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nyasialiveshere · 1 year ago

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For colored girls: think piece for educational purposes; opinions welcome tho

So i was thinking on how, 90 percent of black female exo stans going from normal kai fans to hardcore fujoshi's to distance themselves from the kmusic nd black women movement is kinda sad, like just b ur self people will think what they want to think regardless its sad the lack of creativity these spaces had because so many fell into group think and feared being x'od out(no pun intended) from a fandom. it'll never be that serious. I'd like an actual study done on why most people get into hard-core shipping particularly females and particularly neurodivergent ethnic women, is it simply cause of naturally being in love with a couple(which is just voyeurism and still implies projecting yourself on one part of the relationship 4 real just look it up some twilight article from 2007 written by a white dude might pop up tho) or is it to distance oneself from the prison of the body avoid the harsh realities of gender inequality. Boys don't have to deal with periods, hormonal imbalances and physical vulnerability or at least as not as much as women typically do (if anyone disagrees pls go read any book on femicide in 1st or 3rd world countries its eye opening). But going back to what i was saying it kinda shocked me when i realized unlike other races there was more of an imbalance in the hetero-crushing fangirl and the vocal Fujoshi side of the fandom when it came to black women. Surely racism and simply wanting to be liked and possibly even avoid racist backlash by being apart of something that basically excludes all discussion of an idols toxic, s*xist, hetero er*tic behavior or really any conversation that a ethnic person w a brain would eventually call out. Wearing the fujoshi badge of honor would come with a certain code of conduct not mentioning too much outside of what would make the average shipper uncomfortable. Even if a shipper were to post a social climate topic talking of or reposting a thinkpiece this is basic liberal internet code of conduct being a shipper primarily a yaoi one of course that is acceptable. But anything digging to deeply in the behavior of pathology of a person or even(gasp) possible odd problematic things concerning the very ship you all congregate over that would be to much and you should be swiftly blocked lest anyone end up thinking to hard. I think many people have thought quite long and hard about it seeing the trend of intense idol worship, shippings, then completely deactivating of accounts leaving many pockets of the internet old kpop ghostowns. Because still to this day I wonder if for no other reason than just nobody talks about it, how interesting some of the most beloved exo ships including jongin like kaisoo could have long histories of simple unhealthy or toxic behavior towards one another and it either be swept under the rug, mass deleted( super common), or my fav have a black nd white filter put over it or have it slowed down.

For that reason i believe exo ships must be the korean kpop yaoi equivalent of justinxselena/ justinxhailey because of the pure blockheadedness of the shippers only caring about crafting the narrative. In exols so wrapped up in identifying with a homoerotic ship that common sense and decency leave the window. I won't touch on the dehumanization, overs*xualization ( thats a whole literal book i could write because they were kids who got groomed to be appealing to women and men alike and have unrealistic anime like bonds with their group members, and fellow trainee's) regardless on if you think they are together or not hell literally who knows but ignoring the system itself is messes up and not wanting to kill the l*st you have for your ship long enough to see it..its too much. These companies are not right they are truly a flashy version of slavery no part of it is cute including the ships companies sit down and pair up. Again there are still shippers of couples that are dead and divorced, many couples are secret no on can say for sure what is and isn't true but what is true above is that children desperate to make themselves and their families proud are taught to be s*x symbols before they are done with puberty. The same puberty as many of their fans were going through as they first laid eyes on them. I'll never forget in the one direction documentary they brought in a neurologist to describe how the fan's brains as mostly preteen or teenage girls were extremely affected almost to the point of hysteria. I just can never back down on the boy/girl bands craze being distinctly built for young girls. It is. It is real life barbie and ken. The way they view the teen girl market is predatory, evil and ends in destruction of young minds.

The fact that johnny kitagawa was exposed yet people still revere him and his work like he did something tells me so much about the world and era we are in. I truly believe people have/will have the same sentiments towards lee sooman. But look what he did for kpop...what did motown do for black music? Sold it to the literal devil. People as a commodity is slavery. People's relationships, their affection, how they express love, their intimacy being wrapped up in a bow for you is slavery..comfortable slavery but still slavery none the less. They are designer slaves, ultra house slaves. I need more realistic conversations about the nature of this particular pocket of capitalism. Without the sob story attached about how its a..or rather a particular idol or a paticular relationship is your salvation..no its not. hollywood married couples with kids break up. The self identifying * delulu fantasy* im a real life manic pixie dream girl this idol is my emotional support...yes emotional support idol I've heare this so many times before. But people always mis speak, what you mean is that idol is your virtual emotional support dog.

Because what else could you call feeling entitled to wanting to control someone's viewpoint, disliking how masculine or feminine someone is on a particularly day ( the domkai subkai or alpha omega debate with him sends me each side completely ignoring all humans have a balance of maculine and feminine energies. Denying someone polarity as a human being is something else.) and how that disrupts your view of who you feel they should be, showing praise when they are a good boy and feeling okay to drag them when they did what you consider bad, feeling that person is less than human, nothing more than a virtual pet.

I am interested to see how people react when sm no longer has control and the freedom on their personal image.

when the malewife member gets an actual wife and has children and is conservative then what..thats not far fetched that is just realistic.

When reality sets in will the kpop fandom still like them, everyone says yes a if exo hasn't been under contract since their brains werent fully formed and sm controlled their image even if you think they didnt.

I has to get offline when chen's wedding was happening and people were using behind the scenes footage of members next to one another at a most likely an assigned seat wedding. You think a married man is gonna put his band members spread out next to family...wild nothing was learned. But the shippers laugh at the stan shippers who don't want him married

the exo is family fans is no different than the they shouldnt date fans you are implying they would put a group over their own wellbeing or even their children now thats where you're buggin. The people who retort we pay their bills we made them..nope wrong gain technically you didnt, their sponsors, managers, ceo, makeup artist all who they know better than any fan helped make more so than any fan. Fans are customers, one person stop going to a restaurant or store, ten more people see a commercial or celeb endorse it and go in droves

one customer stop shopping at a luxury grocery store because its too expensive or the store changed too much

doesnt matter to the store because its not a store just like an idol they have a team upkeeping it and keeping it running and evolving, getting or rather paying or giving incentives to wealthy or influential people to keep their product or corporate entity running and successful.

People back then were shocked when liam started revealing things about the group the fans had no ideal about. These are people, who are mostly contoured into whatever the richest person in charge thinks they should be how on earth could you know anything beyond your own nose watching video content made by the same people who created the celebrity avatar they occasionally embody.

Im still learning new stuff about the entertainment industry nothing is ever certain Media is an illusion even whats behind the curtain seriously, a lot of what people think is fanservice is...but not for regular fans its for super duper rich people the same ones who keep the companies and comebacks going. But anyway most of this is known subconsciously anyway. Gifts aren't allowed but somehow certain fans can gift items worth more than the rent at an idols dorm, these special fans aren't bratty rich girls but again its a lovely story pushes to further demonize women making women the ultimate villains when at the end of the day women are getting financially, spirituatually, creatively and physically drained by men whether in the physical or metaphysical by the characters in kwangya.

Theres so much more to say but eh i only said a few problematic things

oh and because I sped past it and i don't wanna come back to this and clarify, people be speed reading i know sometimes I'm people. What i meant concerning the kai shipping sitch is that every yaoi ship he is in there was a time said other half of the ship went there with either his features ( which is featurism and worse than colorism every idol skin whitens but i noticed people consistently saying or alluding to his looks being other which if you didn't know in far east asia featurism would be pointing out someone not having the typical far east asian features and having more austrailoid/negroid features. I never noticed this til I went back after my brain developed. This would be why all those years ago taemin said he looked like he was from south america which was a bit more accurate than kai saying he thought taemin was usher. There are other instances between these two but im just putting an example. Exo certainly had there fun but on the tail end of exo's career you will only see kai himself making fun of his skintone. You can feel however you want but I just find it interesting the same standards the public has with heterosexual relationships even fictional shipping fandom just doesn't exist when concerning yaoi. But again I feel thats for obvious reasons. The shipverse which mainly includes the highlight reels heated onstage moments or fluffy ones.

Anyway whatever i can tier rank ships another day. All the ones I have seen that may have actually had something going on.... nobody cares, which means it's mostly just group think. Its the tribe aspect. Notice there's no one shipping oxygen and hydrogen its a true bond definitely real but there's no fanclub/cult

#sm entertainment #exo #shipping #If the shoe fits just where it figure out where you went wrong and become self aware #I never shipped but i rocked with it i lowkey supported it nobodys perfect #As hannah once said #kim jongin #kaisoo #chankai #taekai

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animerunner · 2 years ago

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Also some of y’all why is it so hard to tag spoilers? You can remember every tag but apparently that one. You can add and remove tags if it bothers you that much to have it just take it off but have some basic common decency to your fellows fans and add the spoiler tags

#the owl house

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mirambles · 3 years ago

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Hometown Cha Cha - Masterclass in Love Triangle and Bromance

I detest love triangles - I don’t like seeing people heartbroken over unrequited love. I have rarely seen love triangles resolved amicably with no bad blood between the rivals. Most times they will fight , hate on each other or be competitors pulling each other down and the other times one of them will die, or one of them won’t confess, or if they confess, the person in question won’t have the decency to respectfully decline the confession (Do not get me started on StartUp and Dalmi - it will result in a long post on how terrible she was to Han Ji Pyeong - DoDal fans stay away, I have no time for you). So given my past experience with a crappy love triangle in Startup and the fact that I was witnessing Hometown Cha Cha Cha setting all the wrongs done in Startup right, I was slightly upset to see another love triangle creep in.

One because I was really beginning to like Ji PD’s character and Lee Sang Yi is a good actor. So I would not have been able to bear DuSik pull a DoSan on Ji PD.

Two, DuSik despite being surrounded by people who loved and cared for him, was a loner at heart. HyeJin was steadily making her way into his heart bringing his walls down. Sure DuSik needed to find the love of his life, but he had also lost a brother and a friend and he would appreciate if he found one again a lot more. Speaking from my own experience, it’s always better to find the love of your life and best friend in two different people rather than in a single person.

I loved how DuSik and Seong-Hyun ended up saving each other from falling into the sea.

Gif credit @iamacolor

Gif credit @junghaesin

Shared a common love for vintage cameras, photography and food. It was good to see the know-it-all DuSik get handed a lesson in modesty by a guy who was no villain, but an insanely likeable, good natured fellow just like DuSik was. Both had a natural chemistry going from the moment they met - yes pretty much like DuSik and HyeJin did from the word go and I loved their crazy, comic timing together.

Gif credit @idakosukes

How can you even get over their comical scene appreciating the exquisite rare fish meal at Hwa Jeong’s restaurant. Ji-Won was right to warn Doha to not tread on their paths.

The surfing lessons and all the banter, the jealousy surfacing and the need to outdo each other , but while maintaining respect for each other.

Gif credit @forursmiles @iamacolor

But there was the elephant in the room and each needed to address it sooner than later.

Seong-Hyun was in love with HyeJin for 14 years. She was his first love in college and he hesitated to confess to her. He had clearly not watched Reply 1988 because he would’ve got some valuable lessons from Jung Hwan - the one who hesitates always loses. So this time after meeting her again, he decided not to hesitate, though he had already sensed the atmosphere and knew he didn’t stand a chance against DuSik. But he confessed nevertheless, for himself, to have no regrets and that was a lovely message - that we need to open our true feelings and our heart for our own growth , so we can move on with zero regrets.

How beautiful was HyeJin in her response to his confession. She was so mature and measured in her response. So truthful and honest. What a realistic character Shin Ha Eun has given us. She was so respectful to him, his feelings and her own feelings. She did not hide from him that she indeed had feelings for him during their college days, but she did not think it would work out. We all go through these insecurities at that age, because we are battling so much while growing up that we are afraid to hurt ourselves. I got a bit emotional because it reminded me of my college days and how I never opened up about my first crush - for the fear that I would lose a friend (we have sadly lost touch over the years - no fall out) and I knew we would have never made it work, because we wanted such different things in life. But then who knows, maybe being honest would have made me have less regrets and the what ifs would have gone forever. It’s why I admire and love HyeJin even more - she was honest to her first love because she owed him that and bold enough to confess to the love of her life without fear of rejection. And the natural next step is that the second lead goes away from the couple and everyone moves on with their lives. But not this drama, because Hometown Cha Cha Cha was tropey for sure, but the writer was also a master at subverting these tropes. Seong-Hyun is a wonderful guy and so is DuSik and both are mature enough to not let go of their new found friendship.

Seong-Hyun delivers the best line of Episode 11 - it’s why I love his character, it’s why he will be a forever favourite second lead (Again don’t remind me Han Ji Pyeong was the second lead, if you watched StartUp, you know that’s a lie that we were fed)

I have watched 70 odd KDramas and none comes to mind which had such a beautiful, mature resolution to a love triangle. Hats off to Shin Ha Eun for delivering the best lesson in how to handle love triangles.

Ji Seong-Hyun may have lost his first love, but he was not going to lose a friend. DuSik knows he had found one too.

It is wonderful that when both are at their lowest and their hearts are hurting , they are there for each other to give the nudge they needed to move ahead in their respective relationships.

DuSik is at his lowest and scared to reach out to HyeJin, it’s Seong-Hyun who comes and tells him to lay all the cards in front of her honestly and that he trusts her enough to accept DuSik with all his faults. How right he is!

Seong-Hyun loses his appetite and is hurting at the thought of Ji-Won leaving him. DuSik makes him realise that his pain this time is greater than it was when HyeJin rejected him; and that he should not be hesitating again to lose Ji-Won in his life.

There is no need to have elaborate talks - because these two guys just get each other. Ji PD gets Hong DuSik just like HyeJin does. Ji PD is the one who tells DoHa: ‘It mustn’t have been easy for DuSik either - what a stroke of bad luck to hit everyone’. He pretty much won me over with that line, because like everyone else without hearing Dusik’s side, he could have so easily hated on DuSik too. But he didn’t, because he knows - he knows DuSik, even though DuSik hasn’t opened up to him. And that’s the kind of friend you need for life!

There are many wonderful bromances in KDramas and if I see the next list that comes out without Hong DuSik and Ji Seong-Hyun on it, I will be revolting!

#hometown cha cha cha #kim seon ho #hong du shik #kdrama #shin min ah #yoon hye jin #lee sang yi #ji seong hyeon #ji seong hyun #shin ha eun #love triangle #bromance #korean actor #startup #han ji pyeong #du shik #hong dusik

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you-cant-spell-subtext-without · 2 years ago

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Literally I feel so bad for Jensen- like we KNOW he cares about what ppl think about him and he was so so proud of how hard he worked out and stuff and now ppl are out here coming at him for his butt.

Also Imagine seeing everyone making fun of your jass in the literal FIRST EPISODE you’re actively in and knowing there is way more to come. The dude must be so frightened of the next episode drops lol

Also I’m just GLAD that they didn’t show the jick like some people assumed they would because could you imagine the stuff ppl would say THEN?

Honestly I doubt Jackles cares to the level where it would frighten him about upcoming eps (if he's even seen any of the wank at all); but agreed from just the perspective of celebs are also humans so we really should consider that before making shitty jokes about their bodies on main. Also, it's maddening to consider that folks are comfortable doing this primarily because the body in question is a male body which makes it somehow more acceptable as the subject of derision and despicable, low brow humor. If anyone said this about one of the female leads in the show they'd be shown the door VERY quickly.

We should also consider that while we can't ever be sure if the person we are making the joke about will see it, our friends/acquaintances/fellow fans and human beings will certainly read the shitty things that are posted and realize how much we really value some patriarchal notion of what a "perfect" body is supposed to look like and how mean we are willing to get for "jokes" to gain clout on the internet. I've had to block a few people I thought I really liked today. Guess I'm glad they showed me their (no pun intended) ass and true colors, but damn. Have some sense of common decency at the end of the day, even in this godforsaken dumpster (affectionate).

#you cant spell subtext without asks #nonnie #jasscourse #fandom wank for ts

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lonelyghosts-stuff · 4 years ago

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Peppermint and Pinewood

Peppermint and Pinewood (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

Premise:

Draco Malfoy x muggleborn, Slytherin! Reader

Although the time setting isn’t too important, I envisioned it taking place somewhere in the fifth year.

Warnings: none really? I mean, I guess bullying, mild angst, and fluff lol. I dunno if Draco goes a little off-canon character wise here but I tried to make his personality as close to the source material as possible.

Word count: 4,581

Note: This is my first ever fan fiction I’ve ever written so yea.

Read it on wattpad too:

https://www.wattpad.com/story/244556691-peppermint-and-pinewood

It was another bad day. After getting yet another berating from Snape due to putting one too many dried lavender flowers in the Calming Draught potion and subsequently losing five house points from Slytherin, y/n found herself once again the target of insults and sneers. As if being a muggle born placed in Slytherin wasn't bad enough, it seems like every single mistake made, no matter how simple or innocent it may have been, was held against her as if it was the highest insult to the wizarding world.

Following a long walk down the hallway to her next class, a cold and judgmental presence drew near. With his steely gray eyes, Draco Malfoy looked down upon y/n.

"Well well... looks like the mudblood lost us even more points! As if it wasn't enough of a plague upon wizard kind and the Slytherin House to have a mudblood part of it..." Draco leaned in towards y/n towering over her by at least 15cm (about 6 inches rounded up) and continued "we have to further suffer your utter lack of any practical skills in class. I mean, bloody hell y/l/n! We've been learning the calming draught for what, the past three days? And you still managed to screw that up. If it was up to me, your kind wouldn't even be allowed in the magical world much less Hogwarts; as pathetic as this school is."

After the cacophony of insults and belittlement, Draco continued onward, gesturing his cronies to follow...

Only, they didn't follow right away. Crabbe and Goyle decided that it was their time to shine and decided to push y/n around, knowing full well she wouldn't do anything to stop them. With some rude comments and pathetic chittering of a laugh, Crabbe gave y/n one final shove sending her onto the ground and spilling out her supplies including books, quills, and a jar of ink. Despite the squawking coming from Crabbe and Goyle, Draco looked more bemused than anything. While he should be laughing at a lowly mud blood getting what they deserved, he felt empty. He almost pitied y/l/n.

"Crabbe, Goyle, hurry up or we'll be late to D.A.D.A. and I sure as hell am not losing any house points because of you buffoons." Draco demanded, leaving y/n on the ground, scurrying to clean up the mess.

Eventually one Slytherin classmate and their Hufflepuff friend spotted y/n and helped her clean up.

"Scourgify! There you go! All better now!" The Hufflepuff chirped as the Slytherin handed y/n the last of her things.

"Are you sure you simply tripped and fell?" The Slytherin doubted y/n's story. "I mean, you aren't the most popular nor liked in Slytherin."

"Oh uh yea. I know where you're coming from but I promise it was just a little trip. Just me being clumsy is all!" Y/n fumbled through her response. "But thanks for the concern Mallory!"

Mallory was one of the few Slytherins who didn't despise y/n for her blood status. Coming from a home where her dad is a wizard and her mom's a muggle, not even muggle born, she found herself sympathizing with y/n.

"Hey y/n, promise us you'll come for help if you really need it, okay?" Susan Bones the Hufflepuff, a caring and hardworking witch who, while maybe initially coming across as weak and a pushover, is not one who is past fighting someone in order to defend her friends.

"Yea yea I promise I promise." Y/n chuckled. If only Mallory was in y/n's dorm room. Things would be a lot better for sure.

After a couple more minutes of reassuring Mallory and Susan that she was alright, y/n begrudgingly made her way to her next class with her fellow housemates of the same year, Defense Against the Dark Arts. While not her particular favorite due to the inconsistency of the instructors, y/n found herself enjoying D.A.D.A. more than most classes due to not only the wide variety of skills and spells learned, but the hands on approach of applying said new skills in practical situations. It was certainly a sight to behold when she transformed her boggart from Voldemort to a mere Pansy Parkinson, shackled by her ankles no doubt by Filch. Of course this only earned y/n more nasty comments hurled her way as well as an unappreciated "gift" from an owl left on her bed, but y/n felt that the site was worth it nonetheless.

D.A.D.A. was unfortunately highly uneventful that day as the class merely reviewed the basic defensive and combative spells from previous years (a shocking amount of students performed poorly on the review exam and thus the whole class had to suffer). On her way out of the class, y/n was met by another Slytherin, none other than the she-devil herself, Pansy Parkinson. As if on cue, the moment y/n stepped out of the classroom and was out of sight of any faculty, y/n was roughly pulled by the hand and pushed into the neighboring, empty classroom by Pany who promptly closed the door behind her, holding it shut.

"Hey let me out of here! Pansy you downright insufferable git!" Y/n burst out, an uncommon instance that was released due to pent up rage from days of harassment.

"Nuh uh! Maybe when you learn your lesson that Draco is mine and you'll neeeveeer be more than a pathetic, weak, and intolerable mudblood!" Pansy chortled in a sing-songy voice.

"Pansy I swear to Merlin..." y/n started before stopping themself to recompose and calm down. "Pansy, I'm asking nicely... please, open the door. I have no clue what you are talking about with Draco, but you don't need to worry. I want nothing to do with that cocky, rude, hair-gelling bastard, okay?!"

"Augh?! You think that pathetic excuse for an apology is gonna cut it? Nuh uh! Maybe you need some more time alone to think about your actions, y/l/n. Colloportus!" And with that, y/n heard the doors click locked, Pansy mumble the anti-alohomora charm, and the ever fading footsteps of Pansy proudly striding away.

Feeling all of her built up emotion come to a boil, y/n allowed herself to blow some steam off while she was alone. Casting one destructive spell after another, the classroom suffered greatly from the y/n’s rage.

"BOMBARDA! STUPEFY! DIFFINDO! INCENDIO!" Y/n proclaimed with much fervor before stepping back in fear.

The last spell carelessly cast quickly caught the ratted tapestry curtains over the windows, sending them ablaze. In the panic, y/n stumbled back to the door before pounding on it wildly for help. Fortunately for her, her absence in her next class and last class of the day was reported and McGonagall was passing by to look for her. Quickly reversing the rushed anti-alohomora charm on the door and then following up by unlocking it, the door swung open as y/n fell through, almost onto the ground before catching herself.

After extinguishing the fire with a quick flick of her wand and a mutter of 'aguamenti' and long winded conversation filled with explanations, denial, and intense pleading, McGonagall decided it was in the best interest to remove 100 points from Slytherin for the utter lack of safety and human decency.

Of course this didn't go well for y/n. That evening she found herself locked out of her own dorm room as her roommates found the blame for the points lost resting solely on y/n. Making her way to the empty common room, y/n sat on one of the couches in front of the green, crackling fire. Equipped with nothing outside of her button up, vest, and pants, y/n used her robe as a blanket and cuddled up on the couch.

At that moment, y/n's bottled up emotion overflowed and she sobbed into the couch cushion. Feeling more like a burden than a human, y/n repeated in her head the insults she's heard many times. "Hinderance. Pathetic. Weak. Worthless..." she choked out between sobs. "Filthy... little... mudblood."

Before y/n could even get one wink of sleep, a door creaked open revealing the prince of Slytherin himself, Draco. Only, unlike most other times, Draco was sans henchmen. Presumably, Draco snuck out for one reason or another and was only returning about now. As Draco stepped into the light, he noticed a covered figure on the couch. Draco glimpsed at y/n h/l h/c hair, quickly deducing it was y/n.

"What are you doing out here this late, y/l/n?" Interrogated Draco. "Shouldn't you be in your room?"

"I could ask you the same thing. Wandering about this late at night, you could lose us house points or worse depending on what suspicious activities you are into." Y/n mumbled as she tried to tune out the excess noise, not caring anymore about how she responded to Draco.

"Harsh, but fair." Draco let out a rare chuckle.

For some reason, hearing Draco chuckle sent warm tingles throughout her body from one hand to another. This is just barely a fraction of a side of Draco she wished she could see all the time. Before getting too caught up in daydreams, y/n remembered it was Draco's fault in the first place that she's even locked out of her room at all.

"Well, to put it short, I'm still a, as you say, a filthy mudblood and it would appear as if torturing me and locking me in an abandoned classroom wasn't enough for them so they decided to lock me out of our own room." Y/n vented with both a sense of exasperated relief as Draco stood silently, stiff as a board, as if he was shocked as to what he was hearing.

Draco took a moment to drink in y/n. Her e/c eyes, red and glossy from tormented crying. Even in this state she was still breathtaking. Wait, what? Breathtaking? Draco suddenly forgot how to speak as his mind raced from his sudden observation. She's not pretty, right? She's just a muggle born, a disgrace to the wizarding world! Is that all she is though? And only a muggle born, not a mudblood? Draco panicked internally for a brief moment before finally recollecting himself and regaining his composure.

"Oh." Was all Draco could manage at the moment. Appearing deep in thought, Draco organized a response. "As much as I would love to hear more of your life problems, I have a room to go back to. So... um... good night..."

Draco awkwardly turned around and shuffled towards his room, pausing only for a brief moment and throwing a quick glance over his shoulder as if he was contemplating something. He quickly shook off any feeling of turning back and entered his room for the night.

The school year progressed without much of anything significant happening outside of the common bullying and stress of the holidays approaching. It was almost winter break and, as usual, y/n would be staying at Hogwarts for Christmas. Her parents always took a long vacation over Christmas break and figured they would save money by leaving y/n at school where she would still get food and housing without them having to pay for an extra plane ticket. Y/n didn't mind too much. She had always been pretty independent from her parents, but she loved them nonetheless. They all loved each other but they weren't very affectionate about it, a factor that probably contributed to her apathetic approach to most things. While always hopeful to be invited to one of her parents annual holidays, y/n also looked forward to the more or less peace and quiet of having the common room and school mostly to herself with the exception of the other few students who also remained for the holidays.

Unbeknownst to y/n, ever since their interaction at night in the common room, Draco has been secretly watching her. While seeing her in such a devastated state should logically make him happy as she is only a muggle born, Draco felt anything but happy. It was almost like looking into a mirror for him, seeing her broken. It reminded him of his many nights of anxiety and depression after getting an earful from his father about how he wasn't "good enough" or constantly feeling inadequate compared to the "chosen one", Potter. From that moment on, Draco avoided y/n. Y/n didn't really think anything of it except that she appreciated the extended periods of peace and silence between the other students' insults. This of course only prompted Crabbe and Goyle to try to make up for their ring leader's apparent avoidance and growing distaste of picking on y/n. Fortunately for y/n however, Crabbe and Goyle were quite dim witted and easy to outsmart or avoid. Another development for y/n was that, after her time in the abandoned classroom allowing her to let off some steam, followed by her mini rant to Draco, she found herself able to stand up for herself a bit more, much to the chagrin of Pansy Parkinson. Now when Pansy strode up to y/n with a cocky and mischievous smirk plastered on her face, y/n simply looked on with a strong and unavoidable expression of mere annoyance and anticipation of disappointment. Pansy would try to insult y/n only for y/n to retort with a simple motion of dismissal or a clever comeback.

"Well if it isn't the local mudblood of Slytherin!" Pansy would shout with falsely placed pride.

"Well if it isn't the local tramp of Slytherin!" Y/n would respond with a mock curtsy. "What an absolute honor to be in your presence. Oh, and of course the presence of all the guys you try to hook up with."

Pansy would only stare on, gobsmacked and dumbfounded. She would walk away trying to act as if y/n's responses meant nothing to her, but her embarrassment would be evident with the bright red burning at her cheeks. Y/n would always take a silent pride in herself when she managed to hold her composure and deliver lines to Pansy that would shut her up without the need to stoop down the Pansy's level herself.

The days progressed even more until it was eventually the last day before the Christmas holiday. As the other students were packing their things and saying their goodbyes, y/n spent her time in the library or in the Slytherin common room, sitting next to one of the many windows looking out under the Black Lake. Y/n would often sit by the windows and look at the fish and grindylows swim by, almost entranced by the aquatic life that resides within the lake. Y/n always hoped to spot the giant squid someday, but outside of the rare silhouette of a tentacle, she was disappointed. Of course her biggest achievement of her many nights of lake gazing was when she spotted a mermaid right outside the window. The mermaid smiled a soft and ethereal smile before singing a peaceful song, lulling y/n to a restful sleep. Y/n would constantly be on the lookout for that same mermaid each night, even more so than the giant squid, but was unfortunately commonly met with mere fish or the occasional grindylow that would give her a wicked smile. At the end of the day, students began to turn in for the night in preparation for leaving bright and early in the morning to go home or wherever for their Christmas vacations. Y/n, on the other hand, stayed up, sitting on the couch and watching the green flames dance and in the fireplace. A wave of contentment washed over her as she looked forward to a peaceful break. She had just been told by Mallory that, while she was leaving for the holiday, Susan Bones would be staying as her she had no family to return to (her family having been killed personally by Voldemort in the First Wizarding War) outside of her aunt Amelia Bones who was attending to business all holiday. Y/n looked forward to spending some time with Susan, especially knowing how hard the holidays are for her due to her family's past. She has already planned on taking her to Hogsmeade for some quality time as a “girls’ day” together and to make sure that, despite her circumstances, she would still have the best Christmas possible.

As y/n sat alone, mesmerized by the fire and picturing her plans to hang out with Susan, none other than Draco Malfoy once again stepped into the picture. He didn't directly approach y/n, more or less standing off to the side and looking outward at the lake. Y/n eventually directed her attention away from the fire and noticed Draco staring out at the lake. He seemed a lot more fidgety than usual, almost as if he was nervous or dreading something. 'It couldn't possibly be he's not looking forward to going home, could it?' Y/n thought to herself as she observed Draco's body language. After a brief minute, Draco turned around as if to head to bed only to notice y/n staring at him.

"Ah! W-what are you doing here y/l/n?" Draco jumped slightly, caught off guard.

Y/n quickly looked away, feeling her cheeks burn in embarrassment from being caught. "I, uh, well..." she calmed down and recomposed herself, "if you don't remember, despite yours and most everyone else's wishes, I'm still in Slytherin so I have just as much of a right to be here as you!"

"Oh. Yea. I mean, that's not what I meant." Draco fumbled through his sentences, his nervousness becoming more and more obvious. "I meant, what are you doing here, here. Shouldn't you be in bed so you'll be ready for the holidays?"

Once again, y/n found herself saying, "I could ask you the same thing." Y/n gave a playful yet unconfident smirk.

Defying anyone's best guess, a faint pink rose to Draco's cheeks, completely catching y/n off guard. He quickly tried to laugh it off before continuing to uncharacteristically stumble his way through the conversation. "Uh, yea. My bad, sorry."

Once again, y/n was caught completely off guard. 'Did the Draco Malfoy just say, "sorry"?' Draco didn't even seem phased by the absurdity of what he just said.

Quickly moving on from what just happened, y/n spoke up, "Well, to answer your question. No. I'm not leaving for the holidays. I'll be here all Christmas break."

Almost as if without a second thought, Draco made his way over to the couch area, sitting on the chai directly across from y/n. His previous nervousness seemed to fade away as he responded, "So, why are you staying here? How come you're not going home or traveling somewhere?"

"Well, my parents like to go on big fancy trips for the holidays and they figure that they can save money by leaving me here."

"Oh. Does that bother you at all? That they just leave you behind while they go and have a great time?"

Y/n shrugged, trying to ignore how weird this whole situation is. "Not really. It's always been like this. They never really went on vacations outside of an occasional camping trip with me when I was still living at home and they wanted to take advantage of the situation of me being at a school away from home to go on a nice trip while I was being cared for. We still go camping over the summertime though, so that's fun."

Draco was amazed, listening intently to every word that came out of y/n's mouth. The concept of needing to save money was pretty foreign to him, but he found himself able to relate to her situation of not having the most affectionate family.

"So, what about you, Draco? Why aren't you in bed? No doubt your family has some extravagant plans for the holiday." Y/n asked, turning the tables on Draco.

As soon as she asked this, the previously present nervousness and dread returned to Draco's face. "Oh, uh, not tired yet. A lot on my mind..."

"Well, surely your family has something exciting planned. I mean, you are a Malfoy after all."

As if she just pushed a button, Draco seemed to flinch away at the mention of his family name. For a brief moment, his nervousness was overcome with an irritated, defensiveness as he snapped, "Well it's not all perfect like you so clearly think!"

Y/n flinched back as he shouted this, confused by the sudden change in attitude. Draco noticed her almost immediately shut down, losing any joy that previously graced her face.

"I-I'm... sorry... I didn't mean to shout." Draco sighed. "It's just that-"

"No, I'm sorry." Y/n interrupted. "I saw you were clearly uncomfortable at the first mention of your family and I shouldn't have asked again... you don't have to say anything you don't want to."

"Thank you." Draco simply said. He began to stand up to head to bed before y/n got to say one last thing

"Draco. I-", y/n cut herself off, questioning if she should really finish her sentence. "I'm... always here if you need anything. Okay? I may not know of your family's background or yours, but I'm no stranger to hardships. I'm always here if you need help with something or even just someone to talk to."

Draco looked at her with a face full of mixed emotions. Uncertainty, confusion, fear of letting someone in, fear of pushing her away, and more. He was quiet for about a whole minute as he stood there, looking at y/n.

"But, why? Would you care about me? I've been nothing but cruel and rude to you. Why would you care how I feel?" Draco suddenly asked, breaking the silence.

"Just because you may not be the most pleasant person in the world to be around doesn't mean you don't have your own battles and issues in life, nor does it mean your issues are any less valid than anyone else's. You're still a human and... I care about you just like anyone else...", y/n looked down at the floor as she quietly said the last part.

Draco stood there, silent and uncertain about how to respond. Another minute of silence passed and, without a second thought, Draco turned around and walked to his room. Y/n kept looking down, berating herself in her head. 'You went too far you idiot! You just had to push it and make him feel uncomfortable...'. Y/n lied down onto the couch and closed her eyes as she tried to fall asleep.

As Draco walked away, he stopped for a second and whispered under his breath, "Thank you... y/n. Merry Christmas."

The night was rough for Draco; he couldn't sleep as he replayed the conversation in his head over and over again. When the time reached 1:30 am, Draco decided to get up and go for a brief walk to clear his head. He opened the door from his dorm room and quietly snuck out so as to not awake his roommates. Making his way down into the common room, he spotted y/n still there, only asleep on the couch. He quickly deduced she must have been locked out of her room again and that was another reason she wasn't in bed yet when he first came across her. He quietly walked over to her and looked at her. Despite her messy hair and unconventional sleeping position, she had a peaceful look on her face as she slumbered. As he turned away to continue his short walk, he heard a noise come from y/n. When he turned around, he noticed her shivering in her sleep. The fire had died down since he was last here and y/n was without a blanket or anything else to keep her warm. He wanted to relight the fireplace but he also didn't want to risk the sudden light waking her up. He eventually turned back to head to his room as y/n laid there.

The next morning, Draco and his friends were getting ready to leave the school and board the trains. A smirk was plastered on Draco's face, one which did not go unnoticed by Pansy.

"Hey Drayyyy!" Pansy cooed in a sickeningly sweet tone of voice. "What's got you so happy this be-a-utiful morning?"

Even Pansy's annoying presence couldn't dampen Draco's mood. "Oh it's nothing. Just looking forward to leaving this joke of a school is all." Draco proudly lied, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.

Despite many more attempts of learning what the truth was from Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle, Draco remained silent on the truth.

Back in the Slytherin common room, y/n began stirring awake. Surprisingly, she slept through the commotion of the other students leaving for Christmas. Stretching and yawning, y/n stood up off the couch, accidentally dropping the jumper that was draped across her onto the ground. Without hesitation she picked up the sweater and slid it on, quickly leaving to brush her hair and get ready for the day to take Susan to Hogsmeade.

Once in Hogsmeade, y/n lead Susan to Honeydukes to pick out an assortment of sweets.

"Thank you so much for all of this, y/n. I really appreciate it." Susan beamed as she grabbed a chocolate frog with one hand as her other held a box of treacle fudge.

"Of course. It's my pleasure and it's a nice change of pace from a normal school schedule. And one never needs an excuse to go to Honeydukes!" Y/n responded gleefully.

After they made their way back to Hogwarts with their bounty of sweets and a few items from Zonko's, Susan led y/n to the Hufflepuff common room so they could indulge themselves.

After taking a big bite from a liquorice wand, Susan spoke out, "oh I've been meaning to ask you, when did you get that jumper? It's been cold all winter but I haven't seen you wear it all!"

Y/n looked down at the jumper. It was green and silver in the Slytherin colors with a big, snake S in the center. "You know what? I don't know... I just woke up this morning and it was draped over me. I'm not sure how I got it."

"Weird. Maybe you made an impulse purchase and completely forgot?"

"No, I don't think that's it. It's a little big for me too. Maybe Mallory bought it for me and left it as a surprise? I know she's a bit bigger than me so that would explain it."

"No that can't be. She got you a new scarf and matching mittens for Christm-shoot!"

"Susan!!!" Y/n burst out laughing.

"Oh no I'm so so so sorry!!! Please don't tell Mallory I told you! She's been planning this for a week! Please act surprised when you get it! Aghhhh I'm so dumb!" Susan panicked as her face flushed from embarrassment.

"Don't worry don't worry!" Y/n chuckled loudly. "I'll act surprised I promise!"

"Thank you thank you thank you thank you!" Susan cried out as she stuffed her mouth with a pumpkin pasty.

The rest of the Christmas holiday was full of fun and funny times like this. For the first time in a while, y/n looked forward to getting up in the morning and seeing people. She would always wake up bright and early, brush her hair and her teeth, and slip on the mysterious oversized jumper. While it still bugged her and Susan as the jumper's origin remained a mystery, y/n was grateful to have it nonetheless on these cold, winter days.

It also had a pleasant scent of peppermint and pinewood cologne too.

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco x reader #draco x y/n #harry potter #fanfic #fantasy #magic #fan fiction

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bouwrites · 4 years ago

Text

Even Heroes Have the Right to Dream: Chapter 14

Sorrow hides well in your shell, a fellow man with hurt to spare.

First, Previous, Next. Ao3.

Story under read-more.

When Jon goes to Paris, a few days after Christmas, he and Marinette have their first true date. According to Marinette, she has to bribe Nino and Kagami to lock Alya and Adrien away together just to be sure they won’t be interrupted, but it’s definitely worth it.

Frankly, Jon is just relieved that it seems to be accepted here that Adrien wants to stalk their date in the same supportive best friend way Alya does, and not that he’s jealous or… well, Jon admittedly doesn’t know the guy that well. They’ve only spoken now and then when Marinette was already on the phone, really. That and stories. Him being Marinette’s ex makes Jon just a tad wary – not about him being around Marinette, but for the future friendship between the two of them personally – but he trusts Marinette’s word that Adrien’s alright with them, and he trusts the rest of her friends, too, so he has no reason to doubt the guy.

Either way, Jon’s first date goes off without a hitch. Mostly, anyway. He’s not exactly sure what he’s supposed to do on a date, so he’s a bit awkward, but Marinette thankfully seems to find it more endearing than insufferable.

They spend most of the day wandering around, stopping by major landmarks. The Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triomphe, the Notre Dame cathedral, but really, every corner they turn seems to have some crazy landmark on it. Even if it’s not strictly a landmark, but just an old fountain or building. The public water fountains may as well be art pieces, for heaven’s sake! Hell, even the modern buildings are so different here! Jon knows Marinette’s family lives over their bakery, but that’s not a common thing in Metropolis. When she shows him her childhood home, he can’t believe just how cute it all is.

He has, though, had Marinette’s baking enough times by now to believe completely just how tasty her parent’s work is. I am the luckiest boy alive.

It’s not Jon’s first time in Paris, but it is the first time he’s ever looked around. Doing it hand in hand with Marinette makes it the best day ever.

Eventually, they exchange Christmas gifts. Marinette tells him of the scarf she made Adrien back in their teenage days, how his father somehow took the credit for the gift and how she didn’t tell him the truth until much later. She’s nervous about it all, and says she doesn’t want to look like she’s just doing the same thing with him as she did with Adrien, but a scarf was her first real gift to him, she says, and she thinks that turned out pretty well all things considered, change in life paths and breakup notwithstanding.

Plus, she wants to surprise him, and he has to admit he really does expect her to have made clothes that she made such a production of fitting him for last semester. But she’s clever like that.

Jon gets it, and honestly, he doesn’t think twice about the backstory either way when he sees the scarf. The inspiration is obvious, though the technique… Jon hasn’t the faintest idea how Marinette goes about capturing the night sky in fabric. It’s like knitted midnight, stars and all, and Jon – he knows he’s a nerd, but he has to check – quickly finds Cygnus as a reference point and starts mapping out the stars. It’s not a perfect map, not to his memory, anyway, but it’s clearly put together with a lot of care.

Marinette isn’t as much of a geek as him, and this isn’t just the zodiac constellations in order, so he knows she has to have found star charts and referenced them to make this, which is way more work than he’d ever expect for a gift that seems, on its surface, so simple. Especially since she must have done this between Thanksgiving and now, and a lot of that time is dedicated to finals.

Now his present seems lame.

Or, well, Marinette still lights up when she opens the jewelry box and sees the little pewter pentagon inside, so Jon supposes it can’t be that bad. If she’s smiling, he didn’t fail, so he’ll take it. “It means hope.” He says quietly, reminding her as he snuggles into the scarf around his neck.

“I remember.” Marinette giggles. “Thank you, Jon.”

Jon lets out a tense breath. In truth, in addition to it just being really small and lame compared to what she gives him, Jon is afraid it may be a little… too much. Because ultimately, it is his family’s crest. Yes, these days, and on Earth, it’s more associated with Superman and heroism, which in itself poses a potential problem with the gift, but to give her his family’s crest to wear is… suspiciously close to a promise ring.

Now, Jon isn’t anywhere near ready for that kind of step, and he doubts Marinette is, either, but the symbol also means hope, and that… that is something that defines how he views her. She gives him hope for the future. She gives him hope for peace and for a life unbound by Superboy and heroes.

In a lot of ways, the gift of the symbol is extremely ironic. But frankly, Jon appreciates that. And, if anyone asks, he can brush it off by saying he’s from Metropolis (sort of) so he’s a Superman fan. For everyone not in the know, it’s just a small gesture to bring Marinette a little closer to her boyfriend’s home. Perfectly innocuous. It works.

And Marinette’s clever, certainly cleverer than him. One look at her face tells him she picks up on all those little meanings and more, and that she appreciates it.

The glittering of her eyes may as well be the stars out in Hamilton County, though Jon has to admit, the Eiffel Tower lit up as they pass by on the Seine is pretty spectacular as well. It’s there, under the first facsimile of the environment of their first attempt, that Marinette fiddles with the scarf around his neck, bunches it up in her hands, and gently tugs him down.

It’s strange. Out in the tree in the country, there’s no one around. It’s him, her, the bugs, and the stars and that’s about it. Here, on a crowded boat on the Seine, under the sparkle not of stars but of lights not suspended millions of light years away, but towering over them very real and raw and bright, when he leans closer to Marinette, it’s not all that different than it was the first time. The night is colder, but it feels warmer without the biting wind of flat farmland. The light is harsher, but it’s also more grounded. When he looks into Marinette’s eyes, there’s no difference in the night. What he feels inside of him is exactly the same. This moment is the same.

Except that the soft wisp of breath across his lips doesn’t startle him this time. This time, he doesn’t stop until proper contact is made. He doesn’t jump away at all, actually. He can stand here and let Marinette steal the breath from his lungs like this until he suffocates, and he’d be happy.

It’s short. Just a peck, really. Sweet and chaste and Jon really wouldn’t have it any other way. Not yet. As far as he’s concerned, as first kisses go, this is perfect. It’s not Jon’s first kiss ever, though nearly so, but it is his first kiss with Marinette, and that’s just as important.

Everything, the kiss, this night, the date, it’s all beyond Jon’s wildest dreams. Jon almost can’t believe himself for just how deeply in love he is. It’s ridiculous given he hadn’t truly thought of her in such a way until Thanksgiving, but… everything was primed. Perfectly primed for them to fall in love. All they needed was the catalyst, a starlit dance, a magic carpet ride, and that’s it for him.

Jon gets a curious text, before the break ends. It’s from Sam, and the first thing he thinks when he reads it is that she must be drunk. In fact, he actually calls Kasey to ask her to check in on Sam for him, because she has to be either inebriated or delirious and she may need someone to take care of her right now.

Kasey just tells him in no uncertain terms that no, Sam isn’t drunk, she’s just trying to one-up Marinette after the argument they had before finals. Jon is well aware of what happened then, but even still he asks her to double check, because… well… Jon has trashed the entire text conversation with Sam three times now, and is quite frankly too afraid to even click into the conversation at all when he sees that she sends him an image. Not after the first one she sends.

Jon honestly thought only guys did that. He’s had guys send him pictures like that unsolicited before, but girls? Not once, thankfully. Not until today.

Logically, he knows he should keep a record of the messages, but for Sam’s decency he just deletes sight (thankfully) unseen. If he really needs a record, he’s sure Damian or Tim can dig it up. Both are professional, and if it gets to that point, he’ll have a lot more to worry about than people seeing those pictures. Jon is hoping it doesn’t come to that, though. Honestly, given he’s adamantly not looking at that conversation, he’s not even entirely sure the pictures are what he’s thinking they are. But even if they are, and even if Sam isn’t drunk, this is most likely just lashing out and trying to manipulate him with… carnal pleasures, or something. Funny that she thinks that will work on him, or that she’d want him if she does think it’ll work on him.

Clearly, her logic is not there at the moment, so he’s just going to let her tire herself out and kindly refrain from actually looking at any picture she sends him. That, and tell Kasey and Marinette what’s happening. Kasey, because she can hopefully get Sam under some sort of control, and Marinette for obvious reasons.

Funnily enough, he gets a text from Louise warning him about Sam’s little outburst. Too late, but he appreciates that she thinks to try. That’s two testimonies saying that Sam has basically just gone off her rocker tonight. Jon hopes she figures it out. He really doesn’t like blocking numbers, but if this continues beyond this one outburst, he’s not going to have much choice.

Marinette handles it maturely enough that it honestly doesn’t bother him much. He definitely sees more than he wants to, just because the first image is unexpected so he doesn’t know not to look, but she thankfully isn’t completely undressed in that first one. And it doesn’t upset him. He actually feels a bit bad for her. He’s been trying to gently let her down all semester (and he realizes now that he probably didn’t have the best tactic, but even so he’s positive he was obvious), so he figures this is just her last ditch, desperation attempt. It’s… really sad.

Like, really sad. Maybe she’s trying to win him over with pity? Whatever the case, after a short conversation with Louise, Kasey, and Marinette, Jon just silences his phone and puts it away. When he checks it later, he deletes whatever Sam’s sent him and lets the other girls know that it’s stopped for now.

All in all? What a strange day. Jon makes a note to avoid Sam in the future if Marinette isn’t there – not that he usually sees the girls without Marinette around since they’re her group more than his, he has his boys – but otherwise tries to just put the whole day behind him. He doesn’t hear from Sam again, which is sad because she was a friend, but he’s not beat up about it because if she was telling the truth to Marinette, and her recent, pitiful attempt to steal him from her possibly just to hurt her tells him she probably was, that’s not a good friend, anyway. It’s sad, but they’re better off now. He’ll get over it in time.

He’s lucky he was never really that close to her. Her flirting ironically kept her more distant from him than the other girls. He does make sure to stick close to Marinette when he can, though. She’s strong, but it’s still a friend betraying her. She insists she’s been through worse, which Jon is sadly sure is true (he’s been through worse himself), but that doesn’t mean he’s going to let her handle it all on her own.

(When he explains the situation to the boys, he gets a string of four simple messages, one from each of them, reading, “yikes,” which makes both him and Marinette chuckle. A small joy, to lift the atmosphere. It works with aplomb.)

When the next semester starts and Jon has Marinette full-time, he takes full advantage of that fact to hang off of her whenever he can. Not only is he stubbornly trying to stop her from thinking too much about Sam, he also just gets a lot of free cuddles. (He still can’t believe he gets to cuddle Marinette like this.)

It’s hard to say, but he thinks it’s working. Either way, it has a side effect of overcoming the hesitance they have about their new boundaries in their new relationship, and Jon is more than happy to have Marinette draping herself over his lap like he’s just a comfy pillow. So, it’s a win-win.

A lot more goes on, too, but it’s all just casual, normal stuff. Jon teases David about not being with Tamias yet when even Jon managed to make it official with Marinette, he and Marinette give some awkward explanations about how they started dating and their holidays overall, Jon raves to the boys about the scarf that Marinette made for him, sending Jesse absolutely wild because dude, that’s Jagged Stone’s designer and you got a custom piece from her! Holy cow!

All fun and games, and their semester goes well, too. Jon has a semester of his foreign language class under his belt now, and is officially using Marinette to cheat (or, as he prefers to call it, check his work) on his French assignments. Marinette loses all shame about using him as a mannequin. Sometimes, they do both those things at the same time.

Marinette surprises him with a shirt, with a lame, cheeky excuse of some-week-iversary, which prompts Jon to get her flowers “just because” which starts a small gift war between the two of them which only stops when they both sit down and agree to stop wasting money on each other.

Jon adores the shirt, though. It’s just a simple black button-up with large, colored horizontal pleats (red, blue, yellow) on the outside of the short sleeves, but it’s comfortable, fits him better than anything else he owns, and it’s a gift from Marinette. He wears it whenever he can.

And that’s how life is for the next few months. Even summer comes and goes smoothly, despite some frustration on Jon’s part at the distance from his girlfriend (His girlfriend!! That still makes him feel fuzzy inside!) but even then, their powers and pasts are put to good use letting them visit each other much more often than normal long-distance relationships would allow.

Jon doesn’t think he jinxes it. He can’t remember when he does, if he indeed does so. But someone must, because it’s all going honkey dory until he gets a phone call from Damian.

Why is it that phone calls from Damian always seem to end in everything being chaotic for a while? Jon sighs as he picks up the phone, resigning himself to… whatever is going to happen, but rapping his knuckles on his wooden desk just for the hope. He’s barely gotten back to school, and it’s his final year here. He really doesn’t need this.

“Jon. You need to get home. Now.”

Jon knows that voice. That’s the “this is urgent; do as I say or die” voice. He knows better than to fight it. “Metropolis or the farm?” Jon asks, worried now. “Is Marinette in danger, too?”

There’s a sharp sigh from Damian’s side. “You’re not in danger.” He says.

Jon relaxes, and pauses his preparations to leave. If he’s not in danger where he is, then why on Earth is Damian sending him back home? Damian hasn’t bothered Jon about being a hero since their chat after Marinette found out about him. “Then you better explain.” Jon says tersely.

“Of course.” Damian clicks his tongue, a sharp sound that cuts even over the phone. “Last month, some members of the League investigated a fire in Cadmus Labs in D.C. They uncovered, among other things, a so-called ‘weapon’ created to, according to the files and the weapon himself, replace your father should he die, and kill him should he turn evil.”

Jon… honestly doesn’t know what to think about all this. “I haven’t been a hero for three years, dude.” Jon says. “This is going to hurt my brain, isn’t it?”

“It’s quite simple.” Damian snaps. “Using your father’s Kryptonian DNA, and Lex Luthor’s as a stabilizer, Cadmus created a genetic clone with the intention of replacing or killing Superman, whichever is necessary first. Understood?”

Jon furrows his brow, trying to wrap his head around it. “That’s not a clone, Dami. If it’s Dad’s and Luthor’s DNA that’s just my half-brother, isn’t it?”

“If you wish to think of it that way, then that works, too.”

“Where’d the mitochondrial DNA come from?”

Damian snorts. “I’m surprised you know what that is.”

“I did take biology.”

Damian clears his throat, as close to a laugh as the situation, and Damian’s demeanor, permits. “One of the paternal donors, most likely. There were no records of a female donor. This was not a normal process, obviously, and given you’ve manifested powers with a human mother I’m not sure we can know without testing him. Or that it really matters.”

Jon snickers. “Yeah, good point. So, in summary, I have a half-brother now?”

“Simply put, yes.”

Jon breathes deeply. “And… you said this was last month? Why didn’t Dad tell me this?”

“You’ll have to ask him that yourself, I’m afraid. Speaking of, do get going. The weapon seems to be beating him pretty badly right now.”

“Wait, they’re fighting?!” Jon exclaims, jumping back to his feet. Marinette comes out into the living room, looking at him with a clearly concerned expression, so Jon puts a finger to his lips and puts Damian on speaker.

“Yes, that’s why I told you to hurry home. The farm, by the way, to answer your first question.”

“Damian, I don’t fight! You know that! Can’t someone else stop them?”

“Stop two Kryptonians?” Damian scoffs. “Sure, let me just dig out my hoard of kryptonite and head over right away.”

“You say, as if you don’t have a hoard of kryptonite!”

“Do you really want me to use it?” Damian’s voice is terse and challenging, telling Jon that he absolutely will. Jon knows he will. “Because I have no other means to stop them, and you all have been very clearly against kryptonite in any form. I’m calling you because you can stop them without resorting to it. But if you do not want that courtesy, I’ll go stop them myself.”

“No!” Jon growls under his breath. “Damn it, Damian. I’m not fighting them!”

“Then talk to them. I don’t care how you stop them, just make sure that weapon doesn’t kill Superman.”

Marinette’s eyes go wide as the call ends abruptly. “Kill Superman?!” She gasps. “What’s going on.”

Freaking hell, Damian. Every time. “I’ve got a new brother.” Jon says, exasperated. “And he’s not getting along with Dad.”

“…What?”

“Yeah, I don’t know, either. In case you didn’t notice, Damian isn’t exactly the most helpful guy around.”

“That’s for sure.”

Jon sighs. “I have to go. I promise, I won’t fight, but one way or another, that’s my family. I have to-” Jon’s throat closes up involuntarily.

A fight. A Kryptonian, just like him and Dad. Duking it out with Superman. Jon is the only other person in the world strong enough to interfere with any relative safety. Aunt Kara must be really busy with something really far away or Jon wouldn’t be asked in the first place. It’s either this, or kryptonite, and by the time Damian can get the kryptonite over there, it might be over, anyway.

But… Jon hasn’t fought since he quit being Superboy. He can’t fight. Not just because of his promise, but because thinking about it…

“I’ll go with you.”

Jon’s eyes snap open, fixing on Marinette. “No! Not a chance! I don’t know anything about this brother, but he’s fighting Superman, and he has Kryptonian powers. I’m not letting you go out there!”

Marinette just sets her jaw and fixes a stern gaze on him. “Wayzz? Will your magic hold up against a Kryptonian?”

Wayzz titters awkwardly. “Ah, it is hard to say. There are limits to what I can shield from. It should hold up for at least a few attacks, but if you end up in an onslaught…”

“Then that doesn’t happen.” Marinette says simply. Her eyes turn back to Jon. “But I’m not letting you go alone, either. I’m not completely incapable, you know, and I’m not fighting, either. I’m going to support you.”

“Marinette…”

“Jon, you can barely think about seriously fighting without freezing. You are not going out there without protection. Understood?”

Jon swallows down the burning shame within him and nods. “Understood.” It’s strangely easy to fall back into submission when she takes that tone with him. Like when he follows Superman’s orders in the field. It’s the tone of a leader of her team, ensuring everyone makes it through safely, and years of training, even now, make Jon fall quickly into line.

“Wayzz, transform me.” The flash of green changes Marinette’s clothes and gives her a shield, and her piercing eyes fix once more into Jon. “Fill me in on the rest while we fly. Or would you rather I take the horse Miraculous out?”

Jon growls past the paralysis in his chest. “We’ll fly. You need to be caught up before we get there, so we need the time.” He sighs. “I just hope we don’t waste too much time.”

“He’ll be okay, Jon.” Marinette puts her hand on his shoulder. He leans into the touch, finding the same comfort in it as always, despite the suit. “We can do this. Peacefully. This is your brother, right? We can talk this out.”

Jon gets moving but doesn’t stop the conversation. “My brother that I only found out about just now.” He mutters. “Apparently, Dad’s known about him for a month. Damian, too, probably.”

And that hurts. That hurts most. Jon should at least be aware enough of the situation that a brother of all things doesn’t surprise him, even if the fight still does. How could Dad have kept that secret from me? Damian, too, but Damian is… well not family, for one, even if he may as well be a sort of weird cousin at this point. Damian not mentioning it hurts, but it’s honestly not that surprising. Damian always has secrets. He doesn’t make secret of that, at least. Jon’s own father, though…

Jon slips his arms around Marinette and takes off. They get out of the building in a blur and fly away too fast for anyone to see. Jon only slows down once he’s far enough that they can talk safely, and then only long enough to explain the situation fully to her, then he goes full speed once more to the farm.

They touch down in a smoldering field. Jon notes off-handedly that it’s an off-season field. Least none of the crop is destroyed. That I can see, anyway. Not too far away, Jon’s father, in his Superman suit, is being punched out of the sky by a feral-looking teenager.

That’s… an interesting, and very concerning, sight. Jon shares a look with Marinette, both unsure how exactly to step in.

When the teenager drops down to start beating Superman into the earth, Jon steps forward, but freezes, as if rooted to the spot. He can’t… he can’t step in. He can’t see those fists swinging, he can’t feel the heat of those stupid eye lasers, he can’t handle the rush of adrenaline through his system.

“Breathe.”

He can’t breathe, either. What the hell? What is even happening?

“Jon!”

“Jon?!”

“Jo- Superboy?!”

For a few, terrifying minutes, Jon doesn’t have any idea what’s happening. It’s almost like he blacks out, but he still sees everything. Blurs all around him, out of focus, everything’s green, there’s a roar in his ears, drowning out sound, cotton muffling his brain. It’s like he just shuts down.

It comes so quickly, but clears slowly. A steady hand and voice guide him back, and he follows it for its familiarity, muted as it is. When he shakes the last of the fog away, breathless and trembling, Jon needs a moment to reexamine the field.

The green is Marinette’s magic, a dome surrounding the two of them, a little birdcage of safety, where Jon can regain control of himself. Outside, Superman and the black-haired teenager stop fighting, both staring his way with open mouths. That’s one way to get them to stop fighting, I guess. Jon thinks bitterly. God, this is why I don’t fight anymore, Damian.

“I’m good, Marinette.” It’s mostly true. He’s fragile, liable to burst – into rage or tears he’s not quite sure yet – and he’s experiencing a number of things physically that he’s not sure even make sense to be feeling right now, but he’s present and he’s focused, as much as he can be, on the task at hand. That’s the most important thing. The rest can wait until they’re back home, just the two of them.

Marinette adjusts her hold on her shield, glaring at both the teenager and Superman, as if either of them may attack at any moment. “You sure? They’ve stopped fighting. No rush.”

“I-I’m good.” Jon repeats.

Marinette scowls, but drops her shield. The green dome around them disappears.

“Jon?” Superman speaks first. He looks pale, cold, clammy, sort of sick, almost like how Jon feels. “What are you doing here? You should be in New York. Are you okay? Who’s this?”

“I was in New York.” Jon hisses. As the numbness of his panic disappears, something much hotter fills in its place. “Until I got a call saying that my dad is fighting with my brother – thanks for telling me about that, by the way – and that I need to get over here before you kill each other.”

Jon makes no secret of the pure and simple fact that he is absolutely pissed off right now. Marinette, with how well Jon knows her now, looks no better, though she’s certainly controlling herself much better.

“You’re the original Superboy.” The teenager says quietly, with something like awe in his voice.

Jon sighs. “Yeah. I was Superboy. I’m not anymore, so I would like to know why I’m being called out here. If one of you would kindly explain?” Jon crosses his arms and looks at the both of them with the same look his mom gives him when he misbehaves.

Parental disappointment is… the only sort-of positive outlet he can think of for the rage he’s feeling right now. On the bright side, both Superman and the teenager have the sense to look abashed under Jon’s stern gaze.

“I’m Superboy.” The teenager says. “I was created by Cadmus to replace Superman should he fall, or kill him should he turn from the light.”

“Superboy.” Jon repeats, unimpressed. “That the only name you got?” Ordinarily, Jon would assume not, but an organization making people in secret doesn’t exactly give him faith in humanity.

The teenager falters for a moment. “…Yes.”

Jon sighs. “Okay. This is fine. Care to explain why you’re fighting Superman?”

The teenager hesitates for one more moment, then huffs grumpily and turns away. He looks like he’s only sixteen or so, so even though he’s a big guy considering that, the expression is kind of cute. Great. Jon thinks. My new brother is a Damian. He rolls his eyes. “Superman? Any input?”

“You shouldn’t be here!” Superman says, finally spurring into motion to approach him. Marinette plants herself between the two. It must be a hilarious image from an outside perspective, or even from Superman’s, considering she’s so much smaller than both the men. Even so, Superman stops advancing when Jon doesn’t call her off from her defense. “And who’s this?”

“I’m his girlfriend.” Marinette snaps. “And I’m just as angry with you as he is.”

Superman’s eyes go wide. “Marinette? You’re a-”

“Dad.” Jon snaps his fingers impatiently.

Superman clears his throat awkwardly, sending a wary glance over to the teenager. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t know if he was…”

“A spy.” The teenager says huffily. “Or an assassin.”

Superman sighs. “I’m going to have to figure out who leaked our address to him.”

“Good luck.” The teenager retorts.

“Enough!” Jon rubs at his temples. “Let me get this straight. You found my genetic half-brother a month ago. You decide to not only not tell me that I have a brother, but you hide him… where, exactly?”

“With the Titans.”

“Yeah, sure, because if he’s here to kill you, the Titans are totally safe.” Jon scoffs.

“They’re my friends!” The teenager protests.

Jon takes another deep breath. Marinette rubs his back. Thank God for Marinette. “So, my brother is with the Titans for a month, all the while you… investigate your son? And turn up with nothing, I assume?”

Superman sighs. “I didn’t ask for this.”

“Yeah, well neither did I!” Jon snaps. Superman recoils and ducks his head. “In fact, I distinctly remember asking to stop this! So, don’t try to play that card with me. Not right now. You’ve been investigating him for a month. So? Is he, or is he not, a threat?”

“I didn’t find anything to suggest he’s dangerous.”

“Thank you.” Jon sighs. “Now… Superboy. Bro. Whatever. What’s this fight about?”

“I don’t have to tell you anything.” The teenager says.

“Fine. Dad? Explanation?”

Superman sighs. “He’s upset because he feels like I don’t trust him.”

“You don’t.”

“…No. I don’t.”

“Ugh. Why, why, why, am I here?” Jon tilts his head back to look at the sky.

Marinette’s hand through his hair grounds him. With that and a deep breath and her murmured words, “It’s okay. We’ll figure this out. Superboy doesn’t seem like a bad kid. I think he’s just acting out.”

“Yeah.” Jon says back, under his breath. “I’m thinking the same thing.”

“I thought you retired.” The teenager says. “The original Superboy disappeared. That’s why I was made, because there’s no replacement for Superman anymore.”

“I did.” Jon says. “I am. There’s a reason I didn’t put on the cape to come out here, bro. I’m retired from hero work, and I’m living non-violently. I don’t fight. I’m just here because I found out my family is, and if I couldn’t talk you down, you’d have kryptonite being carted here by the buckets. I figured we’d all prefer that not happen.”

The teenager does recoil at the thought. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh. Did both of you really think the rest of the League would just ignore this?”

Superman rubs his neck. “I didn’t really have a choice, Jon.”

Jon firmly believes that one always has a choice – he has to, to stay true to his principles – but it’s not worth criticizing his dad for this. It’s clear the kid started the fight. “Look. Bro.”

“Why’re you calling me that?” The teenager is pulled back, guarded. Jon shares a look with Marinette and sighs. She’s got that analyzing look. “What? Bro? Because you’re my brother, and it’s a lot easier than saying Superboy. I may not use the name anymore, but that’d still be confusing right now.”

“You- just like that? I’m your brother?”

Jon calms down fully and softens his gaze as he looks at the teenager. “Yeah. You’re my brother. Aren’t you?”

A little too quickly, too eagerly, the teenager nods. “I am.”

“Good.” Jon thinks for a moment, watching the teenager. “The Titans didn’t give you a name? A civilian name, I mean, or even a Kryptonian name?” There’s no reason the Teen Titans would give him a Kryptonian name, Jon knows, but if he’s been around for a month, there must be something.

The teenager looks away. “No. I haven’t even been on missions with them. They’re just babysitting me.”

Ah, familiar disappointment. League’s orders, no doubt. They don’t trust him, they hope that a bunch of kids his age will get him to open up despite them clearly not trusting him, they ignore the danger that, if he is an actual threat, he risks to a bunch of teenagers.

Yeah, it’s the same old song. Jon can’t hate them for it; not long ago he probably would agree with them, and even now he doesn’t have a better alternative, taking into account the very real danger that a potentially mind controlled Kryptonian poses, but still. Jon really hates heroes right now. “Do you want a name?” He asks.

And damn, the kid nearly tears up just like that. Jon shares another look with Marinette. We are going to parent this kid so hard, aren’t we? But we haven’t been together long enough for kids. There’s a flash of amusement in Marinette’s eyes, like she reads his mind, and Jon sighs. I’m going to be that big brother. Great.

“You…” The kid says. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Jon says. “If you want to be a hero, you can go ahead and use Superboy if you want. I’m not using it anymore. But you’re going to need an identity if you aren’t just full-time, or you don’t pull a Beast Boy. But… since Dad and my identities still need to be secret, unless you get a civilian name, we can’t officially claim you as our family. See? So… I’ve got a name in mind. Two, technically. If you want.”

“Yes! Please!”

Jon doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the desperation the kid is trying so hard to hide. “How do you feel about Kon-El? We can call you Conner for an Earthling name. Last name Kent, obviously. Or Danvers, if you want to be Aunt Kara’s. I’m sure I could convince her.”

“Kon-El.” The kid repeats, awe clear now. “Conner Kent?”

Superman makes a face. “Where’d you get those names?”

Jon smiles. “Aunt Kara tried giving me a Kryptonian name, once upon a time. Kon-El was one of the options.” Jon looks over to the teenager. “If you don’t mind that that was mine, once, too.”

“Not at all!”

Aw. Jon swears he can see the kid smile. Just a little bit, but it’s there.

Superman frowns. “She didn’t tell me about that. What’d you land on?”

Jon flashes his dad a cheeky smile. “Jor-El.”

Superman steps back, like he’s hit by a train. “Named after your grandfather.”

Jon nods. “Just like my human name.” Superman retreats into thought, so Jon takes the chance to look to Marinette. She grabs his hand, entwining their fingers. Jon smiles. “So, I assume you two aren’t going to fight anymore?”

“No.” Conner says. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

Jon lets go of Marinette to walk over him. “Hey, Kon.” Conner looks up at him. Jon gives him a patient smile. “It’s alright. No one got hurt.” He glances over to Superman and Conner himself. “Much, anyway.”

“But you… when we were fighting, you…”

Jon struggles to keep up his smile, but he manages for his new brother. “There’s a reason I retired, Kon. That’s why I’m not a hero anymore, but that’s not your fault.” Jon puts his hands on Conner’s shoulders, pleasantly surprised that Conner doesn’t try to push him off. “I’m going to be honest with you, I’m still figuring everything out. You, and all this. But you’re my brother. If Dad’s ever a problem for you, you’re welcome at my place.”

Conner tears up again. Wow, that tugs at Jon’s heart. “Really?”

Jon smiles and looks back at Marinette. “Well, actually it’s our place, but… Marinette! What do you say?”

Marinette giggles. “Family is always welcome in our home, Kon. You stop by anytime. I’ll make some cookies for you.”

Jon gets the breath knocked out of him by Conner practically tackling him to hug him tightly. “Thank you.” He mutters, before quickly separating, face flushed. From embarrassment or the tears he’s still fighting to keep back, Jon isn’t quite sure.

Yeah, we are definitely going to parent this kid. Why is my life like this?

——-=——-

Tag List: @moonystars14 @pawsitivelymiraculous @magic-miraculous @vixen-uchiha @buticaaba @bigpicklebananatree @lozzybowe @moonlightstar64 @amayakans @theatreandcomicfreak @toodaloo-kangaroo @too0bsessedformyowngood @justcourttee <3

#miraculous ladybug fanfiction #ml fanfiction #ml x dc #maribat #marijon #ehhtrtd

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v-thinks-on · 4 years ago

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Thieves in the Night

Part 1 of Jeeves and the Amateur Cracksman

Jeeves - my man, you know - is a truly remarkable cove. He comes up with all kinds of brainy ideas to help out a chappie in a pinch and has all kinds of pinch-getting-out-of skills besides. He gives a sort of unchanging impression, as though he had sprung into being fully formed, like how the good old ancient Greeks and Romans and what not thought their goddess Athena (or rather Diana) had burst straight out of her old guv’nor’s head without any of that growing-up nonsense. Not that Jeeves would ever cause such a stir as bursting out of anyone’s head, being rather more inclined to simply project himself out.

But when it comes down to it, Jeeves is a mere mortal like all the rest of us, and so he must have come from somewhere - if perhaps somewhere a little brainier and with rather more fish than the common lot. I’ve often wondered over the long years of our acquaintance how he got those marvelous brains of his and why a fellow like him would want to work for a chappie like Bertram Wooster. It’s one of those grand mysteries of life, but this one happens to have an answer.

I suppose it all begins with my old pal Bunny Manders. It started not long after Jeeves had joined the Wooster household and, well, Bunny’s more of a writer than I am really, so I’ll let him tell it to start:

It was a cold night. Raffles and I stood outside for what felt like hours in our heavy coats, staring up into a third floor flat of the illustrious Berkeley Mansions, not a few blocks from Raffles’s own lodgings at the Albany. We looked like any decent gentlemen passing on the street even at such a late hour, perhaps standing around to wait for a friend, but our errand was a much less gregarious one.

“Are you sure you want to try it?” I asked him for certainly not the first time that evening. “What if he’s caught on? He isn’t just one of your ordinary marks, you know, he’s-”

At that point, Raffles cut me off. “That’s exactly why we must!” he exclaimed in a sharp whisper. “I couldn’t forgive myself if I’d passed up the chance. No, we’ll go in there and what’s more we’ll go in tonight!”

I glanced up at the darkened windows, each one seeming to hide someone lurking in the shadows, just out of sight. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I glimpsed a tall, dark figure looming in the shadows between the streetlamps’ golden glow.

“Not to worry, Bunny,” Raffles insisted, “I’ve got the joint cased from top to bottom. But you can stay behind and stand watch if that would put your mind at ease.”

“Not at all! I mean, of course I’ll come.”

“Good old Bunny!” He clapped me on the shoulder.

I smiled back at him, but his attention had returned to his mark. My eyes darted up and down the street again and back up at the window. All seemed quiet for the time being, but I had a creeping feeling we were being watched.

Casually as you please, Raffles started to meander across the silent and empty street toward the darkened apartments, all of their inhabitants no doubt fast asleep - or so I hoped. I hastily hurried after him.

I jumped at the sound of something rustling in the bushes behind us.

“Bunny!” Raffles exclaimed impatiently, again in a whisper. He turned to see what I was staring at and gave a low laugh. “It’s just a rabbit, nothing to be afraid of.”

And he was right, for just at the moment he had turned to look, a little bunny rabbit had come hopping out of the bushes, minding its own business nibbling at the grass around it. My face turned beet red with embarrassment.

Raffles took it with a smile. “With any luck, that’ll be the worst of it tonight. Come along.” He beckoned me to follow him around to the alleyway that ran along the side of the building, wedged between one grand residence and the next.

It was there, in the dark alleyway, that we slipped on our masks. Then, I helped Raffles unfurl his ingenious rope ladder.

“We’ll have to do it in parts,” he muttered as he tossed it up to a second story window.

He gave the ladder a single solid tug to be certain the hook held, and then we began our first ascent. Raffles went first, of course, and I sluggishly took up the rear, clinging to the thin, dangling ropes for dear life. At last, Raffles hauled me up onto a window sill, and I plastered myself to the wall as I caught my breath, my poor hands stinging where the rough ropes had dug into them.

I didn’t have long to rest - if it could be called that, balancing on a window sill - before Raffles finished pulling up the ladder and had re-anchored it a story up, and we resumed our ascent. That one more story was all we had left to climb, and as we approached the window, I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, not just from the exertion. I wondered if we had been heard already, I could feel eyes peering out at us from the darkness, watching as we charged blindly into a trap.

But it was too late to protest. Raffles helped me up again and put a finger to his lips as he began to work on the window. It was slow going and even the tiniest squeak was deafening to my ears. My blood ran cold like the icy wind. Finally, Raffles pried the window open so it was just barely wide enough for him to squeeze through and I followed after with some difficulty.

I tumbled out into Raffles’s arms. Somehow he managed to cushion my fall as to mute my landing, but still I cringed at the din in the otherwise silent, seemingly abandoned flat. We hastily picked ourselves up and stopped cold.

From the shadows emerged the form of a man, as though he had materialized from the darkness itself. His features were pale white in the moonlight as he stood, staring at us, stern and silent, like a statue of marble or wax, meticulously dressed with not a thing out of place. He gave no impression of having been startled or stirred from any manner of slumber; he had been expecting us.

Now, at this time, old Bertram Wooster was supposedly lost in dreamland, getting his requisite forty winks. But maybe it was the weather, or something I’d had at dinner, or perhaps an odd premonition, or maybe Bunny and his pal weren’t quite so stealthy as they thought, but whatever the case was, something roused me from my slumber. I was dazedly blinking the sleep from my eyes when I most certainly heard something that sounded rather like talking coming from the other room.

If I’d had guests at the time, take Claude and Eustace, for example, the sort of nightliving chappies who would have been remiss to be asleep by three in the morning, or even myself in my younger days, well, then it would have been different, but I knew for a fact - or rather thought I knew - that there wasn’t anyone aside from me and Jeeves in that flat and if anyone had come bursting in at some ungodly hour in the night, they at least ought have had the decency to keep their voices down, or I had every right to tell them what was what.

I stumbled into my slippers and crept out of the bedroom intent on doing just that. I could hear them speaking, though I couldn’t quite make out the words. I thought I heard Jeeves among them, and two higher voices, and it didn’t sound like they were politely but firmly being shown to the door. It didn’t matter to me what secret meetings Jeeves held in the middle of the night, but if he thought I was going to let them keep me from getting my good twelve hours of the dreamless, he had another thing coming.

I burst into the room with all the ire of a fellow who had been rudely jolted from slumber and was quite keen on getting back to it. There, I found Jeeves face to face with a pair of masked chappies. They looked like they could have been out on their way back from any fashionable to do, except for the thick black masks pulled over their faces that gave them a rather more ruffian-like appearance.

“Sir,” Jeeves said, his voice clipped as though he had some dispute with my taste in sleepwear, which would have been quite absurd as he had suggested it himself.

“What’s the meaning of all this?” I demanded, quite reasonably so.

“I am afraid we have burglars, sir,” Jeeves replied, very much in the way he would have said that we had mice.

“Oh!” One read about burglars of course, but it wasn’t exactly the sort of thing a fellow expected to happen to himself, but I supposed that was that. “I’ll hold them while you step out and call the police, what?”

“Sir, perhaps it would be best if I kept an eye on them while you went to call the police.”

“Oh, very well.”

I was about to get to it when the smaller of the burglars shouted from a foot or so behind his companion, “Wait! We’re J’s cousins!”

I stopped in my tracks and turned to Jeeves. “Are they really?”

He looked none too happy with this revelation of his connection to such persons.

“Well, Raffles and I are old school chums,” the burglar attempted, sounding uncertain about the whole thing, “but J’s our cousin!”

Finally, with all eyes on him, Jeeves relented. “In a manner of speaking, sir.”

“Then this is just some childish prank?” I asked - that was a much more likely thing to happen to a chap than a burglary, after all.

“Exactly,” the taller of the burglars exclaimed, pulling off his mask and stepping forward with an outstretched hand. “I’m afraid things got a little out of hand.”

I accepted it, though my eyes were still on Jeeves, looking at him in something of a new light. “I wouldn’t have expected it of you, Jeeves.”

“No, sir. I would not condone such behavior.” He gave the man in front of me a severe look.

I followed Jeeves’s gaze and found to my surprise that I recognized the fellow and it was easy enough to put a name to the face. “Why, you’re A.J. Raffles! Jeeves, I had no idea you’re related to one of the best cricketers in England!”

“No, sir,” Jeeves said with some disdain.

But I was not to be discouraged. “What ho! I’m a great fan! Your latest inning was just the stuff! I’m Bertam Wooster, by the way, but my pals call me Bertie.”

“It’s my pleasure.” Raffles said with a thin, crooked smile. He waved his smaller companion forward. “This is Bunny Manders, as he says, an old school friend of mine.”

Bunny held out a hand and only belatedly remembered to pull off his own mask, revealing a friendly, youthful face. “Nice to meet you.”

“What ho!” I exclaimed again, giving his hand a solid shake.

Raffles eyed the exchange. “You’ve found your own Bunny?” he remarked to Jeeves, sounding incredulous.

I couldn’t very well see what he meant; I didn’t see much in common between myself and Jeeves’s nervous young cousin.

Jeeves seemed to be thinking along the same lines because he stood a little taller and replied, “Mr. Wooster is my employer.”

“Of course,” said Raffles sardonically. “Just a mercenary arrangement.”

“Now, just a minute there!” I protested. “I haven’t known him for very long, but I’ll have you know that my man Jeeves is the very embodiment of the feudal spirit!”

Raffles turned his sharp, cold grey eyes on me as though he had entirely forgotten that I was there. I vividly remember for an instant feeling absolutely certain that his gaze could bore straight into a man’s very soul. And then it was gone, replaced by a benign smile, and I was left to chalk it all up to the rummy circs. of our little late night gathering playing tricks on my sleep-addled mind.

“I had no intention of implying otherwise,” Raffles said. “It’s always a pleasure to meet a fellow sporting man. But I’m afraid Bunny and I must be going; we wouldn’t want to intrude on your hospitality any longer, especially not at such a late hour.”

Before I had a chance to insist that it wasn’t any inconvenience to me, Jeeves cut in, “Shall I show Mr. Raffles and Mr. Manders to the door?”

It was only then that I abruptly remembered that it was still the middle of the night and I did have quite a bit of sleep to catch up on. “Right you are, Jeeves,” I said, fighting back a yawn. “Pleasure to meet the both of you.”

I followed them to the door as Jeeves showed Raffles and Manders out.

“We should do this again sometime,” I said, “just make it a touch earlier - or rather later.”

“Thank you, that’s very kind,” Raffles said, stepping out into the hall.

“Yes, thank you!” Manders added as he followed hastily after.

Jeeves shut the door behind them, leaving the flat empty, dark and silent.

I yawned again, this time not bothering to stifle it. Heavy sleep began to weigh upon my tired eyelids. “G’night, then Jeeves. And no more midnight reunions, what?”

“Certainly, sir. Goodnight, sir.” Jeeves saw that I was comfortable back in bed and then rippled off into the night.

Part of The Mysterious Mr. Jeeves

#v writes #The Mysterious Mr. Jeeves #Jeeves and the Amateur Cracksman #Jeeves and Wooster #Raffles

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markoftheasphodel · 5 years ago

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The New Dawn of the Golden Deer

A retrospective on the Verdant Wind route and its home characters is substantially more difficult for me, personally, to construct because it lacks the overt resonance with earlier games that allowed for Azure Moon’s descent in through FE1/3/5/8, etc. But here goes nothin’...

Part of it is the not unfair sense that the Golden Deer are the catch-all house of Garreg Mach compared to the thematic cohesion of the Blue Lions. The five nobles all bear a King Lear-themed naming scheme that’s slightly obscured in the localization, but it doesn’t appear to mean much of anything. The three commoners are distinctly “common” without the complicated ties to nobility that their Blue Lion counterparts all bear. While Dimitri was a known quantity to most of the Lions before they all enrolled at the Academy, Claude is very much an unknown to his fellow Alliance nobles. That’s part of the point.

If we take Claude’s big motivational speech to his House at face value (and there are reasons we should and yet shouldn’t), the actual through line of the Deer is separate people coming together as one, so we’ll roll with that as a starting point. How do they manage it? Well, the Deer are for the most part A++ in terms of character development-- not the revelation of sad and traumatic backstories, but development beyond where we first find them.

Hilda, in the face of actual responsibility, grows out of her cocoon of deliberate idleness to be Claude’s right-hand-woman, her ability to delegate and to get others to do work turned into strengths. Lorenz grudgingly adapts his persona of the perfect noble to be more in-keeping with what people actually want and need in a leader (and what a lady wants in a nobleman!), without surrendering his actual core identity. Marianne faces up to the literal Beast of her family history and moves past it, finding value in herself and her life. Ignatz, also hobbled by guilt and low self-worth initially, matures into a thoughtful and capable young man with contributions of value to the Deer war councils. Lysithea perhaps leans harder on the “backstory revelation” than upon onscreen development and Leonie and Raphael are arguably the least developed of the Deer. I’d vote for poor Raphael as the worst-written of the lot, as the decency and humanity we see in his supports and Paralogue is still buried under “muscles” and “food” even in Endgame.

And then we have Claude, a Fire Emblem protagonist unlike any other to date. Whereas Dimitri is unquestionably in the mold of previous FE princelings, Claude has more in common with a different lineage of character, the Snarky Sniper who often serves as a peer rival or frenemy of the Lord. Said “archetype” dates back to Archanea’s Jeorge, who also stands as the progenitor to a line of characters one might call “Wandering Nobles”-- Lewyn, Elffin, Joshua, etc. Claude, with his deliberate obscurity about who and what he is recalls Jeorge on both counts, and his pride in his stratagems can’t help but recall Innes, the Strategician Prince/peer rival of Ephraim’s from FE8. Innes, though, was quite straightforward in his goals even if his methods could be shady (spy networks, etc). Claude’s means and his end goals are both veiled; from the start we learn we can take nothing at face value including his smile. You can probably count on your fingers the number of times Claude reveals the unguarded and unvarnished truth to anyone.

Fortunately, Claude is able to harness his practiced charm to get and keep the other Deer on-board with his leadership even if he doesn’t trust them with the actual secrets of his full identity or his ultimate goal. I’ve been in FE fandom long enough to see several waves of fans clamoring for a “cool” lord like Joshua, and well... Claude has arrived. And he is, indeed, quite the charmer as well as quite the schemer. I must say I love him, even if his current status as a memelord misses the point (Claude, ever conscious as to his image he projects, would not do many of the things meme!Claude gets up to, sorry).

Claude breaks new protagonist ground even as his character “type” traces back to the dawn of Fire Emblem. Lorenz provides a superb example of the rival/foil to the protagonist-- as Innes to Ephraim, except both Claude and Lorenz fully acknowledge the game. Hilda gives us a noblewoman deft at wielding “soft power” and a reluctant adjutant to Claude who succeeds beyond her own expectations. Marianne steps beyond the shadow of her backstory to show genuine growth. The same goes for Ignatz, though he perhaps treads too hard on the “soft archer boy” trail already defined by Ashe. Lysithea takes the image of the pale-haired, sweets-eating gremlin/loli and gives it some heft, Leonie hits against barriers of class and gender expectation while making a surprisingly shaded portrait of an apprentice in thrall to a flawed master, and Raphael... was done dirty by the developers.

That’s the Golden Deer for you. What does it all mean, beyond the ideal of a bunch of disparate characters coming together under one banner to bring about a new dawn for the continent? Well... I’m not really sure, not least because the Deer don’t entirely understand the scheme Claude’s roped them into! Verdant Wind provides a great counterpoint to Azure Moon in that, thanks to Claude’s own zeal for getting to the bottom of things, we learn things that Dimitri and his route simply weren’t interested in. It’s an engaging crew of characters on a mad adventure that includes magical ICBMs, an underground city with a classic Star Wars/TRON aesthetic, and a final smackdown with the reanimated corpses of legendary heroes.

In the end, though, it didn’t have the sheer emotional resonance for me of the Dimitri and his Blue Lions-- perhaps because its parts are insufficiently tethered to the hoary “archetypes” of FE in a way that Azure Moon handled brilliantly. Or, perhaps because Claude’s reliance on Byleth instead of Lorenz and/or Hilda as his main partner in crime was dragged down by the fact Byleth isn’t really a character. On Azure Moon, Byleth’s presence isn’t enough to eclipse that Dimitri’s posse deeply love and deeply fear for their prince; it’s really the story of the redemption of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, whereas in Verdant Wind Claude makes a chessboard of all Fódlan and the nations beyond, a breadth of scope that does indeed evoke Genealogy of the Holy War even if the Deer themselves don’t summon many spectres of Jugdral.

In the end, neither really works in a vacuum. Azure Moon is deeply, viscerally felt and fails to ask, much less answer, many basic questions. Verdant Wind holds the entire spectacle at arms’ length while digging for answers that lead to more questions that lead to some very strange places. As two halves of the same coin, they make an interesting pair. But they are not, of course, merely two halves, as we now have another house to join and two more routes to consider...

#fe16 spoilers #golden deer love #golden deer meta

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blogging-time · 5 years ago

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Fanders Discourse: Ship Hit The Fan

Fellow Fanders, I know we’ve had a few hiccups here before, but now some people are genuinely celebrating an incest ship (RemRom) and that is not something I can morally pretend isn’t happening.

Below are my thoughts and feelings on the situation. I will attempt to remain as level-headed as I can, but I can’t promise there won’t be any emotionally charged statements. This is an issue I have very strong feelings about.

~ ~ ~ My Stance: Shipping “RemRom” or any sort of incest-based ship is not okay. Remus and Roman are brothers. Incestual relationships are inherently unhealthy and should be viewed as such.

“But the ship is only fictional. People should be allowed to explore taboo subjects in literature.” That is the most common argument I’ve seen people use to defend the ship, so please allow me to explain why it doesn’t hold up here: I studied English Literature for A-Level, and I have read multiple books/scripts touching on taboo subjects such as abuse, rape, incest etc. I have no problem whatsoever with people exploring darker themes in their writing. However, I do have an issue with those themes being glorified and/or romanticized. Unfortunately the latter is what seems to be happening in this fan-base.

“So what? It’s not like it’s hurting anyone!” Just because something isn’t personally harming you doesn’t mean it’s not harmful. We all have a friend whose inferior bloodline never developed the ability to eat the same food as squirrels.

There are so many younger people in this Fandom. Yes there are adults too (myself included) but we can’t overlook the fact that some of the youngest viewers may not fully grasp the unhealthy elements of the ship. If any minors in the Fandom are in a similar/vulnerable situations, seeing an incestual ship shamelessly romanticized like that could seriously do some damage.

Furthermore, attempting to normalize/romanticize unhealthy relationships like this can have an impact on people who aren’t personally consuming the material. I still remember the day two friends of mine (Sisters) received horrible fetisizing messages on Facebook because some gross teenagers decided to watch a certain genre of “Adult” videos.

Please, please, please if this unhealthy ship is something you’re going to continue to indulge then at least take the time to put a disclaimer on it.

“Anything can be used to normalize real life problems!” Perhaps, but not to the same extent. I don’t know about you, but to me this argument has always seemed like a half-@$$ed attempt to avoid admitting what you’re doing is wrong. This isn’t much different than saying, “Well you never know what could upset my friend today, so why bother even trying to be nice to them?” I’d always advise caution around people who make arguments like that.

“Okay but they’re just in Thomas’ head! They aren’t really brothers!” Unless Thomas Sanders’ himself comes out and says “They aren’t actually brothers - that’s just what they call each other!” I am going to maintain the thought process that they are actually brothers. Besides, I don’t think “Brother” is a normal term of endearment for a romantic partner.

“But Thomas said he doesn’t care what people ship!” Again, unless Thomas Sanders’ himself comes out and says he is okay with the fact people are literally shipping incest - which I hope to all that’s good in the world never happens - I am going to assume that phrase doesn’t exactly apply here.

“How is this any different than people perceiving Deceit as abusive?” A. That was down to personal interpretation. People generally agreed to respect each other’s opinions on the matter and tagged things accordingly.

B. People were never trying to romanticize the abuse. When people perceived Deceit as an abusive character there was no glorification. People weren’t making “Deceit abuse moodboards” in mass, were they?

Believe me there is a notable difference between these two incidents.

“Well if you don’t want to see it, block it!” Oh you can 100% bet I will, and I’d encourage anyone else with a single shred of common decency to do the same.

“Can’t we all just agree to disagree?” We can agree to disagree on who our favourite Side is. We can agree to disagree on what Fan-Fiction tropes we like. Hell we can even agree to disagree on something entirely unrelated like the best ice-cream flavour! But no, we cannot agree to disagree on the fact that incest should not be romanticized. There is a line, and some of you need to step back and realize that you have crossed it.

“So… does that make you an ‘Anti’ then?” If “Anti” is the best word you can come up with to dismiss those who don’t agree with your toxic mentality then absolutely! I am a certified “Anti-RemRom Shipper!” Feel free to write that on my grave.

Now, all this being said I do not want to see people going out of their way to harass others or send them anon hate. What these shippers are doing may be repulsive, but you can’t hope to end an argument if all both sides are doing is screaming at each other. Like others before it I hope this patch of discourse will eventually fade into obscurity, and together we’ll prove we’re better than all of this.

Thank you to anyone who has read this post all the way until the end. If you agree with any of the points I’ve made I’d appreciate you re-blogging this to help spread an understanding, but no pressure!

I hope you all have a wonderful day, and that you make tomorrow even better! 💙

#Thomas Sanders #Sanders Sides #Roman Sanders #Remus Sanders #Discourse #Fandom Discourse #TW!Incest Mention #TW!Rape mention #TW!Abuse

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mcnypieces · 5 years ago

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&&. META 03. ( PICA / MODERN )

♠ One of the big heads of the Donquixote crime family. With a brutish amount of physical strength and knowledge in handling larger blades, it makes standing up to him bare-handed a nigh impossible task. He is an effective option in dealing a heavy hand to those uncooperative to the fine print of deals and contracts. His entire unit is dedicated to looking into newfound targets, picking off unnecessary partnerships and ending agreements... permanently. Pica has a low tolerance level and an especially fervent disdain for betrayal, which makes it all the easier to carry out. In papers he’s described as highly dangerous, secretive, and intimidating. In practice he always wears the same appearance ─ a leather biker’s jacket with studded lapels and three large spikes on either shoulder with a stylized family symbol in a giant spade emblazoned on the back, a plain undershirt and pants, studded boots, and a biker’s helmet. Everyone in his unit has the same jacket, though not all of them choose to wear it at all times. The helmet bears a resemblance to his armor, with smaller tips jutting in the cardinal directions and the top bearing a similar spade-shaped spike. He always wears it while doing business. Unbeknownst to most, it has a built in voice modifier that gives him a much deeper tone fit for his stature. No one has seen his face, much less heard the actual soprano tone of his voice, making it simple for him to blend into everyday life as he is.

♠ In day to day life he works in stonemasonry dealing mainly as a fixer with a slight dabbling in structural landscaping. The latter is excused as part of his dedicated undercover work, but in reality he views it as a hobby. He does this alongside Gladius, who deals with the finer details down to a point and speaks with clients while his superior handles the craft in silence. As a sniper who’s real work has yet to be identified with a name ( he’s just that good at his job, folks ), he has no reason for an alias. Pica lives an average life under the name “Titus”. At one point the name “Antaeus” was considered, but it felt suspiciously out of place in a modern era.

♠ He still likes stonework. He takes a great interest in abandoned, dilapidated arches and buildings made out of stone as well as statues, headstones, bridges, and the like. Even what most would consider the smaller, more insignificant pieces catch his attention. There is a great sense of appreciation and comfort in being surrounded by handcrafted stone. He knows just about everything there is to know in regards to the craft and can do some rather impressive things with it. Despite not often accepting it as such in conversation, it is in fact one of his only true hobbies.

♠ There are very notable scars on both his shoulders. From near the base of his neck down to the end of the ball of his shoulder are terrible surgical scars. In both he developed tumors, likely from his sporadic growth. Though identified as benign on discovery, the risk of further development into malignancy was enough to heed a suggestion to remove them entirely. Since then the growths have not reoccurred, but stubbornness and dedication did not stop Pica from continuing life as normal while he recovered. This lead to constant shoulder pains, muscle soreness in the back and chest, and a general state of continuous discomfort. Shortly after the initial surgery his stitches tore, further damaging already scarred skin and making a mess of things. This makes them a startling sight, and they remain quite sensitive. While already not a fan of physical contact, he HATES when people touch his shoulders. Even a well-intended courteous tap around the area is enough to make him snap. It takes an unthinkable amount of effort and restraint to uphold decency in public when this is done unintentionally by strangers or coworkers. The family only barely gets away with it, but they also know better by now. Only the most trusted individuals even get to see them, much less touch them. He’s taken to wearing shirts with short sleeves to cover them up. It was some time after he decided to find someone willing to tattoo his shoulders to combat the underlying insecurity to no avail. Most of the time they are covered up as well. His prideful self-image is far too prevalent to openly admit anything but it competes with ( and in many cases overcomes ) his voice in terms of anxiety.

♠ Unlike his main counterpart, making fun of his voice will not immediately warrant a death sentence but you probably still shouldn’t do that. It’s really not good for your health. Or his. Also it’s just not nice. He’s physically capable enough to put you in the hospital for a week with little effort and that chain of upholding appearances nailed in the ground keeping him restrained is only going to handle him tugging on it so hard for so long. He’ll undoubtedly get away with it without issue, too, considering the numerous family connections. But on an average, perhaps even good day, you’re getting a ticked off stare. Consider it a warning and pray you don’t run into him on the night shift.

♠ In tandem with the biker theme, his preference in vehicles are heavy-set motorcycles. He has one he only ever rides while working under the family name and tends to walk about a lot otherwise. Driving cars is a pain but it’s a much safer alternative for both riding and appearing normal. He keeps another cruiser built more with joyrides in mind than escaping authorities but he hardly ever rides it with that purpose in mind. Most of his personal time is spent in quiet isolation either preparing for a messy night job or plans for the next work day. He doesn’t really give himself any unoccupied “free” time.

♠ Not a fan of public places in general. Doesn’t care for going out for a coffee, doesn’t like to shop, doesn’t want to hang around. Ideal time is spent going out to deserted places and hanging out in the quiet when sitting in the shade of walls isn’t cutting it ( which is rare, considering who he is ). He only does it out of necessity and for work, and Gladius is with him a fair bit of the time so he can avoid talking to others. They both share a dislike of wasteful small talk, but Gladius is far more vocal about it. It doesn’t take much effort to shoo off unwanted company. Often those that have run into them more than a few times have learned to steer clear and not bother. It doesn’t always keep away the persistent, though, and sometimes passing, civil conversation is necessary. Doesn’t mean either really like it. Most of the time when someone is talking nonstop to Pica, he just listens and doesn’t respond. A lot of his coworkers are used to this though and don’t really mind. They’re chatty, anyway.

♠ He’s rich by common standards but he doesn’t really do anything with the money unlike most the family. It’s real, but most of it is pretty shady. A lot of it gets saved and what doesn’t is used for necessities. As a general handy man and someone that has connections to handle things when they break, it’s very rare he has to pull anything out for emergencies. He knows his place like the back of his hand. People don’t come over very often. If anything, people tend to avoid his house despite it looking very welcoming on the outside. Not-so-nearby neighbors don’t so much care for him as they care for his surprising affinity for stone landscaping. Before you ask ─ No, he will not lend you sugar and he’s not giving you landscaping tips, Sharon.

♠ Just like with the rest of the family, when things are rough and it’s time to lay low for a little while, Pica goes to Bellamy’s shoddy complex and stays. He doesn’t have space for everybody all at once in his apartment but there are always vacant rooms. Always. Pica never stays directly with him. It’s very rare he rooms with any of the family if they’re there as the space is limited and he needs the peace and quiet. He especially doesn’t care for staying with his fellow suit executives despite considering them family and some of the very few people closest to him. Diamante and Trebol are too wild for him and Vergo hardly has to lay low to begin with ( He, too, is just that good at his job ).

#♠ // * eroded by sinful living; a faded obelisk of what could've been ( modern. )#♠ // * headcanon ( pica. )#❥ // * ever running on stories of the sea ( long post. )#|| because apparently I can't be trusted to just.#put it on the verses page like a normal person.#listen!! there's just!! Not Enough Space.#I mean clearly there is #but there are valuable details.#hot take: what if titus is his real name #imagine picking it on a whim for blending in but it's actually his birthname #it's already been assumed the spanish suit names are actually aliases anyway #maybe to him ''pica'' IS his real name though #i like to think he just. showed up without one.#like a blank slate.#could be trauma. repression and the like.#maybe his parents just. didn't name him.#wouldn't that just be so sad.#I was THIS close to going with antaeus.#because greek mythology good.#but no.#felt like I needed something more modern.#anyway as you can tell I have invested my entire heart and soul into this.#I have absolutely no regrets. ||

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