts. “No, I don’t think so.”

Jon is quiet for a moment, and Crowe braces like he’s about to fucking break up with him. (Those are more words that taste awful to him - although not for the reasons you’d think, because ‘breaking up’ implies things to everyone else that Crowe does not like to think about.)

“Hm,” Jon says simply. “Is this… something we should talk about?”

“I mean, it’s not like it’s caused problems for us so far,” Crowe points out, and he tries to make it sound casual but there is a defensive bite in his tone that he can’t hide.

“Yes, but… shouldn’t we address it?” Jon asks. “If only to figure out… why?”

Crowe swallows. “...and if we arrive at the conclusion that it’s better left unsaid?”

“Well, then we just won’t say it,” Jon says, and he makes it sound easy.

“S’pose you’re right,” Crowe says.

“Where do we even start with that?”

“I guess,” Crowe starts, then trails off, gathering his words carefully. “What we… feel is probably a good starting place. If we feel like those words are even… accurate.”

“Right,” Jon says, quietly, like he’s just been confronted with another piece of a puzzle he thought he finished. “...can you start?”

Crowe swallows. He does not want to start but that’s more of a symptom of not wanting to say anything at all, so he pushes it aside. He knew he’d have to talk about this at some point, and it was better to be honest now than just prolong the inevitable.

“Well, I… I do… I care about you,” Crowe says, drawing it out so he can properly organize his thoughts. “A great deal. I hope you know that. Whatever I say, I care about you more than words can say and I feel like you’re my best friend and I miss you terribly when you’re gone. But…

But love has never felt like the word for what I feel about you. Even if it’s accurate, it still… feels wrong, somehow. Like if I say it, I’ll be… lying. And I’ve done it before, I’ve lied to others, but that’s not what I want to do with you. I don’t want to put on the same song and dance when I know it really is just a performance. I wanna be honest.”

Jon blinks, and says nothing. Crowe feels like the world is fucking falling away. He’s ruined everything, he’s absolutely sure of it, and all he wants to do is take it all back and say he was joking, but it’s not like that would work.

Then, he chuckles, and it’s soft and makes Crowe feel at least a little better. It helps him ease into what Jon says next, so it’s not as much of a cold water shock.

“I know how you feel.”

“You do?”

“Yes, and I - I’ve been dreading telling you because I thought that you would think that meant I didn’t actually care for you or love you,” Jon explains. “But I do, it’s just - it’s not in the way everyone else would, it’s not… it’s not romantic, it’s different than that. I think maybe… I’m not even capable of feeling that way. Like that part of my brain just… doesn’t exist.”

Crowe is left with nothing to say because Jon has said all of it and he cannot believe that what he was feeling even had words and that Jon could even explain it much less feel the same exact way.

He just sits there, wondering why it never hit him before, why he never fit the puzzle pieces together. Of course he can’t feel love the same way other people do - he can’t feel romantic love at all. It’s always been forced, it’s always been wrong, and it was always a mask for other things, other feelings. He feels like he’s watching his life flash behind his eyes and suddenly make sense, like the foreshadowing to a plot twist he never saw coming.

“Yeah, I - yeah,” he says, finally, after a long time. “Yeah.”

There’s a pause, and the silence is comfortable, but he’s still got worry in his chest.

“This isn’t going to make anything… different, right?” he asks, slowly.

“Not like it’s affected anything so far, so hopefully not,” Jon says. “We seem to have figured out accidentally.”

Crowe snorts with a laugh. “Well, glad we got that sorted,” he says.

Jon laughs too, and it warms Crowe from the inside. “Me too,” he says.

Crowe does love Jon. Really. Truly. Maybe not in the way other people would expect him to - maybe not even in the way he expected himself to. But he does.

And maybe, one day he’ll be able to say it without feeling like he’s lying, without the connotations everyone else seems to place on those three words, but for now, he’s alright letting the silence and a gentle kiss speak to them instead.

#my fics #the magnus archives #tma #jon #crowe #eye love you #v proud of this one #give it some luv pls

4 notes · View notes

sciendere · 5 years ago

Text

What’s This?

Snowdeke fluff, post S7 in my self indulgent headcanon where everyone gets a happy ending and absolutely nothing bad happens to anyone.

Summary: The holidays can be stressful, especially when it’s your first Terran Christmas and you’re still learning how to properly people. Deke is trying to help Snowflake navigate the holidays through the help of movies, and she finds herself relating in particular to the misadventures of one Jack Skellington. A series of scenes of Snowflake discovering and trying to understand Yuletide, as set to the lyrics of What’s This? from The Nightmare Before Christmas. Inspired by my Snowflake Christmas headcanon post. Just tumblr now, this is the first fic I’ve completed in literal years and I’ve lost my AO3 login information because I’ve never really had anything to put there until tonight. Enjoy my odd little story please!

Adjusting to new cultures is never an easy thing. At least that’s what Deke kept repeating to himself under his breath as he tried, with his limited modern-day Earth knowledge, to help Snowflake acclimate herself to Terran life. She’d managed a basic grasp of most mundane daily situations- be friendly, be polite, and knives stay in your pocket- but special occasions, holidays in particular, were still a bit foreign to her. Routine was so much easier, especially when for years it was literally the only constant in her life. Something he even understood, so when words failed him, he had a secret weapon- passwords to every streaming service he had. Television and movies were his teacher, and now they were hers. December had come before they knew it, and as she watched the Thanksgiving Day parade, confused and bewildered by the strange-to-her things on display, he realized the time had come to teach her about the winter holidays, Christmas in particular. Christmas meant parties, parties meant company, and company meant the fiancee needed to be on her best and least embarrassing behavior. This was already a bit of a tall order for Snow, and for the most part, Deke let her eccentricities slide as long as there were no injuries or casualties, but he also didn’t want her to feel left out. “So,” he said one day, handing her the remote to the TV like a proud father handing his child the keys to their first car, “Christmas is coming. You need to learn about it.”

“Ooh, is it binge-watching time again?” she asked. Her eyes lit up. “I love binge-watching!”

“It’s binge-watching time,” Deke replied. “Your mission: gather as much intel on the Terran celebration of Christmas as you can. Preferably in the next week or so. Parties start early, yo.” “Mission accepted!” she squealed. She snuggled into the beat up couch in their apartment’s living room, making herself comfortable. “Great, have fun,” he said. “You want me to order pizza or anything?” “You know my regular order.” Deke rolled his eyes. Engaged life had its ups and downs, and one of them was having to recognize your woman, as much as you might have in common with her, will always disagree with you on extremely important topics. He sighed. “Pepperoni, canadian bacon, and pineapple,” he said, disgusted and horrified but still a supportive man to the very end.

“That’s my boy,” she said.

~ A few hours later, stacks of pizza had been devoured by both of them during that evening’s Christmas movie marathon, and Deke had dozed off beside Snow on the couch. They’d worked their way through several of the classics- Elf, Muppet Christmas Carol, How the Grinch Stole Christmas, Miracle on 34th Street, and A Christmas Story- and Snow clicked her way lazily through the titles on the screen, looking for one that really caught her eye without Deke’s helpful advice to guide her. She’d come to understand the holiday a bit from them, but it was still so foreign. The movies were good, but she just didn’t grasp entirely the sentiments behind them. One in particular truly stood out to her, one that from the poster art didn’t even look like much of a Christmas movie at all, but instead, bore a smiling dapper cartoon skeleton man. “The Nightmare Before Christmas?” she read off the screen. It was certainly different from the other titles she’d seen. “Awesome.” She hit play on the menu and watched as the stop-motion puppets filled her screen, already in love with the morbid imagery. Finally, a movie that spoke to her soul. Deke woke up about half way into the movie, to find Snow beside him paying rapt attention to it. “Huh what’s this… oh Nightmare Before Christmas? Always watched it at Halloween myself but I guess it’ll do too.” “This movie is amazing! Jack’s just like me.. He just wants to learn and figure out Christmas and he sang a whole song and he’s just trying to make Christmas for everyone!” Snow pointed to the screen, where Jack was puzzling over the secret to Christmas. “See? That’s me now,” she said. Deke just smiled, happy his woman was happy. Maybe she’d figure out this Christmas thing in time… ~

Nightmare became a favorite for her over the next few days. Though she still puzzled over Christmas, Deke had begun to walk her through the holiday by explaining it to her the best he could, but late at night she’d return to Halloweentown, feeling a little less alone in Jack’s bewilderment at a world he loved but also didn’t totally understand. Of all the songs, “What’s This?” captured her feelings best, she thought, not just about Christmas, but getting used to another world entirely.

~ What's this? What's this?

There's color everywhere

What's this?

There's white things in the air

What's this? “So.. the white ornaments on the trees are-”

Snowflake had never cut Deke off faster, and she was used to him saying several stupid things a day. “I swear to gods, Deke, if you even try to explain the concept of snowflakes and snow to me. Like I don’t know what my own damn name means. It’s the one thing I DO get about the holidays.” She smiled, but it was one of her smiles laced in venom and dried blood on the blade of a dagger, one where you were reminded, and fast, she’d spent years as the galaxy’s deadliest assassin, and she could go back to that life anytime if she really wanted.

He chuckled nervously but knew she meant business, even if she was joking. And God help him if he ever wound up on her bad side. “Yes’m,” he said.

“False advertising, though, there’s none out here right now even though it’s winter. I feel like it’s just a tease to throw those picturesque landscapes at you when we don’t know what the weather on the 25th will be at all just yet. This is a planet with varying climates, is it not?” “Well, yes…”

“Then why is it being advertised like we’re on a frozen planet?” “Snow, honey, it’s stylistic, just don’t overthink it. Don’t overthink most of it. In fact, thinking? Highly overrated in general.” “First time you’ve made sense all day. You know, though,” she said, “it’s not hard to pretend half the songs on the radio right now are actually about me. Because everyone here just loves me that much.” “You were wanted for murder and larceny in five states before I bribed Daisy into hacking their law enforcement’s networks to clear your name.” And it was expensive as hell too, he thought to himself. “Let it Snow. Is about me.” “Right, right,” Deke said. “You’re right.”

What's this?

There are people singing songs

What's this?

The streets are lined with

Little creatures laughing

Everybody seems so happy

“So you’re just telling me people go out in big groups and sing in public places, not even for money, and no one really cares? And they’re called… Curlers?” Swing and a miss, Deke thought, but he gave her points for genuinely trying. The two were on a park bench listening to a choir sing in the city park. “Carolers. Curlers play a weird ice sport with brooms and a rock.” “Who’s Carol? What’s she got to do with it? Should I know about her? Is she the lady statue over there?” Snowflake pointed to a nearby church’s Nativity scene and Deke quickly pushed her hand down, praying the awkward stares from passerby stayed at a minimum.

“It’s just another word for song, they just.. They sing. To make people happy, make them remember stuff. It’s fun.” She still struggled at the idea of being a street performer just for the enjoyment of it, not sure why anyone would do anything like that without it getting them money, but it was simultaneously the most adorable thing she’d ever heard. “I’m glad they’re doing it. Their singing is pretty.” ~ Oh, look

What's this?

They're hanging mistletoe, they kiss

Why that looks so unique, inspired

It was the afternoon and Snow couldn’t help but notice the weird little bit of twigs hanging over the doorway of the kitchen. “Deke, there’s plants on the doorframe! What have you been up to this time?” “Decorating?”

She reached for the leaves the best she could with her tiny frame and sniffed up into the air. “Mistletoe,” she said. “We had this on my planet. Leaves and berries are poisonous. Really good for if you want to take someone out without a lot of mess- is this a present? For me? Who do you need-” “Wait wait wait- Snowflake NO, no one is getting poisoned.”

She frowned. “Waste of good mistletoe if you ask me. What is it for, then?” “So… you hang mistletoe from doorways, and if you and your love walk under it… you kiss.” “We kiss under the poisonous, parasitic bush?” She was confused but intrigued by this strange custom. “Look, it’s tradition, don’t ask questions, I don’t know either.” “And I thought Terrans were soft… that’s the most badass thing I’ve ever heard of in my life. Kiss me under the poison.” “You really don’t need to put it like that-” Deke said, but before he could finish, Snow had pulled him in for a kiss. One he happily returned. He wasn’t about to waste some good mistletoe, after all. ~ They're gathering around to hear a story

Roasting chestnuts on a fire

Snow threw a copy of The Night Before Christmas across the bedroom. “No, I’ve tried to understand so much of this holiday, most of it I’m coming around to, but this? This is where I draw the line.”

“Sweetie, it’s a kid’s book, it’s not that big a deal-” “No, I’m not upset about a book,” she said, “This… this Santa? No sense at all,” she said. “The sleigh is just magic, like any other kid’s story, you really don’t have to try that hard to understand it.” “Oh no,” she replied, “the sleigh makes perfect sense to me. Santa knows what’s up, you put in your coordinates, fiddle with a few things, the ley lines get you to the nearest destination. Easy, basic dimensional travel, even if it might be a bit more efficient if he didn’t insist on using reindeer. Makes all the sense in the world to me, the rest of you all just need to get on our level. But everything else about the big man… No.”

“I’m going to hear about your problems with him whether I want to or not, aren’t I?” Deke asked. “Bingo,” she said. “You people are just okay with a man in a red suit breaking and entering? To leave presents for children? A man in velvet and fur does that, it’s holiday spirit, I do that, and it’s ‘creepy’ and ‘wrong’ and ‘next time, Snowflake, just knock’” “I warned you Nana and Bobo have been Terran all their lives and they were going to take your ‘extreme baby surprise’ a bit differently than you thought they would.” “And I told you it’s good for the little brat, keeps them on their toes and gives them a bit of exciting mystery in life. So I get why the Terran children love this story so much, even if I think it’s a case of double standards. But the man’s clothes are simply not stealthy or tactical. You can’t sneak in red, especially on your mythical white Christmases, you’re going to stick out from a mile away! And don’t get me started on the chimney… what happens if you don’t have one. We don’t have one, would Santa just climb in through the window? Lockpick?”

Deke nodded. She made several points, even if it was a bit much for her to approach Santa through the perspective of her area of expertise. “I got nothing on those last two points.”

“He goes to all that work… for snack food,” Snow said. “At least you lot could tip your home invaders a bit better. I’d expect at least large sums of money, in small unmarked bills, for that kind of performance.” Deke nodded. Milk and cookies really did seem like an unfair trade-off for overnight delivery. “I hear what you’re saying but that’s just the Christmas spirit for you, he’s grateful just for the snacks. He does it to be giving. At least, I think that’s supposed to be the point of it all.”

His reply took her aback. She would rather lose her right hand than admit Deke was right in this conversation, easily, but at the same time, she could see the little nugget of truth in what he had to say. One that made her stop and think. Snow pulled herself out of bed and walked across the room to pick the book up. “But all that aside, it’s a lovely story,” she said quickly. “Even if nothing about it makes sense.” “You never make sense. Like. In general.” “I know. Get used to it, because we don’t do sense in this household.” “Wouldn’t have you any other way.” ~ What's this?

In here they've got a little tree, how queer

And who would ever think

And why?

They're covering it with tiny little things

They've got electric lights on strings

“This one,” she said, “this is the perfect ornament for the dead tree.” Snow waved a Christmas ornament in front of Deke’s face in the packed gift shop, a kitten in a gift box holding the banner “Meowy Christmas.”

“For the last time, it’s called a Christmas tree,” Deke said. “Even if it… is… a dead tree. Technically.”

“Well the dead tree needs a festive Flerken on it,” she said, putting the bauble in his shopping basket. “They’re cats here, snowbunny,” Deke whispered, “cats.”

“Cat, Flerken, potayto potahto, isn’t that how it goes? We have to buy these too,” she said, putting a box of round glass ornaments into the basket. Deke looked in and was unsurprised to see glittering snowflakes painted on all of them.

“These are just regular ball ornaments we have plenty of- oh,” he said. He knew despite her original misgivings about the guarantees of weather, the snowy motifs made her feel a little less alone and out of place, and had been playing along for a while with her insistence they were about her. “Of course we need them.”

“That’s how everyone will know the tree is mine,” she said proudly.

“We have enough now,” Deke said. “Our tree isn’t that big, and we still have lights and garland for it-” “No,” she insisted, and another boxed ornament was in her hand. “Just one more?” The ornament was a ceramic retro styled semi truck, decked out in Christmas lights and wreaths. Deke looked at it, and spent a second in confusion as to why she’d want such a mundane thing on the tree, until it clicked. Despite the hard times she’d had in her past, she still had a few fond memories of her adventures with the crew- Jaco in particular- and an occasional homesickness for her intergalactic, interdimensional home for so many years. And for all her confusion, she’d seemed to figure out part of Christmas was celebrating the past. “We.. we never had Christmas… or much of any holidays, really, it happens when you can’t really stay in one place for too long, on there… but it’d be like this, if we had,” she said. “You know.. Just in memory of the family who couldn’t make it.”

Deke nodded. He’d lost his family going back in time too, and understood how Snow felt. The tree was covered in lemons as a sort of nod to his past, and adding snowflakes and trucks to that mix just seemed right.

“You’re right,” he said. “We’ll buy this one more thing.” “One more? Oh no,” she said, and in her hands was a strand of lights with clear snowflakes around the bulbs. “That dead tree isn’t done until you can barely see tree under it.”

Deke smiled. She was starting to get it.

The smell of cakes and pies

Are absolutely everywhere

“What’s your favorite sweet?” Deke asked, out of nowhere at breakfast on a cold December morning, a few days before Christmas.

“Huh?”

“Nana and Bobo are coming Christmas morning. So we’ll be doing the cooking this year and having our dinner with them. I thought I’d make the actual dinner, you could maybe do the baking and something sweet for dessert? I know you love sweets.”

Snow thought for a moment, then started listing things, counting them off on her fingers. “Cookies.. Pies.. cakes.. Bread-” She stopped suddenly.

“What’s wrong?” Deke asked. “I thought you loved all the treats you’ve been trying this month.”

“I do, they’ve all been divine. I just thought of my options for baking and then I thought of how much Jaco would love this time of year… He taught me a few things and I can probably use that knowledge to make just about anything, but it’s just not the same without him there to give me advice.” Her blue eyes grew big with bittersweet memories and Deke could see the sparkle of tears forming in them. Her sad face always destroyed him, knowing all the pain and loss her expression held. Deke grabbed for her hands and held them tightly.

“We have cookbooks… we can call Nana for advice, she’s a biochemist, baking is just chemistry you eat… we can watch videos if you get stuck. I know it won’t be the same, and I know nothing will ever replace what he meant to you, as a big brother.”

Snow nodded.

“But he’s also always right there in your heart, no matter what,” Deke said. “Nana taught me that about loss, people never really leave us, as long as we remember them. So bake the most delicious Christmas treats you can, and make him proud. And as long as you do that, as long as you use what you learned from him, Jaco will be with us.”

“You’re right,” she agreed. “I’ll do the best baking anyone’s ever tried, and it’s all going to be in his memory.” “That’s the spirit. So what are you making, then?” Deke asked her.

“Everything!”

The sights, the sounds

They're everywhere and all around

I've never felt so good before

This empty place inside of me is filling up

I simply cannot get enough

Navigating last minute shopping downtown was the last thing Deke expected to be a challenge for the two of them, but it had become one. It was a case of Snowflake’s natural, corvid-like attraction to shiny, sparkly objects- and Deke trying to stop her before her natural kleptomaniac impulses could kick in-against her lack of acclimation to so much sparkling, bright, merry surroundings. Spending a good part of your life in a dimly lit truck was something that stuck with you for a while, and even on the most neon lit planet she’d paid a visit on her journey, nothing could top the spectacle of Earth during the Christmas season. Every surface sparkled and shone with bright lights and glitter and tinsel and foil, every storefront played happy tunes about warm feelings, and the jingle of bells was never too far, as though magic simply floated through the atmosphere at that time of year.

It was everything Snow ever loved, but it was also so, so much, almost too much for her at times. The sensory overload tired her out and she quietly pulled on Deke’s arm, guiding him to a nearby bench. He understood immediately and followed her to sit down beside her.

“I think I’m finally starting to understand this Christmas,” Snowflake said. “It’s still strange to me in a lot of ways, but whatever, life is boring without a little strangeness, isn’t it?”

“Guess that means as long as I’ve got you my life will never be boring, then,” Deke replied. Snow playfully punched him in the arm, even though she knew he was right.

“I’ve seen so much in my short life and so many different worlds but this is the first I’ve seen where everyone spends a month just being kind to one another, giving out of the goodness of their hearts, inviting others into their homes to share food and company and good times, just loving each other. Before I came here… we didn’t have a lot. We were poor constantly, we only really had each other, and we ate almost every meal like it was our last because we never knew when our next would be coming. It’s so different going from that… to all this.”

Deke held her tight. “But you know things are different for you now, right? You don’t have to worry anymore, you know that.”

“I do, and that’s why I understand. Because I feel like that’s what all this is about. The winter is dark and cold and long, and sometimes, people don’t have what you do, and we just have each other. So we make everything brighter and warmer and share what we have with people who might not. We remember the people we love who might not be here. And it makes that darkness just a little easier to get through, if we get through it together.”

Deke was at a loss for words. He himself had never considered Christmas that way, but what she had to say was absolutely right. The two were from such different backgrounds, but in the end, they weren’t that different, two people who were thrown from their normal into something totally new. He was proud of her for coming to that conclusion by herself, because deep inside, it sorted things out for him, too.

“You know, I don’t understand as much as I pretend to sometimes, in fact I understand literally nothing, but I think you’re right.”

“I figured it out with your help. I’m so grateful I have you to help me learn and feel less alone, less weird, less different. You’re better than any present anyone could ever give me.”

“Really? I just do my best…”

“It’s all we really can do, isn’t it?”

I want it, oh, I want it

Oh, I want it for my own

I've got to know

What is this place that I have found?

What is this?

Christmas Town, hmm

It was Christmas morning, and the grandparents were due, and Deke was mildly nervous about how well the future granddaughter in law would go over with them. Although it took a while to get them acclimated to their… eccentric… new family member, Fitz and Jemma, on the whole, were able to move past their initial misgivings and find aspects of her they could both admire and focus on, rather than the fact a woman they met after she tried to murder one of their found family, would soon be married into theirs. “Just… try to not horrify them too much,” he reminded her that morning. “I know in-laws can be difficult, but I think we can manage the best Christmas ever as a family, too.”

“Deke, I’ll be fine,” Snow reassured him. She was dressed for the festive occasion, wearing a knit sweater, covered, of course, in silver foil yarn snowflakes. The words LET IT SNOW filled the front of it. “It’s not like I’ve never met them before.” She reached into the oven and pulled out a tray of gingerbread people to cool. Sitting on the kitchen table was an array of the goodies she’d stayed up all night baking. After all, she needed something to do to pass the time in case Santa paid them a visit, so she could sit down with him and teach him basic stealth principles. Platters of cookies in various shapes and varieties- snickerdoodle stars, sugar cookie snowflakes, and a small pile of shortbread butterflies- and a big basket of fluffy herbed rolls, a recipe she’d learned years ago from Jaco, covered almost every surface. “What do you think? They’re going to love it.”

Deke smiled. “It’s great but.. Where am I going to put the turkey, or just about anything else?”

“We have a whole living room,” Snow said, and Deke raised a finger and opened his mouth, ready to point out maybe that was a better place for the sweets, but he wasn’t about to be a buzzkill when she was in such an excited mood.

“Right, right, living room turkey. Classic Christmas tradition. Right.” This was going to be a fun one to explain to Nana and Bobo… who were ringing the doorbell that very minute.

“I’ll get it-” Deke insisted, but Snowflake was already opening the door to welcome the two in. “Merry Christmas!” she squealed, in a cheerful singsong voice. Fitz tried to dodge her embrace by sidestepping her, but her well-trained reflexes were faster, and he found himself in an awkward hug from the tiny woman, sending desperate looks Jemma’s way. His wife gave him a look that said, without any words, oh no, she’s your problem now. “Bobo!”

“Pleasedon’tcallmethat,” Fitz muttered under his breath. Jemma helpfully pulled Snow off him to give her adopted future granddaughter in law a hug, only for Deke to quickly swoop in on his grandpa before he could even enjoy his newfound freedom. Snow was surprised. She’d always had a harder time getting through to Nana, but maybe it was the holiday spirit bringing them a little closer today. Just a bit more of that magic she’d never totally understand, but that was fine.

“Oh, Snow, how have you been hanging in there?” Jemma asked her.

“Baking!” Snow said proudly. “So many cookies in the kitchen, and more coming, please eat them so Deke doesn’t have to put the turkey in the living room!” Jemma mouthed something that looked like “what?” to Deke and he replied silently with one of his usual “don’t ask” shrugs.

“Great, I need coffee. We grabbed the redeye flight and I wasn’t about to pay ten dollars at the airport,” Fitz said. “Bloody crooks.”

“Also in the kitchen, unless Snow finished it in the ten minutes since I made the pot,” Deke said. He was eager to diffuse some of the awkwardness that was growing in the apartment. A little awkwardness might be part of the holidays, too, but it seemed to run more in this family than others. A little strangeness keeps life from being boring, that’s what Snow said, he reminded himself. But if he could help it, he preferred to not exhaust the entire day’s supply this early in the morning.

After a delicious Christmas dinner -where the turkey, thankfully, remained on the kitchen table- the Fitzsimmons-Shaw-Snowflake family gathered in the living room to enjoy one another’s company by the fireplace. Card games were played, stories were told, and everyone just seemed to come a little closer together.

“Hey Snow,” Deke said, during a bit of a lull, as their feast began catching up to everyone and making them tired, “why don’t you put on a Christmas movie for us?”

“I’d love to!” she said. “Deke taught me about Christmas watching these, and you know? I really love Earth more now. It’s the only planet that does all this.” She turned the TV on and from the menu, flipped over to the movie that had been making her feel like she truly belonged over the last few weeks, the one she knew almost by heart. The soundtrack kicked in and a voiceover started. “Now, you’ve probably wondered where holidays come from… if you haven’t, I think it’s time you’ve begun-”

“Snow, are you sure you want to go with this one?” Deke asked, realizing oh god, she’s really going to play Nightmare Before Christmas for Nana and Bobo. Not Elf, not Christmas Vacation, this one.

“Of course! It taught me so much, the least I can do is share that with your grandparents,” she said. Deke looked desperately at Jemma and Fitz, hoping for at least disapproving or bewildered expressions from them to convince Snow- well, really, him, and he knew this- that this was a bad idea, but to his surprise, they seemed okay with her offbeat choice.

“That’s so sweet,” Jemma said. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen this one, either.”

Deke shrugged. If the grandparents were happy, so was he. He poured everyone another mug of hot cocoa, as This Is Halloween started playing in the background,

Sometimes the best gifts at Christmas didn’t come in packages. Sometimes the best gift was the gift of family, the gift of memories, the gift of time spent with those close, and if this Christmas brought his family, new and old, closer together, then for him, it was truly a Christmas worth celebrating.

#agents of shield #snowdeke #team earth aos #deke shaw #snowflake #aosfic #christmas fic #fluff fic #christmas #i hope this is good since i've not written in years #but nightmare before christmas meant a lot to me growing up and i feel like for snow it probably has that same effect #of outcasts and weirdos still being able to be good and loved #in a lot of ways the truckers make me feel the same way nightmare did as a teenager so it just feels natural to write this story #anyway enjoy my first fic in like at least three years

8 notes · View notes

livingasaghost · 5 years ago

Text

is this too personal? should it go on my private journal blog? maybe so. but i don’t fucking care.

listen i know to fall in love is like THE PEAK of the human experience (for some people, or at least that’s what the allo world has led me to believe) and i do in fact know it EXISTS like i know true love is real and it’s out there and people are living a fairytale where someone will stay married to you for like 30+ years and they will do ANYTHING you ask them too just bc they think you’re cool but like.........the fuck of it all is that i still believe romance isn’t meant for me

way back when i started this blog when i was but a dumb high school child i would always get pent up on line UGH ALAS NO ONE WILL LOVE ME I AM GROSS AND STUPID! (which like...valid) and i kept feeling shitty bc everyone was falling in love (none of those couples save the one shitty one survived that hellhole) and no boys would pay attention to me (me, a girl who stayed at home 90% of the time, did no extra curriculars outside of guitar lessons, and did not EVER interact with the boys in her classes unless forced to) and also i think i just hated myself (still valid sometimes) ...wait where was i going with this...OH YEAH i kept feeling sorry for myself bc NO ONE WOULD EVER LOVE ME and it felt like some huge travesty that no guy would ever tell me he thinks i’m special and beautiful and that he would do my laundry for me if i asked (the golden standard honestly). which like...in some ways, might be true. i do think true love is special and i think everyone deserves a shot at finding that, but i think it’s been cool to see my views on all this change over the past few years.

it’s not that i don’t believe in love. it’s not even that i believe i’m undeserving of it or that no man will ever find me attractive (bc honey i am GORGEOUS and i don’t CARE). like i think if i put myself out there and did try to go on dating apps or meet people at parties or go to bars i COULD do it. like i DID go on a date last year and that guy was VERY MUCH into me. and it was sweet. it was nice to have those nervous butterflies bc OMG WAIT YOU THINK IM CUTE??? NO WAY like yes that was nice! so clearly it can happen! it’s a thing! but like...i think i’ve become more exposed to that stuff and i’ve been in those situtations and i’ve realized that i am much more aroace than i thought. i still don’t think i’m aro, by any means, bc i genuinely love romance books (which means i like romance yes????? who’s to say) but like...man the idea of being IN A RELATIONSHIP...it’s weird man.

what’s odd is that up until like...2008/2009ish i don’t think i EVER was fantasizing about marriage/falling in love...at least not like that, not dramatically. i remember in 8th grade i went to oh lord it was a BIBLE STUDY OF ALL PLACES and the girls were like “so are you praying for your future husband????” and i was like uhhh what and then i SPIRALED SO HARD after that bc i was like FUCK I MIGHT HAVE A FUTURE HUSBAND!!! WOW!!!! A WEDDING IS SO PRETTY!!! I SHOULD HAVE THAT!! I GET TO HAVE THAT!! THE UNIVERSE/GOD OWES ME THAT!!!! I’M GONNA BE THAT!!!! and like the fuck of it all is that if i had never had that realization, had never seen bride wars or started a journal to my future husband (PLZ LAUGH BC IT’S THE SADDEST MOST HETERO THING I HAVE EVER DONE AND I HATE IT BUT I KEEP IT BC IT’S A JOURNAL OF THAT TIME OF MY LIFE) i don’t think i would have spiraled so much in high school fearing i’d end up alone. like sure when i started reading romance books i got sad too, but i don’t think i realized until that age that like...i was so invested in marriage? (yes we switched from love to married we’ll get to that - apparently it’s therapy time????) like i think i always assumed it’d happen for me bc doesn’t everyone get married and have kids? (my sweet summer child oh boy the brainwashing was deep) and it’s like.......fine. bc marriage is fine. love is fine and great whatever. (and i had a great marriage to learn from) but also...........all those expectations were pinned upon me when in actuality what i’m realizing now is that IT DOESN’T FUCKING MATTER!!!!!!

like i’ve been to a number of weddings now and i’ve seen friends get engaged, have breakups, fall headfirst in love and then fall out it just as quick, i’ve seen friends be single and have hook-ups and get married and have their heart broken and like....even though in my heart of hearts i know it’s worth it if you find it, i also know that i wouldn’t know how to handle it. like i’ve read books about it all, i’ve listened to the songs, hell i HAVE watched other people go through it all...but i still don’t know what mine would be. bc the fuck of it all is that 1) i rarely feel attraction to anyone, and i haven’t met someone i’ve been attracted to since 2010 (!!!!) 2) at the end of the day i don’t think i necessarily want a physical relationship (which is kind of half the reason people marry right?) and 3) i don’t think i can imagine myself being that intimate with another person.

is it possible? yes. maybe one day in another 10 years i’ll make another leap and i’ll be living somewhere like new york and i’ll meet some guy through a job or through travel or through some weird twist of fate and we DO hit it off and everything works out and suddenly i realize that i can only be comfortable with this ONE person and thus we take it slow and eventually get physical and get married and HOORAY ITS ALL FINE IM NORMAL and as it turns out the gut feeling i had at 16 was correct and i AM actually demisexual! could happen. i wouldn’t be totally shocked. but i also know that right now...it’s not a possibility. it would take a LOT for me to be in that place. and i think that’s the difference. ten years ago in high school i just assumed i was normal, i assumed if i got what i thought i wanted it’d all work out and be fine and i’d be happy bc I WAS IN LOVE. but the fuck of it all is that that first date i had? it was proof that you should be careful what you wish for. i don’t want a boy to kiss me. i don’t want a boy to hold my hand. i want someone to talk to, who likes what i like, who supports me and thinks i’m cool, who’ll buy me nice presents sometimes and see me for who i am and not run away. and honestly? i HAVE THAT. i have a few people like that actually.

what i realized was that what i ACTUALLY want, is for the butterfly feeling. that feeling you get where you’re like nervous bc the other person said they think you’re cute and they want to learn more about you and they’re interested in you and they SEE YOU and you feel the same way about them and you think they’re nice to look at and they think you’re nice to look at. that’s what i want. i want the butterflies. i want to be attracted to someone. i haven’t felt that in GOD so many FUCKING YEARS. i mean i feel that with fictional characters sure, but we all know that’s stupid and doesn’t count.

like i kid you not i’ve only been attracted to two (possibly 3, but i’m not counting the 3rd) people in my entire life. just two. (i don’t count the celebrities and characters and things although i guess if i did it’d be up to like 5-10 maybe) but like people i’ve met? two. that’s it. and it’s all so STUPID. bc it DOESN’T MATTER! like i feel weird being like LOVE ISN’T FOR ME I DON’T WANT IT! bc it feels like a lie and i do know i would like someone to fall in love with me. but genuinely, truly, i feel like a different person that the hopeless girl i was in 2010 bc...i don’t need it. i don’t know what i’d do with it. i don’t want someone to touch me.

the great thing about all this that i realized a long time ago is that this bitch is never going to have a bad heartbreak. and i know the saying better to have loved than never love at all.......but i do love. i love all the time so much that sometimes i can’t breathe. i just...don’t have that kind of love. and it’s okay. bc no one will EVER hurt me like that.

like i always said if i WAS going to fall in love it would happen ONCE like i will not be dating multiple people in my lifetime, hell i probably won’t even go on that many dates without finding THE PERSON bc in part i don’t put myself out there often, but mainly bc i KNOW people. i know myself, i know what i want, i have intuition about all that and i truly genuinely think that if i ever found it, it’d be that or nothing. bc i also think the person i’d be into would be similar. and i know people probably think that’s stupid and also there’s nothing wrong with dating a lot of people in your lifetime, in falling in love more than once, but like...i’m not that kind of person. i think part of me really does believe in soulmates, even if there is some level of free will in the world outside of determinism.

but because i feel like that, and bc of my very VERY private personality (who doesn’t let people in easily, who doesn’t care casually, who doesn’t give my heart away without protecting itself) i just don’t think i’d ever let myself...oh no here is a dark truth YIKES...i don’t think i’d ever let myself feel that deeply about someone.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

well this is an interesting thought

which is the PERFECT start to a romance novel i might add

like i feel a LOT don’t get me wrong. i may repress my emotions but ya girl has a lot of passion a lot of love a lot of feelings for things. and i do love some people A LOT. like friends mainly. i love them SO MUCH (too much) and the ones who are STILL my friends...i have learned how to let them live their lives. i love them desperately, they inevitably let me down or move or fall in love (jesus christ it’s the worst) or whatever, and then things shift and i tell myself “hey you know what? it’s okay, you’re clearly no longer the most important thing in their life, so you can just pull back and not invest so much in them bc clearly they want to invest in other things and that’s okay!!” and then i move all my affection to someone else who DOES want it at that time, and thus i let people go bc i give them the space i assume they need and then the space gets to big and we can’t overcome it bc i don’t know what i’m supposed to fight or go back or try again or whatever and then they don’t fight for me (maybe bc i didn’t fight first, maybe bc they just stopped caring about me) and then suddenly...it’s over and i’m sad but i’ve put so much distance between us that i don’t really feel anything anymore. like oh my god what the fuck

literally my heart’s self-destruct protocol is that when i notice someone slipping away and stop caring about me i just assume the worst and immediately stop caring about them and then they can’t really hurt me. so the ones who HAVE hurt me are the ones who directly called me out and lied to me or did something bad. most of the people i drifted from who i once ADORED really only stopped being close to me because i thought they didn’t want me around anymore and i didn’t want to be annoying. (or bc i pushed them away bc i didn’t want them but that’s another thing) so like truly i think it would have to be someone being MEAN to me out of nowhere bc otherwise i’d just be like “it’s cool, we grew apart, i’ll get over it” (which i dont believe someone who really loved me would do) ahhhhhhhhhhhh

...

so anyway we all know this is hypothetical and obviously i wouldn’t know how i’d genuinely react if i fell in love but we also know that i WON’T fall in love in the next 5-10 years (prove me wrong by tyler joseph) but it’s fucking VALENTINES DAY WEEK and literally this happens every year bc i try and convince myself that HEY! YOU DON’T HAVE TO BE IN LOVE DAMMIT! but then sometimes i think FUCK! I WANT TO BE IN LOVE DAMMIT! and it’s like honestly yeah mood....but they can coexist. i want to fall in love. i know i would not do well in a romantic relationship right now. i also know i deserve love, and i would be a great partner to someone. but i also know it’s all complicated and fucked up and difficult and i don’t meet people anyway and i wonder if my real partner is somewhere waiting in new york and and and and and and and i’m just so FUCKING SICK OF IT ALL!!!!!!! truly!!!!! i’m sick of feeling inadequate just bc i don’t want to kiss a boy. i’m sick of feeling obligated to fall into society’s romantic norms. i’m sick of waiting for someone to love me and treat me well when i have people who do that already. i’m sick of my friends falling in love, sick of people having their heart broke bc they fall for shitty people...i’m sick of shitty people breaking other people’s hearts for no reason. i’m sick of my awesome parents and their absolutely beautiful true love. i’m sick of being single. i’m sick of daydreaming about what it’d be like to be romantically attracted to someone. i’m sick of reading romance books and i’m sick of wishing i was in one. i’m sick of being asexual. i’m sick of allosexual people. i’m sick of watching people make out. i’m sick of my friends falling in love and then treating their friends like shit just bc they only care about their significant other. i’m sick of VALENTINES DAY!!! i’m sick of weddings!!!! i’m sick of conventional hetero norms!!!! i’m sick of love songs and dating apps and feeling like my worth is tied to someone loving me romantically. i’m sick of SEX OH MY GOD PLZ MAKE IT STOP!!!!!!!!!

i can’t believe my therapist tried to tell me that i would always be a little lonely if i never had a romantic/sexual partner. fuck that. you don’t need anything but your friends and your family and your own self love. god is big enough.

I’M NOT LONELY I JUST WANT PEOPLE TO SEE AND UNDERSTAND ME AND LOVE ME FOR WHO I AM!!!!!

...

just had a weird thought that i can never be an authentic christian bc half my friends aren’t christian so around them i act like christanity is a joke (in some ways it is?) but i also can’t be authentic around my christian friends bc some of the things they say i can’t fully stand behind either bc i am a secular person too and it’s just like WE REALLY CAN’T WIN HUH GOD!!!!! i love being unknowable!!!! at least i have laura shes the only person who understands both sides that’s nice

oh my god i get to hug laura the day after tomorrow

...

anyway.

can’t wait to be the random single family member who shows up at all the family gatherings while all my cousins get married and have kids! i finally have accepted that i get to live that dream and WOW IT FEELS GOOD!!!!!!

#love #marriage #asexuality #demisexuality #vday #why does vday even exist #im not even mad im just like......do we need it #i love capitalism #personal #sorry if you're on mobile just SCROLL PLZ

2 notes · View notes

three-seas-writes · 5 years ago

Text

Captain Wonder Backstory!!

There’s no pain in this one! I promise

Captain Wonder doesn’t mess with romance. It’s one of his rules, he doesn’t meddle with other peoples love and he doesn’t waste time looking for his own. Not that he thinks it’s wrong or anything, he just doesn’t understand it. He’s never wanted what people idealize as romance, or even the unidealized versions he sees his teammates live through. Hand holding sounds embarrassing and kissing sounds gross. He doesn’t even want to think about sex.

It makes him a freak for most of his life. He gets used to the teasing from teammates, even misses it when some of them die too young. But then, about the time he’s turning 30, things start changing. More and more “freaks” start standing up, demanding respect and rights and change. And it happens. Acceptance comes so quickly it’s a wonder this didn’t happen earlier. There’s so many words he’s never heard of, and the world expects him to be resistant. Captain Wonder stands for good old-fashioned values of freedom and justice, hundreds of thousands of bigoted people believe he’s on their side. He goes to his first pride at 36, picks up two flags, and comes out to the world as aro-ace and proud. The bigots shut up after that.

It keeps him happy for years, until he enlists as a mentor at 41. It’s later than most heroes, but he’s respected and well-known for his calm and serious personality, so he gets assigned a reckless upstart of a kid and a deadly partner named Ibis.

Ibis is 38, and incredible. She fights with long, sweeping blades and a silent demeanor that puts most people on edge, heroes and villains alike. She’s tall and angular, sharp features and piercing eyes. She’s a good match for Captain Wonder, and they’re both good for Harvey. The kid is chaos incarnate, his weather powers routinely spiral out of control and into tornadoes, and he firmly believes that he should be risking his life from the moment he steps into the Association. Captain Wonder thinks he’s a fool.

He keeps that opinion long after Harvey leaves his mentorship. He’s headstrong and careless like only a child can be, 16, because the enlisting age gets higher every year as the public decides super are humans, not fighting machines, and isn’t that something. But working with Harvey begins to reveal bright streaks in his personality. A genuine need to help others. The desire to protect, and be looked up to. A rock-solid resolve. Captain Wonder meets Ibis for meetings once a week to gauge Harvey’s progress, meetings that turn into lunch breaks as their schedules fill.

It takes a year for him to call Harvey by his name, and they grow close quickly after that. At a year and a half a conversation about meal and sleep habits turns into Harvey holding back tears as he explains why he lives alone in Hero Housing, and Captain Wonder spends three hours that night filling out paperwork for him to move in. Harvey starts calling him Cap, and they have Ibis over for dinner twice a week. On his 43rd birthday Harvey enlists Ibis’ help to throw him a surprise party, and it’s the first time in years that he’s enjoyed celebrating. Harvey begins combat training at the two-year mark and everything is better than it’s been for a long time.

It’s been two years, nine months, and six days when he realizes he’d like to hold her hand. He and Ibis are walking to his home from the Association for the bi-weekly dinner when it happens. He thinks about it until Harvey goes to bed at ten, and then pulls out his computer to figure things out the same way he did eleven years ago. It takes far less time than it did back then, mostly due to better internet he’s sure, but after looking through many sweet and well-meaning blog posts about how normal it is to change he finally finds a word he likes. Grey aro-ace. It fits, and he thinks it sounds cool.

He informs Harvey that his labels have changed over breakfast, and is a bit surprised to learn that he didn’t know. Or, to be specific, he’d “figured, but I didn’t know if you knew, y’know?” They miss an hour of morning lessons having a discussion, about the rights movement and the assholes, Harvey talks about being demi-pan and Captain Wonder mentions the teasing from his teammates and they feel closer than he’d ever thought possible.

The first step, he supposes, is actually holding her hand. It’s not something he’s ever had to consider, so it takes about a month before he decides he ought to watch some romantic films. For research. Harvey has lots of suggestions, and they waste a few months on romantic comedies and romantic tragedies and romantic action adventures and romantic buddy-cop movies, which might be his favorite, and in the end he’s a little overwhelmed.

Typically his next step for something this big would be to plan obsessively for months, but he doesn’t get the chance. At three years and two months a villain targets Harvey, supposedly his powers will be perfect to fuel her plans once she’s drained them from him and left him a lifeless husk, and it’s fair to say that Captain Wonder loses his shit. It’s been nearly two decades since he’s been seen seriously fighting a villain, and it seems a bit like people forgot how freaking good at it he was. The villainess is so surprised when he makes it through her traps that it’s almost easy taking her down. Harvey is okay, mostly, and it’s terrifying in a way that Captain Wonder is not comfortable with. He hovers, he knows he’s hovering, but he still hovers the whole time in the ambulance to the Heroes Hospital, in the hospital room as a doctor checks them both over, he even insists on sharing a hospital room with Harvey- with his kid - for the week he’s there. And he is his kid and Captain Wonder spends most of the time worrying and the rest of it wondering how it only took three years for him to emotionally adopt someone when it had never happened in any of the forty other years of his life. They celebrate Harvey’s 20th birthday on his last day in the hospital and Captain Wonder debates whether you can even adopt an adult. They take him home the next day, him and Ibis, and when Harvey passes out Captain Wonder pulls out the dusty wine he never drinks and they each have a glass. It’s the calmest he’s felt all week, sitting here silently drinking wine with good company, and he almost says something. But he likes this moment as it is, and maybe the perfect time to say it passes, but then when he eventually walks Ibis to the door she leans in to kiss his cheek and smiles softly at him, and isn’t that something. The next time they have dinner he ditches a supportive Harvey at home and takes her to a sky-high restaurant and he gets to see that soft smile illuminated by distant city lights.

They take it slow. There are movie nights and dinner dates, and the bi-weekly family dinners. One year, Ibis moves in. Three years, Harvey moves out. Five years, the mentorship ends and he and Ibis register as a couple. They talk about marriage. No papers are ever signed, but they call Harvey their son. Six years, they get a cat. Ibis names her Georgie.

Captain Wonder is 52 when he opens his door on a cold night to find his son carrying an injured supervillain. Alastair’s face is pale and Harvey’s eyes are wet, and it’s only hours later, watching Harvey sleep in a chair next to his old bed and the unconscious villain in it, that he lets himself think about how lucky his son is to find love so young. Three weeks later, watching his son and Alastair interact, he thanks the gods that Harvey’s not such a fool to love someone who wouldn’t love him back.

See! No pain! And this might be the longest short I’ve written, its about three pages in MS Word! This is a backstory piece for the story, and is entirely canon, as well as the first m/f couple I’ve ever written. It’s also pretty special to me because it’s the first time I’ve written a character who is asexual like I am, and when I was asking a friend for feedback it started a great conversation about our sexualities and she discovered she’s demi!! Which was really awesome and a wonderful conversation to have! Anyways I’ll stop rambling now, thanks for reading!

#my writing #my characters #Captain Wonder #Harvey #Ibis #Alastair

3 notes · View notes

themiscyra1983 · 5 years ago

Note

☕️

You submitted this months ago and I couldn’t think of a favorite passage of anything I had actually published then but I’ve just started posting one of the things I’ve been working on so I can answer it now.

All our planning, all our scheming, all our cleverness, it had all come down to this. We had broken ourselves like waves against an uncaring shore. In time, perhaps, we would have worn mountains down to sand, and washed it all away to the sea.

But time was a luxury we did not have.

I knelt, unwillingly, upon the cold stone floor, my arms and head locked in an iron frame large and heavy enough that I tilted painfully forward, my legs locked in place with chains and bolts driven so deep I could not hope to free myself. To my left, Alice was restrained exactly the same way. To my right, Leah, too, was clad in irons, with one crucial difference: blades were set at her throat, her wrists, and around her legs. If she dared to shift, key arteries would be sliced open in the process, so quickly that even she couldn’t hope to survive. All of us had been dressed in sackcloth, rough and itchy against the skin, and our legs and feet had been left bare.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. As I gazed at the dais before us, at the three thrones that sat there and the three ancient vampires who ruled from those looming seats, I saw the most heartbreaking of all the sights in this room. Callie knelt next to the central throne, her head bowed and her skin mottled with dark bruises, her arms chained behind her back, a gag fitted in her mouth, and a steel collar about her neck. A chain was attached to the collar, and Aro himself held it in his long, white fingers, grinning like a maniac.

Beside me, I could hear Leah growling, almost constantly, a low, ominous rumble that bubbled up from her gut and echoed through her throat. When I glanced over, I could see her eyes flickering periodically, becoming vaguely wolfish before she managed to wrest back her self-control. I tried to give her as much silent encouragement as I could. The last thing I wanted was to watch her die - to watch any of my loved ones die. But then, really, all I was doing was delaying the inevitable.

“You poor, precious angels,” Aro cooed, as though we were nothing more than wayward children. I supposed, to him, we were. “You thought you’d had a new idea, didn’t you? You really thought you could succeed where so many have failed. Did you truly believe no one else had tried? That you had weapons and tactics we hadn’t seen before, in all the centuries of our reign? Scarcely any of you over a century in age, but oh, never mind that. Your cause is right. Your cause is just. The gods must be on your side. Was that it?”

His blood-red eyes, covered in a milky film but somehow no less ominous, locked with my gaze. “The gods are fickle, my dear. In my time, we understood that very well.”

“Someday you will fall,” Alice spat beside me.

Aro gave her a look of exaggerated surprise. “Will we? Was that another of your famed visions? A pity you didn’t see your own downfall, little one. A genuine shame. I had such high hopes for you, Alice. And you, Bella! Such potential. So badly wasted. If only we could delude ourselves into thinking you were nothing but poor little lost lambs, led astray by false shepherds. Alas. We know better. You, Isabella Swan, were the ringleader. You must be an example to all. And these, your most faithful friends...well. They must be part of that example as well.”

My heart pounded in my chest. I looked around frantically. I could see no avenues for escape. But my other loved ones - the other Cullens, the other shifters, the other vampires I counted as friends, Kate, Jessica, Angela, Rosalie, dad - were nowhere in sight. Maybe there was still hope. Maybe some of them got away. Maybe…

There was a sudden murmur from the faceless masses attending this audience in the throne room of the Volturi. Gray-cloaked guards filed in from doors on each side of the room, each of them bearing a silver platter, and each platter bore the lifeless head of a vampire, or a shifter, or a hybrid. Sam, Paul, Jared, Jacob, Embry, Quil, Seth, Eleazar, Carmen, Tanya, Irina, Carlisle, Esme, Eleanor, Jessamine, Jasper, Edward, Emmett, Kate, Rosalie, my father...they all stared in silent, sightless accusation.

I’d failed them. I’d failed them all.

I sobbed, despite my best effort to show no emotion before these utter bastards. Leah snarled, starting to shake as she fought her transformation. Aro’s smile widened.

“Bring out the main course,” he ordered.

Jane and Alec stepped abruptly into view, dragging Jessica and Angela with them. Both of them looked battered and broken, tears streaming down their faces, and Jessica in particular had been bound tightly and gagged, just like Callie, so she couldn’t save herself with any magic spells. Jane shoved Jessica into Caius’s lap, and he grinned like a hungry crocodile, but Marcus, as ever, remained distant and impassive. Instead of giving Angela to him, Alec kept hold of her, while his twin sister joined him on Angela’s other side. Ang’s eyes flicked to Edward, and she let out a loud wail, shaking violently.

Aro dragged Callie up and into his own lap, stroking her hair while she trembled, too weak and too frightened to do anything more. He looked to either side, nodding - and then as Caius, Jane and Alec attacked their own victims, he tore open my best friend’s throat and drank greedily.

Some of the vampires watching surged briefly forward in bloodlust and hunger, only to be stopped by the Volturi guard. There was no stopping Leah. An inhuman howl ripped from her throat, her bonds twisting with a loud, metallic screech as she exploded into her wolf form - and the blades did their work, cutting deep, sending her red, red blood spilling all across the stone floor, some of it splattering across my face and arms as she stumbled to the ground. Her howl fell into a low, fading series of whimpers, and her eyes met mine as the light slowly faded and her breathing stopped. Her heart stuttered in her chest and grew still.

A terrible heat began to rise, deep in my belly. I could feel tendrils of starfire snaking their way through me, worming through my limbs, up my throat, into my eyes. Something beneath my skin began to glow with a nuclear fire, writhing and twitching like worms burrowed deep in my flesh.

But no one else seemed to take any notice, even as my eyeballs grew so hot I thought they might explode, even as an unceasing light burned brighter and brighter within me, even as I felt something wake. Aro finished his meal and threw Callie’s bloodied corpse into the crowd, a melee breaking out as multiple vampires fought over his scraps. He rose from his throne, his pale hands wiping at his bloodied mouth and chin, though this did little more than spread the mess. He licked his long fingers as he strode over to Alice, smiling beatifically down at her. Then, with an exasperated, almost paternal sigh, he grabbed her head and tore it off, kicking her body to the floor in a smooth motion. He nodded to a guard as he walked away, and the cloaked figure stepped forward with a torch, setting Alice’s headless body ablaze, even as the life left her swiftly slackening face.

I began to shake, the light within me flaring brighter still, and something whispering in my brain in ancient and unholy tongues. Beneath my breath, I echoed its words, in a dead language that no human had ever known, and yet, the underlying sentiment resonated in my soul. Death. Destruction. An end to this petty creation and all the petty things that dwelt there. Let the stars align, let the barriers shatter, and let it all be washed clean in the pure and infinite fire.

“Alas. Poor Alice,” Aro pronounced, holding her head aloft. He wasn’t even looking at me - he’d turned to address Marcus. “I knew her, Marcus...oh, come on, dear boy, the least you could do is crack a smile…”

No words fell from my mouth - or, at least, none that these insects would understand. My mouth opened wider than ever before, my skin cracking to grant it more space, and I screamed. Light exploded out from me, and the creatures all around me lost their sparkle in an instant, lost their strength, their glory. Blood poured from their noses, their mouths, their ears.

I wasn’t done. My head snapped back, my gaze turning skyward, and I was nothing but the scream and the stream of light that burst upward like a solar flare. The castle shattered all around us. The former vampires exploded in bursts of light, like tiny supernovae - exactly like supernovae, because I could see the gorgeous gamma ray bursts they gave off, shimmering in the prettiest shades of lethality. I could see so much now.

I giggled, even as I screamed, even as the tentacles of light ripped their way from my crude mortal shell with sweet, delicious agony, even as I grew, and grew. I howled with laughter as my fire expanded across the place I had once known as Volterra, then the place the pitiful inhabitants of this world had called Italy, then something I thought I might have heard referred to once as Eurasia, and finally all the way around a little cinder called...oh, I no longer remembered. It scarcely mattered. I was already spreading out and out and out, across the entire universe, and even thatwasn’t enough, I was everything and I needed more and oh, just there, someone had thought they could wall me in, foolish little thing…

I shattered the barriers that separated the finite and the infinite, and light met light with the most terrific explosion, and I laughed and I cried and I gibbered and I screamed.

1 note · View note

hawkeyebabe · 6 years ago

Text

Petrol Soaked Papers, Chp. 2

Me 6 weeks ago: “Hey guys! Can’t wait to post a chapter every week!” Proceeds to move cross-country, plummet into a whirlpool of a quarter-life crisis (the third one in four years), and experience a bitch-slap from this whore called Life.

I’m sorry guys...I’ve been rather inactive. I even had all of this written long ago, I just didn’t have the energy to post it. I hope it’s mildly worth the wait -- it’s extra long, at least <3

Chapter Two: A Fight Worth Losing Previous Chapter AO3

Though she expected a struggle, waking at 0400 to meet General Mustang at 0435 was rather easy. Unable to sleep well the night prior, a racing mind battling with an overactive dreamstate, she’d found herself entirely awake by 0335 and spent the freetime reading over hot tea, the mug allowing the drifting wafts of steam to warm her tired face.

She once fantasized that the dreams would lessen after giving back to Ishval, and after earning the people’s trust. The night terror that had accompanied her that first sleep however, the memories more vivid than they had ever been before, forcing her awake with such violence as she felt phantom blood coating her shaking hands and her turmoil so fresh it manifested itself in the form of a sheet of sweat --- she realized that that had been a child’s wish.

She kept her belongings -- just a few pairs of clothes and toiletries -- in a small briefcase and shut the door behind her, stepping out into the desert night. She, Falman, and Mustang were the only constant Amestrans in Ishval, and their quarters were practically across the dirt path from one another. Scar, who acted as the Ishvalan Grand Cleric, wished to live among his people in the neighborhoods. A few empty shacks which were used for visitors or temporarily stationed officers sat gathering dust. Since the Trials, the following peace demanded only the three of them and the empty shacks welcomed nobody.

To her surprise, and impressment, Mustang was stood as a dark shadow outside her door. She’d convinced herself that her fist would be knocking on his door, for since she had known the man, departing his bed before the sun rose was a task he never quite mastered.

“Hey,” he said with a tired smile. She noticed the buttons of his long-sleeved shirt were one off-center, leaving an inch of material hanging clumsily at the bottom.

“Hi, General.”

“Wow…” He blinked away the sleepiness in his eyes and leaned forward several inches.

She stared back at him.

“What is it?”

“Your hair!” he almost exclaimed, truly surprised. “It’s gotten so long.”

With eyebrows perched upwards, Riza lifted a hand. So exhausted from the lack of sleep, she’d entirely forgotten to do anything with it. Actually, she then realized, she hadn’t even bothered looking at it, and she suddenly felt somewhat self-conscious that it was standing on end or tangled into knots. She stopped herself from toying with it.

“It’s nice,” he said casually, easing her worries, as he motioned his head over his shoulder to suggest they begin walking.

“Thank you, sir. Actually, I’d just noticed its length the other day myself.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen it down for awhile. We’re always in uniform.”

Yes, they were. It seemed as though they lived in them, actually. Twelve hour workdays were common, and seeing one another outside of work hours was rare when work hours constituted an entire day.

Being in civilian clothes, as they were then, was a pleasant thing. Black slacks and a tan blouse, though simple, was the most comfortable thing she’d worn in what could have been a lifetime.

“Yours is getting a little long too, sir,” Riza teased dryly, her eyes roaming over his unkempt head. “You may want to consider a barber.”

“Don’t you think I should grow it out like yours?”

This earned him a genuine smile.

“I really do not, no.”

“Alright. Seeing as we’ll be in Central, I suppose it isn’t the worst idea. God knows there’s nowhere for me to get it done when we come back here.”

“I bet Kira would do it if you asked nicely.”

“Aroe’s five year old?”

“That’s right.”

“I hope you find yourself funny, Captain.”

Her teeth showed in a silent smile. He looked over at her, his eyes taking in the grin.

“Oh,” he pronounced. “Good. You do find yourself funny.”

“Only sometimes,” she assured him. A kinyee chattered in the distance, and its pack answered a moment later. “How do you think Vato will find having this place to himself?” she asked as their boots scraped across the road. Mustang chuckled.

“He’s never been given much opportunity to run anything himself. I think he’ll like it. Maybe it’ll get him to test for 1st lieutenant when January rolls around.”

“I doubt it,” said Riza fondly. “He’s never found much interest in rank. Just as long as he’s contributing, which he’s done enough of already, he’s satisfied. At least, that’s my theory. Power isn’t his supplier.”

“Well,” he looked down at her and gave her wink, which she ignored to notice how it seemed to warm her fingertips. “He is alone in that.”

They came upon the general’s car and drove to the station in the neighboring town of Khao. Ishval itself didn’t have a train depot, though that was another object of affection they’d been vying for.

“By the way, General,” Riza said, turning her head over her shoulder as she climbed up the steps onto the train. “You may want to re-button your shirt.”

His head jerked downwards, then returned to her with equal speed.

“How long has it been like that?” he yelled, though the cry was barely heard over the sound of the whistling engine.

“Well, probably since you put the shirt on, sir.”

“Damn you, Hawkeye. You could have told me in the car.”

“Honestly sir, I forgot. I figured now was a good time as any.”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

The journey from Khao to Central Station was one of five hours. After failing to hypothesize the reason for the council, Riza and her general soon fell into a mutual tired silence and Riza’s eyes became heavy. She fought it for some time, but the car was warm and General Mustang was quiet in thought as he stared out the window, the glass framed in condensation. The image was a peaceful one. For so long, she had been surrounded by tension in the form of every figure she passed, every step she took, every grain of sand that blasted into her cheeks. Every anxiety, every day. Sitting there silently as the train rolled through the countryside, the autumn air stopped by the glass and mirrored by warmness inside, Riza felt, not lightly to say, comfortable.

It didn’t take long for her to surrender into a relaxed sleep.

“Captain…” he said gently. It failed to wake her, and he found he truly did not wish to. He placed his palm on her shoulder. “Captain, we’re here.”

Finally, her eyes peeled open, and she seemed to register his presence. Awareness filled her features.

“Oh, sorry, General,” she said quietly as she sat herself up.

“You must have been pretty tired.”

“Weren’t you?” she asked as she stood and gathered her briefcase. She followed him out of the car.

“I was.”

“But you don’t regularly have the capacity to sleep on trains,” she said behind him.

It wasn’t a question or an accusation, but only a statement. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling to himself as he stepped off onto the platform, greeted by the natural sunlight streaming through the many open windows and the exposed roof of the station. Birds flew around overhead, transferring from one steel beam to the next.

“That’s right,” he answered, though she couldn’t hear him over the bustle of the crowds, people flowing off the trains and wading towards the exit like a herd.

Central Station was near to Central headquarters, and they found themselves inside the building with 25 minutes to spare to change into uniform and give a quick hello to Lieutenant Havoc.

“Well, come by afterwords and let’s grab lunch or something!” Havoc said as they turned to leave. Roy, without looking back, lifted a thumbs up into the air.

“Will do, Jean.”

The council was scheduled to begin in ten minutes in a conference area on the second floor. Neither of them felt privy to being late, so they agreed to arrive early and await the remaining seat holders. After all, they wished to make a positive impression. Should this pertain to Ishval, many Amestrians, molded by prejudice, needed a progressive nurture. Roy opened the door for them both and he followed Hawkeye into the room.

Eight men sat waiting, each looking up at the arriving officers in unison like their heads were connected by string. Confusion was quick to find he and Hawkeye both, though she did not display it like he surely did.

“Oh,” said Mustang quickly. “My apologies, sirs, we were told to arrive at 1100…”

“That’s correct, General Mustang,” said General Fillbin at the head of the table. “Don’t worry, you’re not late.”

A familiar face shined like a light, and Roy’s eyes landed on Fuhrer Grumman. The Fuhrer, to only deepen Roy’s state of confusion and rising suspicion, looked troubled.

“But,” continued Fillbin. “We’ll actually only be needing you for this council, General, so please take a seat.”

Fillbin looked at Hawkeye and gave her a smile that seemed almost patronizing, though innocent enough, and something not too foreign lit up in the center of Roy’s chest. Not being one to follow the orders of any man but one, Roy saw her turn her head to look at him, confused, but awaiting his word regardless. Roy did not meet her eye, and only stared at the three star general.

“My captain was summoned as I was, General Fillban.”

“I understand that, but she will not be needed for this discussion.”

Finally, Roy looked down at her. It seemed as though the decision was made; perhaps there had been a mistake or a change of plans, and there was no way to notify them on short notice. Perhaps it was something else. Accepting this, Roy nodded to her. Her boots clicked as she snapped to attention, offered a salute to the board, and turned on her heels to leave. The door shut behind her, and he moved to sit.

“How was the train ride, General Mustang?” asked another officer, a major general named Foy Bakers. This was a kind man, one of stature and smiles. Roy always liked him as a person, though his non-confrontational demeanor was not well suited for his position. Still, Roy felt more at ease as he lowered himself in the chair beside him.

“It was very smooth, thank you, General Bakers.”

Roy flicked his eyes to Grumman’s again, but they were on the officer who sat across from Roy. He dared a glance before giving his attention back to Fillban. It was a man he did not know.

“Mustang,” said Fillban. “I’ve called this council for a very, very important reason. We’re having some...obstacles, in Roxwell Post.”

“Roxwell Post? That small town in the West?”

“That’s right.”

“Alright...what kind of obstacles?”

“There is a pastoral nomadic group out there, wandering and herding cattle, hunting in the forests. Creating a lifestyle, a small community.”

“Yes?” he prodded, agitation beginning to creep into his knuckles.

“Well, there is something very disconcerting about them, and who they are.”

Something was perplexing about this council. Had they summoned him from his incredibly important post in Ishval for this? For a group of wanderers?

“Yes, General Fillban?” he pressed. Could this conglomerate collection of decorated generals not handle this without him? Anger began to simmer, and he suppressed his still fresh agitation at the dismissal of his adjutant so as to remain

Fillban, unaware of his fumings, continued.

“We’ve received intel that a group of Drachma spies have infiltrated this group, and are possibly grooming them for an attack on West City.”

Roy’s spiting monologue halted, and his mouth parted as he prepared, and failed, to say something. He leaned back in his chair and blinked away the surprise.

“Uh...okay.” He glanced around at the faces sat round the table. “Does everyone know of this? Am I alone in just learning this information?”

“General Mustang,” Fillban said soothingly, an attempt to calm Roy before answering. “This wasn’t of your concern until we learned of new details only two days ago. And unfortunately...this is of your concern now.”

“Well,” Roy laughed without a trace of humor, “dammit, Fillban, fill me in here because I am quite obviously missing some key point, as a couple of gullible shepherds is hardly my goddamn specific concern considering I have other very important things going on right now. Don’t you have some other general putzing around here that needs something to do? Because I assure you, that man is not me.”

Roy was leaned entirely forward, his elbows square against the wooden table as he locked eyes with the general at the head of it. The absence of his captain was a blessing, suddenly, for if she heard him speak to a superior officer in such a manner she would have berated him for hours.

“Roy,” pushed Fillban sympathetically, matching his lean forward with a slow shake of his head. “The pastoral nomads are Ishvalan.”

Quite suddenly, Roy forgot anything he’d been thinking. Hot breath stuck in his throat like a rock, his annoyance blown out like a candle.

Ishvalan? That simple detail suddenly changed everything, and his place in the meeting became entirely apparent.

“We’re not completely certain why there’s a small community of Ishvalans all the way out in the West,” continued Fillban. “But we believe it’s possible they were refugees who escaped during the war, traveled as far as they could, and found a way of life in the pastures. The Drachma…”

Fillban sighed deeply and put his hand up to his forehead, his eyes glancing down at the wood.

“It’s only intel, but it is trustworthy. Their intentions, their methods, their entire mission is a mystery to us. However…” The look he gave Roy was a serious one, and Roy finally saw a general who seemed almost as exhausted as he was himself. “These Ishvalans, living in seclusion, avoiding the public eye, may not be aware of a great deal of things, including the Promised Day or the current efforts to rebuild their land. And the Drachma clearly have no allies within our border. Befriending these people for the purpose of a mutual attack is not something I would disconsider.”

Roy’s mouth was fully open, his chest still and his body even moreso. Images spat at him like a loaded slingshot, pictures of what he one day prayed to see: Ishvalans having families, growing their population, temples being erected in every major city so the people were free to express their faith in any place of the country, watching dark skinned people with red eyes shopping in markets and smiling with their children, letting them pick out candies or fruits and shaking the hands of the Amestrian vendors...he prayed for a time when one day, Ishvalans not only trusted the rest of Amestris, but the rest of Amestris disposed of their prejudice and trusted Ishvalans.

The words that had come from General Fillban’s mouth put all of those hopes into jeopardy.

He thought of how this news would so greatly disappoint his captain.

“Before you fret too much, General, we have begun preparing a team to deploy and intercept the Ishvalan nomads, in hopes of severing their ties and arresting the spies.”

Roy cleared his throat and gathered himself.

“Good. I’m certain if I spoke with the diplomats in Ishval, one of them would be happy to accompany. Having one of their own support our claims would prove monumental.”

“We’ve already employed an Ishvalan Shi’eq, actually. His name is Imam Klayton.” Fillban took a moment before adding, “But I’m glad you mutually understand why he is on this very important team.”

“Of course I would,” Roy countered, his head tilting. The comment seemed out of place. “Why wouldn’t I? In fact, a Shi’eq is the best possible person to send. A religious leader is more prone to trust and immune to lies, in the eyes of the Ishvalans. With luck, they will believe him. Who else is apart of this team? I intend on speaking with them before they leave, and I’d like their names and serial numbers.” This, he realized, was of absolute, paramount importance. He and Hawkeye would spend the night researching these people, reading any transgressions, studying references, and preparing lectures on what and what not to say to the Ishvalan nomads once they made contact.

“Of course,” indulged Fillban. “Leading the squad will be,” he motioned to the man sitting across Roy, “First General Joshuayne Boswick.”

Without moving his head, Roy glanced over at the man and gave him a nod.

“As I previously mentioned, Shi’eq Imam Klayton, a first lieutenant named Chile Spellman, a major named Borin Temstral, and,” he seemed to take the smallest precautionary sigh, “Captain Riza Hawkeye.”

A beat passed, then Roy’s head jerked backwards as if he were physically struck.

“Excuse me?”

“I understand her adjuncy is of importance to you, but her skills are well suited for---”

“No, absolutely not. I’m sorry gentlemen,” he lifted a hand to the man across from him, “General Boswick, but she is not available for commission. She stays in Ishval with me.”

“General,” reasoned Fillban. “It’s been decided by the council. All of these people were specifically chosen for this mission.”

“I do not give a damn, find another marksman.”

This caused the eyebrows of Fillban to shoot up to his hairline.

“If I may say, General Mustang…” said a new voice. Roy slowly turned his head to look at the unknown man, Boswick, across from him.

“Your captain can be a turning point for this mission. Although true her skills as a marksman and soldier may prove invaluable should we cross paths with the Drachma, it’s her relationship with Ishval that’s really selling. Her, in combination with the Shi’eq, could sway these people in a matter of minutes.”

Logically, Roy could not contest this.

However, it wasn’t logic that was making his stomach churn. He could not quite place what was; perhaps it was his anger, unbidden, and unmistakable.

“I’m sorry…” Roy pronounced without a hint of apology, his voice a staccato. “Was it decided, without my input, that a critical component of my Ishvalan efforts would be stripped of me? Is that what I am gathering? That you decided to put Riza Hawkeye on your list without even consulting me? Her direct superior?”

“We only just learned that these nomads were Ishvalan the other day, General,” cautioned Fillban, his hand moving as he spoke. The lines on his face were deep. “We only just contacted Imam last night.”

“You reassigned her without telling me, General Fillban, and that is a direct violation of our chain of command.”

“Actually,” started Boswick. Something about the man made Roy clench his jaw repeatedly, and he chomped down on his teeth as he looked back at him once more. “In times of crises, should the decision be time sensitive and/or critical to human life, chain of command may be overruled when agreed upon by a council.”

Boswick looked at the other men, at Fillban, Bakers, and the ever silent fuhrer, before returning his gaze to Roy.

“And this council agreed on the reassignment.”

“I understand your resistance, General Mustang,” Fillban interjected carefully. “But know that the decision did not come lightly. And what’s done is done.”

Roy pulled his lips into a tight line, his chest threatening to implode.

“And when does this squadron deploy?”

“Before the sun sets tonight.”

The churning inside his stomach was nearing a whirlpool of madness, and it took every ounce of restraint not to scoff in the faces of these very high ranked men.

“The summon you sent me said to pack for several days?”

“That was for your captain. Although, her absence will surely be longer than that allotted time. I’m sorry, we couldn’t elaborate in writing.”

“Fantastic.”

“She’s to report to the armory by seven.”

To this, Roy said nothing.

“I expect you will wish to debrief her?”

He suffocated his rage in order to answer flatly,

“I do.”

Fillban offered him a weak smile, then glanced around the table.

“Well, gentlemen. This meeting is adjourned.”

Chairs scraped as they were pushed outwards, and several pairs of boots thumped against the wooden flooring. Baker’s sympathetic hand squeezed Roy’s shoulder before he, too, vacated the area. Soon the room was empty, save for he and the highest ranking official in the country, both sitting in a mutual silence, both knowing the following conversation that was about to take place.

“You let this happen?” asked Roy finally, his arms crossed tightly against his chest as he found the nerve to finally look at Grumman. “You allowed this to happen?”

“Roy,” began Grumman lowly. “I know you are distressed. But you cannot refute the reasoning.”

“I have a phone, dammit,” Roy spat back at him. “There’s a working telephone in my hut of an office. Did no one have the sense to call me?”

“My boy, you ought to know better than anyone that telephone lines cannot be trusted. What if the militants knew we were coming?”

“I can’t believe this decision was made like this,” Roy fumed, not bothering to answer. “Beneath a layer of dirt and over my head. ”

“You speak with your heart, and not your brain, Roy. There’s no crookedness going on here, there’s no corruption to be overthrown. This is an unfortunate, but necessary, thing to be done.”

Roy’s lip twitched as he inhaled sharply.

“It hasn’t even been a year,” his fist slammed onto the table, “Grumman. Not even one single damned year, and the trials just finished three weeks ago! She deserves a break, not some shitshow that could put her right back in danger!”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” Grumman whispered back harshly. “I am fully aware that both you and your captain have put your necks out far too many times, but this is, by every definition, a crisis. Imagine what would happen if the Drachma got into those Ishvalan heads. If the people in the West saw Ishvalans raging in with torches and bombs, right alongside the country’s oldest enemy, killing people in revenge of a war we’ve been trying to repent for...everything you and your captain have done in Ishval would be in ruins.” His voice suddenly became remarkably calm. “It would be for nothing.”

“She isn’t just my captain, Fuhrer Grumman,” he snapped back, not bothering to let his voice quiet. “She’s your granddaughter.”

Grumman stood and shook his head woefully, tucking in his chair and pulling his hands behind his back.

“I was never in her life. I don’t have the privilege of calling her that. She is a skilled soldier, and has a well earned place on this squadron.” Finishing himself of the conversation, he walked around the edge of the table to leave. “I have learned to relinquish my love, though it will always be there, for the betterment of my country. It is time you do the same.”

Taken aback, Roy said nothing as Grumman walked past him and out the door, leaving him alone to listen to the sound of the distant birds outside the french-lined windows.

He whispered a curse to himself as he sat there, hands folded together and eyes lasering into the wood. Finally, he stood and opened the door himself, stepping out to see his captain standing dutifully beside it

On her face, though, was worry.

“Is everything alright, Col--uh, General?”

She hadn’t made that slip in some time. Though, he thought, she probably had taken count of the faces in the room when she was inside before, and had probably taken count of their exit, except for his. It was apparent that she knew something was peculiar, and, he thought with a drop of his heart, his old rank was said many times in many terrible situations. It was only natural to utter it now.

“Walk with me, Hawkeye.”

Mustang longed for his old office, where he could lead them inside, shut the door, and speak with her openly. Where he could be familiar with her in a familiar space.

Though, their old office was occupied by someone else now, the desks filled by strangers and the carpet gaited by no one of his team. They had been there for years, he and his men. And it almost saddened him to know they would never go back.

It was by good fortune that Jean Havoc knew of a colonel who’d left for the week, off on holiday with his wife. It was in that office that Roy told Hawkeye of the council’s content.

Silence passed between them when the words left his lips, though not a silence in shock or uncomfortableness or anything unsavory. She was thinking, absorbing the information presented to her.

“Well,” she finally said slowly. “I’ll be sure to get those Ishvalans back to their people, sir. As soon as I can.”

To this, Roy sighed deeply and hung his head. This was typical of her, to never compromise the soldier she’d been committed to being.

“General,” she implored. He lifted his head to watch her eyes search his. “It will be alright. We both know Imam, he’s a good man and very personable. If he’s with us, I have no concern about turning the nomads away from the Drachma.”

“Hawkeye,” he said with exasperation. “I---” He stopped, unable to finish.

She stared at him attentively, leaning forward in her chair with all symptoms of her earlier tiredness entirely gone. It was quite obvious his stress was not translating for her. He swallowed and shook his head, letting air push out from his nose as witness to his still seething thoughts.

“How am I supposed to run Ishval without you?” he asked, a change of direction.

“Like any day, General. Falman is there right now without both of us, I think you can manage.”

“You’re an equal part of this campaign. Your deficit will be a tremendous loss.”

She tilted her head and gave him a knowing smirk.

“You’re being a little dramatic, General. You and Vato are more than capable without me breathing down your necks. Maybe you’ll even like the break.”

A hand lifted to his face, a thumb pushing into his lip, as his eyes turned away in a shake of his head. Her prediction was entirely untrue, the coiling of his insides testimony to that. The rolling uncertainty was speaking to him in a different tongue, ailing him for reasons he couldn’t be sure of -- until the ailing gave him sense of only one thing. A childish thing. There was a soft thud as his hand dropped back onto the desk and he looked at her with intensity.

“I don’t want you to go,” he admitted harshly.

The silence that followed was a little different than the one before, and he was sure the acuteness in her eyes was in response to his own.

Something about her demeanor changed. Her shoulders loosened so they sat heavy, like weights on her body. A melancholy teased the dull crows feet at her eyes. The person who sat across from him was no longer his adjutant, but his friend that he’d known for so very long.

“Well I don’t particularly want to go,” she admitted herself. “But knowing what we know now, that those people whom we have vowed to protect need our help and guidance...there’s no way I can’t go. Even if I had the option not to, I would still go. It’s because of us that they were displaced from their homes in the first place.”

The tempest at the walls of his stomach stilled, and was replaced instead with a drifting kind of acceptance. She was right, and a swirl of pride blended jaggedly with the negativity.

“Well who the hell is supposed to watch my back?” he asked. Who the hell is going to watch yours? he wanted to say.

She lifted a shoulder in a sort of shrug.

“Jean seems a little bored over here.”

Roy smiled for a brief moment before it fell.

The truth was undeniable; he couldn’t bear to be separated from her. Having her in a different part of the country would be to rip him in half with a pair of scorching tongs. For witnessing her near death had been his purest torture, and it had nearly destroyed him, and since then...well, he thought, he hadn’t quite recognized it until now, but he wanted her within his sight every moment of every day. It was a sick thing, and selfish. Beyond inappropriate within light to their professional dynamic. And, he reminded himself, the woman didn’t need him to stay safe. After all, he couldn’t keep her safe that day.

Yet still, letting her go made him nauseous.

His heart nearly broke the walls of his chest as it thudded at the sudden contact of her hand over his. His fears quelled as he looked at her with alarm. The gesture was almost intimate, and entirely uncommon for her. Her skin on his was almost painful in the way that it ached.

“When I come back,” she started softly. “You had better be in one piece.”

His thumb twitched, asking him permission to brush over her hand.

“The same goes for you,” he said instead, quieting the want in his fingers. She raised an eyebrow slightly, slipping her hand off his as she leaned back in her chair.

“When I come back, I had better be in one piece? Wouldn’t me coming back default to being in one piece?” she clarified with a tease. His gentle smile returned, his eyes softening, as the storm inside finally passed.

“Just come back.”

The rest of the day had been spent discussing tactics with one another, with the occasional pipe-in from Jean. With no thanks to the board and their lack of communication, they had little evidence to send with Hawkeye to show to the nomads. The necklace one of the midwives had crafted for Riza, a hand-woven line with a solar pendant at the crest, was all she had, tucked comfortably beneath her shirt.

Hours passed before Jean stood from his chair, stretched, and announced he had to leave to meet a girl for a date. With prodding, he only mentioned it was another officer and that she was entirely out of his league. Isn’t every woman out of your league? Roy had asked. Jean answered with a smack to the back of his head.

“Stay safe,” Jean said to Hawkeye as he pulled her in for a hug. “Good luck out there. We’ll see you soon.”

“Of course,” she smiled back at him. He waved goodbye.

Soon the sky turned violet, the sun pulling downwards to sleep. Roy glanced at his pocket watch; quarter til seven.

The walk to the armory was quiet.

“General, the train ride is long,” she had said after Jean had left. “You don’t need to stay.”

“I know that.”

Quicker than what seemed normal, the day was nearly dark by the time they arrived. The before colors of the sunfall had flitted away into twilight. It was chillier in Central, despite it being early August. Summer was fading; autumn teased the land like a ghost. Men were passing boxes to each other and piling them into a large covered cargo vehicle, the tarp a washed out green and the tires taller than a child. Roy spotted Boswick speaking with another man near the passenger door, and he eyed him warily before stopping his captain with a touch to her shoulder.

“I don’t know who any of these men are besides Imam,” he said when she turned towards him, “but remember that you’ve got authority here.”

She gave him a look.

“Oh?” she asked doubtfully.

“Yes,” he replied sharply, an attempt to convince her. “They’ve probably never even stepped foot in that desert. You know who the Ishvalans are, you know their plight. I know I don’t need to tell you not to let these guys walk all over you, because God knows that won’t be an issue.” She smiled. “But just remember that if you’re ever in doubt, listen to your gut. Not them.”

“Boswick is a major general, sir. And his number two is a major.”

“Doesn’t matter. Your gut is fuhrer on that truck.”

Her smile turned to a quiet laugh, and the corners of his own mouth pursed at the sound. He found that he coveted hearing it one more time.

“Captain Hawkeye,” called Boswick, seeming to finally see her. “You ready to roll out?”

She turned towards him and snapped to attention, her hand whipping up to her right eyebrow in salute.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Let’s get going.”

Boswick lifted himself into the cab of the vehicle as the other three men put the last of the boxes into the bed. The two soldiers helped Imam up onto the ledge, and the Ishvalan man parted the tarp to enter the back. Hawkeye’s hand dropped as she turned to face Roy.

“I’ll see you soon, General Mustang,” she said with a thin smile, gripping her briefcase tighter as she turned on her foot and set off towards the truck.

Without thinking, in no way planning was he was about to do, Roy grabbed her wrist and stopped her, allowing the spark between them to shock them both. She halted immediately and glanced back at him with wide eyes and an open mouth, her bangs fluttering about from the sharp turn of her head.

He quickly reached into his pocket with his free hand, wrapped his fingers around what was inside, and deposited the contents from his hand to hers. The hold he had on her wrist slipped downwards to her fingers so the materials were thick between their palms. He gave her hand a strong, formal shake.

“Come back,” he ordered sternly, quiet so only she could hear. Feeling the flex of her muscles, he knew she had a grip on what he’d given her and he slipped his hand out from its hold. She lifted her wrist, the darkening skies giving her little light to see, and unraveled her fingers to display what was in her palm.

Roy deliberately took several steps back so she couldn’t return them. By the time she finished digesting the gesture, her face was lined with something he couldn’t quite read. Perhaps it was his distance from her, or how the setting sun had bathed the land in a deep blue, but the look he could make out on her face made his throat grow tight.

He looked at her fiercely, any emotion buried under a layer of severity. To a stranger, he may have even appeared angry.

“Hawkeye, let’s go!” yelled a voice somewhere behind her. This seemed to pull her from her statuesque state, her face faltering at the shout, though she still hadn’t blinked away from her locked gaze with Roy. He swallowed and tilted his chin downwards.

Come back.

He watched the shadows of her face adjust as her nostrils flared and her mouth closed, and she gave him a single nod as she pocketed what he had given her. Then she turned on her heels, walked several steps to the truck, grabbed onto the handlebar to the right, and hoisted herself inside so she disappeared beyond the tarp.

#saying that this is late is an understatement #but thats alright because self care #I may not post much but I will update this story!#fullmetal alchemist #fullmetal alchemist fanfiction #royai #royai fanfiction #riza hawkeye #roy mustang #fma fanfiction #fma #fmab #my fanfiction #my fanfic

15 notes · View notes