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ronearoundblindly · 2 years ago

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The Stark Legacy (10)

Wedding, part of Book 1: Reality (see previous or series)

Summary: Cooper Barton's wedding is missing a few key people. Unfortunately, it's not the ones Samantha Stark wants to avoid.

Warnings: Tony is still Tony and struggles to be good at fathering. Illusions to Hydra and past deadly missions between Nat and Bucky. Also YAY we're starting to get more of Bucky's story now! Rated Teen/Mature, so 15+ only, please. WC 4.2k

CHAPTER TEN—July 2038

“Whiskey, neat,” Tony ordered, rapping his knuckles across the marble top. He kept his head relatively low and his tinted glasses on, covering yet another shiner. One of these days, he thought, I’m really going to ruin my beautiful face.

“Thanks for coming.”

He turned to see Sam standing beside him in her long red bridesmaid’s dress. The gold jewelry and shoes shone like a beacon, more Iron Man than his very own wedding.

“I was so excited I could hardly pick a suit,” he replied, downing his whiskey and tapping the counter again. “Keep ‘em coming.” He slipped a one hundred dollar bill into the Murano glass jar.

“Champagne?”

Sam looked at him quizzically, adjusting her shawl across her shoulders and arms.

“You’re old enough right?”

“In several countries,” she said, “not this one.”

“I won’t tell,” Tony mumbled, swiveling to grab one of the pre-poured flutes from down the bar and handed it over. His eyes flicked towards the tables. “You and that boy seem cozy.”

His daughter blushed, rousing mixed feelings in Tony. Love and affection: he could remember the beginning but also the end, and now he resisted watching Sam go through the same.

She didn’t take his bait. “How are Big Sam and Parker?”

Tony hardly let the pour end before ripping the glass up to his lips. He tapped again. “They’ll be fine. We’ll all be fine.”

“I can come see Wilson—”

“Not necessary,” Tony blurted, straightening. “He’ll be out before you can visit.” He continued to look out over the tables of guests, some trickling onto the dance floor in the center of the hall.

It all took him back. He’d worn a grey suit, for Pepper, to match the free-flowing feel of her lace gown. No fabric was delicate enough to match her beauty that day. Everyday. Back then. He missed her neck and the way her hair would shift over it when she concentrated. Her head always lolled to the right when she worked. He used to rub her neck for her, call her lopsided, kiss her right cheek and push her head to the other side. He called it ‘evening her out.’

He’d expected to see her among the souls of Mephisto, just to catch a glimpse; the ghost of her, the fantasy, anything was better than nothing. Except nothing was all he got, no glimpse, no ghost, which felt much worse. Maria Stark had looked right at him, and as all moms do, she knew. His mother had come back just to see his misery and relive her disappointment. He couldn’t think about it anymore; that was the goal: distraction. Tony only showed up to this event to avoid silence with the team at headquarters.

Seeing your departed loved ones in Satan’s grasp will do that to you. Obviously, you don’t exactly want to talk about it with ‘others.’

“The chicken was dry.” Tony swirled his whiskey. “Should’ve had the steak.”

Tony tried not to notice the disappointment on Sam’s face. “Really,” she whispered, “nothing?”

He watched Bucky and Natasha approach, relieved. “Oh thank god, you can dance with Terminator here.” Tony patted Bucky once on the chest, asking “make it 40s-style and real awkward. You know, just be yourself.”

Natasha gave them both a look.

“What? I’m gonna go terrorize her date.” Tony swooped off before anyone objected.

Natasha delicately grabbed the untouched champagne from Sam’s hand. “I’ll take that.”

“I don’t suppose anyone would like to fill me in on what happened last week,” Sam thought out loud.

“I’ll tell you when you’re older,” Nat answered, taking a large sip, scrunching her face a little as the bubbles attacked her nostrils. “I’m gonna need something stronger.”

Stoic, quiet Captain Barnes surprised Sam then. “Do you want to dance?” It was a sheepish question from a very bulky man.

Sam looked up at his face for the first time. His hair fell forward, strategically covering several cuts and minor, yellowing bruises. She stumbled for words. “I…think he was joking,” but even as she said it, the retreating Tony swiveled around and made a little hand gesture for dancing legs before continuing his b-line for Lucas. “Also,” she added, “I genuinely can’t dance.”

“No one can these days,” Bucky replied, flicking his eyes over the crowd of celebrators, “clearly.”

“Here we go with the ‘back in my day’ speech…” Nat finished the glass.

“No,” he buffed, “that’s not the point. I’m about 70% sure Stark actually meant that as some sort of order.” When the ladies continued to stare at him in confusion, he added, “it’s a delicate points system I’ve developed.”

Nat baulked. “Did you just…make a joke?”

“Leaving a 30% chance of being nicknamed to death for disobeying. Any bets on which references this time?”

Sam enjoyed the jabs at her father’s expense. “Did it take you twenty years to figure the points out?”

“Four, actually,” Bucky played along.

“So the sarcasm rubbed off on you in twenty years too…” Nat mumbled into a fresh drink.

“You didn’t get that gene?” Bucky shaded his face, but one corner of his mouth twitched anyway.

“I’m 50% sure that I did. Nature versus nurture and all, but I’m 100% sure you know him better.”

“Well,” Nat said, pursing her lips, “I’m only 12% sure I know why we are talking in numbers.”

“You speak Russian, German, Spanish, Italian, your French is okay, English, and probably more that I missed,” Bucky explained to Nat, then opened a palm indicating the other, “Sam speaks math, English, and from what Clint has mentioned, computer, correct?”

It was the most Sam had ever heard him say, and it must have shown on her face. Her clasped hands went a little slack. Her shawl slipped. Nat cut in, “you…what?”

Bucky seemed possessed with a boyishness for a moment. “I don’t just brood, ya know. I’m observant, and I listen.”

The ladies couldn’t come up with any words.

“But you do look lovely in red. 100% Tony there.”

“I think he blew a fuse,” Nat said out of the corner of her mouth.

“Guess their getting lazy with the cradle though,” Bucky added, pointing to Sam’s exposed arm. “Bruce couldn’t fix that for you?”

The playfulness in Sam’s eyes died immediately. He’d gotten cocky, too friendly in his attempts at distraction. She pulled the chiffon shawl back over as much of the arm as possible.

“I’ll tell you when you’re older. Excuse me.” Sam left. Bucky noticed something odd about her walk.

“That was smooth,” Nat snorted.

“I used to be good at talking to broads.”

“What century do you think it is?”

“Well,” Bucky started, shrugging, “you could just tell me who the girl was. The one on the field.”

“You know enough already. She was a mission, and I completed my mission. Now,” Nat replaced another empty glass with a fresh, bubbling flute, “don’t ever mention Sam’s arm to Tony. I’m really warning you, James.” She looked up at his cool blue eyes. “We don’t need that shit-storm coming down on us.”

“So, you’re really gonna keep me in the dark? As if I haven’t been there long enough,” Bucky dropped off, letting his hair fall in his face again.

“I had no idea this was a pity party,” Nat sipped, finally feeling the edge wear off. “Who did you see?”

Bucky paused, watching the festivities unfold, people chatting and dancing, taking pictures, drinking and eating cake. Both their gazes landed on Sam, retreating, and Nat continued in a low voice.

“Every single one of us have used that girl. You were drafted, but at least your father showed you the importance of service. I…knew what the Red Room would make me, and I kept going anyway. Sam didn’t get any choice. She did not get the benefit of orders. Her instruction is all over the place and at best made up of lessons designed for some other kid.” The pair watched Sam awkwardly evade people through the tables, careful not to touch anyone, her head always low. “The world thinks she’s part of us. We’ve done everything possible to make keep her out. No one has ever asked her what she wants. Worse yet, nobody asked us either. We know how that feels, and we went ahead and did it to Tony’s kid anyway.”

Bucky could think of some joke one-liners to respond with: ‘waxing philosophic on me, Romanoff,’ ‘are you a lightweight for champagne now,’ but that gave Bucky the sinking notion that she was right. The bad bits had rubbed off on them all—the glib, deflecting humor, the trivializing of life, the compartmentalizing of loss, the total failure to grieve, and the retardation of personal growth and change. Aside from changing allegiances, Natasha was much the same person she was thirty years ago. Apart from removing brain-washing, Bucky was much the same person he was one-hundred years ago. Why? Was their only comfort as a global, galactic fighting team to be constant?

Steve still complained to Bucky about how restless he was in retirement. Although, Steve Rogers complaining was more like a vague statement of interest and then hearty praise for the accomplishments of others, followed by silence, and then checking to make sure you were comfortable in his home. He couldn’t change; he couldn’t just hang up his helmet and walk away. Steve had to be a protector. Bucky had to be a soldier. Natasha had to be a weaver of webs. Banner had to research something and know why things happened. Tony had to know how to fix everything.

“Honestly,” Natasha finally started again, “I never realized how much I missed Pepper. Even as my fake boss, she was a really good woman. She was a great mother.” Nat trailed off in thought.

“I never had a real conversation with Mrs. Stark.” Bucky searched Nat’s thoughtful face, noticing just the slightest crinkle at her eyes. “She did order me around a few times, ‘stand here’ and ‘wait here’ and ‘not now.’ She wore the pants for sure.”

“At least I spoke French better than her,” Nat quipped.

“Barely,” Bucky chided.

Natasha gave him a look to kill. “You are in a surprisingly good mood…”

“I like to see what it is we fight for,” Bucky let his mouth run loose for a moment, “for people to not know about all the other…darkness we see.”

Nat said nothing, but she did turn to the party with a slightly higher regard for the lightness of mood. Humans were allowed their frivolity. They were allowed to celebrate love and have family and live carefree sometimes. The Avengers hardly remembered that; they’d seen far too much. The two stood there like wallflowers, shadowy figures envying the light.

Tony, however, was basking in compliments and accolades from Lucas who had not stopped his rundown of Stark’s every innovation since the ‘00s. The boy admitted right away to disagreeing with the ‘peacocking’ he accused the billionaire of imposing on the masses, those who could not wield such a large political stick. Lucas was opinionated for a twenty-two-year-old, even critiquing Stark’s choice of whiskey. He also became suspiciously quiet once Sam came over.

“Boys,” she said before sipping her coffee.

“Are you even old enough to drink that?” Tony puffed up a little, eyes still shaded under glasses.

“You’re about two years too late,” Sam replied flatly.

Tony eyed her formal red gown, covered shoulders and arms, the most conservatively dressed of the bridesmaids but the youngest as well. He didn’t see much of Pepper. Sam’s shoulders slouched a bit; she didn’t have the confidence of her mother. She drank from a porcelain mug without a delicate touch, just a clenched fist.

“Your—” Tony started, “dude here was just telling me about his biostasis research at Harvard and its potential applications for us in space travel. Fascinating stuff, but—” Tony couldn’t help but have fun with the kid. “—you may want to look into that power supply because its not exactly a flight-stable compound to be lighting on fire and shooting us out of orbit. Good start though.”

“Arc-reactor tech could power up to what, forty pods, for an 18 month flight, allowing for minimal life support but full navigation and communications,” Sam quickly rattled.

Tony peered over this glasses curiously, revealing a bruised corner of brow. “Twenty months,” he corrected, “give or take weight and distance you travel by thrust.”

“Among several factors,” Sam conceded, eyes down.

“Sir, if I could test some of the simulated outputs of that technology, it would go a long way,” Lucas jumped in.

“Down, Fido.” Tony gripped the young man’s shoulder without removing his eyes from Sam. “What’s Harvard been teaching you?”

Sam went bug-eyed, clutching her coffee. She hadn’t meant to say any of that out loud. Lucas always spoke about his research, and Sam listened, occasionally asking a leading question to have him self-correct a flaw in his logic. She never spoke of her own experiments because Lucas never asked, and she would never tell him.

“Harvard was supposed to teach me? I’m not a stud—”

“S’more!” Lila came rushing forward. “Sorry to interrupt, but will you come over for a picture?” She grabbed Sam’s arm without seeing her drink, and the hot liquid spilled all over Sam’s hand. “Oh god, we’ll clean that up first. We gotta redo your lipstick, too. Do you two mind?” Lila’s motherly round face beamed at Stark and Lucas. Lucas nodded as Tony waved his whiskey hand vaguely. “Family photo at the wedding, ya know,” Lila giggled and led Sam off to the ladies’ room.

That was all it took for Tony to see it. Sam’s ‘older sister’ taking her to put on makeup in the bathroom. Her ‘brothers’ and ‘parents’ waiting near the photographer. His daughter had another family, a whole family. She was a bridesmaid and a girlfriend and drank coffee and went to Harvard. Sam was almost eighteen, and Tony didn’t know anything about her. What had he expected? The more she grew, the more he saw only the Stark heritage, a mini-Howard, a mini-him. Today was the most feminine Sam had ever looked, but she was still covered and plain.

“Sir,” Lucas gently started, “I’ve also applied for the Stark Fellowship.”

“Uh-huh,” Tony mumbled into his glass, watching Sam and Lila return to pose for a family photo. Sam walked so awkwardly in heels, assuming that’s what she wore under the floor-length gown as did the other bridesmaids; Pepper never missed a beat in heels. She ran a company in heels, ran the world in heels, ran circles around the world in heels.

And then Sam smiled for the photo, and there she was. The angle of her jaw, the corners of her mouth, the lift of her cheekbones, the tilt of her long neck; Pepper was right there…or a piece of her.

Tony suddenly cocked his head towards Lucas. “S’more?”

Lucas, caught off-guard by the subject change, took a moment to reply. “Samantha Morgan. Sss-Mor. Coop told me it was her childhood nickname. I just thought… you gave it to her…”

Tony clenched his teeth, looking down at his nearly empty glass. “I’ll see what I can do about that application if you keep working on the power supply,” he said, giving one last tap on the young man’s arm and walking back to the bar. “But right now, I need a drink.”

Sam roamed the infirmary hall of Avengers headquarters still in her flowing red gown. She carried her change of clothes in a bowling bag formerly used by Howard Stark, another Christmas pick from Storage Basement E, and her gold shoes. No one was here to see her limp along on sore feet; the after-party celebration had moved to a bar where Sam may have been welcome but incredibly bored, so she’d opted to come visit Sam Wilson. Unsurprisingly, Lucas saw some benefit to schmoozing the ‘family.’

In one room she saw MJ sitting beside Peter Parker while their children loudly reenacted a play or perhaps a dance. Sam couldn’t tell from her angle at the window. MJ gave a small wave to Sam, but Peter was too busy providing the sound effects for the performance. Sam smiled but moved on. It was beautiful to see a family together. They weren’t a strange sort of sight, but Sam always felt such a distance from that joy. All her life was ’not-quite’: Clint was not-quite dad, Laura not-quite mom, Coop, Lila, and Nate not-quite siblings, the Avengers not-quite uncles and aunts. The only absolutes were Samantha was related to Tony and Tony chose to give her away.

A few doors down was Falcon’s room, a soft trail of music wafting from inside.

—Over the shadows and the rain to a blossom covered lane—

When she gently pushed open the door, Sam first saw Steve Rogers sleeping in a chair, arms crossed over his chest. Then she saw Sam.

His head was covered in electrodes, face covered in an oxygen mask, and hooked to a feeding tube. This was a lot worse than Tony had let on. Samantha was shocked enough to smash her bag against the door frame trying to enter, waking Steve and dropping her shoes.

—Faint as a will o’ the wisp, crazy as a loon, sad as a gypsy serenading the moon, Oh skylark—

Ever the gentleman, Rogers quickly picked up each heel and handed them back. He said nothing but smiled and offered his chair for her to sit. Sam pointed to a chair on the opposite wall, and whispered, “will I wake him?”

“No,” Steve replied in a low, calm voice, “he just enjoys Aretha. How was the party?”

Sam gave him a questioning look.

“I came back here after the ceremony. Not much for dances anymore.”

“It was loud, and everyone drank a lot,” Sam said, putting her stuff down to drag the chair close to the bed. Steve snorted. It seemed the seventeen-year-old and hundred-and-thirteen-year-old moved at about the same pace. Samantha tentatively went to Wilson’s side. “Will he wake up?”

“That’s—” Steve hesitated, evaluating what Sam was old enough to hear. “We don’t really know. Head trauma hasn’t made the same leap as other medicine, so we…hope.”

Little Sam took Big Sam’s hand. His skin felt comfortingly warm. “He’ll always have much bigger hands than me,” she reminisced. “I used to think mine would catch up one day.”

Steve absently mumbled, “yeah, there’s a lot you didn’t get from Stark,” before taking his seat again. He was silent for a while, watching Sam and Sam. “Natasha told me about—” he waved his hand over his left side “—years ago.”

Samantha didn’t move.

“I never told anybody else, but I am sorry that I didn’t come see you.”

She remained staring at Sam Wilson’s slow breath fog his mask. He wasn’t on a respirator, a good sign. Little Sam, her first nickname from a friend. She could remember being sad and angry when Big Sam’s visits became less and less frequent. He called less and less. Sam Wilson had taught her humor and sarcasm more than anyone else. He’d explained that having emotions and acting on emotions were two very different things. Big Sam was her big brother, more so and for longer than any Barton, and he just lay there with warm hands and slow breath.

Sam herself breathed deliberately and slow. “It wasn’t your fault, so…” Her eyes met Steve’s.

“I used to put newspaper in my shoes. My feet were too small,” he pointed to her things on the floor, “and I see you now wear two different height of heels.”

“I don’t usually wear heels. Or dresses.”

“Special occasions…” Steve drifted into thought, looking at Wilson’s face, his profile warped under the plastic mask. Steve could remember being small, overlooked by other children, tormented even, saluting all those participating in the defense of his nation while he stayed at home. He remembered the desperate need to contribute, the mania of skirting rules over and over to prove he was worthy. He could see the same desperation in Samantha Stark. She was locked outside the building banging on the door, or at least, it was obvious to someone who’d been there before. It occurred to him that she would want to know not only what happened to her father but to their friend also.

“They saw the dead, Sam.” Steve paused to watch the girl’s face, but she did nothing. If she was curious, she didn’t show it. If she was horrified, she didn’t show it.

“That was the enemy last week: people who died long ago. For a few of us it was men and women killed by our own hands.” It was clear he didn’t want to mention the assassin past of Bucky or Natasha. He got quieter. “I think Tony may have seen your mother,” Steve slowed seeing Sam slightly adjust to hear him better, “and I can’t imagine how painful that would be.” He leaned forward on his knees. The silence remained cold but open. Sam placed Wilson’s hand on his stomach and returned to her chair, farther away, watching.

He continued, “Ghosts of those you’ve harmed, someone you…it’s not something you forget. I wasn’t there but I know what it feels like to regret what you did with the time you had…” He could feel himself slipping into his own thoughts and tried to buckle down to his point. “We all see and do things in war, in battle, that we aren’t proud of, that we wouldn’t do without desperation. I think Tony—I think because your father didn’t have the training we had, he can’t reconcile a��domestic life with his professional life. He was not acclimated to the mindset of a soldier before the wormhole opened up in New York, but he’s been in the loss for…a long time.”

“I think you’ve been thinking alone in a cottage too long.”

Steve, so used to everyone else’s sidebar sarcasm, went on. “I lost my parents young, but I had my best friend. Bucky never knew his mom, and he was there when I buried mine—”

“Yes, he was there for Pepper’s too.”

Steve stopped his rant at the mention of that awful, emotional, and chaotic day.

Eventually, Samantha composed herself enough to say, “I have no one like that, sir.”

Her formality was endearing. Steve recognized the defensive distancing. “That’s what worries me.”

The beat that followed altered the chemistry of the room. Sam went rigid. “Did it worry you last year?” She let the bitterness gnaw at the bottom of her stomach, a low, sickening rumble that grew into a white hot anger. “What about five years ago? Ten years ago? Why bring it up now?”

“I’m just trying to empathize—”

“You see a girl, don’t you? You look at me and see a little girl. Perhaps a four year old,” Sam tried to reign herself in but failed. She had made it through so much and never lost control like this. “Now, try to really look at me. Sir,” she spat, “I’m a lop-sided girl with a billion dollar inheritance. I’m damaged goods with the mind of Tony Stark. I am…never going to fit here. I was outsourced. Like everything he’s ever created except the suit…”

It was true, but the flame burned out as fast as it came on. What remained was simply blank, empty. “Everyone here, they see me as a follow up to him, and I just…want to do something else, something he can’t.”

Before he thought about his words, Steve quipped, “well, you fall off the bike, you get back on.”

Sam went silent, as Steve straightened himself up, regretful of his blunder.

“Ms. Stark,” he finally asked, “would you like anything from downstairs?”

“Coffee with cream,” she replied after a moment, “please.”

Steve noted that Sam, like Pepper, was respectful even when offended.

After Rogers had left, Samantha spoke to Big Sam as if he could hear her confession. “Sometimes I wish my remaining parent were one of you, the ones who actually raised me. I know you guys, or at least I feel like I do, but I look at him… and I just don’t see how he could…I understand why I feel better alone.” She held his hand again. A long moment passed, and suddenly she felt so uncomfortable in that dress she could scream. “I promise, I’ll be back. Just putting on my sweats, like you once said, ‘it’s a crime to look this good. Better save your eyes the glory.’”

As she chuckled at the memory, Sam could hear the energetic voices of those returning for the night’s festivities. She gave an unseen apologetic glance to Falcon; she’d have to go now. When she picked up Howard’s bag, however, Rogers was back with coffee, standing in the doorway. He wore one of the saddest smiles she’d ever seen, and in a low voice said. “You are beautiful, just like your mother.”

She walked to the doorway with her things, her face reddening.

“I know he’d be glad you came.”

Sam paused in the threshold. She’d found the purpose. “I’m going to fix this,” Sam said, meeting his eyes, “Captain.” She plucked one of the coffees from Steve’s hand and left for the night. She had work to do in Massachusetts.

[Ch 11: Plunge]

[Main Masterlist]

#tony stark fanfiction #tony stark fic #tony stark angst #tony stark feels #alternate universe #avengers endgame #slow build #slow burn #tony stark's daughter #original female character #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction

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acciofanfics · 5 years ago

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Say Please (George Weasley x Reader) SMUT

Request: Any chance you could do one o f the weasley twins and a slytherin reader. From enemies to lovers with a nsfw

Pairing: George Weasley x FemReader

Warnings: Bad language words and smut

Word Count: 2567

A/N: So I hope this fits in with the request, the timeline is a little rushed. Also, I normally prefer Fred myself, but my partner in crime loves George so I figured I’d try writing for him 😂 -S

—————————————————————

Honestly, (Y/N) rarely caused much trouble. It might’ve come to a surprise to some of the close minded Gryffindors, but not all Slytherins lived to torment their class mates. In this particular moment she wondered how her house ended up with the poor reputation, because she would not be in detention if it hadn’t been for those annoying Weasley twins. She shot a glare over at... she thought it was George. “3 days. 3 days detention because of you and your brother! Could you have not at least waited until after class? I’m not sure what it is that warranted the abuse to begin with but no that wasn’t enough detention to?!”

Fred and George never thought too much about detention. They mostly didn’t get caught, but there were always a few hiccups and they’d learned the best way to deal was grin and bear it... it did suck that McGonagall was aware the punishment did little to deter them. It was her policy that they had to be separated during detention, she thought they had too much fun otherwise. Poor Fred... he was stuck in Snape’s classroom alone. Not that George much cared for the girl scolding him, “If it’s any consolation we weren’t even aiming for you. It’s hardly our fault you decided to sit next to that git Clark.”

As far as apologies went. That was a rotten one, but she supposed it did provide some comfort. If she were being frank, she didn’t really care for her desk mate either. He often snuck looks at her parchment and tried to correct her or offer his help to even the slightest mistake. It was so condescending, and he rarely knew what he talking about. She tried to imagine what it would like if he had been the one to open the exploding note. “Well, I guess that does clear some things up. Maybe you should work on your aim.”

“Well you can blame Fred on that, he’s the one with the bad aim.” George chuckled although he had to admit it wasn’t nearly as fun to pick on his slightly older brother when he wasn’t there to disagree with him.

“Well who’s the brains of the operation because it wasn’t the brightest plan to start with?”

Yeah, George definitely didn’t enjoy the company that much. She might’ve been pretty, but that seemed to be the only thing she had going for her. A sense of humor? Definitely not. An eye for genius? Clearly lacking. Sure the exploding note had been delivered to the wrong target and landed them all detention, but it got a great response. Lots of laughs. “Agree to disagree.”

“Well you don’t have to agree with me, I’m still right. You got a few kids to laugh, you missed your target, there’s no lasting effect really and had it been Clark who opened it you would’ve been spending detention with him for 3 days. Since you called him a git I’m guessing you three aren’t that close.” Her voice was so matter-of-fact, and so annoying. It also didn’t sit right with George that she might’ve gotten a few details right.

“Well what would be your brilliant plan?”

“Oh I don’t have one.” (Y/N) stopped her cleaning (no magic, because it was a punishment) and looked at George. He thought she was smiling for a split second, but upon further inspection it was definitely a smirk. “Of course I haven’t put any thought what so ever into it. I guarantee that I could come up with a better one though.”

The next day George cursed the fact he had detention again... it didn’t seem fair that it was only him that had to share it with (Y/N). When he asked Fred to go in his place, Fred told him the fact that he asked him to trade was proof enough he didn’t want to trade. Thankfully Professor McGonagall had a task for them that required a little more concentration and therefor less time he actually had to speak to the girl.

“I’ve done some thinking and I think I figured it out.”

George snickered at her thought. McGonagall had them grading first-years parchments. They should’ve definitely known the information already, but she left them an answer key just in case. “Well, I’d hope so. You’ve been looking at the answers for the past 30 minutes.”

She rolled her eyes, and didn’t bother looking up from the parchment. “Ha ha. I meant I figured out what I think would be a numerous prank for Clark.”

“Oh do tell...” George sighed, not at all interested, but willing to humor her all the same.

“I’ve spent an unfortunate amount of time with him, and I’d say he fancies himself more than anyone else. I’ve been paying a bit more attention, since our last conversation and I’ve noticed anytime he passes a mirror he checks his hair. I think you should do some sort of charm to mess with his hair. Even if it’s fixed relatively quickly he’ll be furious.”

Hmmm.... maybe? “What if it wasn’t a charm?”

“A potion might have a longer lasting effect... but how would you give it to him without him knowing something is up?”

“Maybe slip it in his drink?”

“He’d see it and none of us he likes enough to not suspect something and immediately know who it was.”

“Do you think it’d be possible to hide it in some sweets? Sign it from a secret admirer? He’s too arrogant to turn it down.”

George hadn’t meant to honestly give what she said too much thought and there he was:planning out a whole prank with the girl. Fred would feel so betrayed, until it worked at least. Maybe she wasn’t as bad as he originally thought, but he still didn’t know if he liked her that much. Plus she was probably all talk.

Finally it was day 3, the end of their torturous sentence. It couldn’t come fast enough, especially since they had to clean again. George had shared the information he’d gathered from (Y/N) with Fred and he was all in. As much as he hated that they didn’t think of it, a good joke was a good joke.

“So it might interest you to know that I’ve acquired most of the ingredients to brew a hair raising potion. I just need one more thing I can nab tomorrow.”

Wow. Honestly he hadn’t expected her to really go through with it, much less steal the ingredients. “We haven’t even gotten out of detention yet and you’re already trying to get back in. You’re gonna miss me, huh?”

“Oh come off it. If you and your brother want to help, I’m going to set up in the girls bathroom on the second floor tomorrow night after dinner.”

There would’ve been no problem with that plan whatsoever. Sneaking out hadn’t ever been a problem since Fred and George snagged the Marauder’s Map in their first year, and even though they’d given it to Harry they still had most of the secret passages memorized. No, the problem that Fred had landed himself an extra day of detention. It wasn’t a secret that Snape didn’t like them, but it seemed unlikely that Fred really had done NOTHING to provoke him. He honestly couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit annoyed at his twin for leaving him to walk into that bathroom alone...

“Where’s Fred? I thought you two did everything together?” (Y/N) teased as she pulled a cauldron out of one of the stalls and gathered all of her supplies around the surrounding area. George was just a bit surprised that she actually recognized it was him. They’d tricked their own mother more than once, and she’d caught on in 3 days time?

“You know Snape, he’s got it out for us. Fred took the brunt of it today,” George shrugged and drew closer to her, ready to offer his assistance. “Look on the bright side, now you have me all to yourself.”

“Yay...” Her voice was less than enthusiastic, but a small smile played on her lips none the less. “Well don’t just stand there, hand me those rat tails.”

George had to admit that it wasn’t nearly as bad as he imagined. While, he was starting to come to the conclusion he might’ve misjudged her, he was now sure that was the case. He’d even gotten her to laugh! Surprisingly it was a good laugh too, one of the ones that were highly contagious. Brewing the potion didn’t take nearly as much time as he thought, and it wasn’t long at all before (Y/N) was giving it a final stir. “Now it just has to set for about an hour. I suppose after that we just need to put it in some candy and give it to him?”

“Seems simple enough, once we figure out the best place to leave it that will make sure he gets it.”

“I’ll leave it outside his room.” (Y/N) stated simply. It only made sense that she would, she was in the same house and the magical enchantments that the school was founded had a pretty backwards, but beneficial rule on the dorms. Girls could get into the boys dormitory quite easily, so I’d wouldn’t be a problem.

George couldn’t place it, but he didn’t know how thrilled he was with that part of the plan. There were other ways: like leaving it on a table in the great hall... or visiting the owlery? “What if you get caught?”

“I suppose I’m no stranger to detention now, am I? Don’t worry I don’t plan on letting you guys take credit for my brilliance, I won’t snitch.”

“It wasn’t that!” He didn’t know why it was so important she didn’t think he was worried about that, but it seemed like it was relevant in that moment.

(Y/N)’s smirk came back when she saw his cheeks turning just the slightest tint of red. She wouldn’t admit it to anyone else, but there was the possibility she didn’t hate the twins as much as she did when she first opened that blasted note. Well, George at least (she hadn’t been forced to spend time with Fred). And it wasn’t like she was blind, he was attractive. Plus she hadn’t even planned any payback for him ruining her reputation in McGonagall’s class... it wouldn’t hurt to tease him just a bit. Really, he kind of deserved it. “We have an hour to kill... I wonder what we should do?”

George tensed ever so slightly when she leaned closer to him and batted her eye lashes. She was definitely on to him. Damn, well he wasn’t usually one to back down from a challenge. Usually he had his brother for backup, but that wouldn’t do him any good here and honestly he no longer desired to have Fred’s company... at least at the moment. “Well, I have a few ideas... we are alone.”

(Y/N)’s confidence didn’t waver, she expected a bit of stubbornness from him. Instead she climbed into his lap, her knees resting not so comfortably on the cool tile. Her forwardness seemed to catch him off guard slightly, but he quickly regained composure and smirked at her. It took a good bit of effort not to roll her eyes, but she managed. “Well don’t just sit there.”

George knew he was falling into a trap, but to be honest at that moment he didn’t quite care. He didn’t need to be told twice and he captured her lips in a lip bruising kiss. It was almost instantaneous that they both seemed to forget they they didn’t fancy either other. Her arms wrapped around his neck and his hands found her thighs, where he began to pull her against him.

It took no time for a sweet kiss to start burning into something more. No, it was more like someone throwing a match into gasoline: an immediate explosion. Her hips moved willingly against him, both enjoying the friction and she didn’t even think twice about George snapping open the buttons on her blouse. It gave her the idea to start on his shirt.

(Y/N) shivered when George helped her out of her bra. The cool air making her arch herself into him even further, but the cold didn’t last long because George began placing feverish kisses all over the newly exposed skin. Her moans definitely did something for him, even if it was just a confidence boost he nipped a bit harder or his grip on her skin got tighter. Normally, George might worry about leaving a hand shaped bruise on her arse, but he was far too focused and seeing how loud he could make her.

(Y/N) awkwardly reached between them and started to undo his trousers. George was willing to pull his hands away from her briefly to help her accomplish her goal. She leaned up, just enough for him to be able to wiggle his trousers and underwear down enough to free his erection. It wasn’t the most graceful thing they’d done, but she hiked up her skirt and pulled her panties to the side so she could sink down onto him.

The two let out a moan in unison and George grabbed hold of her hips, “Bloody hell...”

(Y/N) wasn’t sure what exactly came over her, other than a mixture of satisfaction and lust. “Say you’re sorry for getting me detention.”

Was she kidding? “Seriously?” When she started to lift herself up, he quickly changed his tune. “I’m sorry!”

She quickly dropped herself back down, earning another moan from the redhead underneath her. Of course having his cock buried deep inside her felt amazing, but having a bit of control made it feel even better. “Say please.”

George didn’t even think twice about obliging her order. The word spilled from his lips before he could even comprehend what he was saying, but he didn’t care. The plea made her move against him finally and he would say anything to keep her bouncing on his cock. Clearly she knew it too and that was enough to keep her satisfied because she kept it up.

It was somewhere between an eternity and a few minutes, before she felt herself getting close. It was harder to keep it up her rhythm, and George must’ve noticed because he started to use the grip on her hips to his advantage by lifting her and pulling her back down. She stopped abruptly, “If you want something from me, you need to ask.”

“Please?”

“Please what?” (Y/N) purred into his ears, rolling her hips.

“Please let me fuck you...” George’s voice was needy and he was so scared that she would tell him no. It was an instant relief when she muttered an okay against his skin.

Before (Y/N) could even register what was happening her back hit the frigid tile and George’s hips were snapping against hers hard and fast and she was seeing stars. So close... so close... she was coming undone. “George!”

It was no time, before he finished. Her orgasm fast-tracking his. He had to let his breathing steady before he could speak, “I think that should be a regular occurrence. We are way too good for it to be a one time thing.”

He laughed when she winked at him, “Well you know what to say.”

#harry potter imagine #fanfics #george weasley #george weasley imagine #harry potter smut #george wealsey x reader #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x you #george weasley smut #request

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papers4me · 4 years ago

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Fruits Basket, Se03. ep 6.(Part 1)

The main female protagonist who, has been the “mother /psychiatrist/ fixer/curse-breaker” for 57 eps & 2 seasons, has finally had her own “I’m a real person with my own issues” ep !!!! YESS! So happy!!! also, so underwhelmed. Tohru has been painted to be this utterly selfless & altruistic character for long, that when she’s finally a balanced character it’s presented in half an episode? Don’t get me wrong, I like the ep, but there’s also the same feeling of bullet train that I felt in momiji’s ep! ugh!! I hated that feeling! Go away~ oh well.. I’ll quickly state what I didn’t like, before jumping into what I liked, in order to end with a happier note~

What I didn’t like:

Tohru’s monologue after leaving shigure & Isuzu felt more like a background exposition more than a true character’s thoughts. The reason is that It is quickly narrated with quick flashbacks from the past with intentional pieces missing from the flashback. Pieces like” how did Kyoko hurt tohru? She said to kyo, in se02, ep “ I feel like I’ve only caused her sadness” & tohru’s flashbacks in se02 of her mother leaving/ closing a door. All these things not included in tohru’s 1st ever personal monologue made it seem like quick fill in for the audience more than tohru’s main struggle. Compare it to Yuki’s 3 ep monologue in se02, filled with all his own background info, hence, we as audience sit back & just feel. With tohru a little brain work is needed of putting things together in the puzzle is needed because NOTHING abt her trauma has ever been explained to us prior to her monologue . Also, compare this kyo. A character who ONLY have 2 eps dedicated to him in 57 eps, yet even without monologues & with hidden secrets for climax purposes, his emotions are clear cuz his background was explained early in se01, ep24 & se02, ep9. Compared to them both, her monologue felt a bit lacking.

What’s up with the following scene? Her crying & kyo comforting her mid-street. He saw her crying, asked what’s wrong & she couldn’t say & he gave her a comforting advice. All good. Kyo always give the most needed advice for tohru to be herself & feel comforted. Se01, “complain more, be selfish” Se02, somen table scene & asking her abt her future plans & the hiro incident. Kyo has tried to guess whats wrong first. Here he saw her cry in the middle of the street & just gave her an advice? couldn’t he at least guess wrongly if it is her granpa? school? anything? This scene is AMAZING but it feels off a little.

Kyo’s “ now I remember” EXCUSE ME?????? se01, ep14, valentine ep, he got a nightmare, then when shigure talked to him, we saw a quick flashback that we didn’t now what it is but now it IS kyoko. se02, the entirety of ep9 & the “ I won’t forgive you” & the flashback of young him with kyoko talking abt tohru. se02, ep 22 his fight with yuki & the clear face of kyoko telling him abt something regarding the hat. His entire shutdown of tohru IS abt kyoko NOT abt him being a monster cuz tohru accepted monster kyo in se01 ep 24! so.. REMEMBER WHAT????? the accident?? I feel like being hit with a rock. I mean, it makes sense that kyo will get PTSD after seeing the hat, cuz he remembers the bloody accident vividly. But it is the dialogue that IS weird. “ I remember” ?? it makes no sense? unless it is another hidden secret & will be revealed later. If so, then forget this point.

Kagura (more on her below). Now, let’s talk abt what I liked!

-Grief (the most difficult theme to express in literature): Excellent writing!

Grief is one of the most diverse human emotions. ppl who grief a loved one either erase everything abt them in order to cope with the pain of loss & live on, or drastically engrave everything, not want any memory to slip away, or hold the deceased on a pedestal, or hate them irrationally in order to forget abt them, some deny that the loved one is gone, others talk to them daily, some act & live normally for years & suddenly it hits them that this loved person is truly gone & they breakdown. Others, direct their disbelief of losing a precious one into the envy that other bad ppl are still living, why my precious one is dead?. Thats why, it is a difficulty emotion to understand by others. Ppl watching you will always think that comforting you is enough & that the longer you take, the more impatient they are with you. Tell me, watching tohru this ep, didn’t you feel that:

Come on. tohru, you can love your mom & kyo! who says only ONE person can be your precious?

Umm, why she cries for her mom NOW? 2 years after her death? Is she over it already?

Tohru~~ your mom aint going no where cuz you loved a guy? she’s in your heart, girl. Ugh!

Compared to yuki who was abused by his parents & kyo whose mom commit suicide in front of him, tohru’s trauma is meh~

Feeling this way abt tohru is exactly how many feel abt ppl struggling with grief. You are NOT a bad person if you felt this way. It means that thankfully you weren’t struck by grief to tohru’s extent or that your grief went about differently than tohru. Grief is a crippling feeling. It is valid, strong, overwhelming, paralyzing & above all very unique to the person themselves. Tohru feeling that her mom is slipping away from her memory is so realistic & utterly heartbreaking. Grief hurts & moving on from grief hurts more!!!! The more you go on & live your life, the more you feel like you betray your loved one.

Tohru’s entire existence is for her mother & so her mother LIVES inside her:

Finishing high school cuz it’s her mother’s request.

Getting a job to sustain herself cuz she has no one to support her financially.

Giving her mom’s wisdom & teachings abt life to others.

imitating her dad’s speaking style to prevent her mom from “leaving”.

Being the perfect girl in order to portray that her mom, who is a gangster & is hinted by the ugly relatives to be unfaithful to her husband due to tohru not taking after her dad, actually raised a respectful girl!

Talking to a dead cold lifeless picture as if it is a living human being & going into panic attacks when she looses such pictures.

Suppressing all her true “ ugly, negative” emotions & only giving the fake smiles & positive attitude.

She fears that ppl will leave her if she isn’t “comforting, happy”, hence, the whole facade of “ i’m okay, I’m okay”.

Immersing her self in ppl’s issues so she won’t face her own feelings of utter loneliness, fear of the future, & being left behind when everybody moves on with their lives.

Thinking that having selfish desires contradicts the “ hopeful, kind” girl images, hence, the fear to actually wants sth for herself. Everything HAS TO BE for the sake of the others.

Tohru is deeply traumatized & her complex, unhealthy but extremely realistic attachment to her mom must be broken. Tohru must learn to LET GO.

-Kagura’s character’s assassination. aka (violence heals y’all!)

The show wanted to express the emotion that kagura is still in love with kyo, but is learning to let go & accepting kyo/tohru love. I love that. Her speech with kazuma abt not being able to face tohru cuz her face will show her emotions is so relatable & it hit ME personally. Loved that. Then, she learns that tohru truly loves kyo & should confess to him not talk to Isuzu & I get that, it make sense that she lashes on thru & teach her the value of being open abt your feelings & dont loose him. all cool & understandable. BUT:

How dare you slap tohru like that? you don’t know what she’s going through? tohru is wearing funeral clothes for God’s sake! she just visited her dead mom, you insensitive woman! How dare you assume that all tohru is struggling with is love love, romance romance yay~ confess, kiss, be happy?

Tohru & kyo’s issues are deeper than typical, normal, shallow shojo love. It is related to child trauma & abuse. To their own individual identity & self-image! Their romantic love is meant to guide them towards better choices for the future, not magically heal everything. Their mutual love is NOT the answer to their issues.

How dare you slap someone to make them go back to their senses? this is such an anime move! ugh!~ it cheapens the emotional weight of character’s emotions.

“ I’m not apologizing to tohru. We communicate thro fists” excuse me? you arent even communicating with kyo thro fists! he sees you & run! the only time he thanked you for, was when you didn’t “ communicate thro fists” & played with him as a child! Not only make her hit tohru but not apologize??

No one told her off? are you foreal?? Isuzu pouting lips is no match for Isuzu powerful emotions when she’s embarrassed, & kazuma! where you at? Happy at the “ open confrontation”? Why do you kill kagura’s character like that?

Side Notes:

I hate how this went by in half an ep like they did with machi!! tohru is THE main character for God’s sake! But it looks like the show is not so fond of the true tohru who wants stuff & screams & talks to herself, alas she isn’t the angelic, innocent girl that is saturating the heck out of all shojo amines. Oh well~ perhaps tohru’s issues will be visited again in the finale?

Kyo gets PTSD reaction in front of tohru. great. Now what’s next? I won’t ever forgive the anime if next ep, kyo & tohru are all normal or worse the episodic theme prevents the continuation & jumps elsewhere. Nearly all the eps that didn’t end with a happy note, started the next ep somewhere & totally forgot the cliff hanger. such as, Isuzu’s ep in se02, it ended with tohru’s nightmare & next ep started yuki’s issues with tohru all smiley & bright. Another example, the Cinderella play ended with kyo/tohru torn symbolism where each is awkward with the other, next ep machi !!!!!! & kyo/ tohru all normal in kazuma’s house. But this time, it will be an epic mistake to do the same. Kyo going full traumatic in front of tohru to the point of her screaming is not sth you skip & start over erasing. Don’t disappoint me show! you can’t screw that, can you?

I love the symbolism of kyoko disappearing from the picture & the crack of her framed pic at the end with it still continued in he ED. Good job.

They are building for a hug clashing scene between kyo & tohtu. it must hurt. It is designed to hurt. I wanted it to hurt. It is not abt romance. It is abt mental & emotional trauma. I’m excited. But I’m scared. After today’s ep, I can confidently say I don’t trust the director. I’m an anime-only, but tohru’s part in the story is the least touched upon, the quickest to get over with & has the wackiest animation. They just don’t know how to depict an emotional tohru~ sigh~

Tohru is written to be a unique protagonist in the sea of innocent, selfless & always happy shojo heroine & opposed to the badass, physically strong female protag in shonen. She is the most realistic, but so much of her potential is wasted so far~~

“ saving the sohma’s. breaking the curse for others is a lie, in reality I wanted to do it for kyo” This line is supposed to be liberating for tohru cuz for once she is putting herself FIRST! It is not abt kyo. It is abt herself! it is cuz SHE wants him. See the difference? See how this line gives tohru the biggest character development!! but still sth is missing. I duno..

I have lots to say abt tohru, kyo, shigure, the grandpa, kyoko, Isuzu & even kazuma! I’ll do that in part 2.

I still liked the ep tho. It is solid. I”ll like it MORE if they continued from here & didn’t cut it cold.

#Fruits Basket #Anime Only #Exhausted paper #final season #Tohru Honda

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canyouhearthelight · 4 years ago

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The Miys, Ch. 114

I’m hoping this chapter find everyone safe and sound. Normally, I wouldn’t start off with something like that, but I am queueing this on 11/5/2020, and a lot has happened in our world. Not just my country, but earthquakes, shootings.. it’s a lot.

Please be safe. My only, most sincere hope, is that reading this can bring you some relief from everything going on. And if you are reading this far after the fact - I’m glad you’re here to read it. I appreciate each and every follower and reader, and I just want you all to be okay.

As always, shoutouts go to @baelpenrose for beta reading this chapter, @raven-fae for being the reason I dared to post my scribbles in public, and @charlylimph-blog for being a bright light in a dark world. Charly, I don’t think you will ever know how much everyone loves you. I mean that. And finally, @zommbiebro for the ever-fun to write character of Jokul. You pushed and pushed to have this character exist, and I’m incredibly glad you did, because he is so much fun to play with.

“Antoine told me that Conor is going back to therapy,” Tyche mentioned nonchalantly as we were heading toward the exercise area.

I arched an eyebrow at her. “What do you mean back to therapy? I didn’t know he ever stopped.”

She flapped a hand at me. “You know what I mean. Not a touchbase appointment, a ‘this isn’t working’ appointment.”

“Ah,” was my sage reply. “Yeah, there was a tense moment. To be fair, though, it’s the first time anything like that has happened since he started seeing someone, and I think it needed to happen.”

“In what world…” she started, hands on her hips as she stopped walking.

Turning, I held up my hand to cut her off. “The last time someone was upset about what has been triggering Conor, I ended up with a busted lip.” I stared at her meaningfully.

She stared blankly for a moment, and I could almost hear her brain whirring. Then her eyes got wide and her mouth narrowed into a small ‘o’. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Ohhhhhh…. Well that makes sense I guess. So, does that mean you and Maverick…?”

“Yep, group therapy!” I threw my hands up half-heartedly. “And there was much rejoicing. Yay.”

Her gaze snapped over my shoulder and her neck twisted as something caught her attention. “What the…” She blinked furiously before rubbing her eyes and squinting. “I’m hallucinating. I have to be.” Without waiting for me to ask what she meant, she grabbed my shoulders and turned me around.

Now it was my turn to blink. Walking towards, very focused on what looked to be a heated discussion, were none other than Arthur Farro and Jokull Bjornson. But… they weren’t arguing. Both looked to be wearing gym clothes, and I could tell they were sweaty even from so far away. As they got closer, they both also appeared to be bruised, and Jokul was even bleeding from the corner of his mouth. Regardless of all that, the animated way they were talking to each other looked more like a conversation between equals than it did the type of discussion that would lead to….

Well, that would lead to the fight they looked like they already had.

Soon enough, they noticed me and Tyche - it couldn’t have been hard. We were standing in the middle of the corridor, staring in shock and tilting our heads like it would force the scene to make more sense. “Reids!” Arthur greeted as he waved. “I need you two to settle an argument. Fortifications, yay or nay?”

“I thought the sentient bacterium and twelve-foot talking mushrooms were the weirdest thing I would ever see….” Tyche muttered.

I was far more eloquent. “I…. Arthur… this… what?” I sputtered, gesturing frantically between the two men.

Some part of that seemed to make sense, because he glanced at the taller man beside him and just shrugged. “Jokull wanted to practice hand to hand combat, and I’m the only one willing to hit him after the… Exhibition match? Everyone on the ship was nervous for some reason. Well, except Charly, of course.”

Jokull shook his head. “I feel my chances of survival with Farro are far higher than another fight with Miss Harper.”

Arthur eyed him weirdly, clearing his throat. “That’s because there is zero chance of me missing and ripping your throat out by accident, because I don’t bite.”

“Indeed.”

“There is zero chance of Charly missing,” I interjected. “And that was once, and you had it coming.”

Arthur continued, ignoring me. “Anyway, it’s not like anyone else on the Ark wanted to spar with me after that little show, either. So, win-win. Besides, he’s not a bad guy when he’s not doing things to make me actively want to kill him.”

Jokull laughed, but I was pretty sure he didn’t realize that Arthur was only half joking. Maybe half.

“Again, I’m sure Charly would spar with you, Arthur,” I pointed out. Tyche choked on laughter.

Arthur just looked at me like I spontaneously grew a third head and it happened to be drooling. “What part of she bites did you miss?”

“That. Was. One! Time!

“Besides, I’ve seen how you small women learned to fight in the After. I don’t know how hard I’d have to hit her to get her to stop biting, and I’d rather not hit a student hard enough to find out.”

Jokull mumbled, “Surprisingly hard, and in a nerve cluster, apparently.”

Both of us looked at him, eyes narrowed. Arthur’s next words came out very slowly. “If you’ve decked Charly, Jokull, you are on a fast track back to ‘let’s try axe versus saber’.”

Jokull turned to me frantically, “Councillor, I wasn’t aware…”

I interrupted him, again. “Arthur, it was that time she chomped his collarbone. Old news.”

Arthur was still scowling. “As long as that was the only time…” He shook his head, clearing the glare from his expression. “Anyway, it’s been kind of fun, actually. We’ve been comparing notes about our experiences in the After. What it was like for our groups, people we skirmished with, things we did to keep our territories safe and our people provided for…”

Jokull nodded, very seriously. “We have discussed several ideas regarding sustainable settlements and potential fortifications once we reach Von, along with distribution of resources and sheltering against winter months.”

“I’m pro-fortification, by the way,” I responded, now that I was caught up on the context of that question.

Arthur scowled at me and shook his head. “Et tu, Sophia? The need for any fortifications is still up in the air, but the rest are really solid.”

“I told you, Farro, fortifications against people are also fortifications against wildlife.”

“And I told You the odds of predators on Von are very low. Grey said so theirself.”

“Moose. I’m talking about moose. We don’t need predators if there are herbivores that large!”

“Grey insists there aren’t any indigenous species larger than Lyric on Von.”

“Have you met a badger? Really…”

As they started arguing, I slowly turned to Tyche, meeting her matching wide-eyed expression. “Did we somehow walk into a parallel universe?”

“I don’t think so?” She turned toward the fierce debate. “For what it’s worth, I’m anti-fortification.”

“SEE!? One of the Weird Sisters has sense!” Arthur crowed triumphantly.

“Councillor Reid is on my side!”

As the debate grew more heated, I whispered to Tyche. “You love fortifications,” I pointed out.

“But that wouldn’t have added fuel to the fire,” she replied, magnanimous as ever.

I rolled my eyes, before trying to shout over the men. “We’re headed to the gym! Stop at a medbay pleasethankyou!”

Arthur waved at the same time that Jokul gave me a thumbs-up, but neither stopped their debate for even a breath.

Shaking my head, I tugged Tyche away. “Boxing today?” She hated boxing.

“Hmmm.”

“Ark to Tyche,” I gently shook her arm to get her attention. “Unarmed workout today. Boxing?”

“Huh?” She snapped her head at me and everything caught up. “What? No. Have you lost your mind?”

“It’s my turn to choose.”

“Just. Not that.”

“Ugh, fine,” I groaned dramatically. “Something with cardio, though. We both could use it with the gravity increases.”

“And what about armed workout.” For all that we were in a relatively peaceful situation, we were far from the only people on the Ark who practiced with weapons on a regular basis.

“Knives, duh.”

“Fighting or throwing?” She glanced at my expression and rolled her eyes. “Throwing. Of course. Why did I bother asking….”

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#the miys #found family #brotp?#science fiction #original science fiction #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #hfy #humans are space fae #humans are amazing #scifi #original scifi #aliens #apocalypse #my writing #fiction #original fiction

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thessalian · 4 years ago

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Thess vs Changing the Rules

Some UK news hilarity of the “You have to laugh or else you start screaming and never stop, at least if you have to fucking live here” variety:

So, “Freedom Day” (yes, government is calling it this) is coming up on Monday. This being when all the COVID restrictions are being lifted in this godsforsaken country. This at the same time when we have one of the highest, if not the highest number of new cases globally, largely due to the Delta variant (which people here are calling the Johnson variant because it’s our Prime Minister’s stupid fault it got here in the first place). Johnson is stating that masks and social distancing would henceforth be a matter of “personal responsibility” and that he’s “sure people will do the right thing”.

(Side note: Transport for London intends on still enforcing masks in its buses and Tube trains, but Overground trains aren’t following the same restrictions and without legal backing, TfL is expecting a serious fight over this. Also, the shops that are also asking for masks after Freedom Day? Same thing. They know that they’re going to get a whole bunch of people shouting about “PERSONAL RESPONSIBILITY!” and “IT’S MY CHOICE NOW!” and that kind of shit. So from Monday, it’s going to be a fucking nightmare for the poor sods.)

Now we get to the funny part. See, we have a new Minister for Health: Sajid Javid, who took over after our last one, Matt Hancock, got sacked recently - effectively for violating COVID social distancing rules but given that this took the form of him being caught on video with his tongue down the throat of (and his hand on the ass of) one of his aides, the very married Health Minister was probably thrown under the bus earlier than Johnson wanted to. But that’s a little beside the point.

Anyway, Javid tested positive for COVID on Saturday. He’s milidly symptomatic (and if he wasn’t double-vaccinated, I will eat my favourite coffee mug, so that says some things about what the Delta variant does in a fully vaccinated patient, yay). This immediately after a meeting with Rishi Sunak, our Finance Minister ... and the Prime Minister himself, Mr Boris Johnson.

According to rules that will still be in effect even after ‘Freedom Day’, Sunak and Johnson are both supposed to self-isolate for ten days.

Johnson said he and Sunak had no intention of doing so, stating that they were part of a “pilot scheme” to take lateral flow tests instead of self-isolating.

Consider that in the face of not only his statement about “personal responsibility”, but the “one rule for the plebs and one rule for the ‘ruling class’“ bullshit that started with Dominic Cummings and his trip to his elderly relatives and the “drove to Barnard Castle to test his eyesight” thing when he had COVID (and when the vaccine wasn’t even a twinkle in anyone’s eye yet). People. Were. Piiiiiiiiiissed.

Immediate U-turn. Johnson and Sunak are now self-isolating. Good. Fine. Johnson can feel shame.

Except maybe not, because now he’s trying to cover his arse with, “Oh, I was only considering not isolating because of the pilot scheme, but that was never really my intention”. Except that every news outlet in the country was briefed that it wasn’t “under consideration” but his actual stated intent. I know he’s counting on ‘the plebs’ not having significant memory capacity but most people can remember what he said literally yesterday.

This is the country that I have to live in. Less than 60% of people have had both vaccinations in this country; single vaccinations - just under 70% so far. Uptake’s plummeting (I like to hope that’s because people are already vaccinated but I can’t say for sure given the number of people who’ve had them or not) ... oh gods, and looking at the numbers across the country? The lowest uptake so far is fucking London, with on average 40% of people with both doses and maybe 55% with the first. And we have the highest population density in the country. Does no one else see a problem with this?

Tomorrow will mark the start of something messy in this country, and our Prime Minister wants to put the upcoming mess onto the shoulders of the populace because he lacks the political fortitude to do anything but lie, lie, cheat, lie, lean on three-word “feel-good” slogans, and lie some more. Holy. Fucking. Fuck.

Worst part is I have to start leaving the house properly come Wednesay. At least there’ll be a couple of days for things to settle down before I do, and I won’t be travelling at peak commuter hours anymore. I’m also grateful that, after the constant fight that everyone had with my workplace ot make working from home possible, my stubborn insistence on leaving that option on the table because of my fibromyalgia means that I’ll be able to actually do so soon enough. I am not a person who needs an office, and I sure as hell don’t need a three-hour commute.

#Thess on COVID

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nicnacsnonsense · 4 years ago

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Been thinking about my hypothetical live action remake of Korra (seriously Netflix, call me, I have so many amazing ideas) and how I would tackle season two since it’s definitely the season that needs the most work, specifically and especially the Unalaq & Raava-Vaatu plotline. I kind of got carried away, like I do, but I’m very excited about it; a lot of good strong themes here. I’m going to start by talking about the changes to the first half, pre-Beginnings interlude, then the Beginnings episodes, then the back half. For the most part, all of the major plot beats still stay the same, at least until the climax, but the way those beats are contextualized are going to get pretty different building up to a radically different climax (no spirit being kaiju fight, yay!).

With Unalaq in the front half, the one major change is I want the religious fundamentalism vibes that come on so strong when he’s introduced to ramp up after the Northern Tribe soldiers show up and especially after Korra finally realizes he’s a bad guy, rather than petering out like happens in canon. I want to actually see him impose strict expectations of behavior in accordance with what he feels honors the spirits on the people of Southern Water Tribe. Let’s get some misogyny and restrictive gender roles up in here. That’s going to be great (from a storytelling perspective, obviously) because it’s relatively low-hanging fruit to communicate that the bad guy is bad, it fits in well thematically with where we’re going and the religious fundamentalism, and there is canon precedent in The Last Airbender that restrictive gender roles are a traditional value in the Northern Water Tribe.

A quick sidebar related to themes, in whatever episode where we first have Unalaq really cracking down on those gender roles, I want a B or possibly C plot with the Tenzin family vacation, where Jinora comes out to Tenzin as nonbinary. She is questioning with regards to the exact nature of her gender, but does say its some combination of both masculine and feminine, though other nonbinary identities – including agender, genderfluid, and a gender that is completely divorced from male-female – are floated. Tenzin is supportive and affirming and also suggests Jinora talk with her Aunt Kya, who he identifies as being a transwoman. (Kya is a trans lesbian in my version; you gotta deal with it.) This obviously serves to contrast Unalaq with his strict gender roles, and continues to build our theme.

For Korra in the first half, I do want to drag her emotional volatility down just a tad as compared to where she’s at in canon for these episodes. I still want her getting emotional and acting rash – that’s a huge part of her character – but I want her anger to feel sympathetic to the audience. Though I do also want at least one moment where Korra gets angry for good reason and starts yelling at Unalaq and he chides her for being emotional and irrational and he’s not going to discuss this with her if she can’t behave calmly and logically, blah, blah, blah, misogyny.

The final and biggest change that we’re making in the first half is Korra does not yet have her bending back. Season one does still end with her talking with Aang and learning energybending, which she uses to restore everyone else’s bending and restore her own connection to the other three elements, but in the opening episode of season two, we learn that she still can only airbend. She says that as far as she can tell everything should be alright and she should be able to bend fire, water, and earth, but obviously she can’t. She also mentioned that while it looks like it should, she feels like there is something missing, or maybe something there that she can’t see. Which my clever readers of course realize is a reference to Raava. After her flashback coma, Korra gains the other elements back, explaining that what she was missing was her connection to Raava had been damaged. Not broken, which is why she could still airbend and do all the other Avatar stuff she was doing, but damaged enough that Raava could no longer switch elements for her or give her access to multiple elements at once.

Moving on to Beginnings, right off the bat, I’m getting rid of the notion that all humans have to huddle on the backs of lion turtles out of fear of the spirits. The two worlds are connected, but humans and spirits co-exist peacefully for the most part. The lion turtles instead act as mediators when necessary, and do sometimes give out bending for humans to defend themselves with, but not as a regular thing every time they need to leave their city. We’ll have to switch up the stealing fire and Chin plot a little to accommodate this change, but somehow or other it happens and Wan gets banished with firebending.

Eventually he comes across Raava and Vaatu fighting and these two characters are getting some major shake ups. First off, in canon Raava identifies as being peace to counter Vaatu’s chaos, but peace is not the opposite of chaos; order is. Now, looking into yin & yang, chaos & order are not aspects that traditionally apply to them, but we’re going to let that addition of order to yang and light and chaos to yin and dark stand. Not everything has to be perfectly aligned. That said, one way in which we are going to switch things to make them fit better is yang is the masculine energy with yin as feminine. We’re switching the voices.

So Wan sees them fighting, and Vaatu calls out for help. And Wan is like, oh no, a damsel in distress; I’ll help you, milady! So, he helps, giving Vaatu the advantage. She beats up Raava, then flies off. Raava chastises Wan, explaining that he is the spirit of light and order, and he has been trying since the beginning of time to defeat Vaatu, but their battles have always ended in a draw. But now Wan has given Vaatu the advantage and if they don’t fix this, she’ll be victorious at the upcoming Harmonic Convergence, sending the worlds into ten thousand years of darkness. To which Wan is like, oh no, that sounds horrible. Well, Mr. Masculine Manly Spirit-Man Raava, I like light and order and you seem like a logical rational person; I’ll for sure help you put that emotional crazy spirit lady in her place. (Have I made the irony here clear enough? I don’t think I can get much more blatant. Though obviously in the show version it would be a little more subtle.)

After that we get Raava & Wan’s training and learning the elements montage, with some encounters with “corrupted” spirits along the way. Corrupted being Raava’s word, and he elaborates to say that all spirits fall under either Raava or Vaatu’s domain, all with varying inherent levels of light & order and dark & chaos to them. Vaatu gaining in power is causing the levels of dark& chaos in these spirits to rise, throwing them out of balance. Eventually comes time for Harmonic Convergence, Raava & Wan vs. Vaatu, and Vaatu wins. Ten thousand years of chaos, baby. With the last of the spirit energy as Harmonic Convergence ends, Wan fuses with Raava, then unleashes a crazy, amazing spirit attack, imprisoning Vaatu, banishing all the spirits from the physical world to the spirit world, and sealing the portals, all as an attempt to mitigate the fall out from chaos ascendent. Since then, the Avatar, imbued with the spirit of order, has fought back against the chaos to try to restore balance to the world.

Korra wakes up and panics. They have to stop Unalaq who is trying to free Vaatu, probably because he wants to destroy the world or something. But when she next has a chance to confront Unalaq, he’s like, not you stupid girl. I’m not trying to destroy the world; I’m trying to save it. Wan was right to side with order, but wrong to think he could stop chaos by teaming up with Raava and destroying it from without. No chaos is inside all of us, the evil infesting every human heart (Unalaq’s words, not mine) and it can only be dominated through one’s own strong force of will and conviction. So his plan is to fuse with Vaatu and then dominate her, destroy her chaos and using her power to allow him to bring his order across all of existence, both in the physical and spirit worlds. Korra’s not too keen on that plan either. She’s still going to stop him.

Korra fails to stop him. Harmonic Convergence begins, Vaatu is freed, she goes inside of Unalaq, and she immediately subsumes him. Turns out you can’t eliminate all the chaos in the world just by willpower, you absolute looney toon. Vaatu explains that even as Unalaq was planning to use her, she was using him to get free and now is going to use him as a meat puppet to help her fight Raava & the Avatar.

So, they fight, and for a bit it’s evenly matched, then Vaatu gains the upper hand. Just as Vaatu appears she’s about to deal the finishing blow, Unalaq briefly regains control and interrupts her – to be clear, he manages this because of his desperate need for order and control, not out of any affection for Korra. While he’s in control he says something in defiance of Vaatu that coming from Unalaq we can hear is clearly some fascist bullshit, but also echoes something that Wan/Raava said back in their battle with Vaatu. And Korra’s like, wait, hold up a second.

Lightbulb turns on for Korra at that moment, and by the time Vaatu has resecure control, Korra has dropped her offensive stance. She tells Vaatu she doesn’t want to fight her; she wants her to fuse with her and Raava. Neither Vaatu nor Raava like this idea. Korra has to go on the defensive holding off Vaatu’s attacks, and has to internally fight against Raava wanting to attack Vaatu all while trying to sell them both on this idea. She explains that too much chaos has been bad for the world, but too much order would be bad too – case in point, Unalaq. Both chaos and order, both Raava and Vaatu are needed for balance. And yeah, they can achieve balance by constantly fighting each other, with every encounter ending as a draw, or they could achieve balance through harmony together. Because even as they are opposites, they are one and the same, a part of a greater whole. A bunch of stuff to that effect, including mentions of the Northern Water Tribe upsetting the balance by trying to dominate the Southern Water Tribe, and also a shout out to Tui and La in there somewhere, the original Yin/Yang Avatar couple. Eventually Korra convinces them, she fuses with Vaatu, and Harmonic Convergence ends in a tie, returning the world to balance once again.

And of course, now that balance has been achieved, Korra leaves the spirit portals open. Remember in this version spirits and humans got along fine, and the separation was only necessary because the world had fallen out of balance. And yes, the rejoining of the physical and spirit worlds was probably something Unalaq wanted too, but we’re not giving him credit for it, because for every good idea a fascist ever had, there’s someone else who isn’t a fascist who had the same idea, but better, because it wasn’t coming from a fascist.

#the legend of korra #atlok #unalaq #raava #vaatu #long post

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emspectrum6 · 4 years ago

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Aboard a Cruise Ship (Charlie)

For DSAW Day 5: AUs / Alternate Endings Summary: Second part of a short series in which the LIs travel with MC to the future and spend a (relatively) quiet moment together. Charlie and MC spend time aboard a cruise ship. Warnings: none. Tag: @distantshoresaw

Charlie and Peyton emerged from the pool, laughing and cheering, as they hurried away from the mouth of the giant water slide they had just gone through.

“That was incredible!” Charlie exclaimed, wringing water from her hair. “‘Tis a shame we do not have any of those back home!”

“We could make one on our ship,” Peyton said. “Carve it down from the crow’s nest all the way to the deck.”

Charlie grinned. “I like how you think, love. But our whole vessel would probably not sail.”

As they returned to the deck, Peyton watched as Charlie picked up her towel and slowly dried her hair, eyes trained on the horizon. Ahead of them, the ocean was a shifting tapestry of blues and greens, its surface glittering where sunlight hit. Around them, the deck was filled with excited children heading for the water slide, and chatting adults. On either side loomed the taller decks of the cruise ship. Charlie’s eyes fluttered shut and she took a deep breath, exhaling with a contented sigh.

“Is this what you do all the time in this future?” Charlie said.

“I wish,” Peyton laughed. “But no, most of us cannot afford to lounge around on cruise ships all our life.”

Charlie had taken to life in the future a lot better than Peyton had anticipated. Given the books from her father’s collection which she had read as a child, Charlie had a sophisticated worldview and modern inventions simply made sense to her.

When she first glimpsed their cruise ship, she had been struck with awe, but after some reflection, had said, “Two thousand years ago, the ancient Greeks rowed their ships. In my time, we have bigger sails and more space for all our rum and spoils. A leviathan like this fits right in with your time, love.”

As they sat in silence on the deck, observing other passengers, a voice rang out behind them. “Arr, I spy some booty right over there!”

Charlie and Peyton whipped around at the same time, to see a boy and a girl hurrying past. Both of them were dressed in ensembles featuring prop swords, eye patches and tricorn hats. The girl held a spyglass made out of cardboard to her eye, pointing it towards the horizon.

“If it ain’t it this time, I’ll send ye to Davy Jones’ locker!” said the boy.

Charlie and Peyton exchanged smirks, and nodded, before walking up to the two children.

“Ahoy, me hearties!” Peyton called. “Care to share with us old seadogs what ye be searchin’ for?”

The boy and girl turned, momentarily too astonished to speak. A second later, the girl broke into a grin. “We’re looking for treasure!” she said.

“Are ye daft? Don’t tell them or they’ll take the treasure for themselves!” said the boy.

“Nay, we are not interested in yer booty,” Charlie said, joining Peyton. “I am the Siren Queen Charlie Smith, captain of the great Adrestia, and this is my first mate, Peyton Bellamy. We are looking for new hands to join us aboard our vessel.”

“Aye, and Captain Smith here is a purveyor of the finest recruits, so ye be joinin’ a fine crew of the most feared pirates in the seven seas!” Peyton said. “All booty that we plunder will be split, so we all get a fair share of the spoils!”

“I wanna join, I wanna join!” said the girl, casting aside her spyglass.

“Ye be needin’ that now, lass,” Charlie said, picking up the cardboard toy and handing it back to the girl. “Ye can take the helm as our newest navigator!”

“Yay!”

“Uh, can I join too, or is it just a girls’ club?” said the boy, looking between his sister and the two pirates.

“Of course, ye gents are welcome too,” Peyton said. “Now, captain, where shall we cast off to?”

“How about… a visit to the Great Kingdom of the Water Slide?” Charlie said, grinning. She and Peyton were enjoying this too much.

“Yes!” both kids agreed.

“Well then, all hands on deck!” Charlie said.

“Weigh anchor and hoist the mizzen!” Peyton added.

As they turned towards the water slide, a voice called out. “Marco! Valerie!” A woman came hurrying towards them, panting as if she had been running a marathon. Peyton recognised her Lythikos accent.

“Mom!” the girl said. “We were just about to set sail with Captain Smith and first mate Bellamy! We’re going to the Great Kingdom of the Water Slide!”

“Sorry, ma’am, are these your children?” Peyton said. “We were just playing along with their pirate charade.”

“Yes, oh thank you for stalling them, or they’d be on the other side of the ship before I can catch up to them,” the woman said. “Now, come along, you two. It’s time for lunch.”

“Aw,” the boy named Marco said. “We were going to seek out a legendary treasure at the Water Slide.”

“Maybe some other time, Marco,” Charlie said, patting the boy on the shoulder. “Perhaps the next time we meet, ye’d be a fearsome pirate in your own right!”

“Arr!” Marco said.

“Will I be a fearsome pirate, too?” Valerie asked.

“Ye can be anything ye want,” Charlie said. “But don’t be a turncoat and join the navy now!”

“No navy!” Valerie enthusiastically agreed.

After a few more pirate-themed promises and goodbyes, the two children hurried after their mother, leaving Charlie and Peyton on the deck. They both burst into laughter as soon as the children were out of sight.

“I’m glad to see we pirates of old are still remembered today,” Charlie said, sighing.

Peyton reached out to wrap her arms around Charlie and kissed her. “A lot more fondly than one might expect. Now, what do you say we head back to our suite and enjoy an evening in?”

“Can we play that video game you were showing me? The one with the pirates and naval warfare,” Charlie said, responding with a kiss on Peyton’s cheek.

“Of course. But you shouldn’t hope to beat me anytime soon,” Peyton said.

“We’ll see, love, we’ll see.” Charlie grinned.

#dsaw #dsappreciationweek #distantshoresaw #distant shores #distant shores mc #charlie x mc #charlie smith #play choices #dsaw day 5

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tortoisesshells · 3 years ago

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For the ship meme - dealer's choice please, for whichever pairing's been on your mind lately, and I'm looking forward to reading and learning about them!:)

Thank you, kind friend, and many apologies for the delay! I’m currently mired in trying to get the actual plot moving in Customs and Duties, after an unstated number of chapters wherein the Main Idiot Duo has not achieved much beyond being Emotionally Shut Down and mired in their own problems and not thinking of each other romantically in the slightest, because James Norrington is too stuck on his past and trying not to let the rapidly deteriorating situation in Boston get out of hand & Nellie Treat is the furthest thing from over her late husband’s death and also trying to keep the good Commodore from finding out about her smuggling business. In the base continuity of the 1730s, some of these questions don't really apply, so I've tried to either answer for an analogous question, or drawn from my stable of AUs of the AU.

Who reaches out to new neighbors?

Nellie's generally a friendlier face, but more importantly, Nellie thinks about community and interdependence in a far more positive, concrete way than James, who, bless his heart, is far too used to bossing people around.

Who remembers to buy healthy food?

Nellie initially, since she's spent years being a Good Mom and after getting small children to eat their greens, how hard could it be to make sure another adult eats his peas? (actually, I have no solid idea what "good food" looks like to an early 18th century Anglo-American colonist. Does she even know what broccoli is? Certainly she doesn’t think of healthy food the same way I do.) Too, providing is her love language, but I'm pretty sure after spending more than a week with Jimothy, realized the man treats food as sort of an irritating necessity of life, probably starts in on spice cakes and drinking chocolate.

Actually, on rereading the last few chapters, every time Nellie has seen James she’s been thinking /someone/ has to give that man a cup of tea that’s more sugar and cream than tea and/or a slice of cake - and she’s still at a point in her relationship with him where she intermittently thinks her life would be much easier if she’d just let him drown several months before.

Who remembers to buy junk food?

Nellie, again.

Who fixes the oven when it breaks?

Neither of them. One of them arranges for someone else to fix something like a blown-in chimney or a damaged galley-stove. Even in the 20th or 21st c. continuities, I'm pretty sure one of them would call Sears or a handyman while the other read the manual and bemoaned that two otherwise capable and intelligent adults have no idea what's going wrong. They're deeply pragmatic people, but in this instance that means knowing that they've never had to learn this, and knowing when they're beat.

Who waters the plants and/or feed the pets?

If there's cat, I imagine Nellie is very much the hardass about not feeding them off the table - which means that James would just do it when she's not looking.

In the modern AU, Nellie and her family do have a cat named Hotspurr, and I do imagine that Hotspurr very much becomes James’s responsibility. Pets just aren’t really Nellie’s cup of tea, in any continuity; James, on the other hand, I think appreciates the regimen and regularity of feeding animals or watering house plants.

Who wakes up earlier?

Hard to say. Neither of them have good sleep schedules, and both tend not to sleep when under stress; when they’re not under pressure, I actually imagine Nellie tends to get up first - she’s had many years managing children and running a household, and lucky for James, being a commissioned officer who doesn’t have to stand watch means he gets to keep relatively normal hours.

Who makes the bed?

James. Nellie's just not that neat outside of public spaces in her home. If it can’t be seen, she can’t be judged for it; plus she’s just going to get into bed again eventually, and it’s going to get mussed again, so why bother? Pull the bed curtains if it’s going to be an irritant. James, on the other hand, like order and organization in all things - even and especially if no one else is going to see it.

Who makes the coffee?

Nellie, because even in the 18th century continuity she’s incredibly dependent on caffeine & it’s the luxury she lets herself indulge in consistently. It’s not that she doesn’t trust anyone else to make it to her liking ... but it is.

She may let James make the coffee, or talk her into letting someone else, like his steward, make it. After several years of close observation, and, possibly, locking her out of the kitchen.

Who burns breakfast?

I don't imagine Nellie in any era can do much more than very basic cookery, but what she can do, she does pretty well. I'm going to have to give this one to James, though I really can't imagine him cooking; I don’t think he’d be bad (though, if pressed, I assume James Norrington is a better baker than cook, if only because I associate baking with just following the damn recipe & cooking with arcane arts and hidden rituals & just making shit up on the fly) so much as it’s not something he’d ever have had much reason to get good at in the main continuity, because yay gender roles (/s) and class expectations(/s).

How do they let each other know they're leaving the house?

This is Quite Difficult to answer in the base continuity without giving away parts of the ending that’s not the obvious “the truth is revealed & some very Hard Talks happen before they get together” so, uh, have some Modern AU - They’re both practical to a fault, so they both tend to run down the phone-keys-wallet list and ask the other if they need anything while they’re out - Nellie’s job, however, is literally in the store-front downstairs, so she doesn’t tend to leave the house as much? (also, in every era, Nellie’s just ... kind of a homebody. She finds a home and sticks to it.)

How do they greet each other when one of them gets home?

Announcing it to the house, kiss on the cheek, and probably immediately going into something that happened to them that reminded them of the other that day? Neither of them tends to say “I missed you” about day to day things, but being remembered because someone was talking about Samuel Eliot Morison in the shop or all that trivia about longitude finally came in handy at the law firm is the greatest kind of compliment?

Who brings home little gifts like flowers/chocolates more often?

Nellie - she’s very bad at saying “I love you” or even being openly affectionate, but she loves picking up books or shells or interesting curios as a means of saying “I was thinking about you” -

Who picks the movie for movie night?

No movies in the 18th century, alas - but as far as books or plays, neither of them is actually all that regularly educated, or even into their early 30s had enough free time to develop taste? Nellie went to a dame school for a few years, but irregularly; James got stuck at sea from the age of five and hard a largely practical education that didn’t include much other than seamanship & political maneuvering. Nellie’s the more openly curious of the two, so I suspect she’s the one picking up new books to read out loud. Maybe she’ll even get around to teaching herself (or hiring someone to teach her) the harpsichord one of these days?

Their favorite kind of movie to watch?

In modern continuities? I’m not wholly sure, but I feel strongly that James would have very strong feelings about Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World. I think Nellie would like historical dramas, honestly?

Who first suggests a pillow fort?

Nellie, I think, as a coping thing? She tends to curl up or wedge herself into the corner of chairs when she’s exhausted or beyond upset; I think she’d like or benefit from small, enclosed spaces from time to time. Both of them like /doing/ things - certainly, sitting still is not something Nellie tends to do. Ever. Unless pretty much forced to do so.

Who builds the pillow fort?

It’s a group effort, but I suspect this is mostly James’s doing. Especially if the kids/ step-kids get involved.

Who tries to distract the other one during the movie?

Nellie, probably, because ruffling his feathers is just so easy, and of the two of them, Nellie is less likely to take anything not life-threatening seriously.

Who falls asleep first?

Nellie. When not stressed beyond her limits, she can and will fall asleep standing up.

Who is big spoon/little spoon?

Nellie’s little spoon, in part because she’s just shorter (though, not to keep bringing up her late husband - Nellie’s about a foot shorter than James, but she was over a foot and a half shorter than Samuel, so it’s not so dramatic as before) - and in part because she tends to sleep curled up on herself, which she can’t very well do as the big spoon.

#fic #my fic #ask meme #polkaknox talks #customs and duties

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solkat-edits · 5 years ago

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woah a pq sprite edit tutorial ft. mod kk (paint tool SAI)

MOD KK....: SO UH. this is primarily to help a pal of mine, but like i thought it’d be good to make a post / tutorial in general, so here’s a tutorial which features the process of how i did this dave

since i use sai, this is a tutorial mainly for sai, but you can follow along easily on other art programs since functions are similar and etc. the link to the sai i use can be found here.

tutorial starts under the read more:

BEFORE WE START, any sai users, here are my brush settings regarding lineart / linking, and in general, these are the settings I use for all my art and edits. Size wise, I usually draw with 1, but for line width, I’ll change between 1, 0.8, and 1.5.

1. So first and foremost (wow, look the way I’m typing got more formal), you want to open the sprite you want to edit on. Here I have Dave. A good resource for sprites / assets from PQ is from this blog, in case any one needs it.

2. If you need to, make edits to the base. Usually, if not the hair, I’ll make an edit to the character’s shading colour or their face. In this instance, it’s going to be the latter. So in this picture, what you want to do is colour pick from his skin, make a new layer and on that layer, you’ll ‘erase’ (draw over) his expression.

2.1. Lower the opacity on the coloured over layer so that you can see his original expression- mainly I do this so I can see the proper placement of his facial features and such. Here, I’ll sketch the change I want.

2.2. After it’s sketched out, I’ll line it proper and fill it in, and now he’s like smug (shame that it gets covered up by his bangs in the finished edit).

3. Now we’re to the fun part! Well, onto the more fun parts. Here is where we’ll start our sketching. Sketching isn’t mandatory, especially on smaller, minor edits such as changing shirt colours or adding small accessories, but if you want do things like drastically change their haircut, or to give them a new outfit entirely, sketching is probably a good idea. Anyways, lower the base’s opacity, and then decide what kind of outfit you want to sketch on your base, and do it.

4. After sketching, you’re gonna line! Lower the opacity on both the base and the sketch- though that’s probably a given. Completely optional, but I tend to put my layers in a folder set for organisation purposes. Also, please name your layers, it’ll help you good (OKAY SO LMAO. I forgot to take the screenshot of me mid lining, so I eyeballed all my finished lines out to make it look like it was incomplete.)

4.1: Anyways, yay! The lining’s complete. I know this is supposed to be a tutorial, but process photos are fun too.

5. Now we’re onto pre colouring. I say pre colouring because this is like setting the base for colouring? Yeah. Anyways, I’ve made another folder set for colouring, pulled the base sprite into it, and then set a coloured background under the base for transparency and etc- I usually go with a colour which will contrast the piece’s main palette, which in this case, is blacks and shades of red.

5.1. Now we’re going to put the base colour into the newly created lineart. What we’ll do here is turn the transparency on the base sprite down till it’s completely gone, and then we select every inside of the lineart.

5.2: With the base ‘white’ (the greyish white) colour from Dave’s original sprite, we’ll fill the lineart.

5.3 However, after this, you’re going to want to check your transparency because it won’t always be perfect- actually, it won’t be perfect. Usually, you’ll get that small, shitty white outline which overall imo ruins the piece when it’s transparent.

5.4. What you’re going to want to do to rid of this, is- going back to 5.2, after you’ve filled it, and you still have the selection on, you’re going to reverse the selection (arrow pointing to it, ‘pologies for non sai users because I don’t know the equivalent), and then erase. It’ll seem like you’re just erasing the background, but I swear it’s worth it.

5.5 See? Now it’s clean. Yay!!!

5.6 After that’s figured out, you’re going to want to redirect your attention back to the base sprite, and then erase all the shit that’s leftover from it, such as Dave’s sleeve which is poking out from the side, as shown in the pic.

5.7 Bam. And now he’s all cleaned up proper and ready to roll.

5.8 A completely optional step, but my favourite since I love lining. What I usually do, so that the lines look smooth(er), and more precise with the style, is that I ink it a bit to create line width variation in certain parts of the sprite, and also to create shadows.

6. Finally on colouring- I’m probably numbering all this shit wrong, but you know what, I sucked at math. Anyways, colouring- figure out your palette, and basically base colour parts of your sprite. The blackish part on the shirt is an airbrush texture.

6.1. Tip: If you’re using dark greys or blacks, I’d recommend just picking the exact shades from other PQ sprites so they’re all??? Idk, the same? To put it simply??? Yeah.

6.2. Shading is- another probably basic thing, but I’m explaining my particular process, but how I go about shading is by making a clipping layer over the layer I’m currently shading on to ensure that it only colours on that part. Then, I put it on multiply, and then toggle around till I get a good mid shade. To each their own, however, these are just my tips and tricks that I use personally.

6.3. And after you’ve shaded your entire piece, you’re done! Yay, he’s edgy now!

6.4. Though I did make my end sprite with a texture, and for SAI users, it’s relatively easy. Just open the png file of your sprite so that all your layers are in one and it’s a happy pic, and then go to to the textures drop down menu and select your texture. For this, I decide to use the grunge texture. I also used this texture on my Derse Prince edit, and I used a TV screen texture on one of my Hal edits. I don’t know if texture packs come with other art programs, but if they do, just experiment and see what you like! It’s not obligatory, but it’s a nice touch for some edits.

Other than that! We’re finished! I hope you enjoyed- apologies if anything said was over complicated haha ;;.

#mod karkat #kk edits #sprite tutorial #homestuck sprite edit #homestuck sprite edits #pesterquest sprite edit #pesterquest sprite edits #homestuck sprite tutorial #pesterquest sprite tutorial #homestuck edit #pesterquest edit #dave strider #im not mass tagging this im lazy;;;;;#also that carpel tunnel is kicking in lmao

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weclassygirl · 5 years ago

Text

𝐃𝐞 𝐨𝐦𝐧𝐢𝐛𝐮𝐬 𝐝𝐮𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐦

Word count: +5.8k

Pairing: santino d’antonio x f!reader

Warnings: none

Author’s note: hello everyone! uni is completely figured out yay! also i’m thinking of taking a small month or so break from writing, want to focus on some other projects that i have in mind. hope you’ll enjoy this part. english is not my first language so beware. take care love <3

dulce periculum series: ... 04 / 05 / ... / 07

Gif credits (x)

You pack your bags in a hurried fashion and with a bit of nervousness. The Elder wants to speak with you. The man that sits above the High Table. You pack every necessity, clothes, guns, coins, not much, you don't plan on staying there for too long.

You reach under your pillow to take out the knife hidden beneath it. It's handle is engraved with a beautiful design, the silver of it shines in the faint stream of light and the green and blue elements make it look royal. You stare at it for a while, admiring the build of it. The thin blade is sharp and reflects in the light.

Santino walks up to your room and leans against the door frame, watching you holding the dagger he gifted you. You don't hear him coming to your room, he stands in the doorway, waiting for the right moment to make himself present.

He knocks lightly on the door and you quickly turn in his direction. The hand that holds the dagger falls to your side, he looks at your bed and sees the bag filled with clothing and every necessity you would need for your trip. He walks up to you, that stoic attitude replaced by that soft expression you often see whenever both of you are alone.

“You don’t need to go.” he says as you put the knife into the bag.

"I have to, I don't have much of a choice." you inform him going to the wardrobe to grab a few shirts.

"Of course you do." he says back, his eyes focused on your face. "You’ve spent two years here without him wanting to speak with you-"

"But it’s the Elder," you cut him off. "he sits above the High Table." you turn to him, your own eyes focused on his emerald ones. There's a worry and question filling his features, he wonders why you're complying to the Elder's wish. You look at him and sigh, turning your gaze back to the bag. "We both knew that this day would come sooner or later." you say in a defeated voice.

You hear a faint shuffling and see Santino moving closer to you from the corner of your eye.

"Let me come with you at least." he pleads softly. You look up at him, your eyebrows drawn together in a sad frown.

"You know you can’t. The Adjudicator strictly said that he wants to see me alone," you say, remembering the Adjudicator's words. "no other parties involved, even one of the Heads."

You detach your gaze from his and move to the small bathroom and grab some toiletries you would need, toothbrush, comb etc. You come back to the room seeing Santino who's moved closer to the bathroom. His eyes follow your every movement. You finish packing as Santino hangs his head down and sighs.

"I guess I won't be able to convince you otherwise, right bella?" he smirks faintly but the smile doesn't reach his eyes. You say nothing, he already knows the answer. "Very well, but take the plane. It will at least ease my mind to know that you got there safely." he takes your hand in his, gently going over your knuckles. You learned that he started doing that sometimes out of boredom and sometimes as a form of reassurance.

You place your hand on top of his and hold it there until you speak up, your quiet voice carrying through the small space between you.

"Alright… and you don't need to worry too much, Sofia is letting me stay for the night before I go to the desert." you don't know Sofia personally but always admired her in the movies. The Adjudicator told you that you'll be staying at the Moroccan Continental before your departure to the desert. Santino looks at you wearily but nods and let’s go of your hand. You smile at him faintly, reassuring him that you’ll be fine.

It’s not that he thinks that you’re not ready, he knows you're capable of pretty much everything at this point, but it still puts him on the edge. Your own version of the Impossible Task made him believe that you can withstand anything, that you're as much capable as the other guards.

Santino leaves your room and your eyes follow his figure as he disappears behind the door. You sit down on your bed, looking at your lap, thinking of every decision you've made in the past two years. Saving Santino, joining Camorra, making a name for yourself in this world. And now a meeting with the Elder, a man that could no doubt easily kill you in a matter of seconds and wouldn't even get any blood on his robes. You decide not to ponder much about it and finish packing.

The airport is relatively quiet, the only sound that can be heard is the engine of the plane. You see Spirto and Sonya waiting for you at the hangar. Sonya comes up to you and hugs you tightly.

"If something happens, call me, I still have some contacts in the city." she says to your ear and you chuckle.

"I'm sure that won't be necessary." you pull away and see Spirto watching both of your interactions. His hair going in every direction and the bags under his eyes tell you that he spent another night wide awake.

During your time here you've gotten along the best with Sonya and Spirto, their cheerful personalities really helped you not feel so miserable at Camorra. Spirto puts a hand on your shoulder.

"As Sonya said, if you need anything you call us, I'm sure Andre would be against it but what's life without a little danger." he tells you with a grin spreading on his lips. There's that glint of madness twirling in his eyes. You nod at them in thanks and see a figure behind them.

Santino stands with his hand in his pocket, a bag waiting by his side. Sonya and Spirto give you a knowing look and you have them in the ribs before they can say anything further. You move towards the Italian.

"If you're here to try and change my mind, it won't happen." you say to him, he smiles and reaches for the bag at his feet.

"Believe me I won't do that, I know you made up your mind. I'm here to give you a small parting gift." he hands you the bag and you look at him suspiciously, you don't look in the bag but see a dark material crumbled up inside.

"Be safe, bella." he simply says. It's not a goodbye, you only go there for a few days, you'll be back in a blink of an eye.

"Always am." you say, he looks at you with expectation and you step closer to him as you hear the pilot announcing the departure. You kiss the Italian briefly on the cheek and place a hand on the other, Santino closes his eyes momentarily before you pull back. Both of you look at each other, feeling as if there's something more to say.

You turn to the plane and climb up the stairs giving one last look to Santino. Sonya and Spirto already left the hangar. You enter the plane and the hostess closes the door behind you. You go and sit in one of the chairs, placing your bags beside you. You see Santino through the window and his silhouette becoming a dot as the plane begins to move.

You relax in your seat, already planning to sleep through the flight when you remember the bag Santino gave you. You take a look inside and pull out a dark material, a jacket and suit pants. You see a tag saying that it's made by Angelo. The same Angelo you've seen making a suit for John when he visited Rome in the movies.

The suit itself is custom made as you realize, small threads of blue and green embedded into it. There are multiple small pockets inside it, some of them already containing thin knives, the fabric itself is the same bulletproof one you've seen John wear.

You look at your window and smile, deeply thanking Santino for this gift. During your stay at Camorra he's only given you two gifts, a dagger and a necklace. He gave you the necklace when you visited Naples with him during one summer. You've been walking around the city streets, him telling you about where everything was, and even some of the stories the streets held. You saw a stand with jewelry in the corner and decided to go up to it. You saw a beautiful thin silver chain with a green stone in it. Santino saw you looking at it and decided to buy it when you didn't see. He gifted it to you at a beach when both of you were returning from the city. You've been wearing it ever since.

You smile at the memory and hide the suit into the bag, deciding on putting it on later. You make yourself comfortable in your seat and quickly fall asleep, the hostess wakes you up as you're about to land in Morocco. You exit the plane and decide to walk into the city, deciding that you're gonna have to find the Continental on your own. Walking through the market and the alleyways you're met with Yassin, the man that you remember guiding John and also somewhat saving him. Both of you cross the street filled with people to enter a luxurious open space.

"Welcome to the Moroccan Continental." you see people scattered around, belly dancers performing in front of the clients and various alcohol being passed around. It's nothing like the New York or Rome Continental. Yassin leads you to a secluded room, away from the lobby.

"Ms. Al-Azwar will be with you shortly. Best of luck Ms. Jade." he says bowing slightly as he disappears behind the entrance. You look around the room and wait, you walk towards a small table and see pictures of Sofia with the dogs and her daughter. You hear a faint tapping of paws and see two dogs staring at you, bearing teeth. They growl at you and for a moment you fear that they will attack you when a woman's voice tells them to stand down in Arabic. The dogs calm down as Sofia approaches you. You stare at her with slightly wide eyes and smile shyly. Sofia looks at you with question in her eyes. You're surprised she's not pointing a gun at you.

"Sorry, I just- you've been one of my favorite characters since I watched Parabellum." you say quickly and feel her stare at you. You feel like you may have said something wrong but she only chuckles, the slight tension dropping from your shoulders.

"I guess what they say is true, you are from a world where all of our lives are a movie." she says. You smile and look around the room, it's dark, beautiful rugs laying on the floor, gold ornaments laying around. Sofia gestures to the couch and you take your seat, the dogs following and sitting on both of your sides.

"We're gonna be meeting with Berrada?" you ask, thinking that you would have to go to him as he used to be the previous manager. She pours water into the glass and heads to the couch giving you one of the glasses.

"No, it's not necessary. You already know that one way or another you would have to go to the desert." she answers and you nod along her words.

"Yeah, I suppose." you sip on your water when Sofia asks you another question.

"Why did you save him?" she looks at you, wonder in her eyes, confusion even. You put the glass on the table.

"I knew that if John killed him then that would be followed by consequences. Excommunicado, the whole world would be trying to kill him, he would call in for the Marker he has on you. Just a lot of awful stuff, for him at least." Sofia looks at you with a cold attitude but her eyes did go slightly wide at your mention of her marker.

She looks you up and down and leans in closer.“But that’s not everything, is it?" she questions. You straighten up in your seat, your head held high as you listen to the manager's next words.

"There are rumors about your connection to Santino. Some say that you’re his private bodyguard - closer than Ares even - that you’ve saved him and made up that little story cause he informed you that John is after him. Some even say that you only saved him so that you can warm his bed at night.”

You scoff at her statement. For people to think those things are beyond you. You knew that some may not believe that you're not from this world, but to make up those kind of assumptions… “Do you believe those rumors?”

Sofia crosses her legs and leans back slightly. “Not really, but no one truly knows you, except for Camorra." you look at her, her eyes fill with questions. Sofia tilts her head to the side, wondering out loud.

"People are curious… and I can see from a mile away that you care about them. The Camorra, Santino.” you listen to her, your cheeks feeling a bit warm. You compose yourself quickly and just shrug.

“Well, they did let me stay with them and not wander around New York, just waiting to be killed.” the manager looks you up and down, examining your face, she squints her eyes and lifts the corner of her lips. “Yeah, that’s the only reason.”

You look at her with wide eyes and your blush grows, you chuckle nervously. There's a comfortable silence hanging between you two, you can hear music and people outside laughing and speaking in a language, still a bit foreign to you. One of the dogs decides to come closer to you and put his head on your leg. You look at him and back to Sofia, silently asking for her permission. She nods at you and you put your hand on the dogs head, petting it lightly as he closes his eyes. You smile, feeling at peace for a moment.

Yet that small moment is interrupted as Sofia stands up and the dog averts his eyes in her direction.

"Come on, I'll show you to your room.” you stand up and reach to your pocket preparing to take out a single gold coin and give it to the woman. Sofia looks at you and shakes her head. “There’s no need for that, your room has already been paid for.” you look at her confused but follow nonetheless.

You assumed that Santino would have paid for your stay at the hotel, but you truly hoped that he wouldn't have to do that. You earned your money and you wanted to use it, to make yourself feel that you fit into this world. You reach the door and Sofia hands you the key, she leaves you alone in front of the door, bidding you goodnight. You enter the room and are met with a lowly lit room, columns decorating the open space, maroon carpets feeling soft underneath your feet.

You head to bed and drop your belongings near it. You quickly spot a bathroom and shower, desperately in need of sleep after a tiring journey. After you exit the now steamy bathroom you go to lay in your bed. You sigh as your face meets the soft pillow, your body immediately relaxing. You turn on your side and look at the high ceilings, thinking what the Elder might want with you.

As far as you know he rules this whole world, he is the person that you don't question twice. You knew that one day you would have to face the consequences of your actions. You saved a person that was supposed to die, someone that stood high on the food chain. Your mind briefly slips to Santino and you reach for your phone texting him a short message that you arrived and are safe. After a few seconds you hear a soft ping and see a message from the Italian. "That's good to hear. No trouble I hope." You reply with a confirmation and your brief interaction with Sofia. "Rest bella, a long day ahead of you tomorrow. I'll stay in touch. Take care." He responds.

A short message that for some may seem not that much caring, but this is Santino, his way of showing emotions and concern is different. Small affirmations like this show that he cares about his people, that his family means more to him than anything… well, maybe except power.

You put the phone away on the nightstand and close your eyes, feeling yourself drifting away to sleep and your heartbeat slowing down with every passing breath.

The next day you drive with Sofia to the desert, you sit on the passenger seat as the dogs sit behind both of you. You drive through the desert that doesn't seem to end. The sand creates a dusty smoke as the car drives on it, the sun shines brightly above you and you mentally prepare yourself for what's about to come.

You stop in the middle of the desert and Sofia takes out a bowl and water for the dogs. They drink it rapidly, clearly thirsty. Sofia passes the bottle to you, a bit more of the water inside than what John had when he came to the desert and without the spit.

"I hope you don't die here." she says to you. You look at her again with confusion.

"You don't even know me, why do you care if I die here or not?" you question, squinting her eyes at her as the sun shines on both of you.

"I can see a fighter when I meet one, and you have that spirit that this world so desperately needs." she tells you and you wonder at her statement. People die everyday in this world, be it by an open contract, broken marker or a rule, or even a classic revenge. For a moment you think about your future and for how long you'll be able to survive in this world. You turn to Sofia, her eyes expectant, the tattoo on her neck showing up from behind her hair.

"Sofia." you nod at her, raising the bottle up.

"Jade." she nods in return and gets into the car, the dogs follow her. You see her drive away as she becomes a time dark speck on the horizon. You begin to walk.

You seem to be moving for hours, sometimes feeling as if you're going in circles. The day slowly turns to night, the sunset greets you along with a breeze that moves the sand. You don't stop walking, knowing that stopping would be even more dangerous in these conditions.

The morning sun rises after a few hours and you reach for your bottle, trying to satiate the need for water. You stop yourself as you remember that you shouldn't be wasting it, every drop is precious in this desert. You keep on walking, the day once again turning into night. You feel yourself grow weaker, not eating in days, only surviving on the bits of water. You lift up the bottle only to find it empty and you feel yourself loosening balance on the sand and tumble down the sand. You don't have the energy to stand up and lay against the warm sand as the night turns darker, the stars and the moon start to shine high above you.

You wake up feeling a light breeze moving your hair, a soft material lays under your hand, completely different from the hot sand you recall falling asleep on. You open your eyes slightly and see a pair of shoes far in front of you, white robes concealing them.

"Drink." says a male voice, his accent visible and his voice rough.

You reach to your pockets inside the jacket when you hear the man speak up again. "Don't worry your weapons are still there. Please drink." you get a sense of deja vu. You reach for the small red glass beside you and drink until it's empty. You look up and see the Elders gaze hanging onto your frame, his dark eyes meeting yours as you stand up on wobbly legs.

You go straight to the point, not wanting to prolong your stay here. "Why did you want to meet me?" he acknowledges your question and shows amusement on his face. Surely he's used to people speaking and answering to him with respect, but you're not sure what to make of him yet. The Elder doesn't seem to be bothered by your tone.

"Your appearance has created a disturbance in this world." you listen to him, the wind flowing through the open tent. His whole presence seems so calm and yet it has a certain hidden edge to it. "You being here is dangerous on it’s own."

You draw your eyebrows in worry. "Dangerous how?"

"You know what happens." he says simply, clasping his hand together and putting them on his knee."It may not be in the very distant future, but you possess a knowledge that endangers some people. With you now working for Camorra, that knowledge had only expanded."

You were made aware of the dangers that would fall upon you when you first arrived in Italy, the Council and Santino made sure to tell you them. You've already encountered some of those dangers, being held at a gunpoint multiple times, kidnapped in need of information on other organizations, someone even tried to push your car out of the bridge into the river that you were passing by. All of those encounters however, were unsuccessful. You only got out with some scratches and scars going into your growing collection.

"And you’re probably one of those people that feel endangered." the Elder doesn't answer you, instead he changes the topic of the conversation.

"I do hope that your stay at the Continental has been pleasant." he says and you move to answer him when a thought crosses your mind. You thought that Santino has been responsible for your stay at the hotel, but now it makes sense. His voice even indicates that he meddled with your stay there. Realization falls upon your face and you stare at the man in light robes.

"You have questions." a simple statement, he doesn't waste unnecessary words. That reminds you of a certain someone.

"Plenty, but right now only one comes to my mind." you say looking only at him, the rest of the people in the tent forgotten. As if only the two of you were occupying this space. The Elder nods at you as a sign to continue.

"Why wait two years?" the same question you asked an Adjudicator. But you need to know the reason and who's not better to get it from than the source itself. He looks at you as if he was expecting that question and you're not surprised. You hear his accented voice carrying through the tent.

"You needed to adapt to this world, train to become stronger, to be ready to face challenges that will lay ahead of you." he stands up from his seat and moves closer to you, his steps light, quiet. He looks down on you, studying your face. "You’re confused."

You shake your head slightly and look him in the eye, his dark eyes never once leaving yours. "I’m not, it's just…" you hesitate answering, trying to find the right words. "If you wanted to see me train you could have easily just gone to Italy and get me, tell Santino that you will be overseeing my training." you explain, thinking of all the possibilities he could have got to you.

He had all two years to do that. To take you to the desert, train you as one of his people, explain you everything and yet he didn't. You examine his face, wondering what he's thinking and you see him lift up the corner of his lips.

"What makes you think I don't plan to do it here?" you draw your eyebrows, your mind reeling with questions. You open your mouth to speak when he interrupts you. "Walk with me."

The Elder moves by you and leaves the tent, you quickly follow him and try to catch up. He's not the person that would be waiting for someone. The rest of his tribe doesn't follow, they stay in the same seats they sat on throughout the whole exchange.

Both of you walk in silence through the desert and his tribe. You see people walking around in light, flowy robes, the wind carrying through them. You see people training with sticks and even notice a tattoo on one of their hands as it clashes with the person they're sparring with.

Up ahead you see people meditating, far from the tribe, seeking silence and peace, away from the others. Only with their own thoughts.

"I have heard about your abilities," you hear the Elder speak up from beside you. "you have an extensive knowledge in languages, fighting, your skills are admirable. Not many people go through such a hard training in Camorra and get to see another light of day." you hear praise in his voice, something to be proud of. You squint at him, the sun seemingly shining brighter.

"Doesn't the same rule apply here?" you wonder out loud. He listens to you, his eyes glancing at you every now and then. "You sit above the high table, you definitely have selected individuals that were trained even harder than at any organization."

"Yes, but I am the one that chooses them." he admits and you sense that there's more to his statement then he leads on. "You are aware of this, that I am the one choosing who to speak with when people search for me in the desert for days. You were no different."

You look at him questioningly. You stop in your track, feeling the hot sand beneath your feet, the heat getting to you. It doesn't seem to bother him as he's adjusted to the unbearable weather.

"How? You wanted me here."

"Yes, but I also needed to see how much you would endure out there. Just because I demanded your presence here didn't mean that you wouldn't have to fully earn it."

"By sending me out to the desert just to see if I survive." you tell him, not a question in your statement, more of an observation.

Both of you turn back to the tent, seeing less people and that others from the training mat long gone.

"You've been through much worse I assume, that small test only proved that you're capable." you enter the tent and the Elder takes his place on the seat at the head of it, his legs placed on each other, the golden ring on his finger glowing in the sunlight. You can even make out a silver of a watch beneath his sleeve.

You stand there wary, not knowing what to expect. "Capable of what exactly?"

The Elder breaths in, his shoulders straightening and it somehow gives him a sense of power. More power and authority than before, like finally he's the person that so many respect and even fear.

"Joining our ranks." he simply says, not a doubt in his voice. You look at him, your eyes going wide and soon you start to smile, small chuckles escaping past your lips.

"You want me to work for you?" you quip up. You look around and see the people surrounding him sitting quietly and listening. You're certain that they could disarm you in a matter of seconds. The Elder doesn't say anything, only studies your reaction. You compose yourself and your face becomes more serious with every passing second.

"I already work for Camorra."

The Elder shrugs, though the movement is invisible. "Who says you can't do both? You can serve Camorra and the High Table. Simple as that."

A moment of silence passes between you, you consider his proposition. Camorra is a part of the High Table but working for the Elder himself would be completely different. You thought that working for Camorra was signing a deal with the devil but it turns out that he was that devil all along. You look at him, worrying about the words you're about to speak but don't show it on your face.

"I'm guessing that if I don't agree then you'll just make me excommunicado or kill me the moment I say no." you question, the man says nothing once again, he doesn't need to, you know you're right. You sigh in defeat.

"What do I need to do? Cut off my finger to prove my loyalty to you?"

"That won't be necessary, however I'll need you for various of tasks. For now you'll be staying here for your training."

"What about Italy?" you wonder.

"Mr. D'Antonio will be informed of your stay here." he answers you, his eyes gleaming in the desert sun.

"How long?"

"A month. I'm sure you're a fast learner, we don't need more time to teach you our ways."

Our ways. You wonder what that might entitle. You've seen the High Table mercenaries work already, their movements careful, quiet as if they're a part of the shadows. You've seen them work effortlessly, them not sparing anyone in their path.

"Your ways?" you ask him. He seemed to expect that question out of you. His rough voice carries through the small tent, you feel a presence behind you, a person to probably stop you if you refuse completely. Your eyes quickly turn to the Elders.

"Standard training, new methods and techniques. You've seen what people of the high table can do." he informs you and you look around.

If you agree it will mean that you'll have to sacrifice a month of your stay here. Adjusting to the new climate, leaving Italy without a proper explanation. For a moment you worry what the Guard might think, what Santino might think.

Would he see you as if you've lost your interest in Camorra? Or maybe he'll acknowledge that you seek to gain knowledge and more experience?

"Alright…" you sigh and see the Elder holding his chin up high, his lips turning upwards, a clear sign of victory. "When do we start?"

It’s been almost two weeks since you’ve started training in the desert. Throughout those weeks you've been training with the other people here, some of the ones you've seen when you first got here, gone. Probably sent on a task ordered by the Elder. The man himself oversees your training, telling you new ways of fighting everytime he sees that you've done something wrong in his eyes.

The training is brutal but you expected it. You've started to meditate even, the Elder told you that in order to control your body you need to first control your mind. The meditation didn't work at first cause your mind couldn't stay quiet but eventually you got a hang of it.

The Elder reaches you new weapons, fighting styles, how to be quiet on the feet and even poisons. You've learned that he dabbles in various forms of martial arts and science.

You're still wary of him, not sure what to make of his character. He seems calm most of the time, reserved but he is also the one that sits above all. You don't trust him enough to have a friendly conversation with him, even though you speak to him nearly every night.

Currently you're fighting with one of his people as he watches the sparring match. You fight with sticks, yours are now broken in two after your opponent broke them in half with his stick. You duck the men as he charges at you, swinging him off his feet, he quickly stands up. Both of you circle each other when you advance at him, he blocks your first strike but doesn't expect the other to his leg. The man collapses clutching to his now broken knee. You look towards him and then at the Elder, he nods at you and you step back. The man on the ground already being taken to a medic.

The Elder crosses the hot sand to you as you take off the wraps from your hands, some spots covered in already dried blood from your knuckles.

"You listened." he tells you. When you first started your training he told you about techniques you can use in fights, that was one of them.

"Yes." you shortly respond, you're tired and it's only the beginning of the day, you still will have to train later, meditate and such.

"But you focus on the weak points of the body, rather than expecting the opponents moves." he continues. His eyes moving over your features, he sees your skin glowing due to exposure of the sun.

"I thought that was the point. To see the opponents weak spot to fight them off more successfully." you say, your hands starting to go numb at you knuckles, already feeling the pain of the bruises spreading on your body.

"You are right, but if you expected what he would do, see where he places his foot, on which side of the body he relies on more, you would have ended that fight quickly." he informs you. You nod at his explanation, his words making sense yet you still by your decision on the fight.

"I'll keep that in mind." you tells him and turn to the tent to see a medic to help you with bruises and cuts on your hands. The Elder's eyes follow your figure as you disappear behind the tent's entrance.

That cycle goes on for another two weeks, with you training and even sparring with the Elder himself, meditating and learning more and more each day. You study poisons from all over the world, techniques that you've seen Zero using in the movie. The Elder is impressed by your improvement, you asked him once to send a letter to Santino but you're not sure if he really sent it. You still haven't received a reply.

Your stay in the desert shows how much you can improve in a short amount of time, you've gained muscles, knowledge and even respect. People sometimes whisper behind your back about your Impossible Task, no one - except the Guard and Santino - knowing what truly happened there. But those people tend to keep to themselves most of the time, their whispers behind your back being a rare occurrence.

After another exhausting day you drop onto your bed and fall asleep, dreaming of a pleasant warmth of Italy and not the scorching one of the desert. Your nightmares still make themselves present, but due to your meditating they've been not as frequent.

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okay-victoria · 4 years ago

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Love of My Second Life: Tanya & Romance

This is both my take on why, despite seeming like the easiest and healthiest relationship to write, TanyaxVisha is up there with TanyaxMary in difficulty level for pulling off successfully, what I’ve seen go wrong in fanfic so far, and what needs to make it/any romance go right.

Where to start, where to start...um, a warning, for obvious reasons I’m going to have to talk about sex.

The Age Difference

This has the joy of being a bit creepy on both ends of the spectrum! Yay.

Visha Being Creepy

Visha is probably 5 - 6 years older than Tanya. While as more mature adults that age difference is relatively negligible, Tanya being 17/18 and Visha being in her early 20s doesn’t make it suddenly a non-issue. If you and a coworker, both in your first job out of college, went to happy hour and you met his/her significant other and they were a senior in high school, would you feel good about that?

The age-of-consent laws in bygone eras may help your case for why in-story characters give a pass to such things, but it doesn’t really help explain it to your readers. Unless I’m missing something, no one is reading this story from 1920s/30s Germany, and so it needs to have the relationship explained in a way that tries to work for modern standards. Additionally, I think people tend to mix up age-of-consent with “people found this generally appropriate”. A 19 year old dating a 59 year old violates no laws in the United States, but that doesn’t mean that most people are going to consider it a loving and healthy relationship without any proof. Even your in-story characters are probably going to have some thoughts.

The final issue, from Visha’s end of the spectrum, is that even when Tanya is aged up to 18+ and has gained some secondary sexual characteristics, she is sometimes still presented as being an “eternal loli” who can be easily be mistaken for someone around 14/15, an age at which girls normally have some secondary sex characteristics, but distinctly immature ones. I imagine this problem stems from two places:

1) Scenes when Tanya’s lolidom is brought up are not the same scenes as the romantic ones, so the problem is not as obvious to the author and

2) Author forgets that “short+small boobs+doesn’t have wrinkles yet” does not actually result in people looking like they are mid-puberty. Without being really creepy, as women age, their breast tissue drops down and to the side, waist/hip/leg ratios change, and the face loses its baby fat, among other things. Writing that references Tanya as looking like a teen comes along with the unfortunate implication that she actually looks like she is still mid-puberty, and Visha...is into that, instead of being someone who is attracted to petite POST pubescent women.

These are all extremely fixable problems. Really, all an author has to do is make Visha acknowledge that it’s weird, and probably try to talk to Tanya about her reservations before she starts trying to seduce her. It’s the handwave that is the issue. For the last/puberty problem, unless there is some reason I probably don’t want to know about that the author only wants to write the relationship if Tanya looks 14, simply describe her as a petite but adult woman, and if you need to use her looking young as a plot point, have her make an effort to adapt her adult characteristics to suit or hope that nobody looks hard enough to tell the difference.

Tanya Being Creepy

While Tanya is physically the junior member of the relationship, mentally, she is the senior, and by a lot. Tanya knows this. While I don’t necessarily think Salaryman is the Earth’s most morally-pure man, I have a high enough opinion of him to think that he was not pursuing college girls when he was like 35. Tanya should also have a moment of thought over this, or the relationship needs to wait until Visha is closer to her late 20s, when she is approaching a similar level of life maturity that Salaryman would have felt was close to his own.

Even if you think that Salaryman’s logical side would have been eroded by his “but I’m a guy, I can’t help it, college girls are hot” side [I’m side-eyeing you], I think it’s very unlikely that living as Tanya, and being on the receiving end of that kind of stuff, wouldn’t make her reconsider her stance on it, at least a little.

I know, I know, Visha’s been to war! She’s not the same as some random college girl in 2020! While this is allowable as a partial justification, because it is true, it ignores a whole lot.

First off, maturity is not a straightforward drive. All parts of you do not mentally mature at the same time. If you want to write early 20s Visha as a mature-enough partner for Tanya, a bit of time needs to be spent on what Visha loses because of it - she never has, and never will, get to be that happy-go-lucky girl. While making fun of young women for being dramatic gossips, obsessing about non-serious things, etc remains a popular sport, thinking that you are doing Visha a favor by taking that time of her life away from her says pretty terrible things about how society values women’s relationships with each other. If you don’t mean for your fanfic to accidentally imply that, it’s something that needs some love & care.

Alternatively, you could write a story in which Visha, while being a competent adult, still gets space to explore her “girly” side. If doing so, you are going to have to make a really strong case for why Tanya is willing to put up with this, as Salaryman does not come off as someone who would judge it a good use of time & effort to be constantly letting his girlfriend rattle off about things he thinks are silly and immature - there’s a lot of other fish in the sea, why not find one that is a competent adult *and* isn’t often talking about things you don’t care about.

The Canonical Setup of Visha & Tanya’s relationship

Opposite Goals

In a nutshell, Tanya is presented as a person that wants to live a safe, boring, and non-notable life, is doing her best to get there, and is constantly failing and being stressed about it because she needs to figure out a new plan. Visha is presented as someone who has major qualms about Tanya as a human being, but has a nigh-worshipful respect for her heroic officer side.

This is a massive, and I mean MASSIVE problem. You absolutely cannot ignore that what makes the characters happy is diametrically opposed to each other. Can you overcome it? Yes, by slowly developing the characters towards a compromise, but you can’t just not acknowledge it and expect me to think this relationship has any hope of leaving both partners happy. Either Tanya never escapes her never-ending stress cycle, or she does, and the entire basis of Visha’s attachment to Tanya disappears.

This can be fixed by: 1) Tanya coming to terms with a new side of herself, one that wants to be that hero. This cannot just be a one-paragraph epiphany. Tanya is shown to hate when she thinks her internal self is being changed by her new experiences and she needs a lot of work to get to a point where she is willing to acknowledge this in herself.

2) Visha has to go through a rocky part where she second-guesses herself - she thought she wanted Tanya, but turns out, Tanya isn’t the person she thought she is? How and why does she decide that she likes the person Tanya has become? This is probably the easier route, but I think runs the risk of having an author have Visha *say* Tanya does all these other good things for her, but never really show it happening.

3) The happiest medium is probably one where Visha *mostly* adapts towards Tanya, so Tanya gets to live a quiet but not too quiet life, and Visha learns to love another side. As Visha is compromising more in this sense, a healthy relationship is going to include Tanya realizing what is happening and deciding to make an effort to appeal to Visha and not just be like “Take me as I am. Or don’t.” and Visha unilaterally decides to accept that.

Why Does Tanya want to be in a relationship with Visha?

Tanya betrays no actual emotional attachment to Visha in the light novels. While you can read in rationalization to the reasons Tanya gives to her actions, she herself does not believe that it is because of an emotional connection.

Canonically, Tanya is portrayed as liking Visha because of how well Visha passes the “usefulness” test. This brings up another MASSIVE problem - does Tanya, in any way, shape, or form, actually like Visha as an individual, or just her ability to conform to the role Tanya wants her to play?

Look, I don’t need Tanya to be in LOVE with Visha in the way we usually talk about people being in love to believe that Tanya can be in a relationship successfully. I’m fully on board with a portrayal in which Tanya can’t quite summon that level of emotion. However, she needs to like and respect Visha as an individual person, and summon a level of emotion beyond friend with benefits.

IMO, it is really hard to do that without showing Tanya and Visha disagreeing on a major piece of Tanya’s philosophy and Tanya actually listening and responding positively to it, not simply agreeing to disagree because it isn’t worth upsetting her useful sidekick, or whatever. There needs to be character development of both characters - Visha finding it in herself to be comfortable rocking the boat, and Tanya having a compelling enough reason to change something that she has clung to for two lives.

Everyone wants to be a lesbian

While I get it, the Empire is not the exact same as Germany, and yes, I know that Weimar Germany was relatively sexually progressive, it’s really not something that a well-written romance should handwave.

“Weimar Culture” in many ways developed as a result of how WW1 went for Germany. If you have a story where WW1 doesn’t go that way for Germany, gay culture is unlikely to flourish to the same degree.

All that aside, Tanya isn’t someone that is going to easily shrug her shoulders and say “you know, sometimes you need to jeopardize your career for the sake of hot sex/love”. She’s pretty clear on which she prioritizes. A lesbian relationship is not going to help her here, and she’s going to be aware of it. She needs to struggle with that choice.

Visha not struggling to accept herself as a lesbian is also somewhat of an oversight. It’s pretty unlikely that a woman born in her time period would come to terms with that easily. Visha is also never shown being attracted to other women besides Tanya, which carries a weird “I’m only a lesbian for you” vibe that is like a gross parallel of a straight guy wanting a lesbian to be so attracted to him she can’t help it, she wants the D.

And now, we enter the realm of Tanya’s relationship with her identity and sexuality.

Tanya is shown to have mental qualms both about entering a straight or lesbian relationship in her new life. The reasons behind those qualms are not explored at all in the LN, but they should be in a story in which Tanya goes into a relationship.

No matter which path puberty takes her down, there is the issue of Tanya being comfortable having sex as a woman. Even if it is with another woman, it is not going to be particular similar to the way she had sex with women as a man. That type of thing is pretty tied up with our identity. Tanya hates having her internal, I haven’t changed identity threatened, and not being able to give sexual pleasure/needing to receive it differently is the type of thing that is probably going to come along with some emotional reservations on her part.

Again, sexual identity being a part of our overall identity, while Tanya may remain attracted to women, that means her identity is now as a gay person, not a straight person. Given her biases from both growing up in Japan and the state of gay rights in her new life, it would seem atypical that she would consider this a non-issue and it wouldn’t make her question her priorities or the type of person she thought she was.

But...The Sex?

Look, I get it, sometimes you wanna see certain characters bang. We’ve all been there.

While yes, I recognize that many humans make terrible decisions solely in pursuit of sex, and so it’s perfectly realistic to have Tanya and Visha do the same and say that’s why you’re handwaving everything else, it is an extremely lazy storytelling technique, especially since neither character seems likely to go to extremes for it.

Because people focus so much on sex appeal, unfortunately, they use it as a substitute for making a good case for the relationship. Visha/Tanya is so attracted to Tanya/Visha, that now they are willing to undergo character development, because the pulsing loins urge them to. Really?

Do at least some of it first, lay the groundwork for romantic attraction before you slam them with physical attraction. While it often works the opposite direction in real life, that undercuts the romantic side in fictional story-telling.

I also think that because of the focus on their attraction to each other, what ends up missing in all TanyaxVisha fanfics I’ve seen so far is the tension. That makes it boring, I don’t care about it, and the entire reason I don’t care about it is because the choice to handwave the inconvenient facts means there is nothing in the way besides Tanya being a dumbass, which you can only do for so long without it becoming boring.

They are both attracted to each other, and admit it to themselves. Neither sees any real problem with the relationship other than not knowing if the other person likes them, but they aren’t even hung up on it and mostly work on straightforwardly winning the other person.

When in doubt, blame it on The Patriarchy

As far as we know, Tanya isn’t pining for relationship, and never thinks about a romantic relationship from her old life. Combined with other things Tanya says, it is hard to imagine Salaryman ever had a “considering marriage” relationship - more like, he may have felt partnership had some desirable aspects, but probably never was able to compromise on his kind of extreme worldview enough to try to make it work with someone, just figuring he’d find “the one” one day that wasn’t going to make him compromise.

While of course, you should not need to change everything about who you are for a romantic partner to like you, saying “you should like me for me” and then putting in exactly zero effort to do things because you know they are important to your partner, even if they aren’t for you, is not one of the keys to a successful relationship.

While it is not a problem inherent to Tanya & Visha’s relationship like the above sections, it is a problem in all forms of how I’ve seen the relationship written. It fails to answer a fundamental question: WHAT CHANGED?

Why did Tanya want love/a relationship/a wife in this life, and not in her last? If she did want it in her last life, why did she successfully find love/a relationship/a wife in this life, and not in her last?

Unfortunately, skipping the answer to this question implies that nothing changed. The success is then entirely reliant and Visha, and that brings along with it a really ugly answer.

Visha’s professional I’ll-do-anything-for-you is equated to a personal I’ll-do-anything-for-you, and she very much accepts Tanya for who she is, through all the flaws that are definitely there and that presumably no woman in Salaryman’s life was willing to put up with. Tanya doesn’t have to undergo any character development to be capable of making the relationship work.

This has some really, really unfortunate undertones. It is the very reason why even legal-but-large age difference relationships often aren’t healthy, because the older partner, instead of trying to be someone capable of contributing to the life of someone their own age, decides it’s easier to find someone younger who doesn’t know better and is more willing to put up with their bullshit. That, then, turns into a creepy grooming undertone - you make the less experienced partner think this is normal.

It really isn’t normal or good that Visha should have to put up with a relationship in which she never discovers who she wants to be because she’s so caught up Tanya’s idea of how to live your life. That is borderline emotional abuse, I am sure no one intends it to be there, but without giving some serious treatment to character development, unfortunately, it is.

To me, this has some of the worst overtones of the worst types of male fantasy - My Manic Pixie Dream Girl is completely devoted to me, and instead of emotionally adding to her life and/or our relationship, she is completely fine with me substituting being a Strong Heroic Man who occasionally buys her Nice Things. She demands I change nothing of myself and completely agrees with my Logical Man worldview, no matter what she needs to change about herself to get there. She’s hot, and I get to simultaneously be a straight man and have hot lesbian sex. Even better, because she’s a “strong” woman who is capable in her own right, not only am I physically satisfied, but I get the ego boost of “earning” the submission and subordination of a woman who is better than most people, because she knows I’m better than her.

Honestly, the more I think about it, the grosser it gets, so as far as fanfic goes I just try to ignore it and understand that the authors intention wasn’t to bring along all this baggage. However, to truly write a good Tanya x Visha story that gets away from all these unfortunate implications is a big undertaking, and it’s really impossible for it to make for a compelling side-plot that doesn’t get much screentime.

I’m generally fine with handwaving issues for sideplots, but if Tanya is making decisions because of her relationship with Visha that are now affecting the main plot, it really isn’t something that *should* be handwaved.

Thanks for coming to my TED Talk.

#OpEd

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