#i guess one explanation is that the survivors were all either really young or really old

[inexplicably-spookified]

the famsagi™ (before things Go South aka the war)

oyaji, the dad

hana, the mom

usagi, the gremlin child

[mrskurono]

title: N/A || Megumi Fushiguro x FemSorcerer!reader a/n: this is old and converted from a fic I ditched with an oc so I reformatted it to a reader x type of deal word count: 1.7k tags: mentions of death, reader is queer (pan or bi you decide), comfort ish fic, fluff, based mostly on the anime since I wrote this prior to reading it character(s): Megumi Fushiguro (jjk)

"Oh, you're awake."

That voice wasn't a surprise. Megumi had heard it before as he lie in bed taking the most of his recovery time. Before it had just been to the tune of his eyes closed and his laying still in bed while she either talked to him or any number of nurses that had come and gone over the past twenty four hours. Sitting up in bed now Megumi locked eyes with his visitor. 

A nonverbal acknowledgment to the second year. It took but a moment for the sorcerer to see the small wrapped box you had brought back with yourself. You took heed of your underclassman staring at what you'd brought back. So you took it upon yourself to share without him asking about it. 

"Something to eat," you smiled sweetly. Just as you took up you seat once more at his bedside, this time you placed the wrapped box on the table swung over his bed, "I didn't think hospital food sounded good after that long of a nap."

Megumi looked at the fabric covered tote box placed before him, "That wasn't a nap, I was passed out."

"I know," you nodded, no fault of your own as your smile persisted, "Just telling myself it was a nap calmed my nerves."

He looked up from the unopened treat box. Sincerity in your eyes just as there had been from day one. Megumi questioned how someone so soft would align with such a life. He broke eye contact just to look at the box again. 

Never had he mentioned having any favorite foods to you. Which was partially true. If it tasted good then he'd eat it. Simple as that. So Megumi admitted to being a little taken back by what you could have brought him that wasn't already just easily provided by the hospital.

"Open it already," you coaxed, "I heard your stomach rumble hours ago before you woke up."

He was famished. No lie there. Megumi carefully untied the knot of the neat lunchbox. Unwrapping it's contents to be more than just surprised about what you'd brought him. Delicately worked on onigiri with the three of them sporting different flavors. Crisp tempura fried vegetables laid carefully next to it. And what looked to be a small cup thermos nestled off to the side. He had an idea whatever was in it probably was as good as the rest of the food laid out. 

Seeing the spread all he could muster was purely a question, "Where did you buy this? It looks...nice."

You shook your head, "I didn't. It's all homemade don't worry."

Admitting to the labor that had gone into this gesture only magnified the oddity that was your continual kindness. It wasn't prevalent in a jujutsu sorcerer's life. And simply one not displayed by sorcerer's as a whole. It left Megumi more than a jumble of confused words why his upperclassman could maintain kindness when also baring a curse like the rest of them.

"...thank you, y/n." He looked up from his meal at you, "Really, thank you."

Brimming with a cocky smile that never faded, you gestured to the meal, "C'mon don't thank me without trying it. It could be complete garbage and you don't know."

Megumi handled one of the onigiri as he brought it to his lips. Not meant to hide his soft smile, he still took a pause before biting it, "I know it's good, you made it."

Without a shadow of a doubt he was right. Everything you'd packed into that plain little bento was everything but plain. Delicious down to the last crumble. Megumi hadn't realized it was gone before he was taking the last dribble of soup from the thermos. When he finally set it down to realize his plate empty and stomach full, he found himself wondering once again the same question. 

"...you're such a good cook too," Megumi added to the list of things he'd already told you, you were good at. "Why are you here when you could clearly be doing so many other things."

A shrug with a chagrined look on your face, "Well the other second years are just overreacting with the exchange anyways, and you were here so I thought I'd-"

"No," Megumi shook his head to stop the dodging you always did. "I mean here doing this." 

This question again. You had run into it a few times before with Megumi's questions as well as some of the other students. It never seemed enough to just say one saw curses. Here they wanted detailed information on what landed someone here. As secretive as the jujutsu sorcery field was. You never felt it necessary to divulge your background like it was some stat to be learned in a comic book. You were here and you were learning. What else did people need?

"...I can see curses. Not a lot I can do with that," you answered just as sweetly as any other time the question arose. Where that answer sat just fine with everyone else. Be it maybe a lot of jujutsu sorcerers were a little self centered. Making your kindness stick out like a sore thumb and get seen more than once as a weakness. It also alleviated the need to elaborate most times. But where you found relief in other's laziness not to ask too many questions. It was Megumi's consistently deadpan prying that perhaps drew you to befriend him. That came with the price of his constant inquiry about why you did the things you did. Especially if they involved him.

So again, for what seemed like the hundredth time now in your friendship, Megumi asked, "How did someone so kind get cursed though."

If it were anyone else perhaps you'd ignore it with a sweet smile. Act like it didn't matter and it was just a fluke in your character. There were a million things you'd would rather do than relive the cause of this career choice. Presented with Megumi's brush with death caused a waiver in your conviction to stay out of personal affairs though. You'd made some superficial friendships here. But when the first years, or at least when two of the three first years, returned from a botched first grade curse mission. Very present negative emotions flooded you. Ones all too familiar and worrisome. You were forced to relive a glimpse of your heartache from years ago. With a heavy heart you knew sitting at someone's bedside night and day warranted some kind of explanation.

"...I...I lost someone," you looked down at your empty hands, "When I was younger of course. I guess they were my bestfriend."

Lots of people lost friends and family. Death was present but not normally the clear cut reason to harbor so much negative emotions that fueled Jujutsu Sorcerers. Megumi looked over at his upperclassman wringing your hands together nervously. If death was the cause he knew this couldn't be easy for you to talk about in a setting like a hospital.

Megumi didn't want to upset the semblance of friendship he respected with you, "You don't have to if you don't-"

"No, heh," Looking up from your hands you smiled through a thin veil of tears threatening your distant glazed over eyes, "I'll tell you because...I was just as scared that you were going to die too. And- well, I just don't know if my heart could handle this all over again."

"Your heart?" He didn't show it but Megumi kindled a bit of surprise in his mind knowing he liked your company but didn't know it was reciprocated beyond courteous nature from you. 

A quite nod from you. Your body was present but when Megumi met your eyes it was clear you weren't thinking about the here and now.

"...when I was in primary school I had a best friend I did everything with. She was...she was everything to me." You smiled just at the fuzzy memory, "Nothing fancy I guess, bad things happen everyday. And it was just another day...We were walking home when it happened. A cough, I didn't think anything of it since kids get sick all the time. But before I realized it that would be the last time we would walk home together. The last time we'd do anything together." You brushed the tears from your eyes but didn't let your smile fade, "I couldn't see her before she passed away, something about more kids getting sick and infectious. How I didn't get sick is beyond me. We spent every moment together. Before I knew what happened, my mom broke down telling me she'd died and well...I was just left to process it."

Megumi held his tongue for a moment. There was no trauma. No indicator that it really would be enough to cause anguish such that a curse would be born. While his heart ached for a moment of compassion at your loss, he was still confused as to what upset you enough to bring on the change young Jujutsu sorcerer's experience to put them on this path. 

He didn't need to wait though or even ask when seeing the curses started. You looked at him with the biggest grin while tears rolled down your cheeks and in all sincerity finally told the truth to someone, "It wasn't until later when the curses started showing up and my heart never really healed. I realized what was haunting me....I loved her and never got the chance to tell her that." 

Loss of love and innocence. Deadly and deceitful to a human. Survivors always carried a heavy weight and you were no different. Megumi understood what inflicted your curse energy. It was something that wouldn't leave you until the day you died. Heart wrenching like all jujutsu sorcerer's, it left one question pertinent to Megumi more than anything. 

He looked from you. To the things you'd brought. And finally back at you with the small things connecting in his mind, "Does that mean..."

Your distant stare returned to the present to meet up with Megumi's green eyes. Holding his gaze for a drawn out moment as you fought with what was inside you. Finally you couldn't keep it together and cracked with an incredibly soft smile playing on your lips. You couldn't live with another curse like this so you came clean, "...yeah, I think I love you too."

[ladykatakuri]

What`s in a Name

The Bad Batch ( complete with Crosshair and Omega )

Rating: General

Word Count: 2326

Warnings: None, it is a family story about names. There is an OC in here that was part of the group as cadets though!

Summary: “So, how did you all get your names?” Omega looked at them, curious and intent on hearing the stories, all of them, on how her brothers had gotten their own unique names.

Notes: This is something i have been thinking about and decided to write because it is just fun. How did they get their names and how do they feel about it? Omega would know a lot about the guys from her time on Kamino, but i am pretty sure that information about how they got their unique names was not deemed important by either the Empire or the Kaminoans so it would not be included in any official report. Their names might be, only to serve as information when dealing with outsiders on missions, but that is about it.

“So, how did you all get your names?” Omega looked at them, curious and intent on hearing the stories, all of them, on how her brothers had gotten their own unique names.

For a moment the men in front of her look surprised. They have their own unique names and they have had them for a long, long time now. Nobody ever asked how they got them and even among regs it was not something that was important. Afterall, out of all of the clones, Clone Force 99 was different and the regs were not sure what to make of them.

“Well kiddo, I got my name as a cadet on Kamino when I was part of the Domino squad. You know we get our names from our brothers, most of the time right?” Echo looks at Omega, who had turned to look at him as he began to speak.

“Yes I know.” Omega nods and crosses her legs to sit in a more comfortable way, ready to listen to the stories behind the names.

“Well, we were not a very well oiled machine when we started out and our personalities shaped us and gave us our names. I became Echo after they began to complain how I would echo all the orders we had gotten.” He chuckles as he thinks back to those times he spent with the squad, how they went from being a chaotic bunch to a well tuned group of brothers that could take on the entire galaxy, or so it felt to them. “Fives especially loved to name people and he was the first to come up with Echo. I guess that it stuck with me from that moment on.” The recollection of how he had gotten his name has him feel somewhat nostalgic, longing for those times to be revived once more, but most of all to have his closest friend and brother back so he could talk to him again.

Understanding how this memory of old has affected him, Omega turns to the next man she wants to hear from.

Tech, still standing, leaning against the wall while tinkering with yet another project, notices the silence and looks up. “Ah, I suppose it is not much of a mystery how I got my name. After all, the names we clones have mostly symbolize some aspect of our own character. It would be more surprising if we had completely normal human names instead of designations that would suit our abilities or achievements.”

Nodding to the explanation, Omega looks at the man in front of her. “That is true Tech, but sometimes the name is not as obvious or maybe even surprising in it`s origin.”

Surprised by her logical reasoning, Tech smiles. “You are correct, but my name is no surprise. From the moment we were trained as cadets, it was very clear that my mutation had given me a high intelligence and I had a knack for technology. Because I was always working on computers and other tech while learning about anything and everything else, people started to call me that tech kid or that tech weirdo. From that point on I decided to take part of the name and just go by Tech and it is what I have been called ever since.” For his brothers, who knew him well enough, it was clear that despite his bravado, it still stung at times when he thought back to the name calling and how they had all been shunned by the regulars who were not different from all their other batch mates and brothers. Thankfully, as they aged, they also became stronger both physically and mentally and Tech grew immensely in both ways.

As Tech went back to tinkering with whatever he was working on, Omega turned to the next of her family. Only to notice a strong glare coming from the man that has never been one for stories, or many words for that matter. Crosshair just looked at her with his toothpick shoved to the corner of his mouth. Omega grinned at him as she focused her full attention on him.

With a grumble he replaces his toothpick with a new one and relaxes his shoulders for a moment. “Fine. I didn't have much physical strength at first. So I trained a lot when we were cadets and when we did blaster training they realized I was a crack shot. I trained harder and realized it was damn easy to shoot targets, no matter where they were or where I was. I became the best and during some physical testing they realized my eyesight only improved. I got special sniper training and physical training that would enhance all my skills and that is how they started to call me Crosshair.” Crossing his arms was his way of showing that story time was now over and he resumed chewing his toothpick as his attention went to his brother sitting on the floor next to him.

“You forgot to mention why the regs began to call you Crosshair for real though.” Nudging the sniper with his elbow, Wreckers laugh beamed through the hull of the Marauder. “The regs would always try to bully us, anyway they could. You know, because we are different. One night, they pushed Tech and cornered him, ready for a beating and Crosshair locked in on the one that hit him. He was standing pretty far off but he hit that guy good with his dinner plate! Hah! The reg didn`t know what hit him!” Still laughing, thinking back to how the reg fell on his back, surprised by the dinner plate that came flying from across the hallway, Wrecker wheezes as he once more nudges Crosshair against the leg. That's when they started to call him Crosshair. Cuz when he has you in his crosshairs, you are never getting out of it!”

Omega laughs as loud as Wrecker does at the story. “That is awesome! But how did you get your name Wrecker?”

“Well kid, not because I destroyed everything or something. I mean, I didn't always wreck stuff when I was a cadet.” The huff coming from Crosshair stops him from talking for a second. “Hey! I didn't Crosshair! That was later….. You see kiddo, as a cadet I was pretty careful with everything. I mean, I was already pretty big, bigger than others, and also pretty strong, so I had to be careful what I did. Then this bounty hunter came and he was supposed to train us or something. Well, he was just a kriffing jerk about it and he made fun of us all the time. Hunter told us to stay calm and not let it get to us or something, but that guy was a nasty piece of work. He changed the training program so it was way more difficult than other cadets had to do. Hunter got hurt badly when he tried to shield me and I went mad after that. I mean, the guy was laughing about it! So, I lost control and wrecked the training room trying to get to that guy. The regs heard all about it and started to call me Wrecker as an insult. But Hunter told me to use it as a name because it shows how strong I am when I protect my family.” Beaming with pride he looks at Hunter. “I guess it was Hunter that really made it my name then.”

Hunter nods at Wrecker, a low chuckle escapes him when he thinks back at the times his brothers had gotten their names. Sure, they had pretty difficult, or better said, hard times as cadets, but at least they had each other and that was the only thing that truly mattered anyway. Knowing that he would have to tell the story of how he came to be Hunter he turns towards the young girl that has been listening to it all while snacking on some Mantel Mix.

“I guess I am the last one to tell you about my name.”

Omega already settled to listen to his recollection of the time he became Hunter, nods and grins.

“Well, I guess it is mostly because of my heightened senses that people expected me to be a good tracker, what they did not expect was that I would also become a true hunter.” For a moment he closes his eyes as his mind takes him back to the exact moment and he seems to hesitate.

“You know….. that squads consist of a minimum of four clones but most times there are more in a squad, right?” He looks down at Omega who just popped a piece of mix in her mouth. Chewing, she nods at him. “Yup, i know.”

“Our squad was supposed to have some more members…….” Realizing that the full truth would be revealed to Omega, the others shuffle in their places. Echo, though not an original member of the group, knows the story and understands it is not an easy memory to share.

Tech stops tinkering for a moment and looks at Hunter. A small nod at his sarge and he continues his work.

“Tsk.” It is the only sound that comes from Crosshair, who glares at Omega, for the audacity she has dragging it all up and for Hunter who allowed it.

Wrecker, the most gentle of them all, swallows as he suspiciously turns his head for a moment. When he turns back, his eyes seem to have been wiped dry and he smiles at both Hunter and Omega as approval.

“We have desirable mutations. Something that the Kaminoans would try to add to the newer generations of clones that were bred on Kamino. But changing the genetic makeup of a living being does not always work out well. Tech could explain it al in greater detail.” He holds up his hand to stop his brother, who already looked up, ready to go into greater details about genetic mutations and enhancements and how tinkering with it could have negative or even destructive effects on the subjects.

“Some did not survive outside of the pods used to accelerate age or the treatments to enhance our abilities. In the end our squad consisted of five survivors that could be trained.”

The mentioning of the squad consisting of five members has Omega perk up for a second. This was news to her, though she expected that Nala Se had not told her every single detail about all the members of her favorite squad of clones. Especially not when it became clear she was more interested in this small group than any of the other groups.

“Bug was the last one to die on Kamino, but not from the changes that were made to his genetic makeup. He died in an accident, or that is what the rapport stated. We knew that some of the regs wanted to teach him a lesson. Bug was always curious about other people and would bug them with questions on anything that caught his attention. It annoyed some of the others. They altered a training program and disabled the safety protocol, thinking it would only wound him. But bug, training his blaster skills at that time, was shot by one of the training droids, in the chest. He did not make it…….” Hunter stops there and looks at Omega. “You remind me of him.”

Omega, touched by the remark, softly smiles and nods at Hunter, indicating to him to continue his story.

“When we heard what happened to Bug, we did not believe it was an accident. Bug might have been absent minded at times, but he would never forget to turn on the safety protocols. Tech hacked the systems and found out what really happened. I guess that is the moment I started to earn my name. I hunted the regs responsible for what happened and we taught them a lesson. We didn't kill them, but they knew never to mess with any of us ever again.”

Omega, emotional from the story she was told just now, stands up and dashes over to Hunter. Throwing her arms around him she hugs him tightly. “I`m so sorry Hunter! I didn't want to make you all sad. I just thought it would be fun to hear how you all got your names.” With a sob she pushes her head into his chest, close to crying.

Hunter gently wraps his arms around her for comfort. “It`s ok Omega. Don`t worry about it.”

Wrecker, standing up, moves towards his little sister and pats her on the head. “Don`t worry kid! It was nice to think about Bug too ya know? He was fun to have around.”

Tech, finally done with tinkering with his latest project walks by as he mentions something about checking the auto pilot. A soft pat on her shoulder to tell her not to worry about it as well is all the comfort she needs from him at that time.

Crosshair, not a man to show many emotions, especially when it comes to Omega says nothing as he walks past them. The only surprising action is a quick, soft smile for her as he looks at the young girl still wrapped around Hunter.

Echo puts his hand on her shoulder as he turns her around. “Come on kid. Let's give Hunter a chance to breathe while we go and grab some food for dinner.”

With a final warm smile for Hunter, Omega nods and turns around to leave the hull and join Echo in preparing some food for their dinner. She asked for a story and had gotten more then she expected. Just a little more of the personalities of the men she came to see as her true family, the men she loved even before they met and that she wished to be with for the remainder of her life.

@loth-wolffe@nahoney22@hellothere-generalangsty@reluctant-mandalore@moonstrider9904@chaoticvampirejedi

[queerebrum]

Let’s talk about Peter Hale’s eyes

I’ve thought through (and discussed) this topic at length and I kind of want to collect my thoughts on it all in one place.

Firstly, We’re ignoring Peter’s age in this post. Sure, he can be young!Peter at the Paige situation and then normal!Peter a year(ish) later at the fire. We’re just ignoring that issue. Peter starts canon in my head at 34 (making him ~18 at Malia’s conception) and that is the only version of the truth I’m willing to accept. 

In the flashbacks with Derek (3x08 Visionary / the Paige tragedy), Peter has gold eyes. That is Michael Fjordbak who we saw as young!Peter in season 2 with Lydia, and in the flashbacks here in Visionary. This is (I’m reasonably sure) the only time he shows werewolf eyes in the whole damn episode, and they’re definitely gold. They shot this scene with a single lightbulb attached to a faulty outlet, it’s not my fault the gif is so dark.

We know a few events happen, canonically, after this point in time but before the next time we see Peter’s werewolf eyes: Paige’s death, the Hale Fire, the death of Laura, biting Scott, the beginning of Peter’s revenge killings. Y’all I have scoured the footage for any instance of Peter’s eyes being anything but red in season 1. I didn’t see it. If you have please message me a timestamp.

So, then we get this glorious moment.

Which, as I saw someone recently point out, is a sign that Peter is not in control of himself at this point. There’s a lot of “mad/ins*ne” Peter head canons. I’m not going into them, but it is interesting that he’s just chilling int he car/in traffic and showing fangs and eyes.  So, after this point we know the following things happen: the end of Peter’s revenge killings, the death of Kate Argent, Peter’s death.

And then, we know from, one again, Peter ‘Drama King’ Hale’s little scene in Visionary (though possibly earlier I just didn’t bother to dig for it since it seemed irrelevant), that Peter’s eyes are now blue.

Here’s what we know about the were“wolves” with blue eyes:

- Derek: got his blue eyes killing Paige. - Malia:  we don’t know exactly when she got blue eyes, but like, she killed her mother and sister so..... we can make some educated guesses. - Ethan/Aiden: Both did a fair share of killing (and were both directly involved in Boyd’s death, which I think they’d probably feel guilty about, which would reflect once they lost alpha status) - Corinne/The Desert Wolf: ...do I need to explain this one? Isn’t she like a criminal and assassin? honorable mention: Kate had Green Eyes???? weird nagual stuff I presume. There are probably others but those are the only ones I care to bring up right now because I don't want this meta to be a million years long. Let’s also discuss some of the wolves who did not have blue eyes who should have:

- Theo: Listen, It’s one of two things - either he’s straight up just incapable of feeling guilt (which I doubt), or his being a lab-grown/synthetic werewolf fucks this one up. I’d bet money that if Scott bit him, he’d have blue eyes. - Victoria Argent: I also have two explanations for Victoria - either Victoria felt no guilt for any killings she ever did, or the ‘counter’ starts after you’re changed. 

Either way, for a born wolf there is no ‘counter’ as they’ve never not been a wolf. So, let’s go back to those events that happened between the shot of Peter’s eyes as gold in the flashback and Peter’s eyes being blue. I’m gonna briefly go into why I do or do not think they caused Peter’s blue eyes.  - Paige’s Death - probably not. We know that Peter was involved in the death of Paige, but really, it was Derek who chose to mercy kill her. Otherwise, I think the ‘guilt’ of her death would have been on Ennis.  - the Hale Fire - possible.  Whether or not Peter felt guilty in any way for the fire is hard to say, but two scenarios here could give him blue eyes in my opinion: 1) survivors guilt. He’s (other than Laura and Derek, and later Cora) the only one who survived the fire out of his entire family. I could see some major guilt there. 2) mercy killing - burning to death is really painful. I can imagine that if they truly thought there was no hope of getting out, a lot of the adult wolves probably would have had blue eyes by the time they died.  - death of Laura - very possible. I don’t think Peter was fully aware of what he was doing until after he killed Laura. This isn’t necessarily common opinion, but it’s mine, and so I think it’s very possible that once he realized what he’d done, the guilt switch got flipped, and had his eyes not been red, they would have been blue. We see Peter get cagey talking about this topic in subsequent seasons, so this is my front runner on how he got his eyes.

- biting Scott - no. Scott didn't die, so I doubt that Peter would have felt at all guilty about this.

- the revenge killings. - unlikely.  I doubt that any of these, including the death of Kate Argent, who basically admitted her guilt right before her death, would have caused Peter to feel enough guilt. Now, if any of them were actually innocent (which I don’t think they were) maybe that would do it, but honestly I think Peter’s “guilt switch” had already been flipped by this point. So, my best guess is that either killing Laura, or possible (this one is very speculative) mercy killings during the fire caused Peter’s eyes to be blue. 

[world-of-aus]

Family Matters - (Part 1)

Pairing: MobBoss Bucky! x Reader

Word Count:3,220

Warnings: feels, angst. Anything italicized is a past memory explanation!

Author’s Note: So excited for this series, and i hope you’ll enjoy the first chapter, this is going to be a very wild ride, and i hope you’ll enjoy what i have planned. Part 7 of Behind the Screen will be up tomorrow, i’ll be alternating between my two series as far as updating and uploading them goes, I’m also thinking of doing a day in between for requests like drabbles, imagines, or one shots. The tag-list is open for this series and BTS, if you all would like to be added. As always thank you for reading!

SERIES MASTERLIST

Your eyes are drawn to the outside world of the cab you sit in, dark grey clouds are lingering in the washed-out pale white of the sky. The streets are empty, quiet, except for the one or two cars that pass you by. You had sworn you would never return, promised yourself that you would never look back the night your father kicked you from you warm Brooklyn home. You remembered standing on the puddled stairs looking up at your father with wide eyes, your bags tossed out next to you. You wanted to cry, to scream out to your mother, but your father blocked her cowering form from you.

“Dad please don’t do this, why are you doing this?” you pleaded through your tears.

Your dad wouldn’t answer as he continued to throw more bags that your mother had packed for you at your feet.

“Mom please,” you cried, “please tell dad something, please don’t let him do this,”  

The only part of your mother that you could see were her feet, and you swore your heart broke in two the moment you saw them turn away from you.

“dad why are you doing this?” you tried again. This time you reached out for him, only to have him pull himself from you as if you had burned him.

“Leave,” he hissed, “you leave this city and don’t you ever come back you hear, don’t you ever come back,”

Through tear filled eyes, you watched your father turn his back on you, the oak door of your home slamming behind him as he left you out in the cold.

That night as you walked through the cold brisk weather, you had vowed to heed your father’s words. Yet here you sat in the backseat of a New York cab, driving down the now unfamiliar roads to your old Brooklyn home.  

It had been the early hours of the morning when your phone had trilled noisily on your night stand. You had groaned opting to bury your head a little deeper into the warm sheets of your bed, hoping that whoever was calling would hang up after the first few rings had gone unanswered. Luck had not been on your side as your phone continued to trill vibrating noisily the longer it sat untouched.  

You had thrown the covers from your head angrily, vulgarities slipping from your tired lips as you grabbed your phone off the night stand. You didn’t bother looking at the caller ID intent on giving the person calling you at three in the morning a piece of your mind.

Your words failed you as you heard the voice on the other end of the line, catching you off guard.

“Good morning, I’m sorry for disrupting you so early, this is detective Stark, am I speaking with y/f/n y/l/n?”

“Y-yes, may I ask what the reason for the call is?” You questioned worriedly.

“I am calling in regards to your parents Miss y/l/n, there’s been an accident,” a heavy sigh, your heart dropped into your stomach, “I’m sorry but there were no survivors,”

Your breath caught in your throat, tears swarmed your eyes, your fingers turning stark white from the grip on your device.

“Miss, are you there,” his words echoed and vibrated around in your disoriented mind.

Your parents, accident, no survivors.

A choked sob fell from your lips, no this couldn’t be, it just couldn’t be real, this had to be another cruel joke life was playing.

You could hear the detectives worried murmur of your name repeatedly but you couldn’t bring yourself to get the words out that you were okay, though you were far from it.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there in your now cold bed, the phone clutched numbly to your ear, detective Stark on the other side of the line trying to guide you through your breathing, it took minutes but felt like hours before you felt like your breathing had evened out significantly for you to even get a word in.

Detective Stark was speaking up again, his voice sounding far off and hazy, “Ms. y/l/n, I know this must be devastating news, but I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind meeting with me, I have a few questions for you in regards to your parents.”

In your disheveled mind you hadn’t quiet processed his request, nor the tone to his voice, all you could do in your numb state is agree to meet him early morning later this week.

“We’ll be pulling up soon miss,” the cab driver announced pulling you from your thoughts. You found your body sitting a little straighter as you drove past the various houses that you remember once seeing, it was almost a distant memory looking at them now.  

The cab driver drove a little further before pulling onto a street your home just houses down, your  breath caught in your throat as your family home came into view, a patrol car sitting out front.

“You can just pull up here,” you murmured, eyes focused on the patrol car.

The cab pulled into the familiar driveway coming to a stop at the peak, once in park you handed the man the money unbuckling yourself from the car before sliding out. A million feelings hit you at once as your feet touched the cemented pathway you once walked, you held the tears at bay as you looked at the brick home, memories of your time here swarming you.

The cab driver left the bags by your feet, the motion alone almost throwing you over the edge, it seemed almost too familiar, but you had to remind yourself, you weren’t that freshly young adult that had been thrown out onto the streets. Thanking your driver quietly with a shaky voice you composed yourself, your eyes locked on the estate in front of you. Two car doors slamming jarred you, though your watery gaze was un-wavered, a second later you heard the soft clicks of another pair of feet approaching you. From the corner of your eye, you could see who you could only guess was Detective Stark, his stance was much like yours though instead of the house, his eyes were on your shrunken form.

Whether it be that he knew you needed a few minutes to compose yourself, or he wasn’t sure how to approach you it remained like that for a few minutes, your eyes on the home, his eyes on you. Eventually his stare became too much and you turned your head ever so slightly, “Good morning Ms. Y/l/n, I’m sorry to have to meet on these terms, but the questions I have for you could help me determine what or rather who was the cause of your parent's accident.”

It seems your time to mourn would have to be held back a little longer, “I'll answer any questions you might have detective,”

“do the names Pierce, Rumlow, or Barnes sound familiar to you?”  

You looked up at him brow raised, “no, should they?” you questioned.

A loud sigh left the detectives lips his whole form changing before you, “look Ms. Y/l/n, the quicker you comply, the quicker I can get the right men in jail, but if you withhold any information, I can’t help you,”

Your body faltered slightly, his words and tone throwing you off, “I’m sorry Mr. Stark but I really have no idea what you’re talking about, I wasn’t even informed what the actual accident was that killed my parents but now you’re saying either of those three men could have had something to do with it?”

He slid closer, his frame hovering over yours, a fire in his eyes, “Look I'll only say this once more, cut the shit, if you know something, and I'm sure you do, you better start talking now, because then I can actually guarantee your safety.”

Your body staggered back, this couldn’t possibly be the detective you had spoken with the night of the accident could it, “sir I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about, I-”

“You have no idea what I'm talking about?” he grunted, “you had no idea daddy worked for the mafia, laundering money, did you really not question the men in clad suits that walked throughout your home, not question the packages that showed up on your door, were you and your mother really that good at lying for your father?” he hissed.

It’s like you had taken a hit to the chest, the air completely knocked from you, your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.

“wh-what?” you stuttered out.

Detective stark barked out a laugh, “man you all really are something, come on you don’t have to lie anymore, daddy isn’t here to keep you quiet like he kept your mom quiet.”

Had he not been a man of the law, your hand would have met his face this rainy morning, but instead it was clenched at your side, your once mournful eyes turning into slits, “listen here Detective Stark, I'm not sure what makes you think you have the right, to talk about either of my parents like that, especially my mother,” you hissed, “I have lost both my parents in one single night, I haven't seen either of them since my father kicked me out of my home at age 18, so how dare you talk to me in such a manner,” you growled.

Stark’s face fell, “m’am I’m so so-”

“and another thing, detective,” you muttered sarcastically, “if my father “worked” for the mafia like you’re accusing, I was unaware of it, the time that I lived in Brooklyn I never saw much of my father, he spent most of his days locked in that office of his, I was never to bother him, or question what it was he was doing in there,” you paused, taking in a shaky breath, “my mother would only tell me my father was a very busy man, and that if I wanted to continue to live the lifestyle I had, that I would leave my father alone and let him work, unless I wanted to be out on the streets.”

“Ms. -”

You held up your hand, “please detective,” you whispered, “I think you’ve said and done enough, if you’d please, I would like you to leave, I'm only here for a few day’s and do not wish to stay any longer than what I had planned, I'm only here to sort out my parents things and then I will be leaving,”

Detective stark let out a sigh, a silent “shit” falling from his lips, a hand running through his hair. “I truly am sorry, when I found out your parents had a daughter you, and you weren’t involved in the car accident, I needed to know what you knew, look I'm certain one of those three men I spoke of earlier had a hand in this, and I needed to know if you knew something, I'm so sorry I went about it the way I did, it was wrong and very unprofessional of me,”

You wiped under your eyes, “I appreciate the apology Mr. Stark and I wish I could tell you more, but I truly had no idea, there were never any signs my father was doing any of those things you accused him of, and if he did and you have the proof, it was during a time I was no longer living in this home,” your fingers twitched at your side anxiously.

“I cannot express my apologies enough, as I said it was very unprofessional of me to have gone about it the way I did,” he sighed, “I think you have enough on your plate right now, if you’d like to receive my report for your parents accident you can call the department and I’ll have the records ready for you to be picked up, and another thing if you ever need anything Ms. Y/f/n y/l/n, please don’t hesitate to reach out to me,” he advised passing you a card.

You took it without so much as another word, you had truly had enough of this day and it hadn’t even passed in its entirety, who knew what other trouble you would be coming across. You saw detective stark off, only grabbing your bags and heading for the home when his patrol car was completely out of sight.

Walking up the steps you momentarily froze on the same spot you had last been here, a shiver rolled through your body as the memory reared its ugly head.

You shut your eyes, bags gripped tightly in your hands as you took a deep breath, it seemed this house only knew how to bring you un-welcomed pain.

Taking the last of the steps you reached for the spare key in your bag your grandmother had given you before she passed. You could only hope your father hadn’t changed the locks with how long it had been from then to now. Thrusting the key into the lock you breathed a sigh of relief when the key turned, the doorknob turning with it.  

You let the door swing open squeakily on it hinges, a musky, earthy smell tickled your nose as you stood at the entryway. You stood on shaky legs as you took in your once warm home, now all you could feel was the coldness within it.

Laying your bags off to the side, you shut the door behind you sliding the locks into place with a soft ‘click’. Hesitantly you walked farther into the home, bypassing the stairway and going down the darkened corridor, the one you weren’t allowed to step foot into.

With shaky breaths you continued down until you stopped just inches shy of those large forbidden oak doors.

Growing up in this home you had never questioned what your father did behind those doors, you just knew it was work as your mother so frequently had to remind you, and it was bringing in the money to upkeep your parents very wealthy lifestyle. You weren’t allowed to question the one or two suit clad men that walked through your home, weren’t allowed to ask what was in the large boxes they occasionally carried in, and you definitely weren’t allowed to play or go down this very corridor you stood in when more suit clad men whom were very important were in that office with your father. “They’re your father’s business partner’s” your mother would say.

As a child you never thought to question it, your mother wouldn’t allow it, your father would buy your mother’s silence, and in turn she would buy yours. When your incessant whining drove your father up the walls his voice would boom through the hall telling your mother to get you out of the house and fast.

Your mother would waste no time in gathering your things and rushing you out the door with the promises of a new toy, your favorite food from the diner down the street, or some ice-cream.

Though as you grew through your adolescent years, it had grown easier on your mother to keep you quiet, a simple glare and a point the top of the stairs would have you on your way to the confines and safety of your room.

The more you sat and thought on the words Detective Stark had spoken to you this morning, the more they rang true to you. The men in clad suits, the large boxes, the various meetings he had, it was just all adding up now and the thought chilled you. The cherry on top had to have been the night he kicked you out, you hadn’t meant to, you knew being in this corridor when your father was working was off limits, and more so when he had a “client”.

You hadn’t thought anything of it the moment you chose to take those steps down the dimly lit corridor, you were upset, out raged that your father had demanded you stay locked away in your room. You thought you were simply being rebellious if just once, against your father's wishes. Truth was you had grown bored of being locked away in your room, various guests having coming in and out of your house as the day had passed, and you had been asked very unpleasantly by your father to stay out of sight.

You were just about to pass your fathers doors when you heard the shouting, “she’s just a girl how can you ask that of me, you don’t have the rights to give me those orders I work for your father not you” your father had growled.

“you knew what would happen if any of my money went missing, and yet look what happened,” a pause, you were frozen waiting with baited breath, “my money went missing” the other voice growled.

“I'm aware you work for my father, but you played dirty with what was mine, now you can either get me my money, or I'll come to collect when the time asks for it,” it hissed again.

You were shaken up, scared, not bearing to hear anymore as you backed away as quickly and quietly as you could, you weren't sure what had gone down, nor did you know who the girl they had been speaking of had been, but you are certain of one thing it had been the night that had changed everything.

You had raced up the stairs tucking tail, locking yourself away in your room. You were worried, had your father done something bad at work, had he stolen money from work, is that how he always had extra money? Oh how naïve you had been. That night you had sat perched on your bed, covers wrapped tightly around your shaking shoulders, eyes intently watching your door as your thoughts ran wildly.

In a second it had all been swept from under your feet as your door was kicked in, your father standing at the doorway, eyes dangerously wild. He pointed at you like a deranged man, “get up!” he had growled. You remained frozen on the bed, eyes blown wide, he knew I was in the corridor you thought in fear. Your father growled at your unmoving form as he stormed over to you ripping you from the warmth and safety of your bed.  

“up!” he growled pushing you out of your room.  

You leaned against the railing of the stairs as you watched your father tear apart your room, you wanted to scream for you mother but you couldn’t find your voice. You watched in horror as your father continued to wreak havoc in your bedroom, eventually your mother’s petite form appeared your father screeching for her to help him. It all went so quickly from there, your father dragging your wailing form down the stairs, throwing you from the house, his warning. 

To this day you still hadn’t understood any of it, you didn’t want to believe that your father had banished you from the house for you being in the corridor that night, but there was no other explanation, you had been in a place you shouldn’t have been, much like you were now.  

You should have heeded your father’s warning.

Chapter 2

Family Matter’s Tag-list: @broco8​ @spideyxxboi​ @scuzmunkie​

[daringyounggrayson]

Here’s part 1 for the fic I wrote for @batfam-big-bang!! Thank you so much to my amazing betas @huilian, @tintinnabulation-of-the-bells and @yellow-warbler and my incredibly talented artists @annasartverse, @noroomforcream, and @zeribip <3

Summary: The double homicide at Haly’s Circus is not Bruce’s first case involving a child, and while there’s no overt indication that Bruce should react differently to this case, he supposes that his previous cases did not involve the witness known as Dick Grayson. On the surface, the Grayson case seems like any other gang case, but the more time Bruce spends with the boy, the more he begins to doubt his own instincts.

Part 1

It starts the way most of these things do: with screaming. Or, Bruce supposes, it doesn’t really start there so much as that’s when people start to pay attention.

The crowd watches in awe as two trapeze performers swing downward, but something must be wrong, because the third performer remains on the platform and starts screaming. When the performers’ bodies reach the ground, when it’s clear that the lines have snapped, the rest of the crowd joins his shock—some screaming, some gasping, others unable to make any noise at all. The youngest performer doesn’t react to the crowd at all, too engulfed in his own nightmare. When Bruce sees him scrambling down the ladder, Bruce runs toward the center ring, planning to cut him off before he can get too close to the bodies.

The ringmaster, Haly, gets to the boy before Bruce can. He holds him tightly in his arms, and while the boy doesn’t fight the hold, he doesn’t stop screaming either. It’s a scream that Bruce will never be able to forget, one that tells the world that there’s nothing anyone can do or say to bring this child comfort.

Bruce calls 911, asking for an ambulance and the police. He’s sure he’s not the only one who calls, but he needs to do something. He needs to intervene.

Unable to take any further action, Bruce resigns himself to glancing between the fallen Flying Graysons and their son, who has fallen in a different way. To an outsider, Bruce looks like any other shocked bystander, but in reality, he’s in full detective mode, filing away every mundane detail. He pays special attention to the survivor, the child, and while he can’t hear much of what the boy is saying between gasping sobs, two things rise above the noise: “It wasn’t an accident!” and “Are my parents okay?”

oOo

A family of three walks into the big top, but none of them walk out. Two are carried out on stretchers, in body bags, and the third, a young boy, is carried out of the big top by a stranger and placed in the back of a squad car.

(Bruce has heard a similar version before: A family of three walks into an alley, but none of them walk out. Two are carried out on stretchers, in body bags, and the third, a young boy, is carried out of the alley by a stranger and placed in the back of a squad car.)

oOo

Bruce has only been Batman for a year, but he’s gained enough experience to be able to look at the Grayson case and suspect gang activity on instinct. Not know that there’s gang activity, he reminds himself, but strongly suspect.

A few hours after the suspected homicide, the crowd has dispersed and the police are gone. It’s at this point that Bruce returns to the fairgrounds as Batman, ready to talk to Haly. He only had an hour to do preliminary research in the cave before leaving again, but in that time, he learned that Haly’s Circus has never had a (reported) run-in with a gang—something almost unheard of in Gotham, especially for a business that has been coming to Gotham for as long as Haly’s has. Bruce reasons that there are two probable explanations: Haly has been incredibly lucky or, perhaps more likely, he has an agreement with a local gang. Either way, something went wrong this year.

The circus is eerily quiet. Everyone is in their trailers with the lights out, leaving the place seemingly deserted and devoid of life. As Bruce walks through the rows of trailers, he can almost sense the grief pouring out of each one. There is no doubt that the Grayson family was widely and greatly loved.

Bruce picks the surprisingly difficult lock on Haly’s trailer and slips inside. He’s barely taken two steps before the lights come to life, revealing Haly, who, despite his pajamas, is aiming a bat at Bruce as if he had been waiting for an intruder.

Bruce instinctively falls into a defensive stance, but before he can voice his assurances that he’s only here to help, to ask a few questions, Haly is relaxing.

Haly lowers the bat and leans against the wall. “Oh, it’s just you,” he breathes, relief evident in his voice.

This is a reaction Bruce has never gotten before as Batman, and this relief at his presence is especially odd considering half of Gotham is still debating if The Batman even exists.

“Who were you expecting?” Bruce asks.

“No one,” Haly says all too quickly. “But as I’m sure you’ve heard, there was an, uh,” he rubs his hand across his chin, “an accident here earlier today. Everyone’s a bit on edge.”

Bruce nods. “That’s why I’m here. I wanted to ask you a few questions.”

“I don’t know whether to be honored or offended on behalf of Gotham that the legendary Batman wants to investigate a freak circus accident,” Haly says, but there’s a subtle shake to his voice that tells Bruce Haly knows this wasn’t an accident.

“Is that what the GCPD told you? That this was an accident?” Bruce presses. Haly’s still holding onto the bat, and even though Bruce knows he can take Haly out in a matter of seconds, he’d really rather not deal with a swinging bat in such a confined space. He’s already had an exhausting day.

Haly shrugs. “What else could it have been? Everyone saw what happened, even—” he takes a breath, and Bruce takes in the accompanying red nose and damp eyes. The man doesn’t cry, though, not in front of Bruce. And it’s not an act; no matter his potential involvement, what happened tonight wasn’t something Haly wanted to happen. “Even Dick, their boy.” There’s a pause as Haly collects himself. “Unless you think an eight-year-old broke the wires?”

“I don’t think anything,” Bruce lies easily, coolly. “But if you’re trying to say that you gave your star act faulty equipment, or that all three professional performers failed to check the lines, then that would be an interesting explanation.”

Haly points his finger at him, sharp and fast. “No one here was responsible for this, got that? I think it’s best to just lay low for a while and let the police handle this. We’ll be moved on soon enough and we can put this behind us.”

“And the child?” Bruce asks, stepping closer to Haly with each word. “There’s a strong chance that someone tried to take out all of the Graysons tonight. I know you’re not a local, but do you really think the police will be able to protect him?”

Haly pales and curls in on himself, but he doesn’t speak.

Bruce meets Haly’s eyes and stares him down, trying to emulate one of Alfred’s powerful stares. “If the police want to say this is an accident, there’s a good chance one of them is involved or willing to cover for the people responsible. If that’s the case, you need to tell me everything you know, or Richard Grayson might not be here next week.”

Haly swallows, cracking. “You wouldn’t let them—” he stops, swallowing once. “You’ll make sure he’s safe, won’t you?”

“It’s what I do. But you have to tell me what to look for,” Bruce insists.

Haly glances at the door, then back at Bruce. “When we were setting up—this was a few days ago—these three guys came in. They were going on about protection money.”

oOo

“Commissioner.”

Gordon spins around, hand on his chest, “Christ.”

Bruce resists the urge to smile and instead nods at the file Gordon’s holding. “Is that the Grayson case?”

Gordon runs a hand through his hair, nodding. “I take it you already know the basics?”

Bruce nods and takes the proffered file, flipping through it. It’s thin, only containing a few statements. One, arguably the most important one, is from the surviving Grayson, their key witness.

“My guys want to close and write it off as an accident,” Gordon explains. “The kid here, though, he has another theory.”

Bruce notes the names of the two lead detectives and grimaces—they’re not exactly known for working with gangs, but when a case reeks of gang activity, these two aren’t above accepting bribes. A quick read through Richard’s statement combined with Haly’s earlier testimony confirms his suspicions: this is a gang case, and hush money is definitely on the table.

He flips through a few other papers until he finds Haly’s statement. Unsurprisingly, he told the police that there was nothing suspicious before tonight.

“You should know that the kid’s statement was most likely edited,” Gordon says, and Bruce grunts in agreement; he’s already assumed the same. “He probably knows more—probably said more—than what’s in there.”

“Do you know if he gave names?” Bruce asks, closing the file and placing it back in Gordon’s waiting hand.

Gordon sighs and scratches his head, tucking the file back in his overcoat. “I just got in an hour ago, so I wasn’t able to speak to him. I’ll try to find the tape, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s already been tampered with.”

“Hnn.” Of course it has. With their luck, it’s long gone. “I met with Haly earlier. Four days ago, the Zucco brothers paid him a visit. They wanted protection money.”

“Zucco?” Gordon repeats. “Huh. I guess Haly didn’t take him seriously, didn’t even bother to report it. Did Haly tell you anything else?”

“Nothing useful,” Bruce tells him. “He seemed on edge, though, almost like he was expecting someone to come after him. He could’ve been expecting Zucco, but if your detectives convinced him not to say anything, he might have been worried about them too.”

“What do you think?”

Bruce isn’t overly committed to either theory. If anything, his instincts tell him that he’s missing something, that Haly wasn’t telling him the whole story. “I need more time to investigate, but in the meantime, someone should watch Haly.”

“Any chance Haly was involved?” Gordon asks, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.

“Unlikely,” Bruce says. He’d considered it, but after speaking with Haly, it seems like a dead end. “Since he’s keeping quiet, I’m not overly concerned about his safety, but there’s a chance he’ll contact Zucco.”

Gordon tightens his eyebrows. “What did he tell you?”

“Nothing. But he was nervous. If he thinks Zucco will target him again, I could see him agreeing to pay the protection fees.”

“Sure.” Gordon exhales a puff of smoke, thinking. “I didn’t think they’d stay open after tonight.”

“They won’t be putting on any more performances, but they’re staying in town for the funeral. And I doubt Zucco will have a problem collecting from financially insecure people.”

“No, no he will not.” Gordon sighs again, takes another drag off his cigarette.

“The boy will need protection. There’s a good chance Zucco was hoping to take out all three of the Graysons, and if they think Richard’s talking …” Bruce trails off.

Gordon nods and rubs his hand over his mouth. “I’m going to see what I can do about getting different detectives on the case, and I’ll be observing it closely either way. I don’t want to draw any attention to Grayson yet, though, so I’ll hold off on getting uniforms to watch him. Unless there’s something else you’re not telling me?”

Bruce shakes his head. “Do you know what they’re doing with him?”

“A social worker picked him up and took him to an emergency placement. They’re trying to get their hands on the parents’ wills, but I’m not sure if they even exist.”

“Is he safe?” Bruce asks, making a note to run a background check on the social worker and the foster family.

“As far as I know,” Gordon tells him, but it’s not a yes. “Are you going to talk to him?”

“I’ll wait until tomorrow. He’s been through enough tonight.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” Gordon says, rubbing his hand over his mouth again.

Bruce doesn’t hear what Gordon says next, if anything. They’ve shared all the information they have and Bruce has had more than enough talking for one evening.

oOo

Bruce doesn’t go to work the following morning. Well, he supposes that much isn’t new; lately, he’s been “working from home” in the mornings, only coming in for afternoon meetings. But today, he didn’t even do that much. Instead, he slept fitfully until two in the afternoon, thinking about the case—the boy—during each waking moment. Cases involving children are always difficult, that much will never change.

“Ah, I see you’ve finally decided to grace the world with your presence,” Alfred greets him when Bruce enters the kitchen.

“Sorry,” Bruce murmurs. “Busy night.”

“Yes.” Alfred still doesn’t like Batman, though he’s more accepting of it as of late. “Did you sleep well?”

Alfred knows he didn’t, Bruce can tell by his tone. “Is there any coffee left?”

Alfred moves out of the way and gestures toward the coffee maker, untouched. “How is the child?”

“I haven’t spoken with him yet,” Bruce says, pouring the coffee into a mug. “I’ll do that tonight.”

“I see,” Alfred says, hands braced against the counter. “Is he nocturnal as well then?”

Bruce takes a gulp of coffee. “I’ll be downstairs.”

Alfred gives him a sad look. “This case. From what you said yesterday, it won’t be easy to close, will it?”

Bruce shakes his head. He has a suspect, but the odds are high that the police will choose to protect him instead of the child—at least without forceful intervention. That’s the way things are; it’s a truth that doesn’t get easier to acknowledge.

“You’ll be careful, won’t you?”

Bruce nods, then takes his coffee and disappears into the cave. He intends to keep his promise and be careful, but he doesn’t know how much that means to Alfred. After all, Bruce has come to realize that the two of them have vastly different definitions of the word careful.

oOo

Bruce arrives at Richard Grayson’s foster home a little after one in the morning. The rest of the household appears to be asleep, or at least tucked away in their respective rooms with their lights off. Richard, however, is wide awake and doing handstands of all things. He makes a note to inform Alfred that the boy may be nocturnal after all.

Not wanting to scare the child, Bruce taps gently on the window. The boy lowers himself from the handstand in a fluid, graceful movement. He faces the window, and, when he sees Bruce in his Batman gear, his eyes go a little wide. The brief flash of surprise doesn’t last, and the smile that follows forces Bruce to question if the expression had been surprise at all. 

Richard walks to the window, unlocking it and sliding it open.

“I knew you were real,” Richard whispers, moving to the side to let Bruce through. “Liam said you were just an urban legend, but that’s what he said about Superman too. He’s always wrong—the look he’ll have on his face when I tell him!” The smile falls from his face abruptly and his shoulders slump.

Bruce opens his mouth, unsure what he plans to say but hoping something soothing will come out nonetheless. His jaw snaps shut when a shadow appears in the corner of his vision, forcing him to turn back to the window and find its source. It’s useless; he finds nothing but darkness. 

He’d felt eyes watching him when he’d surveyed the house earlier, but Bruce hadn’t been able to find anything—anyone—then either. 

He closes the window and turns back to Richard, who is swiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Are you going to find the guy who killed my parents?”

“I’m trying to, Richard,” Bruce tells him, promises him. “I was hoping you could help me. Do you think you could do that?” Bruce has been Batman long enough to be able to pick out the kids who will be able to tell him something useful, and Richard is definitely one of them.

Richard nods, saying, “I know who did it.”

Bruce crouches down to Richard’s eye level. “Who?”

“Tony Zucco,” Richard says, scowling.

“Can you tell me how you know?”

Richard nods again, hands curling into fists. “He showed up the other day with a few other guys and they were talking to Haly, the circus owner. They said they could protect him and the circus if he gave them money, but I knew they didn’t actually care about keeping any of us safe, they were just threatening us.”

“Did you hear this yourself?” Bruce asks. This was the same story Haly told him, and while he believes the man, it never hurts to have multiple, independent sources.

“Uh-huh. I was on a break and saw them come in. Haly told me to leave when they asked to talk to him, but they looked creepy so I hid and spied on them,” Richard tells him. “And it’s a good thing I did, because when Haly said he wasn’t going to pay them, they started breaking stuff so I ran and got help.”

“That was very brave of you,” Bruce says. “And smart, too.” He hates to think about what might have happened if Richard had jumped in and tried to stop them on his own. “Do you remember who came to help?”

“Two of the roustabouts, Mr. Le and Mr. Hoffman,” Richard says.

Bruce makes a note to check up on them; if Zucco’s still unsatisfied, he might go after them for further revenge.

“I saw other stuff, too,” Richard says in a small voice. He’s biting his lip now, nervous.

“What did you see?”

“Last night, before the show,” Richard starts, talking faster than before and twisting his shirt, “I saw someone I didn’t recognize messing with the trapeze rig. I tried to tell someone, honest, but no one would listen! My parents kept saying it was just one of the other workers and that I was just nervous because it was opening night. But I wasn’t! I never get nervous,” Richard explains quickly. “We checked the ropes like we do before every show, and they seemed fine. I thought everything would be okay, but I guess whatever they did needed a certain amount of time to work, or a certain amount of weight.

“I really didn’t know,” Richard insists again, desperately, tears welling up in his eyes. “I wouldn’t have let them go if I thought they’d get hurt. I didn’t know.”  

Before he can think, Bruce is pulling the child into a tight hug. Richard cries into his shoulder for a long time while Bruce whispers “it’s alright” and “this wasn’t your fault” over and over and over again until the boy calms down.

“I’m going to do everything I can to bring Zucco to justice. You have my word.”

Richard sniffs, finally pulling away only to shake his head in disagreement. He wipes his eyes, saying, “The police wouldn’t listen to me. They called me a liar.”

This has happened before, but Bruce still doesn’t know how to explain to children that the police are corrupt and don’t always care about helping people, especially when they think there might be a financial incentive waiting for them. “Did you tell them what you just told me?”

“Pretty much. But they kept saying I was exaggerating and wanted to know why I performed if I knew the ropes were going to snap, but I didn’t know!”

“I know, I know.” Bruce runs his hand through Richard’s hair, shushing him before he can work himself up again. “They shouldn’t have said that to you; it wasn’t true. Sometimes the police can’t see things, and sometimes they don’t want to.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Richard looks at him with these big, desperate eyes, and they force the truth right out of Bruce’s mouth. “Zucco is a gang leader, and some of the police officers cover for them.”

“Are they gang members too?” Richard asks.

Bruce shakes his head. “But some of them get paid by the gangs to cover things up.”

“Is that why you became Batman?” Richard asks. “Because all of these cops are corrupt?”

“Yes.” That’s part of it.

“But you can help me?” Richard asks.

“I’ve been able to help a lot of people who were in situations similar to yours,” Bruce tells him instead, because he’s been Batman long enough to know he can’t make promises. He’s spoken to Richard long enough to know that he doesn’t want to—can’t bear to—make a promise he might not be able to keep.

oOo

Bruce had ended their conversation by asking Richard about the Stuarts, his foster family, and whether or not he felt safe with them. Richard had assured him that he was okay, but he just shrugged when Bruce tried to press for details; the boy was clearly homesick, not that he was willing to admit that.

Before leaving through the window, Bruce had scribbled Gordon’s number on a slip of paper, telling Richard that Commissioner Gordon was one of the few members of the GCPD that could be trusted. He told Richard to call that number if he felt unsafe or if he wanted to talk to Batman again, and Richard promised he would. When prompted, he also promised to be careful.

Bruce hadn’t considered that he and Richard might have different definitions of careful until five nights later when he sees the boy running around Gotham in the middle of the night.

Bruce swoops down in front of the eight-year-old, trying to hide the rage and fear pulsing through him. Richard should be a few streets over, asleep in his bed, not roaming around the streets where someone could hurt him.

Richard doesn’t scream like any other child would, doesn’t even jump. Instead, he’s quiet and calm as he takes in The Batman. And then, of all things, he smiles.

Bruce doesn’t smile back. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

“Probably,” Richard agrees lightly, rocking back and forth on his heels. Something about him feels different from the last time they spoke, but Bruce can’t put his finger on it. “Uh, I promise not to tell if you don’t?”

Bruce refuses to give in to the smile that tugs at his lips. “I’ll make you a deal: let me take you home without arguing and we won’t tell the Stuarts.” Richard is a first-time offender after all.

Richard takes a step back, expression twitching into a scowl. His whole body tenses up and he curls his hands into fists. “The Stuarts’ house isn’t my home,” he says coldly. “And I don’t have to go anywhere with you.”

“No, you don’t,” Bruce agrees, blinking at the sharp change in tone and how this eight-year-old child looks like he’s willing to fight The Batman. “And I understand that that place doesn’t feel like home, but you’re safe there, and I’m sure the Stuarts will be worried when they find you missing.”

Richard scoffs. “They don’t care about me.”

“Did they hurt you?” Bruce asks, growls, on impulse. He’d done a background check; they seemed like good people. But maybe he’d missed something, maybe he’d—

“No. They’ve been nice, I guess,” Richard says, and it sounds honest. “It’s just, I don’t know—” Richard sighs, shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t want to go back, and I don’t need them, any of them. I can take care of myself.”

Bruce notices the drawstring bag on Richard’s back for the first time. An image of Richard at the funeral two days ago flashes through his mind. He was arguing with several people—Haly, the Stuarts, and someone else he didn’t know—and they kept telling him no. He’d been upset, near tears and desperate, but he’d clammed up when Bruce walked over to ask what was wrong. Bruce didn’t need to be a detective to piece together that Richard wanted to go back to the circus with Haly, not back to his foster home with the Stuarts.

Bruce looks at the current Richard in front of him, taking in the dark circles under his eyes. Those had been there two days ago too, but they’ve only grown darker. Homesickness and grief are probably making it difficult to sleep, and each time Bruce has seen the boy, he’s looked more exhausted than the last. Someone should be taking care of him, making sure he’s sleeping and helping him—sitting with him—if he can’t. Someone should be making sure he doesn’t run off in the middle of the night.

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” Richard tells him, pulling on the bag’s straps.

Bruce glares at Richard, and Richard glares back. Eventually, though, he wilts and pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket, handing it to Bruce.

“I was going home,” Richard says quietly, sounding more like the boy he met five nights ago. “The social worker and the foster people told me I couldn’t go back; they wouldn’t even let me call anyone from the circus. But they’re my family, and I need to get to them before they leave town in the morning.”

Bruce looks at the piece of paper: a printout of a map with directions to the fairgrounds. “I’m sorry that you’re being separated from them; it’s not fair. But we need to keep you safe, and sending you back wouldn’t be safe right now.” Not to mention that Haly would be charged with kidnapping.

“You said you would help me!” Richard screams, snatching his map back. “You promised! But instead of looking for Zucco, you’re keeping me from my family.”

Bruce kneels, grabbing Richard’s shoulders gently. “Richard, I promise I’m going to help you. This case is my top priority, and I am looking for Zucco, but your safety is more important.”

“No, it’s not,” Richard protests, fighting Bruce’s hold.

“Yes, it is,” Bruce insists.

“I just want to go home.”

Everything about this situation is heartbreaking, and Bruce wants nothing more than to give in, but he can’t, there’s too much—

A dog barks close by, causing Bruce and Richard to turn their heads. Bruce’s instincts tell him to look up, but he sees nothing. Still, something deep inside him screams that they’re being watched. 

He needs to get Richard out of here.

He looks back at Richard, squeezing his arms gently to provide some semblance of comfort. “You can’t stay at the circus. I’m sorry. But if I take you there to say goodbye, will you let me take you back to the Stuarts?”

Richard nods, sniffing once. He hands the map back to Bruce.

Bruce stands and puts his hand on Richard’s back, using his free hand to press a button on his belt to call the car. It arrives and the two climb into the car in silence.

The whole drive, Bruce can’t shake the feeling that they’re being followed.

oOo

Richard keeps his end of the deal, and after a tearful goodbye with several of the circus performers, the two leave. Haly seemed nervous when the two of them showed up, and he asked why they were there several times. Richard’s reaction confirmed that this was out of character for Haly; Bruce files that observation away for later investigation.

“Thank you,” Richard says softly when they stop in front of the Stuarts’ house. “I’m still mad at you for making me come back, but I’m glad I got to see everyone one last time.”

Bruce wants to tell him that it won’t be the last time, but he doesn’t know that for sure. He doesn’t want to make promises he can’t keep.

“I’m sorry I can’t do more.”

“S’okay.” Richard rubs at his eyes. “Are you … are you going to tell Mr. and Mrs. Stuart I ran off?”

Bruce shakes his head.

“Good. I don’t think they’d be happy,” Richard says. “I should probably go in now, huh?”

“I’ll see to it that you are given updates on the case as things progress,” Bruce says.

“Oh. Thanks.”

Richard slides out of the car, waving at Bruce before he climbs up a tree and back into the house through the window. Bruce would wave back, but the kid wouldn’t be able to see him through the tinted windows. Instead, he drives off, pulling up the tracker he placed on Richard’s shoe to make sure he stays in the house.

He stops a few blocks over, parking the car in an alley. He walks back to the Stuarts’ house, and when he gets close, he feels those eyes on him again.

Something rustles in the distance and Bruce turns abruptly, unsurprisingly finding no one. Then he sees it: a shadow, ducking down in the distance. Bruce gets out his grapple gun and uses it to get to the nearest roof. The whisper of motion appears again, and again he runs toward it. He follows the barely-there clues that tell him the person he’s following is real, but said person stays just far enough away to remain unidentifiable.

Five minutes later, the trail is cold. He feels alone for the first time since finding Richard that night, and when he goes back to the house, the presence is still gone. In its place on the Stuarts’ roof, he finds a single, dark feather. 

oOo

Bruce’s mind isn’t quiet by default. He meditates regularly to help with the constant noise, but there are still days when his thoughts hold him captive inside his own head and he’s unable to focus on anything else. Today, like most days as of late, those thoughts are about Richard Grayson. What he’s been through, if he’s safe, and, most importantly, who the hell is stalking him.

His initial theory was Zucco—or rather, someone working for Zucco. That would make the most sense in the context of this case, but Bruce wasn’t able to find them. Not a trace. He’s seen Zucco’s work before; it’s not this clean.

Unable to stop the stalking, his next best option is damage control. That would mean ensuring that Richard is in a safe, secure environment—the opposite of his current situation. Richard’s been able to sneak out of the house on multiple occasions without his foster family noticing, and Bruce doesn’t trust the system to keep his location secure. If Zucco wanted to find him, all he would have to do is bribe the right social worker.

The thought pattern goes like this: Richard is in foster care, and while most foster families won’t be able to offer the protection that he needs, Bruce is in a position to offer that protection. The only way to do that, however, is to be involved in foster care. 

This led to the following conclusion: Bruce needs to become a foster parent. (At least temporarily.)

It’s a good idea to have a foster license in this line of work, all things considered. Even if he doesn’t end up needing it on this case—because maybe something will be easy for once and he’ll catch Zucco quickly and Richard will be adopted by a nice family far away from Gotham—he might need it in the future. Having one is just a smart move, something he should have taken care of when he started this crusade.  

However, there is one potential flaw in his plan: he doesn’t run it by Alfred first. He’s not exactly sure why he chooses to keep his plan to himself. Is he afraid that he might be talked out of it? That Alfred will disapprove? The former is a rarity, and so is the latter in the sense that Alfred’s disapproval has not kept him from making major life decisions in the past (e.g., Batman).

(Of course, he hadn’t told Alfred about Batman in the early stages either. He’d simply informed the man after the fact, when he was already too committed to be dissuaded by one of Alfred’s arguments or disapproving looks. And despite how angry and argumentative and disapproving Alfred had been, it had been too late. Alfred was forced into a position where his permission and approval were not required, one where he could offer nothing but forgiveness. Perhaps by keeping this a secret, Bruce is hoping to obtain a similar result.)

Bruce considers hacking into the Child Protection and Permanency system to grant himself a license, but then he remembers that he has a well-known name and that if Bruce Wayne suddenly has a foster license, one too many people would ask questions. So, he does the legal thing and signs up for online classes.

(He doesn’t think about how it could take months to finish this process or how so much damage could be done—done to Richard—in that time.)

oOo

Bruce checks his phone, internally groaning when the time tells him he’ll have to stay at this party for at least another hour.

He moves through the crowd with practiced ease, smiling to familiar faces as he passes. He walks fast, his speed telling the people around him that he has somewhere to be. And while that’s not actually true, it does decrease the odds of someone pulling him into another painfully dull conversation. His respite won’t last forever, Bruce knows, but this will increase its length a bit.

“Bruce! Oh, I’m so glad you could make it.”

But never by enough.

Bruce turns, forcing a warm smile. “Mrs. Powers, it’s good to see you again.”

She smiles back. “Oh, we’ve known each long enough—Maria, please.”

“Maria,” Bruce corrects himself.

She gives a small nod, then turns to her friend, placing her hand over his chest briefly. “This is Martin, he works in Child Protection and Permanency. I know that area is important to you, so I’ve been hoping to introduce you two all night.”

Bruce reaches out his hand to shake Martin’s. He’s wearing a silver ring with an owl carved into it—Bruce wonders if it’s a family crest, although he doesn’t immediately recognize it. “Hi, Martin, it’s nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure’s all mine,” Martin says with a laugh. “And I should thank you for all the financial support you’ve offered this past year. It’s made a real difference.”

“Glad to hear that,” Bruce says.

“Oh, there’s Joseph,” Maria says. She finishes the last of her champagne in one sip and waves at Bruce and Martin. “If you’ll excuse me.”

She’s gone before Bruce can even say goodbye, but that’s something he’s grown used to at these parties.

“So,” Martin says, “Word around the office is that you’re interested in becoming a foster parent.”

Bruce knew it would only be a matter of time before his right to privacy was forgotten and ignored. Still, two weeks is impressive. He hasn’t told Alfred yet, although he knows he’ll need to do so soon. Preferably before his case worker shows up for a home study.

“Yes, I’m still in the early stages, though,” Bruce explains. “Much too early for a public announcement.”

“Of course, of course.” Martin laughs again. “I know it can normally be a long, frustrating process, but I’ll put in a good word for you and see what I can do to speed things up.”

Bruce pauses, trying to find the motive behind Martin’s offer. Martin is far from needing financial assistance from what Bruce has heard, and Bruce is already supporting programs that are run through the department. “That’s very kind of you, but I’d really rather do this without special treatment.” Bruce flashes another smile.

Martin waves him off. “Nonsense. It’s no trouble at all, especially for a friend of Maria.” Bruce wouldn’t call Maria a friend, and he knows she feels the same way about him. Until tonight, he hadn’t even known that she’d been aware of Bruce’s donations to Child Protection and Permanency. “It’s really admirable of you to help these kids. Tell me, are you planning to eventually adopt?”

“Just fostering,” Bruce says, using all of his energy to keep his tone light and free of his internal defensiveness.

Martin forces a smile, and the smile isn’t the only thing; something’s off and forced about this entire conversation, his whole demeanor, even. As much as Bruce’s instincts scream at him to interrogate Martin and figure out why that is, he knows this isn’t the time or place.

“That’s fantastic, really. Although, you never know.” He claps Bruce on the shoulder. “You’d be surprised by how many people start out fostering a child and then decide to adopt them. Of course, it all depends on the child’s family situation.”

“I suppose,” Bruce agrees plainly. The odds of that happening in his case are slim to none, but it probably wouldn’t be in his best interest to announce that he’s not cut out to be anything close to a father. If it becomes necessary, though, he’s hoping he can make a sufficient temporary guardian.

“Oh no,” a sarcastic cry interrupts them, and Bruce turns to see Oliver Grant. They went to school together, and now he works for his mother’s company as a CEO. Bruce isn’t exactly impressed with what he’s done for the company, not that he’s done much of anything other than take credit. “We’re not talking business over here, are we boys? You’re going to bring the whole party down!” 

Martin laughs in a way that Bruce guesses is supposed to be casual, but it comes off as somewhat strained. “Just talking. How have you been Oliver?” 

Bruce isn’t proud of this, but Oliver proves to be the last straw on his already stretched out patience—he pretends to take a phone call.

oOo

Bruce leaves the party earlier than he’d planned, but he’ll deal with the repercussions of leaving too soon later. For now, he has a city to patrol.

Since the homicide, checking on Richard has been a regular part of his patrol. He moved from his emergency placement with the Stuart family to his permanent foster placement with the Miller family nearly three weeks ago now, and things seem to be going well. The only incident since moving had been about two weeks ago when a member of Zucco’s gang was spotted near Richard’s foster home. Luckily, Bruce had been in the area at the time and stopped them before anything could happen. He hasn’t seen anyone there since, and even the feeling that he’s being watched while visiting the home has ebbed recently.

But then, of course, there is the ongoing problem Richard has taken to waiting up for Batman.

He’s not the first child Bruce has spotted doing this—several times, Bruce has seen groups of children on rooftops or crowded around windows who will excitedly point and scream when they catch a glimpse of The Batman. He’s learned that it’s becoming a common sleepover activity. It’s not something he wants to necessarily encourage, but at least those children only want to see him from a distance and are more than satisfied with shadows.

Richard, however, is not.

Tonight, he’s not on his own rooftop and instead waiting for Bruce on the roof of a nearby gas station, eating a package of potato chips while seated in a full lotus position. When he spots Bruce, he stands and starts waving.

“You shouldn’t be out here,” Bruce tells him, resisting the urge to sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

Richard shrugs and holds his bag of chips toward Bruce. “Want a potato chip?”

“Why aren’t you at the Millers’?” Bruce asks, knowing now to avoid the word “home.”

“I was hungry,” Richard says, pulling his outstretched hand back and taking another chip for himself. “And I didn’t want to wake anyone up or miss you. Good thing, too; you’re early.”

Questions relating to why Richard is hungry and if the Millers have been feeding him bubble up on his tongue, but he forces them down. “Hnn.”

“Have you found Zucco yet?”

This has been the question Bruce has come to dread each night. He’s been working on the case for almost a month now, but things have been slow. He’s been able to find enough evidence to arrest one of Zucco’s colleagues, but the colleague in question has refused to name Zucco specifically. Additionally, Zucco is in hiding and someone has been sending him information, making it difficult to track him down. Zucco taking up a low-profile also means that other gangs are trying to take his territory, which means that Bruce has had a lot of long nights.

“Not yet.” This is the phrase Bruce dreads saying every night.

Richard’s face falls, but he quickly replaces it with a mask of indifference. “Maybe I could help.”

“You are.” Bruce crouches down to look Richard in the eyes, places his hands firmly on his shoulders. “By offering your testimony and keeping yourself safe so that you can give it during the hearing.”

“There won’t be a hearing if you don’t find him.” Richard doesn’t sound accusatory, but the certainty and not-quite-anger in his voice are painful enough that he might as well have been. Despite the statement, though, the boy isn’t hopeless, he just has a more practical approach to hope compared to most of his peers. Richard is realistic and ready to prepare for the worst-case scenario, but he’s also doing everything he can to increase the odds of reaching the best-case scenario.

“I will find him.” And what happened to not making promises unless Bruce is sure he can keep them?

“Let me come?” Despite his inflection, Bruce knows Richard isn’t asking a question.

“It’s not safe.” This will be the fourth time they’ve had this discussion, and each time, Richard has been more insistent than the last.

“I know,” Richard says, a mischievous glint in his eye. “That’s why I’m asking to go with you. ‘Cause it would be so dangerous out on my own.”

oOo

Bruce is twenty-four years old, he’s the goddamn Batman, he should be able to say no to an eight-year-old. And yet, that night, he can’t. For one hour, Richard rides in the car next to him and acts as a pseudo-partner. Bruce tells himself it will be a one-time event, that this whole situation will be temporary.

Part 2: AO3 | tumblr

[sexycraisinthanos]

I’m gonna infodump about my favorite movie

Rise of the Guardians

It’ll be under the readmore, but TL;DR: Watch Rise of the Guardians and read the books

Rise of the Guardians is a 2012 animated film released by Dreamworks. The story is childhood figures (Santa, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, Sandman, and Jack Frost) trying to defend the children of earth against Pitch Black, (The Boogeyman) 

It’s based on a book series called Guardians of Childhood, written by William Joyce. Who, if you don’t know, writes children’s book. Guardians of Childhood is more of a “Young Adult” series compared to his other Guardians books (The Man in the Moon, Sandman: The Story of Sanderson Mansnoozie, and Jack Frost are all part of the series, but they are picture books.)

He’s also written other books you may be familiar with.

The Leaf Men and the Brave Good Bugs and A Day with Wilbur Robinson 

Sound familiar?

Maybe you’d recognize them as their movie counterparts, Epic (animated by Blue Sky Studios) and Meet the Robinsons (animated of course by Disney)

Also Rolie Polie Olie, which was a favorite Disney Jr cartoon growing up for me, and was also a book series. 

I could honestly go on and on about William Joyce, his work was a part of my childhood a LOT (even credited for working on some of my favorite films like Buddy, Robots, Toy Story, and A Bug’s Life) and that’s probably why I love ROTG so much.

I read all of the Guardians books and own all of them save for Jack Frost and The Art of Rise of the Guardians and the books are not cheap, but what books are? I have HARD COVER BITCHES. Half of them were gifts and I also own the ROTG DVD.

The art in the books (all drawn by William Joyce himself) is really good (this is my favorite art from the books)

And the animation in the movie, as expected from Dreamworks, is beautiful. 

You get to see all their unique homes and they’re such varying types of environments. Of course, you have the North Pole, where it’s chaotic and wonderful. Just look at this concept art 

And then you have the Tooth Palace, where the Tooth Fairy does her work

It’s very obvious that there are some Indian inspirations in the design because Tooth herself is actually Middle-Eastern (in the books it’s explained in depth more and one of my complaints about the movie is that they whitewashed her even though her concept art in the ending credits shows her with brown skin)

The Warren, where the Easter Bunny paints his eggs

Which is something you never really think about because people only focus on the North pole so seeing so much thought put into it is really nice

We never see where Sandy works/lives (in the MOVIE. But the GAME on the other hand lets you explore EVERYONE’S homes and that’s a whole nother story)

We DO however see Pitch’s lair and

it’s rightfully spooky. When you actually see the scene play out in the lair, you get all confused and don’t know which way is which and it always unsettles me which is GOOD because that’s what it’s SUPPOSED to do

What’s really unique about ROTG is that there’s a source material (and as of now there are eight books (five novels, three picture books) and the series isn’t DONE yet) and instead of turning the books into a movie even though the plot is literally RIGHT THERE, they took the source material and turned it into a prologue. The movie takes place about 300 years after the books do and since the books are supposedly still ongoing, and William Joyce was CONTINUING to write the series while the movie was in production. (Three books have come out since the movie came out.)

I love how challenging that must have been for William to try to include stuff from his previous books in the movie AND to try and link the movie to his newer books despite some continuity errors (also worth noting that he has written a book about Santa and his wife, but Mrs. Claus is YET to be seen or even mentioned in the movie) but I appreciate the effort he put into it and I can’t wait to see what else he’ll come up with.

The characters look a BIT different from their book counterparts

Jack is voiced by Chris Pine and his voice is WAY TOO DEEP and the creators can’t agree on an age for him (book age is 14, but he can age himself up and down to a certain point and some producers said they imagined him 17 or 18) and (imo) I think Jack’s design was pretty lazy (a blue jacket with brown pants) compared to everyone else’s. I mean you have North, who is 

BIG

His design is based more on the worldly Father Christmas than the Saint Nick/Santa that we know. 

When he’s not in the Pole he’s wearing his big red fur coat and a cossack hat

Because he’s Russian

I’m pretty sure he canonically was raised by bears but that may have just been me imagining it. His book appearance is way different because when we meet him, he’s not Santa yet. So he’s still young

Of course, as the books go on, he looks like Santa

Bunny has the most drastic character change from his book design, as depicted by this fanart (which i couldn’t find a credit for that wasn’t pinterest so if anyone knows please tell me)

And there’s a CANONICAL reason why he looks so different (two actually)

Once they put Hugh Jackman in the role, they wanted a more dry Australian ranger-type design for him, and then the robes got in the way because of how he was moving, even when they changed him to just a lab coat, so they decided to forgo clothes altogether

Fun fact about Bunny. He’s a Pooka, a shapeshifting folklore creature that can turn into either a rabbit, goat, cat, dog, or horse. (or even a human with animal like features) Which actually gives a lot of people the headcanon that Pitch uses the souls of all Bunny’s dead people (yep he’s a sole survivor) as Nightmares

But he’s a different kind of Pooka. He’s an alien technically. And this breed of Pooka CANNOT eat chocolate because it does things to their body. Like giving him six arms. Or making his ears into helicopter propellers. 

This is relevant because he uses chocolate in battle multiple times. So the canonical explanation for why Bunny looks so different is that he ate too much chocolate and it permanently changed his body.

Which I love. I could go on about him but all the characters are interesting

Tooth has probably the second most confusing design

She’s based off a hummingbird with dragonfly wings, which aesthetically makes so much sense, but in the books she has regular feather wings. I also don’t like how weird her proportions are. Her feet are tiny nubs, her head is too big for her body (her body is actually pretty nicely designed it’s just every other part of it that bothers me) and I already mentioned the whitewashing

PITCH on the other hand had the biggest glow down compared to the books

He’s just wearing a black robe and, apparently, he doesn’t even have sleeves, which you can’t even really tell because it’s just all smudgy and shit

I mean I guess that’s the point, that he looks like he’s clothed in shadow, but it’s frustrating to look at especially compared to his book design where he’s wearing a FABULOUS coat

Meanwhile Sandy has the PERFECT character design

He’s just ROUND and wears a bathrobe made of sand. Like it’s not even that different from his book design (his hair has more frills than the book version) because it’s such a perfect design and I love how he’s animated. You can’t see it that well because the gif quality, but the sand also sparkles and it just makes it so fun to watch on screen 

The movie itself has its share of flaws. (the movie likes to pick and choose the rules it wants to follow about its universe, a huge plothole, and some cheaply constructed arguments between characters that really just make me annoyed because I don’t want to see the easter bunny making a child cry I want to see him get into a fist fight with Santa it’s like you don’t even KNOW your demographic) But I love it and there’s SO MUCH I could talk about. There are characters in the books that weren’t in the movie and there were characters in the movie that weren’t in the books (because they weren’t born yet but IRRELEVANT) 

It was a HUGE flop despite critics praising it. Like 8,000 people lost their jobs over it that’s how big a flop it was. But it’s such a dear movie to me and it’s clear that William Joyce holds this series close to his heart (dedicating it and the movie to his late daughter) which makes sense because it’s based on stories he told her when she was young and I’m so honored that he chose to share these stories with us. I just love the series and I should do a re-read at some point

[red-0ak-tree]

2 for action + 9 for dialogue please!!

2. First kisses + 9. "Where have you been?"

Summer Apples

{READ ON AO3}

There had been a shift in the Little household recently. Thomas was observant, but even for all the careful attention he paid to his housemate, he was having a hard time placing what specifically had changed. 

Thomas noticed the shift the moment Edward’s guests left. His sister, Jane, had paid a weekend visit, taking the long drive up from London to dine with her brother. Her family had filled the house with laughter and noise, keeping Thomas plenty busy in the kitchen and darting between rooms with drink laden trays. Edward had been busy too, pulled between conversation with his sister’s husband and his nieces. He’d laughed. Thomas was glad to hear that. There hadn’t been much laughter in the household recently. 

Everything had felt rather fragmented since returning to Europe. The survivors of the Franklin Expedition had a hard time fitting back into the real world. Thomas himself struggled to know who he was back on dry land. The things he’d seen, the tragedies he’d nearly fallen victim to, made him feel out of place with people who didn’t understand what they’d face. Many of the survivors paired up, taking residence with one another and finding comfort in each other. Thomas was no exception. When Lt. Little had written and told him he was in need of a valet to help him run his house in the country, Thomas took the post without hesitation. 

Thomas did his best to be a good valet to Edward. He was not as young as he once was, and his leg would trouble him the rest of his days, but fortunately life at the Little household was rather quiet. Mostly Thomas helped with little tasks around the house, doing the washing, laying out Edward’s clothes (though he was never invited to help Edward dress). Edward employed a cook as well, and a housemaid. Thomas oversaw the workings of the house, and filled in the gaps where he was needed. 

Mostly, Thomas kept Edward company. It was a good job, all things considered. Sometimes Edward asked Thomas to take his tea in the parlor with him, other days he asked Thomas to town with him so they could do the shopping together. Edward was good company. He was a somber man, and his reticent nature had only been intensified by their experiences in the Arctic. But he made Thomas smile, and he was generous with material things. Thomas was finely dressed, always had food to fill his belly and books to fill his freetime. 

Edward was generous in other things, too: his time, his companionship, the glanced he stole in Thomas’s direction when he thought Thomas couldn’t see him. 

It had been two years since returning to their homeland. It was difficult at first, but things had gotten easier with time. Thomas wasn’t sure he’d ever be happy again, not true happiness, not when everything was tainted by the things he’d seen. But he was content, and he was glad to wake in the same house as Edward Little. That was enough, that would carry him through to the rest of his days. 

But now there came the shift. Thomas had learned to read Edward’s moods. When he woke from a bad night’s sleep and yawned at the breakfast table, Thomas knew to bring him an extra cup of tea and let him alone for the day. He wouldn’t be very good company. He’d shut himself in his study or the library and putter away his day with books, or letters, or his own memories. Some days he woke glad. He would smile at Thomas when Thomas brought his tea and gesture to the seat beside him. Those days Thomas took his tea with Edward and told stories about his youth, or playfully harassed Edward for the mud he’d tracked in from the stables. He’d tease smiles out of Edward on those days. 

Thomas was quite unfamiliar with the mood that followed Jane’s visit, though. Edward waved his goodbyes from the door, and then turned to look at Thomas, a pensive expression on his face. 

“A good visit, then?” Thomas asked, standing at attention in the doorway to the parlour. He was ready for Edward to ask for a cup of tea to calm his nerves (he always got anxious around other people these days), or for Edward to sigh and ask that his supper be brought to the study where he’d disappear for the rest of the day. Instead he just stared, dark eyes trained on Thomas as though he hadn’t seen him in days. Thomas tipped his chin to one side, a ghost of a smile on his face as he considered the other man. 

“Rather,” Edward said finally. “It’s always nice to see the girls.” 

“They seem to like you a great deal.” 

“Ah, yes, well,” Edward shrugged, plunging his hands in the pocket of his dark coat. “They think I’m an adventurer.” 

“As they should.” Thomas smiled. “If you have need of me, I’ll be helping Adeline with the washing up. Call for me if you need anything, sir.” 

Edward nodded, slow, mechanically, and Thomas turned to leave to the kitchens. Before he could leave the room he heard Edward’s footsteps in the hallway. Just two steps, quick, as though he was following after Thomas. 

“Jopson, wait--” 

Thomas turned. Sure enough Edward had stepped toward him, one hand outstretched as though to catch Thomas’s elbow and keep him there. Thomas raised an eyebrow, and Edward quickly dropped his hand. 

“Sir?” 

“Ah, nevermind it. I shan’t keep you,” Edward shifted his weight between his feet. “Thank you, you’re dismissed.” 

Thomas hesitated a moment. He considered pressing Edward for a better explanation, but decided against it. Edward was a curious thing. He’d share his thoughts if he felt it prudent, but until then Thomas could wait. Thomas nodded and ducked from the room. 

That had been two days ago. Thomas had seen little of Edward in the time that passed. They didn’t take tea together, nor did Edward find Thomas in whatever nook he was hidden away in, doing the washing up or mending injured garments, and chat with him about whatever had struck Edward’s fancy that day. Thomas didn’t mind. He liked it best when Edward sought him out and they shared space together, but it seemed whatever had been bourne in Edward during Jane’s visit required time alone to process. Thomas could give him space. He needn’t press. 

Today was different. Edward wasn’t at breakfast. Thomas left the tray on the table like usual, but returned hours later to find it completely untouched. He kept his eyes open for Edward as he attended his duties around the house, but there was no sign of him. When he met Adeline, the housekeeper, in the hallway he asked after their master, but she said she hadn’t seen him all morning. Under pretense of stoking the fire in the master bedroom, Thomas found his way to Edward’s bedroom but there was no sign of him there either. The horses were in their stables, no one had called upon the house. It seemed as though Edward had been swallowed up by the morning mist without a trace. 

Thomas tried not to let it worry him. He dusted the parlour and mended the loose threads on Edward’s riding coat and reminded himself to keep his eyes away from the clock. 

It was hard not to worry after Edward. Thomas had always worried after Edward. Even when he’d just been another lieutenant aboard Terror, Thomas felt his attention unfairly drawn toward the men. He was difficult to miss. It had been his whiskers that set him apart from the other lieutenants at first. Thomas learned his name first, his appearance was so unlike the others. Then he came to know Edward’s voice, his dark eyes, the long sweep of his eyelashes. 

Thomas had stared at pretty men his entire life. It was a personal failing he rarely let define his actions. He treated Edward Little as he did any other lieutenant, or indeed, any other gentleman. That didn’t mean he wasn’t acutely aware of his presence, or lack thereof, whenever they were in close proximity. 

It was afternoon when Edward finally returned. Thomas stepped out into the back garden, pail of dirty dish water in his hands, head full of thoughts of Edward Little, when he nearly ran directly into the man himself. Edward stepped back instinctively, giving Thomas space so he wouldn’t be showered with the dirty water. He wore his tall riding boots, slicked with mud, and carried a wicker basket in his arms. 

Thomas was startled by the sight of him. “Where have you been?” Thomas asked sharply. The words were not entirely becoming from a valet, but he and Edward had always had a rather casual relationship despite the gap in their social status. Edward could have at least let someone in the house know he would be out. That was the polite thing to do. They wouldn’t have set the table for him if they knew he would be away from home. 

“The orchard,” Edward said, eyebrows raised. He shifted the basket in his arms. “I didn’t intend to be gone so long. My thoughts ran away with me.” 

Thomas emptied the water into the patch of dirt and stones just away from the back steps. “Well, at least you found your way back. What have you got there?” 

Edward lowered the basket so Thomas could see the apples contained within. There were dozens of them, bright red and varying in shape and size. Thomas raised an eyebrow, a laugh startled out of his chest at the sight. 

“You had a craving, I suppose?” 

“Uh,” Edward looked at the apples. “No. Not really. It was just something to do, I guess. I didn’t mean to pick so many. I paid for them, before I left. You know how Hardings is, he told me I didn’t need to but I felt rather bad stripping him of so many.” 

“What in the world are we going to do with them all?” Thomas laughed. 

Edward shrugged. Thomas stepped aside to let Edward into the house first, but stopped Edward in the doorway to request he remove his boots. He was always tracking mud in, making more work for Adeline. Thomas helped him remove his boots, and then followed Edward to the kitchen where he deposited the apples on the table. Amelia, the cook, inspected them as soon as they were set down and said, “Did you have something in mind, sir? A pie, perhaps?” 

“Better make it a dozen,” Thomas laughed. “There’s enough there for a feast of pies.” 

“My mother used to make hand pies,” Edward said suddenly. “I don’t know the recipe.” 

“I’m sure I can manage it. I can prepare some for this evening if you’d like, sir?” Amelia began unpacking the apples, laying them out on the table in a neat row. “I don’t have any dough prepared, but I can get started now--” 

“I don’t mean to make more work for you,” Edward said. He glanced to Thomas as he spoke, which Thomas found slightly perplexing. It was as though Edward were asking Thomas’s permission for something. He hadn’t a clue what he was meant to add to the conversation. The apples were Edward’s doing, not Thomas’s. “I can help, if you’d like.” 

“Oh, sir, that’s very kind of you, but you needn’t.” 

“I’d like to, if I can.” Edward shifted his weight, and glanced at Thomas again. “You’ll have to teach me.” 

“Certainly, sir. Why don’t you boys go clean up, and I’ll get to dough prepared. You can fill the pies.” 

Edward nodded, eyes darting to Thomas again. Thomas gestured toward the door with one hand, following Edward into the hallway and toward his bedroom. “I can draw a bath if you’d like,” Thomas offered. “Or perhaps you’d rather have one later, after you’ve made a mess of yourself and the kitchen.” 

Edward snorted. 

“I don’t know why I offered to help,” Edward admitted. “I’ve never baked anything in my life. It seems a worthy skill to have, though, I suppose.” 

“Especially if apple picking is to be a new hobby of yours, sir.” 

They climbed the stairs together, Thomas just a pace behind Edward. He could see Edward’s face in profile, and was pleased to watch a smile crinkle his cheeks. 

“I’ll just get changed, I won’t be needing any assistance,” Edward said. He paused at the top of the stairs, then turned toward Thomas. “But if you aren’t otherwise occupied, I’m sure I could use help with the apples.” 

“As you’d like,” Thomas smiled. “I’ve always been rather a good baker.” 

“I believe it,” Edward smiled, too. They parted ways on the landing, and Thomas disappeared to his own rooms to change into clothing not slopped with dirty dish water. 

Thomas helped Amelia prepare the dough and apple filling. Edward joined them in the kitchen, but primarily hovered by Thomas’s shoulder, watching him sprinkle sugar and butter into the stewing apples. Finally Amelia shooed them both out of the kitchen entirely. “I need to prepare for dinner,” she explained, laying out the dough and filling on the kitchen table. She showed them how to cut the dough into even shapes, how to fill it with the spiced apples and crimp the edges closed. 

Alone at the table, Thomas told Edward to cut the dough while Thomas filled the pies and crimped the edges closed. 

“I used to pick apples with my brother,” Thomas said, scooping apples into the dough Edward passed him. It wasn’t as neat as Amelia’s had been, but it wasn’t awful. “We never paid for them, though.”

“Did you make pies?” 

“No,” Thomas chuckled. “We ate them all before we ever got home with them.” 

Edward’s tongue peeked between his lips, pinched there in concentration as he ran the pairing knife along the dough. 

“There was one summer when the apples all had worms inside. The farmers threw them out, but my brother and I scooped them up.” 

“You ate apples with worms in?” Edward paused his work to glance at Thomas, face twisted in disgust. 

“It’s easy to cut them out,” Thomas laughed. “The parts without the worms taste the same as any apple.” 

Edward passed a piece of dough, and Thomas gaped at it. It was far from the circular shape the previous few had been. 

“What’s this?” Thomas asked. It was vaguely oval shaped, but with what Thomas assumed to be a straight edge. Edward passed him a ‘matching’ piece for the top of the pie, though it was just as misshapen as the first. 

“A ship,” Edward said, frowning. “Or, it’s supposed to be a ship’s hull. I was going to do the mast, next.” 

Thomas’s heart swelled with affection. 

“I see it now.” 

“It isn’t very good.” 

“Well, you’ve been away from the sea. I can’t blame you if you’ve forgotten the shape of a ship.” 

Edward laughed then. As if he could ever forget the sight of a ship. As if they could ever forget anything about their time aboard Terror. 

The next shape Edward tried was a crescent moon. Though Thomas tried his best to crimp it so that it kept its shape, it looked more like a cylinder by the time he was finished. He turned the pie over in his hands and Edward looked at it, nodding. 

“Not really a moon, is it?” Edward asked. “Looks more like a cigar.” 

“Well, let’s just pretend it was always meant to be cigar shaped.” 

Edward beamed. 

Their hands brushed often as they passed the pies between them, fingers dusted with flour and sticky from the sugary apples. 

In a beat of silence, Edward sighed and said, “Jane has suggested that I should marry soon.” 

“Oh?” 

He’d always felt as though Edward’s marriage was looming on the horizon. He’d never known Edward to pay much attention to women in society, nor had he chased any for their hand as far as Thomas knew, but he was still young enough to wed, and a gentleman besides. It was the likely course of action. Thomas wondered if he would tend to a household full of Edward’s family, his children. 

It was a difficult thought. Thomas wanted to see Edward happy. He wished he could be the one to offer that happiness, though. Wished he could be the one beneath the veil, offering Edward companionship, and love, and children. 

“I have no intention to do so,” Edward said after a moment. “I’m happy enough here.” 

The next shape Edward passed over was a heart, lopsided and oddly stretched, but still recognizable. 

“You might not always be,” Thomas said. “If I may speak freely, sir?” 

“You needn’t ask. You can always speak freely with me.” 

Thomas nodded, crimping the heart shaped pie carefully, methodically. He held it in gentle hands, treating it with care. 

“The wounds from the expedition are still fresh, and I understand the contentment that comes with being back here safely. But the wounds will fade, and you will find yourself in want of companionship. A lover, perhaps. You will change your mind then.” 

“I have already changed my mind.” Edward was looking at his own hands, flexing his fingers and watching the dough caked on his skin crumble and shed to the table. 

Thomas held his breath. He was watching Edward, studying the crease in his brow, the way his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip. Edward turned to him suddenly, meeting his eyes directly. 

“Not about a wife, I’m quite firm on that,” Edward explained. His eyes darted across Thomas’s face, falling for a moment to rest on Thomas’s lips. “But I do crave… Companionship. Love.” 

“We all do, sir.” 

“I’ve found it.” 

Thomas raised his eyebrows. 

“In you.” Edward looked away then, back to the dough before him. He took a deep breath. “It is an unfair thing that I ask of you, I know that. And I don’t crave anything you don’t already give. Well, perhaps that’s not entirely true… But I shan’t ask for it, and you needn’t ever give it. It’s only-- Well, truthfully--” 

Thomas placed the last of the pies on the tray Amelia had prepared for them. He wiped his hands on the dish towel, and rose from his seat. Edward glanced at him, panic plain on his face. 

“I’m sorry, I’ve overstepped. I don’t mean anything by it, truly--” 

Thomas stepped to the side of Edward’s chair and took his chin in delicate fingers. Edward tipped his face toward Thomas, eyes wide and fearful. Thomas smiled, then leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Edward’s lips. Edward gasped, lips parting slightly, but recovered quickly. He surged forward, kissing Thomas back with a fervor. 

“You have it,” Thomas said as he pulled back, hand still on Edward’s chin, thumb pressing into the cleft of it. “My companionship, and my love. And you may ask for anything you desire.” 

Edward searched Thomas’s face for any chance of a lie. He blinked once, then his face dissolved into a grin. Thomas pressed another kiss to Edward’s cheek. Edward’s hands found Thomas’s hips, tugging him closer, leaving flour fingerprints on Thomas’s black trousers. Thomas didn’t mind. He let Edward kiss him again, relished in the taste of Edward, the warmth of his skin against his own. 

The pies hardly retained their shape after baking. The one meant to be a ship looked like a lopsided half moon. The mast was a rounded triangle. But Thomas recognized their shapes for what they were meant to be. He recognized the heart shaped pie as Edward took it into his hands and split it down the middle, handing one half to Thomas as they sat beside the fire. It tasted sweet, like summer apples and sugar. Edward would taste just the same when Thomas found him later that night in his room, and they swapped kisses in the moonlight. 

[that-shamrock-vibe]

Movie Review: The New Mutants (Spoilers)

Spoiler Warning: I am posting this review the week following the movie first airing in the U.K, so if you haven’t yet seen The New Mutants do not read on until you have.

General Reaction:

A three year delay for the final instalment of a twenty-year franchise, was it ultimately worth it? Well as an X-Men fanatic I am always going to say yes, it wasn’t a swan song or a wrap up to the X-Men Cinematic Universe, far from as it was originally pitched as the start of a trilogy and does sew the seeds for that. However, while Dark Phoenix did feel like a sombre instalment not only for that “First Class” timeline but also the team movies as a whole, this had an air of sadness to it because this is the last time I will see anything X-Men related on the big screen for who knows how long.

In that sense, this was an emotional movie for me, more than just the fact that the emotion of fear is a running theme through the movie. However, in terms of my actual enjoyment of the movie, it was a very good movie for what it was.

When your very final movie is effectively an origin movie then there’s always going to be that sense of incompleteness, and what this movie teases both for these characters and who is the big bad behind all of this, it’s really frustrating to know it’s over before it truly starts.

With that in mind, The New Mutants is very slow to get started as there’s a lot of exposition and because it feels like it’s own branch of the X-Men Cinematic Franchise, similar to Deadpool, there is a level of “Beginner’s Guide to Mutants 101″ at play here with the explanation of what a Mutant is and when a young or “New Mutant” first discovers their powers that, to give this movie credit, I have never truly seen explored properly outside of the comics other than a quick explanation from Storm to Jubilee in the first episode of X-Men: The Animated Series.

It’s also disappointing to know that unlike X-Men: The Last Stand or Dark Phoenix, there isn’t a sense of finality for these characters as we have just been introduced to them. Outside of Sunspot who has briefly appeared in X-Men: Days of Future Past, this is the first cinematic appearance for all of these characters. The X-Men are briefly mentioned and Professor X is alluded to quite cleverly but every character outside of Sunspot is debuting here and to know they’re never going to be seen in this continuity again with a chance to develop is very sad.

In terms of the “horror” aspects of this movie I have to say this is very comic-book horror as in how Blade in the late 90s was horror. If you know the jump scares in this movie are coming then there are no jump scares, so basically if you’ve seen the trailers you know the jump scares.

As a horror movie, it felt very much like It-lite in terms of the theme of bringing nightmares into reality, only without the hard R-rating of the blood and gore because outside of one maybe two scenes there is nothing truly horrific to look at here.

There’s also a great parallel to the Gentlemen from Buffy the Vampire Slayer shown from their episode in this movie and the Smiley Men who are Illyana’s nightmare brought to life. They’re creepy like them but they’re not as sinister as them...and that is a great choice of wording considering who the big bad behind the scenes of this movie is.

As an X-Men movie, which is what this is as the New Mutants in the comics are basically younger versions of the X-Men, as I say the first half of this movie isn’t that power heavy but is about introducing and establishing this team, the second half/last third on the other hand is power heavy. Not exactly Days of Future Past or Apocalypse heavy but still heavy for the powers this group of Mutants have.

Overall generally as both an X-Men movie and a comic-book movie, this was really a great movie particularly for the first new movie I have seen since lockdown.

Characters:

So this breakdown will be easy as there’s only really six characters to talk about but I’m going to make it a seven-character breakdown as the looming presence in the shadows of this movie deserves their own section.

Illyana Rasputin:

Alright so it is somewhat difficult to say if Illyana is my favourite or if Rahne is my favourite but I ultimately landed on Illyana for first as Anya Taylor-Joy is really in the spotlight the entire way through this movie. Every time she’s in a scene she commands the attention, and all five of the New Mutants have solo scenes so for Illyana to stand out the most, this is why she is #1 for me.

I’m not entirely sure where this movie takes place in terms of the overall X-Men timeline...but considering it’s supposedly in the revised timeline and Colossus is a member of the X-Men in the late noughties/early 2010s, I imagine this is either around the same time or can even be modern day (2017 or 2020).

Anya Taylor-Joy is as suited to the role of Magik as Channing Tatum would have been as Gambit in my opinion. Not only does she have a reasonable Russian accent but she just simply looks like how Magik looks in the comics.

I loved the rebel teen angst she had all the way through from when we first meet her to the very end, not only is it fitting for the movie but in my opinion it’s fitting for the character. This is a girl that literally goes through some resemblance of hell and is effectively a serial killer so of course she is going to have this icy dark exterior.

In terms of powers, I am slightly disappointed she never fully armoured up, it was always just her left arm that she had armoured complete with Soulsword, whereas in the comics her main look is her entire body. I guess the argument could be made the majority of it is simply a uniform and her arm is the only part armoured but I would have liked to have at least seen her crown.

But Magik’s powers for me here are an interesting combination of Zatanna and Nightcrawler which is a very good combination. The scene where she first appears through limbo fighting the Smiley Men was very impressive.

I would have also enjoyed it if we had spent more time in Limbo, given that we always saw cameo flashes of it whenever she manifested a portal, but we never actually had a full scene of her in her “special place”.

Not being too familiar with the comics however, I am almost completely unaware of Lockheed as a character. My only prior knowledge is his appearance in Pryde of the X-Men as a pest and I have to say I much prefer him here. The animation of both Lockheed and the Demon Bear were stellar.

As I say, I feel we have only just scratched the surface with where this version of Magik could go. I doubt very much Kevin Feige would bring Anya Taylor-Joy back if/when he does bring the character into the MCU because he doesn’t like playing with used toys but if ever there was an exception I would hope it would be her.

Rahne Sinclair:

It is slightly obvious to think of when Maisie Williams was filming for this movie as her hair, unless it’s a wig, is in that “Arry” phase of her Game of Thrones tenure.

Because of the current entertainment climate and the non-starting stance this movie finds itself released in, I think the lesbian romance between Rahne and Dani is going to go unnoticed. But considering this is the first major LGBT romance in a comic-book property I feel this movie will be cheated out of that representation in favour of what is to eventually come from Marvel.

Outside of the romance, I feel Rahne’s story rooted in her religion and mutation was fantastic. I love me some werewolf action and I feel I saw enough actual wolf to satisfy Rahne spending most of her time in “halfway form” as the character has been known to do in the comics.

The fact her nightmare was that religious leader branding her as a werewolf and thereby a monster, not only was it believable given her character but also the parallels to devout religious views on homosexuality were subtle but there.

I do feel the character spent way too much time screaming towards the end of the movie. This girl is a werewolf but spent most of the final battle as the screaming protector of her unconscious lover, I mean she was I guess helpful in waking Dani back up but never truly let rip like I feel the character could have.

I’m not entirely sure if Williams has any Scottish heritage about her but the slipping in and out of the accent was slightly distracting at times. When she was able to be loud the accent was often broken but in her quieter moments or longer dialogue scenes you could hear it.

I do appreciate keeping the nationality of the character from the comics, considering the mess they made of Banshee and Moira MacTaggert, and I do understand having an at the time name talent like Maisie Williams in the role, but there are surely Scottish actresses out there and the casting pool wasn’t exactly high for this movie.

Dani:

The main character in this movie, or focal character I guess as it’s an ensemble movie, is either Illyana or Dani, but because we start with Dani and are introduced to the other characters through Dani I guess she is the focal character.

Again, I give credit to the movie for keeping the nationality of the characters from the comics, but while Anya Taylor-Joy and Maisie Williams border on appropriation as they are not Russian or Scottish themselves, although Anya is of Scottish Argentine descent, Blu Hunt is at least Native-American as Dani is. I think they come from different tribes but I don’t think people are going to focus too much on that technicality.

Similarly to all these characters I don’t really know much about Dani so have no frame of reference to compare her to. I remember she appeared in one episode of X-Men: Evolution and I know her powers involve dreams, which similarly to the majority of the characters in this movie lends itself beautifully to a horror movie, but that’s about it.

I felt her relationship with Rahne was genuine and her own “survivors guilt” over being the only member of her family still alive after the Demon Bear attack was well explained.

I just didn’t understand why it was decided that Reyes had to kill Dani because of the severity of her powers, maybe it was the unpredictability of her powers because their limitations are literally the power of imagination, but I thought Reyes was responsible for sorting out those capable of being killers...surely the power to bring nightmares to life as many times as it takes to kill the person qualifies?

With the Demon Bear being tamed at the end of the movie, I kind of don’t see anywhere for Dani to go if they did continue, she still has the power to solidify nightmares, and I guess she can always call on the Demon Bear, but unlike Rahne or Magik I do not see any further development for her.

Sam:

Sam Guthrie aka Cannonball was an interesting one for me as I knew the character and I knew the actor, but hadn’t properly seen either one fully explored before. I have not watched Stranger Things so do not really know Charlie Heaton’s acting potential...but what I do know is he is from Yorkshire and cannot really do a Kentucky accent.

As for the character of Cannonball, I thought that early scene of him strapping himself to that weight while zooming through the air to either test himself or hurt himself was really well realised. There wasn’t enough of him going full cannonball throughout the movie, mostly it just came across as a sort of super speed which in a way I guess it is but projecting that force-field while he is zooming about is what makes the power set unique.

Similarly to Dani he had guilt over his nightmare which was him causing a mining accident which killed his co-workers and dad, but unlike Dani who never really developed the thought of it being her fault for her family’s death because of her conjuring the Demon Bear, Sam did at least hold a lot of guilt over what had happened...despite his nightmare being probably the weakest as the main effect it had was totalling a washing machine.

I also didn’t understand the back-to-back scenes of Sam suggesting he was meant to be in the hospital and felt he had to be there, but then in the next scene him trying to walk out saying he doesn’t belong there. Maybe it was the editing but it just seemed like a complete 180 from scenes that were literally back-to-back.

Roberto:

As I said this is Sunspot’s second cinematic appearance and I guess in the revised timeline he has gone from being portrayed by Mexican actor Adan Canto to now Brazilian actor Henry Zaga.

I didn’t feel the boys in this movie had that much to do, with both Sam and Berto it did feel like them simply coming to terms with their powers. I did like how both had that fear of hurting people and both had to learn I guess to push past that fear.

With Berto’s fear though, I do feel his power first manifesting in conjunction to him reaching sexual maturity was very well explored, because of course the combination of testosterone and becoming a living solar flare are not exactly two things anyone wants to mix. So when the result is burning your girlfriend to a crisp it is going to shake you.

Outside of his powers though there wasn’t a lot to the character and it is hard to remember a good line that he or Sam had that weren’t douchey, but for what we got he was a good character.

Reyes:

Wow this woman deserved to be eaten by the Demon Bear, which by the way I found almost as humorous as Katie McGrath being carried away by a pterodactyl in Jurassic World.

But yes, this doctor was the “villain” of the movie as she was the agent of the big bad Essex Corporation in charge of determining the new mutants’ powers and whether or not they’re worth progressing to their facility.

Outside of that I didn’t really think much of her as a character, she wasn’t a sympathetic character, she wasn’t believing to be doing this for the benefit of these young mutants, she was simply following orders.

It’s a deviance from the comics where Reyes is a hero and member of the X-Men, whereas here she is far from it.

Alice Braga is also regionally appropriately cast as she is Brazilian whereas the character is Puerto Rican, although whenever she spoke I kept thinking about Gal Gadot a lot, even looks wise there are similarities.

Sinister:

Now let’s talk about the looming big bad who I imagine would have been the major big bad of this supposed trilogy. Despite the new mutants believing the facility to be owned and run by the X-Men, it is in fact run by the Essex Corporation...Essex as in Dr. Nathaniel Essex, a biologist obsessed with evolution who became the Mutate supervillain Mister Sinister.

I want to see Mister Sinister in a live-action movie so badly it’s unreal, they’ve done Apocalypse so why they can’t do Sinister I don’t know.

This isn’t the first time Sinister has been alluded to as the Essex Corporation was in an end credits scene of X-Men: Apocalypse that acquired samples of Wolverine’s blood presumably to create X-23, but because those events took place in the 80s and these events take place in somewhat modern day it’s hard to correlate the two.

Obviously we are no longer going to get X-Men movies in this universe and continuity, but with the seeds being sown for Sinister more than once now, the baton has been laid down for Feige to finally bring this villain to life.

Reccomendation:

If like me you are more or less interested in just completing the twenty-year franchise because you love these characters and any interpretation of them then this is the movie for you. However, don’t expect wall to wall action, and I would recommend not getting too attached to these characters. It’s too late for me with Illyana I already love her and already feel Anya Taylor-Joy has set a high bar for whoever plays Magik next.

But for me personally, this franchise has been my favourite movie franchise and my favourite property. Even the bad movies I can at least find something good about them regardless of if the overall movies have been good or not. But just to reiterate, I do feel this is one of the good movies.

In a ranking of the 13 movies (not counting Once Upon a Deadpool), this ranks somewhere between #6-8 for me.

Overall I rate the movie a solid 8/10, by no means the best or a perfect X-Men movie but by no means one of the worst. The movie benefits from new characters (aside from Sunspot) but suffers due to the inevitability of this being the definitive end for the current franchise.

So what did you guys think? Post your comments and check out more Movie Reviews as well as other posts.

[skvaderarts]

Hiraeth Chapter 50: Interconnection

Masterlist can be found Here!

Chapter Fifty: Interconnection

Note: *Laughs in copious amounts of foreshadowing.* Oh, how I have waited for this day. I have so patently placed the cards in their places, and now I can finally flip them over and show their faces. You have no idea how excited I am! And at chapter 50, no less! Absolutely perfect!

(-~-)

A larger crowd had begun to form around the station as local law enforcement showed up to help mitigate the damage and secure the perimeter. The power had been knocked out for several city blocks, taking security cameras and traffic lights out of commission. It would no doubt prove detrimental to the investigative efforts of all the local authorities, many of whom could be overheard discussing the possibility of a terrorist attack as they tried to disperse the growing number of worried onlookers. They needed clearance to evacuate the injured civilians and start structural and criminal investigations.

Several eyewitnesses spoke of a figure in a white coat causing the train to derail by some unknown method. No one present was sure how it had happened, but they did know what had happened, and they were eager to find a method of keeping it from happening again. Everything had happened so suddenly with no apparent explanation or motive, and no one knew what would happen next. But a small group of the survivors did have something insightful to add to the conversation, giving their own ground zero testimony to one of the news outlets that had shown up to cover the attack.

“There was this group of like three or four people who helped get us out of the train and they were trying to keep that person in the white coat away from us. I think it might have been a guy? Can’t say, they were wearing a mask or something. I didn’t get a good look at them. But anyway, we’re all very thankful that they were able to help us. We hope they are okay and that they didn’t get trapped inside during the cave-in.” One younger man had said as the paramedics had been in the process of tending a minor injury that he had sustained during the attack.

“I don’t know what to even say. Were so lucky that they were there to get us out of that situation. There were demons in that terminal. I don’t know how many there were, but there was at least one. What’s happening in this place? Every few years or so something like this happens!” One of the interviewed survivors had said, shaking her head in confusion and horrified sorrow. “I was in Redgrave City when that thing started coming out of the ground. Down in the crowd trying to figure out what was going on when these spiky things came out and started to come after everyone. My family barely escaped with our lives. I swear I recognized at least two of them. They came out of that thing and it seemed like they were trying to do something to help stop it. I wish we knew who they were so that we could thank them. I get the feeling that we all might owe that small group of people more than we realize. I mean, what are the odds that they would be there to save us all both times?”

“Looks like they’re talking about you lot on the news,” Magnolia said as she reached over to turn the volume down on the TV. None of them had even noticed that she had owned it before, having not spent a lot of time in her attic greenhouse up until then. She then turned to the rest of the group, gesturing towards the young man who sat just across from them on the other side of the room. “Tell them what you told me. Speak truthfully. Believe me, they will know if you don’t”

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Whatever he was here to say clearly didn’t agree with him. “No problem. Wouldn’t make much sense for me to come here and seek you out just to lie to you, especially with what’s at stake. But first, I want to be upfront with you. We’ve met before. About two months ago. That’s why I’m here in the first place. It took me forever to track you down, but I finally did. I just wish it hadn’t taken so long.”

Dante and Vergil looked at one another for a moment, both of them unsure as to how they could have met this individual before. Perhaps he had met V or Nero? He certainly didn’t seem familiar to them. “Okay wait, slow down. Let’s start from the beginning.”

“What’s your name?” Vergil asked, not quite fed up with this individual, but not in the mood to really entertain conversation with him, either. It was probably best that he got to the point sooner rather than later. And on that note, who was this individual? Were they a relative of Magnolia’s? It was unlikely considering the severe lack of blood male descendants of the Ludwig family, but it wasn’t entirely impossible. Marriage was always a possibility. Or perhaps he was a cousin?

“My name is Brenowin. Brenowin Linquist. But you can just call me “Bren.” Less of a mouthful.” He attempted to make himself more comfortable for a moment as he sat down on the built-in ledge next to a few of the botanist’s plants, shrugging to himself. “Before you stab me, I’d like you to know that I didn’t come here to get revenge or anything like that. I can tell that you still don’t remember me. I’m… the guy you spared back in the woods that night who told you where your son was. I’m glad you were able to get him back-”

He stopped, jumping back in fright as Vergil manifested and drew Yamato, springing towards him in a bid to end his life, Dante grabbing him in an effort to keep him from utterly destroying the younger man, and barely succeeded, earning him surprised looks from everyone in the immediate vicinity and an irritated glare from Magnolia. She shook her head and pointed for Vergil to sit down again, annoyed. “Do you honestly think he would be here if I thought he was dangerous? Have some faith, Vergil. I understand your anger and I have nothing but sympathy, but he didn’t have to come here and put himself in this situation. At least hear him out before out you try and murder him, especially while you are in my house.”

Vergil paused for a moment, clearly displeased, but willing to do as she’d asked him. It made sense after all. He couldn’t deny that. He backed up, breathing deeply before exhaling and sitting down. He waved his hand to indicate that their guest could continue speaking, but he would be listening to him intently and with malice. That much was clear. “Continue.”

A relieved sigh escaped the younger man’s lips as he nodded, unsure as to what he could really say that he hadn’t already to atone for his past mistakes and remedy his misgivings. “Do you remember the night that the conduit went critical? Well, you’re in the clear there. It’s not unstable anymore. But that’s the least of our problems.”

“Our problems?” Vergil said, folding his arms around his chest. He truly wanted nothing more than to stab something to death right now. What was going on this time? “I don’t recall us agreeing to work as a collective.”

Bren shrugged, nodding in agreement. He couldn’t really disagree with that. And to be fair, he wasn’t attacking him this time, at least. That was an improvement from the last time. He would have a very hard time trusting someone who had done what he had done, but maybe if he was more forthcoming, they would be able to work things out.

“Yes, “our” as in “we’re all equally dead if this situation doesn’t work itself out. Every last one of us.” He stood up slowly, gesturing in a pleading manner. “Belial has something big planned, and he needs your son for it. I overheard one of his messengers say as much when he returned. He left during the attack from what I understand, and after the devil prince decided that he wanted the cult dead, he had been systematically killing us all. I’m just an initiate who joined a little while ago, so I guess I’m a low priority, but everyone else either fled or left, and so I guess I’m the only one left. I managed to get him to trust me enough for him to think I’m doing his bidding, but after what he did to your son, I could never. Like I said before, I didn’t sign up for this. I was just in a dark place in my life and didn’t want to be alone. I had no idea what I was getting myself into, but I still want to make it right. At this point, that’s the least I can do. The cult caused so much suffering… I don’t want to be a part of that. It’s how I lost everything in the first place.”

“What did you lose that would drive you to such extremes?”

Everyone in the room looked over at V as he spoke, honestly forgetting that he was there. After they had returned from the train station with Vergil, everyone had gone their separate ways in order to allow Magnolia to treat Flora's injuries. They hadn’t been grave by their standards, but for a human? She needed quite a few stitches and now she was on bed rest. The botanist ensured them that she would make a full recovery, but that was yet to be seen. All any of them could do for now was hope that she was alright, and that weighed heavily on V for reasons he couldn’t pinpoint. Perhaps he just didn’t like putting others in harm's way for his sake.

“Look… all I’ve got left in this world is my younger step-sister. My mom died when I was a kid, and a few years back her mom and my dad got together. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I just really want her to be safe. If he just wanted me dead, I would walk over there right now and let him kill me. And even though that would break her heart, she’d be alive and I would have done something worthwhile with my life, ya know?” He looked down at the floor for a long moment, clearly cut deeply by his own words. Anyone present could tell that there was a truth to that statement that he didn’t want to recognize but he did. “But the truth is, he wouldn’t stop there. You're not the only person he’s after. He had other motives for wanting her, and I won’t pretend that I know them, but they can’t be good. And if he gets your son and manages to do whatever it is that he’s been talking about with Belial, this entire region will be the first to go. After that, probably the whole world.”

Dante nodded to himself, taking that in for a moment. “So how does your sister play into this, and what’s Belial’s plan?”

Bren shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you. I guess they think she’d be good for whatever it is that they have planned. But Belial needs your son to enact his master plan. Specifically, he wants to bring him to the Underworld for something. I didn’t overhear any details, but I think that’s bad enough. And apparently, now that he’s back, he has a way to accomplish that. You need to keep him safe. I can’t stress that enough. This guy has more things up his sleeve than you might think. He’s very dangerous.”

“Okay then. That makes sense. So, where’s your sister? Does she even know that she might be in danger?” Nero asked with a concerned look. He didn’t like the implications of her brother’s actions entrapping her in this situation. It hit a little too close to him for him personally. “And what do you mean they’re back? Who’s back?”

“Magnolia kindly agreed to have her brought here from a few towns over. She should be arriving any moment now. She was going to boarding school, and she just graduated a few months ago. It’s been a rough year for her after our parents died in the Redgrave City attack. That’s what derailed me and sent me down the path that led to me joining the cult. They were recruiting people in the area after everything that happened, and I thought that maybe they would help me find some way to protect her. They said as much. But now I know that they were probably just planning to hurt her from the very start. I should have known better. But at least now I can fix mistakes.”

Vergil felt his blood run cold for a moment at that revelation. So his actions had inadvertently led to this situation in more ways than one… He supposed that that was probably only fair, but for V to be caught up in this once again… 

“I… Your parents' deaths were unfortunate and needless. You have my sympathies.”

Dante allowed his eyes to travel towards his older twin for a moment, noticing the grief in that statement. He believed Vergil. It seemed now that the ghosts of his past truly had come back to haunt him. It had probably never occurred to him that he would be the very monster to someone else that those demons had been to them so many years ago.

“Thanks. I appreciate that.  But either way, I have some insight into what Belial has planned, and I really hope that it turns out to be helpful to you guys. I’m no fighter. Heck, I’d never hurt a fly. But I’d like to think I’m not that stupid.” He looked at Vergil more sincerely at that moment, seemingly uncomfortable with whatever he was about to say but still willing to say it. Perhaps that was something that the Darkslayer should try more often himself. The irony wasn’t beyond him. “Thanks for helping keep us safe. You sparing me was the moment I realized that I had really gone down the wrong path. We were supposed to be about unity and peace. You don’t get that by kidnapping and probably murdering innocent people.”

He was wise for his age. Vergil couldn’t deny that. But he also knew that he should probably tell him the truth in regards to what had happened to his parents. But he would wait until his sister arrived and they had privacy. It was best that he not broadcast his failures to the entire room, even if everyone there besides him did know what had happened already. He didn’t have the fortitude to confess his wrongdoings in such a manner. It was like being put on trial, even though a part of him realized that that was probably something that he wholeheartedly deserved.

V glanced between his father and Bren, a young man who was still to him at least a stranger. He could feel the tension rolling off of his father in waves, the enormity of his past actions weighing heavy on him at that moment. He had been confronted with his not-so-distant past in a very literal way, and it had utterly blindsided him. The fact that he had wronged this individual so greatly without his knowledge and he was standing there willing to help them was utterly uncomfortable to the Darkslayer, and there was a part of V that was admittedly glad for that. It wasn’t just because he needed to truly see how his actions affect others, but because it showed something arguably more important: his father was capable of feeling remorse for the actions he’d committed against a perfect stranger. Deep down, he was much more human than V liked to imagine Vergil would ever admit. There was something comforting to be found in that.

Brenowen looked mournful for a moment before looking over at V, obviously not wanting to have to say what he needed to say. “As for who has returned, I believe that the two of you have already met. The night that the cult took you? You met a man named Agreus…”

His breathing paused for a moment as he swore that he felt his heart stop beating. How could he forget? In fact, he could still feel that knife just by thinking about it. But he had thrown him through that conduit. Surely he hadn’t survived that. But then again, that explained the limp. He had stabbed him in the leg, after all. They were going to need to get Sirrus to translate that book for them as soon as humanly possible. And then they were going to ship it off to the Ludwig estate. This couldn’t be good.

Just a moment later, there was a knock at the door. Magnolia stood up, stretching as she sat down the cup of tea she’d been drinking. “Come in, dear. Though you should probably still be in bed.”

In stepped Flora, slightly pale and tired looking, but otherwise more or less okay. They all gave her a reassuring look, the young magician weaving them off playfully as she came into the room. “Don’t worry about me, everyone. I’ll be just fine. I’m a big girl. I can take a couple of cuts and bruises. Honestly, I think I’ve had worse cramps. That demon’s a total pushover.” 

Lucia tried to pretend that she didn’t find that comment funny, but she did. She allowed herself a small giggle, looking over at the twins' surprised faces as they looked several different kinds of confused and embarrassed. Nero simply nodded, having heard similar things from Kyrie in the past. He had nothing in his heart but sympathy and compassion for her alleged suffering. V simply closed his eyes and chuckled soundlessly to himself, shaking his head. Flora was truly something else. He was glad that she was still with them.

But before she could make it very far, there was a distant sound, one that caught all of their collective attention. A second knock became apparent, only this time from the front door downstairs. Flora groaned and headed down the stairs ahead of them, cursing herself for marching up all of those stairs only to have to go back down them. What had she done to dissolve such treatment? Bren sprang up, eager to head to the door. “That’s probably my sister! You said they would be dropping her off soon.”

Magnolia nodded. “That I did. And I’m not expecting anyone else.”

The group then migrated down the stairs to the living room, admittedly wondering to themselves what this young woman looked like. She was his step-sister, after all. That meant that she could look completely different from Brenowin. His shoulder-length black hair and dark blue eyes were admittedly striking, but there was no blood between them to speak of. It was possible but unlikely.

Approaching the door, Magnolia unlocked it from the inside and stepped out of the way to allow their new guest to enter the room while the rest of them made themselves comfortable on the couch. V was still making his way down the stairs behind Nero as she did so, taking a mental note of the fact that Nero Vergil and Dante had already reached the couch, Bren staying closer to the kitchen. It seemed that he still expected Vergil to try and kill him. To be fair, he himself wasn’t sure that the possibility was 100% off the table just yet. Just about 95%. But before he could continue that though, Magnolia opened the front door and greeted the person who had knocked on it. And V had stopped dead in his tracks in the middle of the entryway. It was perhaps the only time that any of them could ever say that they'd ever genuinely seen V look shocked.

Before them stood a pretty young woman with sandy brown hair, hazel eyes, and freckles, her two luggage bags placed on the ground at her feet. She was in the process of picking them up, but had stopped to shoot a warm smile at her host, allowing V a momentary glance at her face. And judging by the sudden uptake in V’s heart rate, genuinely couldn’t believe his eyes. There was just no way that she could be… 

“Morgan?!” He said out loud at a volume that surprised both himself and everyone else in the room. He hadn’t actually meant to speak that aloud, but he simply hadn’t been able to stop himself. It was just too shocking for him to believe.

She looked up from her bags, utterly surprised to hear what was clearly a familiar voice calling her name, but one that she was sure he hadn’t heard in a number of years. The second she made eye contact with him, she dropped all of her belongings on the front steps, wide eyes elation spreading across her face. She teared up as she looked at him, trembling not from the frigid cold outside but from the joy that she felt brimming up inside of her. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing, either. “V?!”

He nodded slowly. Without warning she leaped forward, throwing her arms around him in a tight embrace. And at that moment he realized just how much he’d missed her when he didn’t even feel repulsed by her unexpected touch. In fact, he welcomed it, frozen in place from shock, but barely holding back the fact that for reasons he couldn't explain, he felt just as strongly about seeing her again as he had the day she’d left and he’d realized that he would probably never see her again.

Morgan leaned back for a moment, taking in the sight of him as she wiped her face, panting from excitement. Her eyebrows then furrowed slightly, a light chuckle expanding her diaphragm and allowing a soft chuckle to escape her tightly clenched lips. “When did you get these tattoos, V?! Gotta say, they're pretty wicked, man!”

Shaking his head slightly he gave in and returned the favor, grabbing her into a soft but firm hug, much to the surprise of everyone else in the room. Nero was the only other person who could recall ever being hugged by V. “It’s a bit of a long story.”

(-~-)

I know that this is gonna make some of you very happy! I remember several of you telling me how much you liked her and how much you hoped to see her make a second appearance, so it was an obvious choice. After all, why add someone new when you already have Morgan? Anyway, I’ll see you in the comments and the next chapter is going up on Friday! Hope to hear from you all again soon! Have a nice Wednesday!

[thefudge]

Just out of curiosity, did you read JK's essay? I don't support everything in it but many parts resonated with me. Not to mention the horrific online abuse hurled at her, especially the countless, countless "choke on my dick" phrases thrown at her which are so violently misogynistic, it left me with a deep seated feeling of not only discomfort but fear as well. Idk I guess I just felt safe sending this because your blog seems more open to discussion from the other side instead of instant cancel.

i’m glad you think so about this blog and i hope that remains the case.

i didn’t have a chance to read JK’s essay until today (my previous ask about her was written before that) but here are some very, very imperfect thoughts on it:

the essay confirmed my previous take that she has inoculated herself against certain outside arguments but it’s also made me wonder about JK’s understanding of gender and sex. She is very attached to “natal women” and calling all people who menstruate “women” because of “common experiences”, despite the fact that her beloved de Beauvoir, whom she quotes in the essay extensively, acknowledged that “woman” is a social construct. JK herself at one point complains about having to comply with the rules of femininity while growing up and how it made her want to stop being female, so what is the truth? She argues that young girls shouldn’t be thinking about transitioning just because they are made to hate their femaleness but that’s!!! exactly what!!! pushing the term “woman” as sacrosanct does to girls!!! most of what JK felt in her childhood was the kind of misogyny which connects women strictly to their uterus. it made being male a better alternative precisely because of the gate-keeping of penis/vagina. a young girl who acted like a tomboy, for instance, would be criticized for trying to deny her sex, because deep down her biology still made her a “woman”. both sex and gender cannot be divorced from socio-cultural realities, because we act with our bodies and embody what we act. so, if we expand what it means to be a “man” and a “woman”, we liberate, not confine. JK wants young people to feel free to be whoever they want to be, but they must be called “women” when discussing menstruation or else (i won’t even go into the obvious addition that many cis and trans women exist who cannot or no longer menstruate).

Now, she does bring up some fair points about cancel culture and freedom of expression that I will level with, but the problem is that the nuancing she is trying to achieve also serves as weirdly specific dog-whistling. So let me address that:

(warning: spoilers for the Cormoran Strike series)

Right off the bat, we have this explanation added in her intro: 

“On one level, my interest in this issue has been professional, because I’m writing a crime series, set in the present day, and my fictional female detective is of an age to be interested in, and affected by, these issues herself (...)”  

and already, i’m asking questions. how is Robin Ellacott, one of the protagonists of the Strike series, “affected" by these issues, personally? she’s “of an age” to...what? be gender critical? there’s not a lot of that in the novels (unless you count Robin being tall and knowing how to drive well being framed as anti-girly...).  How does crime relate to it? How is she connected to this really? 

the real connection JK wants us to see because she’ll reveal it later in the essay is that Robin was r*ped in college. she’s a sexual assault survivor, which must make her critically engaged with the fate of trans women because....because underneath JK’s empty statement about her female detective....is the correlation that men “disguised” as trans women can perpetrate the same sort of horrific abuse.  she keeps making this correlation throughout the essay.

Here she talks about various people who’ve reached out to her:

They’re worried about the dangers to young people, gay people and about the erosion of women’s and girl’s rights. Above all, they’re worried about a climate of fear that serves nobody – least of all trans youth – well.

And again here:

“So I want trans women to be safe. At the same time, I do not want to make natal girls and women less safe. When you throw open the doors of bathrooms and changing rooms to any man who believes or feels he’s a woman – and, as I’ve said, gender confirmation certificates may now be granted without any need for surgery or hormones – then you open the door to any and all men who wish to come inside. That is the simple truth.”

This one is my favorite because it’s so twisted (here she’s listing her charity work):

“The second reason is that I’m an ex-teacher and the founder of a children’s charity, which gives me an interest in both education and safeguarding. Like many others, I have deep concerns about the effect the trans rights movement is having on both.”

“safeguarding”

hmmmm

What JK wants to spell out with these “common sense” arguments is that she fears that trans women are predatory, and the most convincing argument she can bring, ultimately, is that she herself has been the victim of sexual abuse and therefore, that potential fear never goes away. That’s a very dangerous leap to make. The climate of “fear” she mentions is also connected to cancel culture, of course. She fears women won’t be able to express their opinions online without receiving various amounts of vitriol. But you see how she has merged all three issues together? So that if you agree with one, you must agree with the others. Because yes, cancel culture often goes too far, and yes it is a real issue, but to say that the trans community shutting her down foments the same atmosphere of “fear” as boogie trans women hurting children in bathrooms and her being abused by her cis husband… that’s a veeery slippery slope. Instead of sticking to “freedom of speech” and whatnot, she keeps correlating these issues that should not be correlated (some of them being false issues, as well).  

Is there too much opprobrium around discussions of trans identity? Yes. Are there worthy discussions to be had about young women, homophobia and gender dysphoria? Absolutely. Can being trans become a fashionable trend/identity among kids, like the bygone goth and emo labels? Sure, but these discussions shouldn’t be had at the expense of trans people who have to constantly prove that they “mean” it. Because by stringing up all these issues together, JK is saying “the kids don’t know any better, and the adults are faking it”. Yes, cancel culture is impeding dialogue, yes, we shouldn’t shy away from discussing young teens’ identity problems, but if you pile up all of these things in a giant “trans women are the problem and they might be predatory too” milkshake, you won’t get anywhere.

I want to come back to this quote:

The second reason is that I’m an ex-teacher and the founder of a children’s charity, which gives me an interest in both education and safeguarding. Like many others, I have deep concerns about the effect the trans rights movement is having on both.

Beyond the (in my opinion) not very tasteful enumeration of things she’s done to help, JK’s mention of “education” there is veeery interesting. On the one hand, she probably feels that schools will try to censor “free speech”, but on the other hand, I bet she’s also concerned schools will not do enough censoring, so that impressionable kids become pressured into adopting a trans identity. You see how it flips on a dime? What does she ultimately want children to learn about this? Does she want them to be kept in the dark completely? Does she want them to be allowed to critique or invalidate trans identities without being censored? On this second point, things get complicated. Schools and institutions will naturally censor free speech.  Kids are there to learn how to express that free speech; they will be told “hey, don’t say that to your colleague, it’s not very kind” or “you need to structure your argument appropriately instead of just saying “I don’t like it””. Is there room for criticism in how schools operate that benevolent censorship? Obviously. Hell, Foucault & co. have been talking about this for decades. So what does this argument about education ultimately mean? What are we protecting the kids from? Imo, it goes back to that covert argument about sexual violence.    

Since I’m a teacher too, I’ll talk about my own experience: I brought some texts to my undergrad class about the trans experience with the goal of 1) building empathy, because literature is the grand unifier of experience and 2) showing different literary perspectives which i also included within literary theory. ultimately, the trans experience is about being human. we were learning about being human, nothing more, nothing less. if younger kids end up treating it as a fad it means that a) they need more, not less education,  b) parents and schools should work together to make them understand that being trans is not the same as being “emo”, for instance. this partially resembles the trend of white kids adopting black culture just because it’s cool, but not actually engaging with the black experience. who do you sanction for this? black people? because in this analogy, the trans community should be responsible for children not benefiting from education and parental support.

oh, I know what JK is saying. the trans community is responsible for shutting down conversations about this. it’s part of the general climate of tiptoeing around trans issues. yes, here I can agree with her that Twitter discourse either helps build sympathy or loathing for the “cancelled” person instead of seriously grappling with what that person has done. it’s the nature of Twitter and I hate it, but to go from that to saying women and young girls are in danger from other “fake” women really undermines her own argument. There are normal pitfalls as we try to incrementally do some good in this world. Cancel culture and the deplatforming and ruining of lives of certain individuals will not promote the cause and is certainly to be frowned upon, but JK will be absolutely fine. there are hashtags right now like “istandwithJK” and there’s a slew of people who support her. the misogyny she faces is deplorable, but we shouldn’t conflate valid criticism with trollish vulgarities. I don’t want to minimize the dangers of online culture; I know people have lost jobs and livelihood, but that is a discussion to be had under different parameters, admitting the responsibility of both parties (for example, maya forstater realizing that maybe saying some hurtful things about public figures and proudly talking about the “delusion” of transwomen will come back to bite her in the ass) and the fact that under capitalism, your job is always at the whim of appearances and simulacrums. essentially, you are the job. this is a state of things that deserves a larger discussion not on the back of the trans community. should we live in a world where you are allowed to say anything, free of consequences? some of us do, because we can say whatever we want in our head, in our room, in our house (other ppl aren’t so lucky), but the trouble starts in the public sphere. even if we wanted to build a public sphere where everything goes, we’d be at each other’s throats in five seconds anyway because we’re human. the most we can do is educate and correct where we can.  “facts don’t care about your feelings” discourse is often not informed by facts at all and forgets the vital importance of feelings.

anyway, that’s my incomplete take. still lots to think about and debate. ultimately, i think any fair points JK brought up were tainted by other bad-faith arguments and i wish she’d use this time to self-reflect because this isn’t a topic that should be breezed past in 3k words. nor should young trans ppl be called “adorable” (facepalm). i myself have many questions and constantly grapple with all of this, but since she’s a writer (and for better or worse, i still like her books), she is in a perfect position to investigate the matter with kindness and stop giving ultimatums. and i hope this post fosters discussion and doesn’t shut anyone down.

( forgot to mention that other nifty subplot in the Strike series about these really unlikable kids who are transabled and experience BID ( Body integrity dysphoria)  and want to have a disability. Strike is super-offended by them since he’s genuinely disabled and we as readers are meant to think they’re real pieces of shit, and while transableism is suuuuper complicated and my thoughts on it vary wildly, i do think those BID kids also stand in for other folks in her mind..again, food for thought.)

[ruination-fangs]

Tales of Asteria, Chapter 4 Raven’s Scenario: Strands of the Truth Stages 1-3

I am still doing this. very very slowly

Stage 1: Dreams of Empty Space

Scene 1:

In a throne room, a nameless man pledges his sword to the king and the people. The man who appears to be the king recognizes him as a knight and protector of the throne.

Suddenly he finds himself on a battlefield, panting.

Nameless Man: Dammit... Why is this happening... And just when we were finally able to stand together...! We couldn't stop any of it..! Enemy soldiers: There's a survivor! Surround him and kill him! Nameless Man: ...Fine. I'll end it myself. This stupid war... all of it... in exchange for this life. *Shing* Nameless Man: ...Wait for me just a little longer. I'll be there soon. Haaaaaah....!

Raven: That was... ???: What's with you? What happened? You always look so sullen, Raven. Raven: You're...

Raven wakes up, and realizes it was a dream - an odd dream he keeps having lately. The person on the throne isn't Lazarus, but he doesn't know who it is. He's never seen a war like that, either, but it feels strangely real - especially the voice at the end. He can't recall where he's heard it before, or whether it was recently or a long time ago. Thinking about it makes him tired.

He notices that it's raining now. He has to go out to work on a case, but he doesn't want to end up with a cold. He wishes he could just quit, though he knows he can't.

There's a knock at the door. Assuming it’s a customer, he welcomes the guest in.

???: I'd say I'm sorry to intrude... but you sure don't look busy in here. Raven: My apologies, we... Oh, it's you. Claw: ...Yeah. Long time no see, Raven.

Scene 2:

Raven remarks that it's rare to see Claw there, to which Claw replies he has little reason to visit. Even so, he tells Raven not to look so sullen. It's the same words from Raven's dream, and Raven visibly reacts. When Claw notices, Raven says he's just disappointed because he thought he finally had a customer. Claw suggests he's more like a colleague, even though Raven describes himself as just as lousy old shopkeeper - ostensibly.

As expected, Claw came to ask about a fugitive. He wants to know if Raven has heard anything about a supposed accomplice of the person they're after. Raven guesses he means the "cool beauty" who disrupted the recent festival, and wonders why Claw is asking, because he heard that the White Lions were already on the trail. Claw explains that they lost the criminal when she fell off a cliff in the Gahram Mountains, and somehow there was no trace of her to be found at the bottom. It's no longer a straightforward case, and they're seeking information about the accomplice because they need a new clue.

Unfortunately, Raven has nothing to offer, though he's doing all he can to look into it. Claw gets snippy about how Raven isn't as good as he thought he was then, but Raven just remarks that it's rare to see him so tired. Claw points out that not only do they have someone on the run, the prime minister's sister was kidnapped, and apparently a new criminal showed up in the city yesterday. They can't search for all of them at the same time.

Raven wishes him good luck; that's the White Lions' jurisdiction, after all, not his. Exasperated, Claw requests that Raven let him know if he finds anything, and Raven agrees. He has a responsibility in this case too. Claw also offers a reward of a good meal for good info, which catches Raven's attention. He thanks Raven before he leaves.

Once he's gone, Raven thinks on the fact that he'd like to help the White Lions, but, things being what they are, it's out of the question right now. He apologizes to Claw and goes outside, where it's still raining. He'd rather stay inside, but he has to hurry and find the "target" before the White Lions' investigation drives them into hiding.

Stage 2: Frightened Girl in a Rainy City

Scene 1:

A young girl runs down a city street in the pouring rain. Her doll-like companion is worried she'll catch a cold, and when she pauses, a woman approaches, concerned. The woman insists the girl come to her house and dry off, but before they get there, they're stopped by a knight asking what's going on. Seeing that the knight is with the White Lions, the doll tells the girl to run. She apologizes and takes off.

Elsewhere, an information broker tells Raven about a girl wandering around in the rain, sticking to the back alleys. When a knight tried to speak to her, she got scared and ran away. Raven thanks the informant and leaves.

This is the only useful information he's gotten from asking around. Still, having met Velvet, he's pretty sure she wouldn't have left the chancellor's sister in the city. He doesn't know what Lady Lazarus is up to, but he's good at simply following along with whatever happens.

With no time to waste and no other leads, he decides to investigate the back alleys the informant mentioned.

When he gets there, he sees White Lions here and there, probably keeping an eye out for the escaped criminal. Suddenly the little girl appears, and Raven realizes she's the one the informant was talking about.

Scene 2:

Raven wants to talk to the girl, but she won't let him close to her. When Raven reassures her that she doesn't have to be scared - he's surprisingly gentlemanly for an old man - the floating doll tells him not to touch her. Raven is surprised, but he's not intending to follow them or anything. He just wants to talk. Still, the doll insists he stay away.

Suddenly the girl starts gasping for breath and staggering around. She says she's okay, but she immediately collapses and cries for help. Exasperated, Raven decides it'll cause problems if she dies, and picks her up. The doll stays quiet. Raven mutters that there certainly does seem to be something going on here, and it's turned into quite a mess.

Stage 3: The Pair at the Anything Agency

Scene 1:

Raven watches the girl sleep on the couch in his quarters. She's really out of it, but she doesn't seem to be hurt, just completely exhausted. Suddenly she starts groaning in her sleep as if she's having a bad dream.

???: Lady Lazarus... why... I didn't see... anything...

Her sleeptalking alarms Raven, but at that moment a voice screams "divine punishment!!" and a young woman bursts in.

???: Rayray! I thought you were better than this! Raven: Ow ow ow... What are you doing back so suddenly, little Norma? What did I do? Norma: What did you do!? How could you bring such an innocent girl back here!?

Raven insists she's misunderstood and he's just trying to help the girl. Norma is upset, both about their lack of work recently, and how Raven is always so cryptic. She believed better of him, and demands an explanation.

When Raven can finally get a word in, he tells her that he found the girl in the alleys. She seemed to be lost, and it was a sad sight, watching her running around in the pouring rain. So the gentlemanly old man who just so happened to be there brought her to shelter. Norma is skeptical, both of his story and his assertion that he would never lie to her.

While they're arguing, Teepo wakes up, and Norma freaks out about the talking doll. Raven says he was surprised too at first, though he tabled the issue because he had bigger problems to deal with. Elize is awake too now, and is alarmed when Norma and Raven notice her.

Scene 2:

Elize is silent. Raven is glad she's awake, but he would prefer she speak up. Norma tells him to be quiet and let her handle things.

Norma: Hello! I'm Norma Beatty. This guy with the messy hair is Raven. This is our agency, The Office of Beatty and Beatty. Raven: "The Office of Beatty and Beatty"? I don't remember agreeing to that. Seriously, Beatty and Beatty? Those are both your- Norma: So, what happened to you? Would you mind telling me? Raven: Wh- Don't ignore me!

The girl haltingly tells them that she’s a student, but she was running away because she got caught up in something scary. Raven mentions that while she was sleeping, she was very restless and muttered something about Lady Lazarus. He'd be willing to chalk it up to delirium, but she seemed terrified.

Elize doesn't respond. Norma chides Raven because whatever happened might be hard for her to talk about, and Raven shuts up again.

When Norma asks again, the girl says that since she couldn't go home, she stayed in the city. She remembers feeling overwhelmed, but nothing after that is clear. Raven informs her that she collapsed right in front of him. He uses her noncommittal affirmative as proof that what he told Norma was true, though Norma remains unconvinced. In any case, she doesn't think the girl is lying.

She then asks for the girl's name. She introduces herself as Elize Lutus, and her friend is Teepo. Norma immediately calls them Lil E and Teepon, and Raven explains that she gives nicknames to everyone she meets.

Raven asks Elize what she wants to do now, but Norma stops him and scolds him for letting Elize stay in her soaking wet clothes for so long. Even though he couldn’t change them himself, he could have called her for help. She decides they need to get Elize's clothes fixed up first, and they can talk after.

She shoos Raven out, and then suggests that he might as well go get them something to eat. Elize must be starving, and also, she is too. Raven suspects that's her real motivation, but he grudgingly goes. Watching them, Elize and Teepo comment that they seem like nice people.

Some time later, Norma gives Elize her dried out clothes back and asks how she's feeling. Elize says she’s much better, and she's sorry for making them feed her and everything. Norma doesn't want her to worry about it; of course she would help someone in need. (Even though Raven was the one who bought the food, he mutters.)

Norma then asks what she's going to do now. Elize wants to go back to her hometown, the city of Almeria. But that's pretty far away, and Raven has heard that recently monsters have been appearing on the roads between towns, so it’s too dangerous for Elize, even with Teepo. 

Nevertheless, Elize doesn't want to stay in the city. Raven then slyly suggests that it would be another story if she had an escort, and Norma praises him for having a good idea for once. This is exactly the kind of thing their business is for, after all.

They explain to a confused Elize that they'll go with her. They can't just kick her out and leave her by herself. When Elize confesses that she has no money to pay them, Norma just says they couldn't possibly take anything from her. (They can always bill the household instead! Raven tells her not to act like it's free, then.)

Norma wants to leave right away, until Teepo complains that she's being kind of pushy. She amends that they'll leave once Elize is ready. Elize says she's fine; she wants to hurry, if they can. With everything decided, they head out.

Raven lingers behind, wondering what they'll find.

[lucitrius]

•°☆°• Oumami week day 4: "I love you” / “I’m sorry” / "I missed you” •°☆°•

▪ word count: 2,281 ▪ content: spoilers for chapters 1 - 5, survivor au, death, afterlife ▪

————————————————— ☆ —————————————————

Ouma shivered as he laid against cold, hard metal, the only forgiving warmth being the rapidly fading body heat that had been left in the jacket beneath him. The metal was winning, though, and it didn't last long. Goosebumps raised all over his body as a chill rolled through him, and he groaned pathetically. Despite how cold he was, however, there were sweat beads dotting his forehead as he stared up at the looming shadow of the press. At least it would be quick once it touched him.

"...Are you sure about this?" Momota finally spoke up, ripping Ouma back down to reality. He turned his head to look at him, although he couldn't really see his face from where he was laying. Momota noticed this and knelt down next to him, gripping the corner of the base plate tightly. He was nervous too, it was obvious.

Ouma simply offered him a strained grin, nodding as much as he could. "Yup! Even if I wasn't, I would still die anyway. The poison is really starting to make itself known!" His voice was crackly and weak against his own will. He was an impressive actor, but when your body has organ failure on speed dial it's hard to exhibit your best skills.

Momota looked unimpressed with his answer, but even so he knew that he was right. He looked him up and down for a moment before sighing in defeat. "Damn it… You could've drank some of the antidote and saved both of us. But, I guess that's just not your style, huh?" Ouma peered at him with newfound interest until he finished the thought. "You could've just cooperated. I had no idea you were trying to help, you know? Then it- it wouldn't have come down to this. I don't want to kill you, but..."

"Cooperated, huh?" he echoed, turning his head so he was back to staring at the hydraulic press. He opened his mouth to make some remark, to comment on how it was a stupid idea, but nothing came out. He shut his jaw with a slight frown.

Momota sat on his heels silently, waiting for some kind of comment, but just stood up in defeat when he only got silence in return. He scratched his fingers against the hairs on the back of his neck anxiously and started for the control platform. The only sound left in the hangar was the buzzing hum of the press and the faint thudding of the exisals walking around in another part of the building. Ouma didn't like it. He was fully prepared to die- hell this was practically just assisted suicide- but being left alone to his rampant thoughts as he lay on his literal death bed was highly uncomfortable. 

It felt like an eternity before he heard Momota's feet stop moving. It was only a matter of seconds, then. He seemed to hesitate to give Ouma the heads up that he was going to do it already, and even when he spoke up he avoided it for just a moment longer. "Hey, I mean, at least you'll be able to see Amami again."

Ouma's eyes widened just a touch; so he had put two and two together after all. He reached up to his chest with a shaky hand, gripping the long pendant of the necklace he still wore. A saddened smile crossed his lips, but he didn't respond as the hum of the press kicked up a few decibels and descended toward him.

•°☆°•

The distant conversation that could be heard in the back of his head was annoying. It hurt, even, only worsening the aching in the back of his skull as it continued. But, that was the thing. Conversation, headache… was he alive? No, that couldn’t be right. He watched it happen, after all, there was no way he could have survived that. As his mind started to focus more and more he realized that he had woken up, as he could see light through his eyelids. Against his better judgement of how much it would hurt, he opened his eyes quickly, and of course had to blink rapidly to adjust.

Sitting up slowly, he looked around expecting to see… well he wasn’t quite sure, really. Clouds, maybe? Or, on the other side of the coin, perhaps an intense heat, but neither was the case. Instead he was promptly met with pure white cabinets and dully toned countertops surrounding him. And as his body moved, he could hear the ruffling of the sheets around him and a thin tube tugging gently at his wrist. Looking down towards the feeling, he immediately identified it as an IV tube, and noticed that he was in a hospital gown. Why was he in a hospital; and more importantly, how?

The voices just outside of his room grew closer gradually until the door rattled on its tracks slightly before sliding open. He, just before the people behind it stepped inside, layed back down quietly, shutting his eyes and opening his mouth a tad to be more convincing. He wanted nothing more than an explanation, but equally as much, he didn’t want to worsen the pain in his skull by trying to talk to someone to get it. He could listen just fine.

“He’s just in here, sir,” said a bland, unnoteworthy voice which he presumed to be either a doctor or nurse. “I would suggest not waking him up on your own so that he doesn’t freak out upon realizing he’s alive, and I’m sure you understand basic visiting decency already so I’ll spare you the lecture.”

A few footsteps moved towards his bed, and under the blanket Ouma tightened his fist. 

“I’ll be careful with him, no need.”

Ouma struggled to keep his eyes closed upon hearing Amami speak. Surely this was some cruel personal hell for him to endure for the rest of eternity, after all he saw his corpse. He felt it, he swore he checked for his pulse. But, all of his pessimistic thoughts were thrown out of the window as he felt two warm, gentle hands take one of his own. It felt so real, so familiar. 

Amami was silent as he sat there, but even so Ouma focused so much more on listening to his breathing than the track of the door as it was closed once more. Ouma’s eyes squeezed shut even tighter, not wanting to face it. If he opened them, it felt as though Amami would fade away once more, so instead he gripped one of his hands loosely.

The fingers in his hold jolted along with the other boy’s whole body, and he was heard leaning closer towards him. “...Ouma? Are you up?” Of course he was, but he was just so scared. He wanted to live in this reality, in this Schrodinger-type mystery where Amami would always be alive. 

With a beat of continued silence, Amami released a sigh. “It’s alright, I don’t care. At least you’re even here,” he continued with a noticeably relieved, yet concerned, tone. There was a brief pause, maybe considering his options. Nothing was exactly stopping him from waking the other up considering the staff member had left the room by that point. But if he still thought that Ouma was truly sleeping, then he may want to let him continue to rest.

“I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have been left alone to fight like that.”

Ouma, very hesitantly, cracked open his eyes. He once again had to adjust to the burning white LEDs that were overhead, but he didn’t care. One quick look to his right, his thoughts were proven wrong. Amami, sitting somewhat hunched over with his eyes closed, shoulders relaxed while his hands were still tense, was right there. Alive. “Don’t tell me Amami is really going to go and blame himself for this all?”

Amami gasped, snapping his eyes up to look at him. A smile immediately crossed his face, his previously somber body language melting into something more lively. “I should’ve known you were awake. I expect nothing less of you,” he chuckled giddily. Ouma found his smile to be contagious, and for the first time since his apparent death, he found himself doing so genuinely; comfortably. Shutting his eyes gently to keep a few tears of joy back, Ouma laughed.

•°☆°•

Something about growing old was oddly nice. Ouma never thought that he would ever want to grow up, but living alongside his friend, his lover, and later his husband completely flipped his ideals. Amami- or Rantarou, rather, once they were wed under the same name- was much more important than his silly childhood wishes, anyway. The countless nights where they laid awake, suffering the consequences of the killing game were really the only issue. But even then, the two of them were always there regardless of whatever horrid nightmare, thought, or memory came to one or the both of them. There was never a moment when they couldn’t be in touch, and it was lovely. 

Domestic, lazy days where they did nothing but sit in each others’ arms and sleep were easily his favourite to remember. He had a vivid memory of how Rantarou’s chest felt against him, the welcoming warmth spreading throughout his own body while the thudding of his heartbeat kept him grounded. It didn’t last forever, though. 

After some time, the two started to get a bit old for lounging all over each other, and it stopped. Kokichi watched as his husband tended to his needs, as once he reached 72 he could no longer even stand on his own. He always cursed his natural tendency to be weak, which only increased during that time. But Rantarou never minded, and they were happy.

And, after nearly 64 years of marriage, Kokichi was upset upon realizing that they had been separated. It was a gentle passing in his sleep, and neither of them were expecting anything different than normal. Rantarou left him with a careful kiss to his lips, with a soft squeeze of his hand and an exchange of “I love you,” they drifted off together. But once he woke up, he was staring off at a field, which he recognized to be their backyard. That was odd, he thought at first. He rarely visited the garden anymore, even if Rantarou did his best to keep it alive and well. The best he had was a view outside of their bedroom window, where the vines of wisteria creeped along the wooden panels that surrounded the glass and a few young apple trees struggled to blossom in their juvenile stages. 

He made no effort to stand, instead opening his mouth to call out for the other man gently. “Rantarou?” he asked to thin air, suddenly shocked at the youth in his own voice. He looked down at himself, and sure enough, his hands were thin and nimble once more, only now he felt even more weightless than ever. Ah, so this is it. This is what he was expecting all those years ago when he had laid cold and alone under the press, when he was convinced that Rantarou had been ripped away for good. So here he was, now the one that had gone missing.

It was a lonely existence, in all honesty, but he tried not to mind it. He spent his time looking after the house, which was an exact replica of the home he had practically memorized by this point, in waiting for the day that he would receive some company. He made sure that the garden stood green, that the apple trees- which were much older and readily bearing fruit now- were healthy, and that the wisteria by his window was always secured to the wall.

As he set down his trowel and picked up a watering can, having just planted a bulb that he had taken out last spring, he heard the grass behind him shift under someone’s weight. He dropped the container, some of the water spilling over the metal trim top, and whipped around on his knees. 

Just in front of him, Rantarou was lying peacefully in the grass, just beside the patch of Forget-Me-Nots that they had planted together the day after their wedding ceremony. He smiled warmly, standing up and brushing the dirt from his knees as he shuffled over to where he was sat. He stood over him, looking down at his sleeping face longingly. It was fine, he could sleep. He deserved to wake up peacefully just as Kokichi had.

After a few minutes, he watched as Rantarou’s eyes fluttered open slowly, his focus wavering momentarily before landing on the man above him. His eyes widened, and as soon as it was offered to him, he grabbed the hand outstretched and sprang up to grab Kokichi into a tight embrace. Kokichi giggled, throwing his arms up and around his husband once more, relieved to finally feel the warmth of his chest again. It didn’t take long for them both to start crying; neither of them minded doing it in front of each other anymore, and in this afterlife, there wasn’t ever going to be anyone else to see it anyhow. 

Kokichi pulled away from him, staring up at his jade green eyes affectionately before standing up on his toes to kiss him softly. They didn’t part for what felt like centuries, and it was incredible. They were home, together, once more.

Rantarou laid a hand on his cheek, pressing his thumb into his skin slightly just to get closer to him than he already was. They were always, always getting closer. “I missed you.”

[spacebrick3]

The Prophet and the Submariner (Part 1)

Alright, here it is: the first set of prompts for @ratracechronicler​‘s Writeblr Hunger Games! In which we meet our characters, and—maybe—get a glimpse of what’s in store for them…

My future didn’t look good.

That’s the problem with being a prophet. I can see the future, sure, but that doesn’t mean I can change it—and sometimes, it’s better not to know, to have a few hours more to enjoy life going on as normal. Ignorance is bliss, they say, and while it’s usually better not to take advice from the let’s-remain-willfully-ignorant crowd, in this particular case I found myself agreeing with them.

The announcer stood on stage, practicing his high notes. He seemed surprised when I walked up to him, although I couldn’t tell if it was regular shock or a flash of anger that the Peacekeepers flanking the steps hadn’t grabbed me. “Young lady, I appreciate your patriotism, but the Reaping doesn’t begin for another hour.” Pause. Neither of us moved. “What I’m saying is, clear off. I’m busy.” Another silence. I decided it was better to let him work it out. “I don’t want to call the guards-“

“Then don’t,” I said. “I’m volunteering.”

“You’re not one to tell me wh-“ He spluttered to a halt with the verbal equivalent of a backed-up engine, eyes going wide behind their square spectacles. “I’m sorry, you what? Why?”

“Do you care? I’m volunteering,” I repeated. “No one volunteers from District 7 most of the time. You should think you’re lucky.”

A suspicious glare is all I get for my troubles—he has the absolute audacity to pop his collar and sneer down at me, trying to regain his air of aloofness and arrogance. “That’s exactly why I’m suspicious,” he spits. “You planning something? Think you’re smart with a bag of tricks up your sleeve? We get plenty of disruptors thinking they can make a statement, stand up to the Capitol—and they all die in the end. Get out of here, kid.”

Just my luck to get the one announcer who didn’t want volunteers. “There’s no point,” I said flatly. “You’ll pick my name out of your…uh, bowl-orb container anyways. I’m trying to make this easier for all of us.”

“Hah. Good one.”

“I’m serious,” I snapped. “You want why, this is your answer: I get visions of the future, and I’ve seen them for long enough that I know they turn out to be true. And right now, I know that the first name you pull from that container, the first name who’s heading to the godforsaken Hunger Games, is my own.” I glared at him, knowing that he didn’t believe me. “Want to test it? Pick a name.”

He rolled his eyes. “This is a breach of protocol, you understand. I’m only doing it so you’ll leave me alone.” He reached in a hand, very deliberately shuffled around the papers inside, then grabbed one. “Isabel Keel.”

“That’s me,” I said, holding up my ID.

He paled. Good. “…coincidence,” he managed. “You just…got lucky. Seen this trick before.”

Really? He thinks getting chosen for the Games is lucky? Has he ever watched them? “Pick again,” I said calmly, knowing the result. “I said I wanted to make this easier.” He reached in again, much less flippant, and pulled out another slip. The way his eyes widened, and the fact he tore it half, told me everything I needed to know.

“Welcome…welcome to the Games, Miss Keel,” he said. “I would wish that the odds favored you, but clearly they already do.”

***

I’d hoped that by volunteering, I wouldn’t have to sit through the Reaping. To make it easier on myself, at least—I didn’t care what I put the Capitol through, let the bureaucratic bastards suffer—because God, I wanted nothing more than to get up and run as far as I could, hope that I could find a hiding spot before the Peacekeepers descended upon me. A fantasy, sure, but an appealing one.

Volunteering was the high point of my courage that day, a feeling which slowly ebbed away as I watched the announcer prattle on, as I watched the crowd’s gaze sweep back and forth between me and him. Some of them looked at me with pity, knowing I was being sent away to the Games, others simple confusion: why had I volunteered? Who was I? (I certainly didn’t know everybody in the district, and they didn’t know me either). I didn’t have much of an answer for them.

Course, there was still the matter of the other tribute. I think the announcer doubled his flourish, throwing in everything he hadn’t gotten to use for me as he pulled out another slip of paper. “Raina Strider!” he bellowed, scanning the crowd with the glare of a predator. “Well? Come on now, come and claim your honor!”

A girl in slacks and a navy-blue military jacket—probably from a parent, probably a dead parent if it had been sent back in that kind of a condition—was shoved to the front of the crowd, looking bewildered. “…I, uh…” she said, shooting a glance behind her. I’m pretty sure she went through all five stages of grief in that half-second, a grim resignation settling into her eyes. “Since…no one’s apparently willing to volunteer for me,” she added with a laugh, “I guess I’m here. Raina Strider.”

I dimly recognized her—spent all her time by the docks, even though we had less than one ship a year come by. Shorter than me, but she had muscles under that jacket: I’d already guessed at Navy parentage, and suspected that Strider kept up a training regimen as well. Following in their footsteps, except now that path had been cut off.

I offered her a hand up the stairs, designed for someone with far longer legs than the both of us. But clearly, today was not my day: the moment our fingertips brushed, visions flashed before my eyes.

Hands—not mine—wrapping a bandage. They’re gentle, oh so gentle, but it doesn’t matter because it’s not my arms that hurt, it’s my back, like a railroad spike through my spine. I stumble forwards, throwing out my hands to catch myself. They’re bloody. Covered in warm, dripping scarlet bloody, and I can’t tell if it’s mine or another’s, and I fall-

My hands don’t hit ground. I fall through, and I’m holding a stone…but I am no longer Isabel Keel, I am Raina Strider, squinting through the sun as Isabel nearly falls down the steps in front of me-

I caught myself, foot trembling at the edge of the stage. “Are you okay?” Strider asked, looking concerned. “Is something wrong?”

But I couldn’t meet her eyes, and I turned away, letting her clamber up the steps by herself. I held up my hands in front of my face, as if expecting to see them still streaked with red, heart pounding in my ears. What does it mean? I demanded of whatever deity cursed me to see the future and not be able to change it, to see the future and hardly ever understand it-

For perhaps the first time, I was truly scared of the Games. Strider was the reason for those visions, I knew it. Whatever I saw, whatever it means, she had something to do with it. With bloody hands and bandages…

I don’t know what it means, I reminded myself. I don’t understand it. I’m probably wrong—I hope I’m wrong… But I could think of only one likely explanation, as both of us were sent off to a competition with only one survivor: that, in the end, one of us would kill the other. 

[fillianore-moved]

evebs up to 20 for miss vivian?

SIR... thank you so so much, this was the oc developing excercise i needed for her istg! 💘💌 i’m gonna have to say sorry to people who were uninterested in this but my keep reading parter thing isn’t working so we are stuck rip

1. what is a rumor people tell about them?

wayhaven is a small city where everyone knows everyone and no one is exempt from gossips and rumors, not even it’s new detective! while there have been certain other rumors about her previously, currently the biggest one is that she got her promotion because of her mother’s influence and ties, and that she hardly deserves it - which granted makes sense, but for someone so proud of her work and achievments it’s difficult for vivi to hear these rumors and not hope for a chance to prove herself! her mother casts a long shadow...

2. how long would they last in the zombie apocalypse?

ah depends, if she’s with a group probably longer than alone! she’s not very physically powerful so that definitely puts her at a disadvantage, but she is very fast and difficult to catch too! i wouldn’t say she would be the last woman standing but her creative solutions and her knowledge would keep her alive for a decent amount of time even if she was on her own!

3. if they’re about to get in a fight, what song plays in their head as their ‘hype song’?

destiny’s child - survivor 100% (also maybe like half of their discography in general, she’s always listening early 2000s music)

4. how important is family to them?

i think not very much, but only because she hasn’t really had the chance to experience the good nor the bad that comes with having one? her dad died when she was very young and she doesn’t remember him and her mom was always away. she likes the idea of family but it’s very difficult for her to imagine herself as a part of a functional one, if that makes sense?

5. if they had a theme song, what would it be?

lorde - bravado

6. what’s a movie they can quote from start to finish?

clueless is definitely her all time fav and she watched it more times than she cares to admit! 

7. are they more of a leader or a follower?

she feels very comfortable being both! definitely more used to being a leader though, but doesn’t mind being a follower when she recognizes that someone else might have a better grip on the situation than her. but the moment the leader makes a mistake or does something she doesn’t agree with she will probably be the first one to try and take over the situation!

8. if they were given 1000 acres of land with no strings attached, what would they do with it?

honestly? she would probably sell it to someone who might know what to do with it... because she definitely isn’t one for that kind of working and planning. when she was younger she thought about having a farm but once she realized just how much work (mainly physical work) goes into it, she decided living in a small apartment is definitely suits her more!

9. if they had to flee their home country, where would they live?

she loves colder weather, so if she could pick anywhere she would probably pick a scandinavian country! 

10. do they think psychic abilities exist? Which one would they like to have?

before everything with the agency happened, she truly didn’t! maybe when she was a kid or a teen and was reading way too much sci fi and fantasy novels, but as she started growing older and working in a very no nonsense field she honestly didn’t even have the time to entertain such ideas? now that she knows stuff, she would definitely love to be able to read minds it is such a useful detective skill to have!

11. what was their favourite fairy tale growing up?

the snow queen by hans christian andersen! she got a very beautiful edition of the book from her mother for her 10th birthday and she remained forever slightly enchanted by it...

12. what’s a skill or craft they would like to master, but haven’t?

she used to sew a lot when she was in middle school and high school but her sewing machine broke and she never got to buying a new one... her skill is okay but she always wished to make something really extraordinary with it one day - well, not until she gets a new sewing machine at least and it’s been a long time she last made anything so she must be pretty rusty by now!

13. how did they find out Santa isn’t real?

at 7 years old she saw rebecca putting the presents under the tree and ever since then the christmas santa magic hasn’t been the same...

14. what’s a personality trait they wish they had?

she truly wishes she was a slightly more intimidating because with some people she’s worked with being charming just isn’t going to cut it especially when they don’t really take you seriously. all her confidence and wit don’t really help with certain situations unfortunately...

15. do they believe in getting revenge on those who wrong them? If so, how do they go about it?

vivi isn’t a very revenge driven person, it’s more likely for her to just cut ties with people who have wronged her and she has no problem doing so. in fact, it’s remarkable how easy she leaves people behind if they prove to be unworthy of her trust and loyalty. in a way for those people it might seem like a punishment of it’s own, because once she cuts someone out that’s that pretty much forever. but it’s pretty difficult getting her to do that, the person has to do something truly ugly for her to decide to remove them from her life!

16. if they were arrested with no explanation, what would their friends and family think they had done?

oh god i thought about this for so long and it would probably be either driving waaaay over the speed limit (which she might or might not do on the regular) or insurance fraud (one of these days she just might, she really wants a new car)...

17. in 40 years, what will they be the most nostalgic about?

probably all her time spent with the team bravo to be honest, but also she will remember the same period of her life really fondly because she finally mended the previously cold relationship with her mother which from then on continued to be one of the most important relationships of her entire life...

18. how would they describe their family?

yikes what family :( i mean nonexistent is one word for it at the moment, though now that she’s been fixing stuff with rebecca i guess we could say it’s on the ment at the moment!

19. if they could shop for free at one store, what would it be?

as she has the biggest sweet tooth in the world, probably some doughnut chain like krispy kreme or dunkin donuts... yes yes she knows it’s cliche for cops to like them, but at least she eats hers with tea exclusively not that muddy water people call coffee!

20. do they have any pets? If so, what are they?

yes! she has a hamster named pebble that she got for her last birthday from tina! vivian adores it to bits, although at first she was a bit taken aback because she never owned an animal and was afraid of hurting it. now they’re best pals and they watch reality tv together!

[maybe send me a question for one of my ocs 👉🏻👈🏻]

[sage-nebula]

mannnnn thank you for validating my dimitri salt because the fandom take of (usually f!)byleth """saving""" him with their (usually her) """warm hand""" etc. etc. gives me the heebie jeebies. i get that there's a lot of young people in this fandom who haven't necessarily worked out yet that no one should feel responsible for "changing" their significant other! but seeing it everywhere is annoying and i'd rather be over here in my own private salt mine, thank you very much >:(

You are very welcome. Putting the rest of my response under a cut so those who don’t wish to see this don’t have to.

First off, as a disclaimer, I just want to say: I don’t think you necessarily have to be young to be attracted to the “power of love saves all” trope, and I am also a firm believer that you can enjoy something in fiction without endorsing / liking it in real life. I myself am a fan of some dark tropes; I love drama and angst, and I have been known to put characters into downright awful situations that I would never want anyone to suffer through in real life. Fiction serves many purposes, but one of those purposes is to allow people to explore ideas that are dark or terrible in safe avenues that hurt no one. This is why there has been fiction that depicts things like gruesome murders, for example, for centuries. People who write books about murderers (usually) don’t actually murder people themselves, nor do they want anyone to be murdered. They’re just telling a story they thought might be interesting, and others who enjoy that type of story (but also probably aren’t murderers and wouldn’t want to murder anyone in real life) are reading it. So it’s entirely possible that people who are drawn to the idea of F!Byleth “saving” Dimitri from his “darkness” with the power of her love are adults, and are also people who wouldn’t go for that sort of thing in real life. That’s completely possible, and I don’t begrudge those people for it. You do you, and all that. If that’s your type of thing, great. More power to you.

But as you’ve gathered from your posts, I personally don’t like it at all.

I haven’t finished Azure Moon yet, but so far I hate … pretty much everything about the way Dimitri’s character has shaken out, and how his relationship with Byleth is being forced now. Because let’s get one thing clear: Dimitri’s feelings that Byleth “saved” him are almost as much of a 180 as his feelings regarding not wanting to kill Edelgard, with potentially even less explanation if you can swallow that he, for some reason, believed that Patricia was the first Flame Emperor because Cornelia (enemy and known liar) said so as she was dying right off the bat without any proof to back up the claim. When Dimitri first saw Byleth after five years, he at first thought they were a ghost, and then accused them of being a spy, and THEN went on to say that he didn’t really care either way so long as he could keep murdering people (and still later said that he would “use [Byleth] and [their] friends until [their] flesh fell from their bones” so, yikes). It wasn’t until Dimitri saw Dedue that there was any sign of his behavior changing even slightly. Dedue’s reunion got the romantic sounding music. Dedue brought out the softness in Dimitri. Dedue comes across as a far more natural love interest for Dimitri than Byleth ever could. Once Rodrigue kicks the bucket, Dimitri still pushes Byleth away until he breaks down into a Woe Is Me speech and Byleth offers their hand. At that point Dimitri’s gratitude and fondness for Byleth begins being pushed very hard, in a way that feels unnatural and unrealistic given how he’d behaved up until that point. If Dimitri had been more broken up and touched at Byleth’s reappearance after five years, sure, maybe. But as it stands it feels unnatural, and leads me as a player to believe that Byleth flat out just did not mean as much to Dimitri as they meant to Claude or especially Edelgard.

But all of that—the bad writing, of which there are other instances in Azure Moon, to the point where in my opinion this feels like the Conquest of Three Houses—is a minor issue. The bigger issue is the fact that the game pushes that we’re supposed to sympathize with Dimitri and see him as a tragically heroic figure when I … don’t, at all, for multiple reasons.

The first, and perhaps biggest, issue is the way his trauma and mental illness is being used by the narrative as the defining reason for why we should sympathize with him. Dimitri was traumatized when he was about fourteen by seeing his parents, friends, and others killed brutally in front of him during the Tragedy in Duscur. (Note that in this same incident Dedue witnessed GENOCIDE CARRIED OUT ON HIS PEOPLE, HIS FAMILY MURDERED RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM, but the trauma that he should have from this is basically never touched upon, and instead he acts as though people from Faerghus—you know, the kingdom that COMMITTED GENOCIDE AGAINST HIS PEOPLE—should not associate with him lest it stain their reputations. Hmm. Hmmm.) Somehow, at the tender age of fourteen, Dimitri went on a brutal killing tirade during this incident, delighting in bloodshed, which understandably disturbed and traumatized Felix (whose own brother was slain during that incident, mind, albeit not by Dimitri obviously), who then cut ties with him, not wanting to be friends with someone like that anymore. (Note: Everyone acts as though Felix was the bad one for this, rather than thinking it reasonable to not want to be friends with someone who delights in murder and bloodshed.) As a result of all of this, Dimitri regularly hallucinates the ghosts of his dead relatives and friends, and devotes his entire life to avenging them by murdering whoever was responsible for the Tragedy of Duscur, as well as whoever gets in his way of accomplishing that. (Note: “Who was responsible” is something Dimitri will accept with basically no evidence. He believes Edelgard was responsible because she called herself the Flame Emperor and wore a similar outfit to the one he saw back then. Never mind that she is his age and thus was also a fourteen-year-old child at the time; no, he believes she must have magically made herself the size of an adult and was capable of killing not only her own mother, but also his father (who carried a Hero’s Relic!) and countless others. Because that makes sense.)

So. It’s clear that Dimitri has deep-seated trauma, and it’s understandable that he would have trauma from such a grisly, horrible event. It is also true that not everyone reacts to trauma in the same way, and that there is a definite stigma against those who don’t react to their trauma in ways that people can twist to be “cute” or “endearing”. I’ve talked about the Good Survivor vs. Bad Survivor dichotomy among fans on my blog before, and I stand by everything that I said. However, there are several key points to keep in mind:

Not all behaviors can be classed as just “Good” or “Bad”, and furthermore, even if two behaviors are agreed upon to be “Bad”, that doesn’t mean they’re on the same scale. Being asocial and snapping verbally at people isn’t the behavior of a “Good” Survivor, but it’s also not nearly as bad as actually murdering people and doing it as slowly and painfully as possible. Getting on someone’s case because their trauma makes them reluctant to socialize or trust isn’t the same as calling them out for torturing people to death. This shouldn’t have to be said, but this is tumblr, so I’m going to say it.

Succinctly, a shitty past does not excuse a shitty present. Yes, Dimitri was traumatized. No, this DOES NOT justify his actions even before the timeskip, much less after it. Similarly, Dimitri lampshading that his behavior is bad and calling himself ~a monster~ doesn’t make it better, either. If anything, it makes it worse, because Dimitri knows that what he’s doing is horrible and he continues to do it anyway. Just because you’ve been traumatized (rather through a single incident or years of abuse or whatever) doesn’t give you a free pass to do whatever you want. You are accountable for your actions and behaviors, always. Trauma may explain why you behave the way you do, but it does not excuse it.

The problem with the narrative portrayal of Dimitri on Azure Moon (and arguably Verdant Wind as well, since we had an Alas Poor Dimitri moment when he was killed on Verdant Wind despite him literally calling for the deaths of everyone on the field in that path, straight up telling Claude to his face that he was going to kill him) is that the game pretty much flat out tells you that you should sympathize with Dimitri because of his trauma. Oh sure, Felix calls Dimitri “the boar prince” and routinely chews him out, but if you tell Felix that you’re not going to talk to Dimitri shortly after the timeskip, Felix tells you to “not give up so easily” and that Dimitri surrendered his humanity in pursuit of becoming a better killer, as if that’s supposed to make him sympathetic. Rodrigue tells Byleth that he wishes that he had the courage to “scold” Dimitri, but doesn’t actually do anything about it. And every single person present, including both Rodrigue and Gilbert, go along with whatever Dimitri wants, even when what he wants ignores the problem of the fact that Faerghus citizens are starving to death in the streets because of the situation in the capital. Dimitri flat out tells EVERYONE that he is all but abdicating his duties as king in the name of revenge, but rather than Rodrigue or someone else experienced coming to the logical conclusion taht he is therefore no longer fit to be king and relieving him of those duties (not necessarily violently; I doubt he would have put up an argument), they instead just go, “welp, nothing we can do about it we guess” and go along with what he wants, leaving the people to suffer, because Dimitri is of the Blaiddyd bloodline and, well, he’s a sad boy and they feel bad for him.

I shouldn’t have to say it, but I’m going to: This is disgusting. It’s disgusting that Dimitri’s trauma is used as a way to try to make the player feel bad for him despite the atrocities he commits time and again right there on screen. When Byleth first returns to the monastery after five years, it’s to find that he’s decorated the place with Empire soldier corpses. Byleth has to mercy kill Randolph before Dimitri can rip out his eyes, something Dimitri grows angry with them for. Dimitri says, immediately after that, the line that has stuck with me: “I’ll use you and your friends until your flesh falls from your bones.” He’s told that the people in Fhirdiad are starving and dying in the streets and need help and he flat out says he doesn’t care. He relishes in bloodshed and crows at every opportunity about how he wants to kill. While both Claude and Edelgard look regretful about the battle at Gronder Field, Dimitri just once again roars about how he wants his soldiers to kill every single person present. And through it all, we’re told that this is okay and we should forgive and feel sorry for him because he’s traumatized. It’s not really his fault, it’s just, ooh, that darn trauma!

As someone who has C-PTSD from years and years of abuse, I can’t begin to tell you how much narratives like this infuriate me. Those of us with trauma aren’t mindless infants who are unaware of our surroundings and incapable of controlling our behavior. When I say “a shitty past doesn’t excuse a shitty present” and “traumatized individuals are responsibel for their behavior,” I say that from the perspective of someone with trauma that affects me to this day. My abuse was such that sometimes I still have nightmares about my biological mother that leave me dazed and distracted for the whole day. I’ve really been through it. But I’m also 100% responsible for my own behavior. It’s my responsibility, and no one else’s, to make sure that I don’t hurt others. If I do something wrong, that’s on me, and my trauma will never excuse or justify it. 

So for the narrative of Three Houses to act as though Dimitri’s rampant murder, (attempted) torture, and love for bloodshed and violence is excusable and forgivable because of his trauma is infuriating to me. It’s infuriating to me how, after that insipid ~warm hand~ moment, Dimitri launches into constant Woe Is Me speeches where we’re meant to reassure him that it’s okay that he committed so many murders for no reason other than to quench his blood thirst, it’s okay that he wanted to use his former friends as meat shields to get what he wanted, it’s okay he abandoned his people to die in the streets, that he’s still a good and worthy king and ~just what Faerghus needs~. We’re supposed to see his return to Fhirdiad as a good thing, an inspiring moment. We’re supposed to side with him when he (I assume) later acts the hypocrite by telling Edelgard that People Dying Is Wrong and that she should surrender to him instead. (Never mind that deaths caused by Edelgard’s actions were caused as a result of a war that was necessary to take down the Church of Seiros, which actually had been ruling all of Fodlan under the guise of letting the different territories rule themselves for ages, while Dimitri just killed Empire soldiers for his own blood thirst and revenge, but you know. If you ask most of the people in the fandom, Saint Didi can do no wrong.)

But the thing is, all of that is bullshit. It wasn’t okay that he committed so many murders for the sake of his own revenge fantasies and blood lust. It wasn’t okay that he wanted his former friends to be his meat shields. It wasn’t okay that he abandoned his people. None of that was okay. And I don’t want to sit here and console him and make him feel better just because he apologies and cries about how he’s The Biggest Monster Ever as a result of his actions. Because a.) his actions were monstrous, and b.) that’s an emotionally manipulative tactic, and I’m here for none of it.

Before I go any further, let me state flat out: I’m not calling Dimitri an emotional abuser. I don’t think that was the intent behind those Woe Is Me pity parties of his, from a writing standpoint, and therefore that’s not what he’s thinking he’s doing when he goes on them. I will call Dimitri many things, including a murderer, but I won’t call him an emotional abuser because I don’t think that was the intent in the writing. However, regardless of whether that was the intent in the writing or not, it doesn’t change the fact that one of the oldest tricks in the emotional manipulation book is, when emotional manipulators / abusers are called out on their behaviors and forced to answer to the things they’ve done, they’ll flip the script and start degarding themselves and talking about how awful they are so their victims end up comforting them. A very basic demonstration of what I mean:

Victim: “It really hurts me when you act like you can’t trust me and go through my phone to see who I’ve been talking to. I feel like my privacy is being violated and like you think I’m dishonest.”

Manipulator: “You’re right, I know I should trust you more. I just get so insecure and scared that you’ll leave me.” 

Victim: “I know you deal with insecurity, but that doesn’t give you a right to go through my things. It really upsets me when you do this.”

Manipulator: “I know, I’m such a horrible person. I’m the worst partner. You deserve so much better than me, I understand that you hate me, I’m just the worst and am absolutely useless and terrible and not fit to be even your friend, much less your partner.”

Victim: “No, wait, that’s not true …”

And on and on. Even if they pepper in “I’m sorry”s in there, it’s never once a genuine apology, because they spend so much time tearing themselves down in an exaggerated fashion that the victim feels like they have to comfort the person who hurt them. Similarly, when Dimitri goes on his speeches about how he’s ~unworthy to be king~ or a monster or whatever, the answer choices given are Byleth comforting him one way or the other. We’re never given an option (beyond telling Felix we won’t talk to Dimitri right after the time skip) to tell Dimitri that he is awful, that he doesn’t deserve to be king, or really to revoke our support in any way at all. And because Byleth is not given that option, the narrative is telling us that the correct “choice” (because there really isn’t one) is to sympathize with and empower Dimitri despite how heinous is behavior is. Because Dimitri was traumatized, poor thing, and thus it’s okay that he brutally murdered all those people for no reason other than his own satisfaction. 

(Note: The game never once says “revenge is wrong because it just breeds more revenge.” Even though it seemed like they were going that way with Randolph and Fleche, it’s not Fleche wanting to murder Dimitri that makes Dimitri realize that what he’s been doing is fucked up, it’s Rodrigue dying defending him from Fleche. So even if you wanted to say that Dimitri being blood thirsty and out for revenge was meant to teach him a lesson about how he should behave, it’s not, because that’s not a lesson he ever actually picks up on.)

And that finally ties into what I think you were driving at in your ask (boy, I’ve been at this for a long time), which is the narrative of someone “saving” someone else with their love. By telling the player that they, as Byleth, should excuse and forgive Dimitri for his atrocities because he was traumatized and sad, the narrative (and all the characters in the narrative) are basically pushing Byleth to be Dimitri’s therapist. And as I said in the tags on one of my Azure Moon hate posts (or maybe on twitter, I can’t remember, it all blends together), I am not here for that.

Aside from the fact that both Edelgard and Claude seem to genuinely care for Byleth the whole way through, the other primary difference between them and Dimitri is the fact that Byleth doesn’t have to play therapist for either of them. Claude, for the most part, doesn’t have any major traumas; he did have to grow up being outcasted for being mixed race, and that is its own kind of trauma which I am in NO WAY diminishing, but that trauma he faced was the more realistic type of trauma that people in real life face every day. He is still the most well-adjusted of the three. As for Edelgard, she is in my opinion even more traumatized than Dimitri, but not only is her trauma handled in such a way that it’s never used as an excuse for her behavior (the experiences that traumatized her helped her form the beliefs that spur her actions, but her actions always route back to those beliefs, not to “ghosts made me do it”), but she also pretty much keeps her trauma to herself as best she can and never hinges her emotional stability on Byleth. Yes, Byleth’s presence helps balance Edelgard since Byleth is a secondary confidant and can therefore offer counter-influence to Hubert’s toxic influence (not bashing Hubert here, I’m just saying, he is the WORST influence), but although it’s made clear that Edelgard deeply missed Byleth for the past five years to the point of lamenting about it constantly to the rest of the Black Eagle Strike Force, she also kept her shit together and didn’t wantonly murder people as a result of Byleth’s absence. When she comes to Byleth with issues, they’re usually tactics or strategy related. Byleth is only ever able to learn about Edelgard’s past in late night moments of emotional vulnerability, such as after a nightmare. And even then, Edelgard sharing those moments is less “HEAL MY PAST TRAUMA AND MAKE ME BETTER, PROFESSOR” and more “okay, I trust you enough to tell you this.” It’s not about helping stabilize Edelgard, it’s about earning enough of Edelgard’s trust to learn of her past.

This is in stark contrast to Dimitri, who, again, is completely off his shits, and him being off his shits is treated as a problem that Byleth (/the player) needs to “fix.” Felix tells you to do something about Dimitri. Rodrigue asks you to steer Dimitri in a better direction. Gilbert and Dedue both thank you for “saving” Dimitri even before he finishes being off his shits. The Azure Moon route is about forcing Byleth into the position of therapist and having them do emotional labor for Dimitri, which is hilarious if you think about how Byleth didn’t even start having emotions until teaching at the academy, but also unbelievably aggravating to me, as a player, because I don’t want to be a therapist for a murderous sadboy. I don’t like Dimitri. I don’t approve of his actions or behaviors. And I don’t give a shit what his reasons are for it. I’m not here to be his therapist or do that emotional labor, and I shouldn’t have to be. No one should have to be, except a paid therapist, and only because they’re being paid and have agreed to take on the job. But even then, Dimitri is still his own responsiblity. He is a grown fucking man. It shouldn’t be my or anyone else’s job to do this for him. Neither Edelgard or Claude (or Yuri, for that matter, in Cindered Shadows) required this much emotional labor and bullshit, for fucksake.

But of course, in all of this, I think what gets me more than anything present in the entire game is the fact how, from what I’ve seen, people in fandom by and large worship Dimitri and bend themselves into pretzels painting him as heroic while simultaneously spitting bile at Edelgard and making her out to be a villain. The contrast in their respective pages on TV Tropes is stark. I know I shouldn’t be surprised, given that Edelgard is a woman (and a queer woman, at that) and Dimitri is a blond white boy, and that’s just the way these things tend to be, but it still pisses me off and frustrates me to no end. Fandoms are simultaneously the best and worst of times and this will likely never change. (But honestly, if Edelgard’s role was filled by the blond white pretty boy while Dimitri’s was filled by the woman, I guarantee you that reception to them would be flipped right around. Guarantee.)

Anyway, this turned into a huge rant. I didn’t even expect it to be this long when I started writing. But suffice to say that while I’ve not yet finished Azure Moon, it’s currently my least favorite of the routes I’ve played (best is Crimson Flower, then Cindered Shadows because shut up I’m counting it, then Verdant Wind, and then Azure Moon; I’m ignoring the existence of Silver Snow since I cannot imagine ever not siding with Edelgard when I’ve chosen the Black Eagles), and I cannot stand Didi. He is the worst of the House Leaders by far. Considering how much he has in common with Rhea, it shouldn’t be surprising I feel this way about him, but boy, do I feel this way about him. So go ahead and feel validated, anon. You will not find Didi or Azure Moon love on this blog. You are not alone in this, trust.