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zirconika · 6 months ago

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nine lives of a thief

TWO | the first life

NAVIGATION . MASTERLIST

This chapter is part of a series entitled 'Nine Lives of a Thief,’ but you may choose to read each part as a oneshot. Click the link to view the series masterlist!

PAIRING: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader WORDS: 4.7k SUMMARY: While on a supply run with Aaron, Daryl is eager to learn more about you. Getting pieces of you and your story then propels him to revisit your history to determine the best way to make it up to you. It goes awry when he discovers a secret you've been keeping for years. WARNINGS: Angst. Fluff is only in the childhood flashback. Uses scenes from S05EP16 SETTING: Pre-Negan Alexandria and Pre-Apocalypse A/N: omfg sorry for the late update i’ve been busy taking care of my college requirements and i took driving classes HAHSNDHDHAJA anyway hope u guys like this one

Daryl Dixon was a man who was wired to function solely on just destination—get to it, do it, and leave it. It confused him that a part of him now ran on motivation. It was not the drive to operate that confounded him, but that he was always eager to return.

To you. To see you.

And if he’s lucky, maybe even speak to you. It bothered Daryl that the last real conversation you had was the first time you spoke since ever. There never seemed to be an opportunity anymore, and if there was, you always seemed like you were in a hurry or that you were busy as if you had a nine-to-five corporate job you had to tend to.

He knew you were somewhat avoiding him, whether you knew it or not.

Right now, Daryl was focused on one thing—getting food for the community. Coming back to you was a close second. Even as Aaron made conversation, you were all he could think about. How he’d initiate a conversation without starting one.

The longer he listened to Aaron, the more he thought of ways he could bring you up: That girl, how’s she been? No, it’s too upfront.

“You okay?” asked his friend.

Daryl perked up. “Hm? Ah, m’sorry, just distracted.”

“You wanna ask me something,” Aaron guessed as they kept walking.

“Yeah, I… Wanted to ask ‘bout Eric. Er—how is he?” Daryl worried Aaron would catch on, but it was clear he loved talking about his beloved. His enthusiasm for Eric reminded Daryl of your spirit back when he first met you when he was all but six.

A bright smile broke on Aaron’s face as Daryl opened a wired gate. Aaron’s smile stayed as he talked about Eric. “Says he misses being out here with me. I do, too and…”

Daryl swung the gate open, entering the deserted courtyard, thinking only of you while Aaron talked about Eric. It wasn’t that Daryl didn’t care—he did, but it wasn’t exactly easy to act like he did when his mind did him a grizzly favor bringing you up every single time. How much older you looked…

He felt he missed a great deal of your life, and he was hoping he’d get to see more of it now that you’d reunited. If only you just weren’t so damn hard to reach then—

“You ever felt that way about anyone before?” Aaron asked him as he followed from behind. He could sense the question in Daryl’s eyes. If he knew Daryl wasn’t listening, he didn’t give him too much for it. “Love, I mean.”

He hadn’t heard of that word in a long time. In fact, he thinks the first time he ever learned of the word was decades ago.

“That Dixon kid spells trouble.”

It was your father’s routine to comment on your then next door neighbors whenever he visited you at your grandparents’ home in Georgia. It was usually that specific combination, but it also differed each day. Sometimes, he was talking about the younger kid, while sometimes the older one.

It mattered to you a lot. You knew them more than just trouble. You were keen on making sure your family never found out you had a crush on ‘that Dixon kid.’

The first time you met Daryl, you were instantly hooked by his eyes. To you, it was the greatest shade of blue you’ve ever seen. You were just settling in your grandparents’ home, saddened to spend your childhood away from your parents as they worked in the city. They figured it wasn’t exactly the best place to raise a child, so they sent you to the scorching land that is rural Georgia, in the safety of your grandparents’ care.

You hated the Georgia heat, hated that you had to say goodbye to your friends in the city. That is until you saw that charming fella, sporting worn out overalls as he rode his bike away from home.

You just had butterflies fluttering in your belly. At first, you thought he had pepper or some sort of dirt just above his lips, but you learned the hard way that it was only a mole, but that’s another story for later.

Rejection from a crush is usually a direction to stay away. To you, however, you were only more interested in getting close to the much shorter kid. You planned on befriending him first, then riding a horse to a faraway castle to get married second.

The first time Daryl met you, he despised you. He loathed you, even. Hated the way you wore your hair in braids and the way you couldn’t take a hint even if he tried. It was on the first day of first grade, only on the way to school.

He always sat alone by the window in the school bus, his lunch nothing but a juice carton he could fit in his tiny pocket. You had sat down next to the boy, his feet barely enough to reach the floor.

“Y’know, you’re gonna starve if you call that your lunch later,” you told him.

He only scowlded at you in response, ignoring you to watch the world pass by the window.

You smiled at him nonetheless. As far as you were concerned, you liked this boy. You knew right then that you would be safe in his company. “I’m [Y/N]. You are?”

No response. You let that go on for a while—just sitting right next to each other as he watched the small world pass him by, acting as if you weren’t even there. Unapologetically, you touched the surface of his face just above his lips, trying to swipe away the supposed dirt stain.

“What’d ‘ya do that for?”

“You have something on your face! I couldn’t just let you go to school with that,” you argued. You could almost see it: the kids laughing and pointing at him all because he forgot to wipe off a stain from his face! You were just concerned is all.

The boy wiped at his cheek with his hand, only to realize what you were referring to. “Heavens to Betsy! S’just a mole I’ve had since I’s a baby!”

“Great! We’re making conversation.” You smile at the boy. “You’ve gotta think it’s silly that I know about your mole and not your name.”

“Not gonna. Yer piddlin’, talkin’ so loud ‘ya could piss off the Pope, actin’ lower than a snake's belly in a wagon rut!”

You frown, confused at his Southern lingo “Piss of the Pope? Lower than a snake’s what?”

His frown dissolved. “What, yer not from around here or somethin’?”

He was relieved to see your smile return, glad to not have pissed you off to send you running back to whichever father you had who, he assumed, probably had a shotgun.

“Yeah! I’m from Brooklyn.”

The boy grunted, crossing his arms. “You’ve got an awful lot to say for someone who just moved.”

“Oh, I only have this much to say to people I like.”

“Well, I don’t like you,” he interjected.

You only smiled as you unzipped your bag to pull out another smaller bag. “Didn’t say you had to, because I can make you!”

Before he could argue, you tore your sandwich in half, handing one half to him and keeping one the other for yourself to munch on. “Try it,” you tell him.

“How do I know ya ain’t trynna poison me?”

Rolling your eyes, you took a bite from the snack. You handed it to him insistently. “I’m still alive.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Just try it!”

Daryl’s never had enough good things in his life that your sandwich appeared to be more of a threat than a peace offering. He was used to getting the shortest end of the stick, or not even any.

He opened his mouth to debate against it, but he gave in. One bite in and something told you he hasn’t had something quite like it for the past year. You decided right then and there that you wanted to be the one who could put a smile on his face.

“This—sh’good.” The young boy admitted in between loud chewing. “You made this?”

“Meemaw did,” you replied, grinning as you ate your own half. “I’ve got more snacks in my bag, if you wanna share them later. But I need to know your name first!”

The bus came to a halt. It was the first time you looked at him clearly, and him you. “I’m Daryl.”

That night, he was all you could think of. The blue-eyed little boy who you were determined to make yours. His pretty nose, his funny walk, his everything. You weren’t particularly secretive with your feelings, bringing a sandwich for him after you asked your grandma to pack you two every day.

It wasn’t just the sandwiches, though. You’d often pester him, asking if he’d ever want to marry you one day, to which he’d respond with, “Ew, never!”

“Daryl,” you called to him as he ran away from you, retreating back to his house.

“What?” he turned back to yell.

Grinning, you braced yourself for his outburst of anger. You made it a hobby to rile Daryl on your quest to make him yours. “I loooove you!”

“No!” he spat back, running even faster back to his house. You laughed the entire time, thinking of when he’d eventually wear down and say it back. Little did your young self know, she’d be able to turn the tables around in just a decade. But that’s a story for another time.

Little Daryl, on the other hand, lay in bed, staring at the ceiling racking his mind on ways he could get rid of you. That day, he was guilty of something grave, something dangerous. Thieves are born once they do the honor of their first theft, and you were just unlucky enough to be Daryl's first victim, having done you the untimely inconvenience of stealing your heart. That day was the first of many lives he would lead.

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“I dunno, I was young. But I guess I did, once,” Daryl said after recounting his earliest memory he had of you: stubborn, ambitious, and determined. “Whatever it was, I screwed it up.”

“Screwed up how?” Aaron asked, and Daryl wondered if you had opened up about your past to the guy. He wishes he’d brought you up in the conversation earlier on so that it wouldn’t be suspicious for him to suddenly talk about you after he’d just given a glimpse into his history.

“Drove her away when I drove away,” Daryl said lightly. He was relieved to find a confused Aaron, but more so when they reached a couple of cargo containers lined up in an organized fashion marked with the text: How the harvest gets home.

Aaron wanted to ask, but his interest was piqued by the promise of food to take home. They made their way through the gap between the two containers, eager to give it a look. Daryl noticed the two cans hanging by the sides before he followed suit, but he followed anyway.

The pair climbed up the short length of stairs, pleased to find more containers.

“Huh,” Aaron chuckled, enthused about what awaited behind the doors. The can on the door was certainly appetizing. “Woah…”

Daryl watched as Aaron mused about the container, who bent down to loot his pack for a tool to obtain another license plate, this time from Alaska—K4Z 816, with the subtext ‘The Last Frontier.’ There was definitely something… Strange and unsettling about the place. However, the promise of something to bring back weighed more than the thought of coming empty-handed. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?

“Hey, listen,” Aaron called out, triumphant while Daryl explored the small space enclosed by the containers. “I don’t like giving up either. But… The guy is in a red poncho. You could see him from miles away. We’ve got a lot of miles here, and no sign of him.”

The lock of the container caught Daryl’s attention.

Aaron began to walk over to Daryl after getting a new addition to his collection. “We’ve come away with… A trailer full of cans. I’d say that’s a good trip!”

The pair stopped in front of one of the containers. Daryl bent down to tinker with the lock, eager to get out of there to return to you. “Here you go.”

The archer was already picturing the many things he wanted to do when he saw you again, and the ways he could approach you. Daryl grunted as he swung the handle open.

The choice to open the door was certainly a choice, albeit an absolutely fatal one. Wires snapped from all directions as the door slid open upwards. There were no cans inside of the container, no. The pair jumped in horror as they were met by the gruesome sight of the dead, some impaled by a hook and some able to chase freedom.

One by one, all of the doors swung open to reveal the very same scene in front of them. The pair dashed out of the scene upon discovering their mission was a total bust.

The walkers were already pouring out into the open space, blocking their only way out. Daryl plunged his knife down one of the walkers making its way to him, its groans speaking only of its lethal appetite. Aaron, on the other hand, made a weapon out of the license plate he’d just looted, smashing it against the temple of a walker twice until its head split open.

“Over here!” Aaron yelled to Daryl, pointing to the space under one of the containers. The archer followed Aaron in a haste and for the first time in a long while, Daryl feared death.

He felt his heart beat faster every passing second that the dead clawed their way to them, crawling with an undying thirst for their flesh. He wondered if you’d miss him if he were to die now, if you’d look for him…

No. There was no way in damn hell he’d die without explaining himself at least twice. That’s right—twice. And even possibly more just so you’d take him back. He’d make it up to you. Daryl stole one glance at the walker crawling towards him with a ‘W’ blatantly itched on its forehead before obtaining a long metal chain as a weapon.

The troubled pair hurriedly got out of the small space, with Daryl whipped the chain on three incoming walkers, ruthlessly determined to get out of there. He was already drafting a plan in his head: get out of there, get to you, talk to you. He was no longer going to spend more time waiting around for the right time, if there even was such a thing.

He plunged his dagger deep into the head of the walker that had gotten ahold of Aaron’s bag before running out together. Aaron wasted no time slicing the head of a walker clean with his own machete, eager to be out of there as soon as possible. He did the same for another one coming his way.

Holy shit, was it terrifying having to push through the walking dead as if it were just a mosh pit in a concert. The two couldn’t even begin to catch their breath as they jumped into the same door of a car, especially as a head of a walker just peeped inside in time when Aaron made to shut the door close. He had to do it multiple times until the head was crushed enough for him to finally close it.

The shelter of the car was no use, though. Walkers gathered from all sides, clamoring to get inside. They both knew it wouldn’t hold and would eventually give up. For sure, more walkers would be drawn by the commotion, curious to get a piece of what was inside the damn car.

“Glass will hold for a while, right?” Aaron asked, observing the crowd of hands and brutal groans from the dead on all sides of the car’s windows.

“Maybe,” Daryl replied, still holding a dagger in his hand. Daryl thought of ways he could salvage this mission for the sake of returning to you. “Maybe we can make it so they can't see us. In a couple hours, somethin’ will come by, they’ll follow it out. There’s gotta be somethin’ in here we can use to block the view.”

Aaron began to rummage through the compartments. “We can cut up these seats.”

He only found an eerie warning written on a crumpled sheet of paper in one of the cup holders, stating, ‘TRAP. BAD PEOPLE COMING. DON’T STAY.’

Aaron showed it to Daryl, who could only think of how damn helpful it would have been three minutes ago. Just like that, he was drained of the hope he could ever return to you.

They sat there for a while like that, hopeless. Daryl chuckled.

“What?” Aaron asked.

“I came out here to… Not feel all closed up back there. Even now, this feels like me… Than back in them houses. That’s pretty messed up, huh?”

“You were trying,” he assured Daryl.

“Can I tell ya somethin’?”

Aaron nodded. “Lay it on me.”

“[Y/N]... I’ve known her since we were kids. She’s—er—the one I been thinkin’ of back there when ya asked me if I’ve ever felt it before. I did. I… I thought I’d never even see her again, so I put her in the back of my mind ‘cause the last time I did, I ruined her for good. I thought she was livin’ the perfect life I always pictured for her if I left, thought she was better off. Then I met her and… Shit, I’m an asshole.”

Aaron sat there, taking in everything Daryl had just told him. You had shared a fair piece of your history to him, entrusting him with a small part of your past you thought you’d never end up facing again. He knew of a first love that broke your heart, knew you have your fair share of regrets and grudges. He just didn’t expect it to be Daryl Dixon.

“I see.” Aaron only nodded. “She used to be my partner out on these runs, yknow.”

“Yeah?” Daryl asked, intrigued. He was never able to learn much about you for the past week, having been cautious about who he could and could not ask. “Why’d it stop?”

“Well…” Aaron sighed, his eyes focused on the unsightly crowd of dead clamoring to break the glass. “I don’t think it’s my story to tell.”

“You don’t think we’re gonna die in here?” Daryl asked with a smirk.

“Yeah, I don’t. We’re both gonna get out of here and you’ll ask her about it and she’ll tell you.” Aaron looked around the windows. “You’ve got a lot to know. It wasn’t easy for her back then.”

“Right.”

“Listen, I saw you with your group out there on the road. Then you went off on your own by the barn. Storm hit and you led your people to safety. That was it. I knew I had to bring you people back.”

Daryl could only give him a hopeless smile.

“You were right. We should have kept looking for that guy in a poncho,” Aaron said, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have given up. You didn’t.”

Daryl licked his lips before pulling out a cigar and placing it between his teeth. He didn’t mind having a heroic end anymore, because it meant earning him at least an ounce of redemption. It would be a sort of repentance for what he’d done to you all those years. “I’ll go.”

Aaron looked back up to him, confused.

Daryl had to explain as he lit his cigarette. “I’ll lead them out. You make a break for the fence.”

“No, no, no,” said Aaron. “This was my fault.”

“It wasn’t a question.” He’d made up his mind. Daryl took away the cigarette from his mouth for a moment. “And this ain’t your decision. It ain’t nobody’s fault. Just let me finish my smoke first.”

Aaron looked at Daryl, and he was sure the archer did not want to die just yet. He wasn’t gonna let that happen to his friend. “No. You don’t draw them away. We fight.”

And fight they did, braving the outside. It was simply luck that the man in the red poncho happened to be their very savior, and he was just looking for the man that led them to shelter.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Any half-sane man should have been concerned with the matter at hand—the crime scene unfolding before him. Rick stood there, blood the main component of his gait, having just executed the community’s only doctor.

And yet Daryl couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, couldn’t help but stop the questions running in his head: Is she alrigh’? What is she thinkin’ right now? Is she okay? Is she fine?

When your eyes met his, we raised his brow in question. You only looked down, avoiding his look. You always did that. You’ve been avoiding him. This time, he let it slide. After all, you did just witness a murder.

For a while after that, you continued to avoid him. He let you. Maybe because he wanted you to, but eventually he grew tired of it. A couple of nights after the incident, he decided he’d take matters into his own hands with you.

Daryl watched you from below. You were on watch duty at this hour of the night, manning the gates in the event a threat presented itself.

You were so lost in thought you almost fell off the wooden watch tower when someone offered you a sandwich.

“I don’t think ya should be on watch if ya didn’t even catch me climbin’ up here,” the archer said, his hand outstretched with a wrapped sandwich in hand. “Made it myself.”

“Sorry, I was just…”

“Avoidin’ me?” he asked.

“What?” you asked back with a nervous laugh that faded into silent confession. You took the sandwich, scrutinizing it with a nostalgic burn in your chest. This has happened before, but you didn’t want to ask him about it or bring it up in any way at all.

Daryl looked into the distance, the night sky with a lot more stars than he could recall from when he left. “Stars are brighter nowadays, huh?”

You’re grateful he was kind enough to give you a break from the subject. But he wasn’t trying to change it. He was just thinking of the night he left… “Light pollution’s gone down, so… Yay apocalypse?”

His gaze returned back to you, and you wanted to beat yourself up for feeling that familiar rush of butterflies in your stomach like you did back when the only thing you felt for him was love. “Ya ain’t gonna try it? S’gonna get cold.”

“How do I know you’re not gonna—?”

This time, Daryl took the bread from your hands to take a bite. “Poison ya? I’m still alive.”

You took the sandwich with a laugh. “I was gonna say drug me into liking you.”

“Don’t need drugs for that.” Daryl gave you that same old damned smile he did, and suddenly the air smelled like the leather seats of your parents’ car that you stole. You held his stare, but you refused to return the smile.

“I should go,” you told him, shoving the bread to his chest as you rushed down the ladder. You heard Daryl’s frustrated and confused grunt while you were hurrying down.

By the time you got down, Daryl was just close behind. “[Y/N|,” he called out calmly. “Goodnight, Daryl.” You felt the tears prickle in your eyes. You refused to face him, you just felt the fire in your legs propelling you forward, pushing you to run home. It was all so familiar, everything he did. You hated the way you felt so stupidly attached… You were an idiot. You’d give in, and everything would just go like it did back then. “[Y/N],” he called out once more, this time with the slightest hint of indignation. He just wanted to talk to you so he could say his piece, would that be so bad? “Stop, damn it.”

You heard his footsteps getting louder and closer just as he grabbed you by your wrist, purposeful yet so gentle like he always was whenever he touched you back then. Your heart was beyond just beating quickly. You were sure it would eventually break through your bones and run free. You didn’t even realize your face was wet with tears until Daryl wiped it off for you. You were seventeen all over again, crying to him and asking him to take you with him if he was going to leave. You were nine once more, crying yourself to sleep after moving away.

“I can’t,” you utter out. “Can’t what? Tell me.” His eyes were hungry for answers, but you didn’t even know either. You just knew you couldn’t stand to see him anymore. It broke your heart, because you thought that if you would ever run into him again, you would be okay. That you would have moved on, and you could remain civil. So many words you wanted to tell him.

You swat his hand away. “I can’t keep talking to you just because you’re here. I can’t—can’t keep pretending that you’re—you—that what happened for around thirty fucking years ago is no longer bothering me, because I know damn full well that it is and it always will! And you being here I… I just… I can’t!”

“Ya want me to go?” he asked, gentle as ever.

“No, Daryl,” you said, out of words you could say to even come close to saying what it is you felt. “I just… I just wish you never left.”

So many explanations, and yet it was all reduced to you pushing him away. You just needed to get out of there. And that should’ve been the end of it. Daryl respected your preference for isolation. That really should have been the end of it for at least that night. He stood there, his heart half-broken. He just decided that maybe he deserved it, that he was stupid for thinking he deserved even another chance.

As Daryl watched you walk down the street away from him, he decided he’d give you more time. As much as you needed until you were—

In the short distance, you fell to your knees. Daryl halted in his tracks, his brows furrowed in confusion, trying to make sense of what you were doing. Even though your back was to him, he could make out that you were doing the same habit he was used to seeing you doing, only this time, your back was heaving up and down.

God, he didn’t need to see anything else anymore. He was already on his way the moment he felt something was wrong. His mind raced with so many terrible scenarios he refused to verbalize.

“[Y/N], what’s wrong?” he asked, worried as he knelt down in front of you. “What’s happenin’?”

“I—” Your mouth was locked shut from the static that spread from the tips of your fingers all the way to your jaw. It was cold, and it was burning hot.

You felt Daryl scoop you in your arms without question, and you let him. You heaved short, heavy breaths you couldn’t begin to catch. You felt and heard your heart in every direction, beating as if it was taunting you.

“...Bringin’ ya to Denise,” you heard Daryl say over the racing pace of your deafening heartbeat. You shook your head, the static finding that safe spot of yours, too.

“No, I—please—home—don’t—Denise,” you managed to say in between the uncontrollable hitches in your breath.

Daryl shook his head, slowing down as he tried to think of the right thing to do. But he felt your fist tighten its grip on his vest in request.

“Please. Now—Now, Dar—Now.”

You felt him caressing your hair with the gentlest of touches, just as you remember it. You felt him whispering soft promises against your ear, but you couldn’t make any single word out of it as everything went pitch black…

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ticklishfiend · 10 months ago

Text

A Toy Smile (ATLA)

(lee!zuko , ler!sokka and ler!aang)

A/N : AAAHHH!!!! fixating hard y’all. it's impossible for me to be normal about anything ever. this one's got more story than the last one but i hope u enjoy anyway lolll

Summary : a day off at the abandoned vacation home and zuko has a lot to think about. though, it’s kinda hard to think about your place in the world when your friends are being annoying (and u still love them for that)

Word Count : 5106

hope u enjoy!!

Being back at his family’s old beach house was remarkably strange. Zuko kept getting flashes of bittersweet nostalgia, images of his mother building castles out of sand with him, just for Azula to knock them all down. Running through the halls in shrieks of laughter, getting chased by the tickle monster (his mother always had the perfect balance between her calm and nurturing nature, and her more silly and playful side. Feeling okay with play was something that ended almost immediately after she left his life), always before being interrupted by a stark glare from his father.

Zuko’s father was usually absent in these beach house memories, but that’s because even when he was there during their vacations (which honestly wasn’t often, he was usually off tending to the business of being an up-and-coming Firelord), he always stood with a glare that Zuko could still see in his head clear as day. Looking back on it, he was glad that Ozai was usually preoccupied during those old vacations so he at least has a few good memories left of this place.

Zuko pondered on it alone in the house.

The rest of the group were off at the beach, doing their own things. If he had to guess, Toph was probably practicing her sandbending right now. Maybe she’s teaching Aang, or maybe Aang was practicing some moves Zuko taught him earlier in the week. Zuko felt weirdly proud at the idea. He imagined Katara was probably soaking in the ocean, bending and feeling one with the water. And Sokka…Agni knows what Sokka’s up to right now. Maybe he’s fishing.

All he knows is that they’re probably keeping themselves preoccupied right now, taking the day off to do whatever they pleased. The group needed to keep their minds sharp, but not overworked.

Zuko could sort of relate to that, trying to keep occupied. It was at a much lower scale, sure, but when he wasn’t training Aang, he took to wandering the grounds of this place that felt distantly familiar to him.

Zuko still feels a little uncomfortable with the thought of hanging near everyone during an off day like this. He knows they don’t hate him anymore, but guilt and shame have become chronic pains he hasn’t learned to aid yet. He’s happy to help them, but hanging out on a casual level is something he’s still getting used to.

As he walked through the abandoned home, he couldn’t help but gaze at old photos, taking some out of the frame to burn in his hand. For some reason, watching the memory physically char and fall to ashes from his fire felt like a medicinal release in his system. He sat on beds that had been dressed by old maids years ago, untouched for so long and yet the sheets still had a smell that burned into his sinuses like a forgotten memory.

It was so quiet in the house. Every footstep seemed to echo. It was dark, too. Each flame he set gave light to the entire room and the hall with it. It felt right that this place had been abandoned for so long. Justified. It deserved to lay dormant with the rest of any happy memories his childhood had to offer. That part of his life was laid to rest some time ago, but revisiting it lit something in him he hadn’t expected.

When he suggested they settle here for a while, Zuko hadn’t thought too hard on what it would be like to revisit this place. It was obvious this house, these grounds, the beach itself, would bring back memories he used to try hard not to think about. That was only logical.

What Zuko hadn’t anticipated was the way it would make him feel about the new people he’s surrounded himself with. The last time he was on a beach with people he thought were his friend group, it was a disaster. Fights and arguments, insecurities thrown around like weapons of war. That used to be normal to him. That was just what a vacation was.

But everyone here was having a good time. Yes, stress was definitely high and in the air, everyone was still keeping their guard up for what they knew was to come after they left. But that didn’t mean good times came to an end altogether. Zuko saw how they still played and teased each other, telling stories at dinner and laughing when they trained. Stress was high, but spirits might’ve been even higher.

Walking through this empty house, he realized that’s what this place was actually for. It wasn’t just a house you stayed in away from your home. It was a place built for bringing people closer together.

And here he was standing in it, alone in the dark.

Zuko sighed, dragging a hand down his face. He knew he should probably go out there. They trusted him now, what was he waiting on? He’s allowed…fun. That sounds so gross. But it also sounds like something Uncle would be telling him right now. If Zuko was any good at impressions, he’d give himself a famous Iroh Special about the balance of work and life, the importance of close friends in times like these. But Zuko sorta sucks at impressions, so he’ll just have to imagine how good some advice like that would sound and suck it up.

He should probably go join them on the beach now. Ugh.

As Zuko walked out of the dimly lit house, the sun felt really good on his skin, warm and filling for his soul. He took a deep breath, in and out, as he made his way toward the beach. The sounds of splashing water and shrieking laughter filled his ears as he got closer, his bare feet now warming in the sand.

“Zuko’s back,” he heard Toph announce from her self-made throne of sand, a little umbrella over the top for shade and flavor.

Zuko made his way next to Toph, watching the other three play in the ocean. Sokka had Aang in some kind of hold with his arms behind his back, while Katara stood in front, doing something with the water that seemed to have Aang in stitches. Zuko was utterly confused.

“What are they doing?” he puzzled, sitting down criss-crossed next to Toph.

“Why, do you want in?” Toph teased with a grin, making Zuko blush and nearly start defending himself (for what, he wasn’t sure) before she interrupted his clear stammering, “Katara figured out how to tickle with her water. She can be a little ruthless sometimes, and I really like that side of her.”

Zuko just nodded, really not sure what to say right now. He felt so awkward, maybe this was a bad idea after all. He’d be better off alone back in the house, it was probably good for him to think about his past the way he was before. Maybe he should just turn back, Toph will notice but none of the others have even acknowledged he came back yet so it’s not like–

“Hey!” Sokka called out, “My arms are getting tired! One of you come hold him for me!”

“Nohoho! Just lemme gohoho!” Aang cackled, kicking the water but not doing anything to actually stop them.

Zuko sighed, regretting saying anything before the words even left his mouth. “Aang, just bend the water!” he yelled their way, “Did you forget you’re the Avatar?!”

Aang just kept laughing for a moment like he hadn’t heard a thing, and Zuko nearly smiled at the boy’s blatant silliness. But in a blink, Katara was suddenly lifted and thrown about ten feet away by a small but powerful wave, Sokka getting launched not long after in the opposite direction.

Aang shot a thumbs up Zuko’s way, so Zuko gave him a quick nod back. Real smooth.

“Wooo, that’s right Twinkle Toes! Show ‘em who’s boss!” Toph cheered like she was watching a wrestling match, throwing an excited punch to Zuko’s shoulder. He winced and shot a hand up to comfort the ache, but otherwise said nothing about it.

He watched as Aang launched a tickle attack of his own against the siblings, Katara squealing and using her own water to try and counter or block any of the water she could. Sokka threw his head back in loud laughter, having no way to defend himself and pretty much succumbing to his fate, screaming with his head above water.

Zuko felt weird just spectating like this, so he started fidgeting with the sand in front of him. He thought for a moment on building a castle like he had with his mother so many years ago, but that was so far from who he was now that he chose to keep it to himself. That can just stay a happy memory for the time being.

He looked up to Toph, who seemed content on bending miscellaneous sand shapes in her hand while she listened to them play.

“Why aren’t you out there with them?” he couldn’t help but ask. Zuko didn’t feel as weird around Toph as he did the others. He still felt awkward at times, but not weird. She was the first person here to really trust him, vouch for him even. She was strong and resilient and damn was she stubborn. Zuko really liked that about her, and even though she loved to tease, he felt comfortable having a conversation with her. That was just who she was.

“Eh, water’s not really my thing. I can’t see jack when I’m in the water. Well, I kind of can, if my feet are still touching the ground. But it’s sorta foggy that way and it freaks me out. I like knowing where I am, and in there I just feel all over the place,” she cringed, forming a little sand sea lion in her palm. “Why aren’t you in there with them? Is it a firebender thing to hate the water?”

Of course she’d turn the question onto him, why didn’t he think of that? Ugh, this was not something he felt like getting into right now. “Yeah, sure. Something like that.”

“You are such a bad liar,” she chuckled, chucking her sea lion at his head playfully. He grunted at the impact and dusted the sand from his hair while she grabbed another chunk to fidget with. “I don’t even need my feet to figure that out.”

Zuko sighed, bringing his knees to his chest to lay his arms down and make a makeshift headrest. “I don’t know how to just…play, like that. That’s not natural for me, it would just be weird. It’s better if I just stay up here,” he said, suddenly feeling very weirdly insecure and unsure of his words, “If, like, y’know–if that’s okay with you.”

She laughed openly at his hesitance. “Sparky, it would mean the world. I like your company! You’re funny to talk to,” she said, and her choice of words made him squint.

“‘Funny to talk to?’” Zuko questioned.

“Yeah, you’re always so uptight. And awkward. It’s really funny,” she chuckled, making him deflate a little. He knew she probably meant the best by it, but her bluntness will always take a little blow to his already fragile ego.

“Is that really the only reason you talk to me?” Zuko huffed, not even looking for an answer if not to just air out his insecurities a little.

“No, you dingbat. You’re really different from the others, it’s a nice change of pace. You’re stiff, and your heart rate might be faster than anyone I've ever met which can get pretty annoying. But you’re very real, and I like that in a person. If you have something you need to say, then you say it,” she paused. “Well, most of the time.”

Zuko sat in that for a moment. He’s pretty sure she was…complimenting him? Maybe? It’s hard to tell with Toph, it’s rare she ever gets sweet with her words. But he’s pretty sure that whatever she meant by that, it was supposed to be a good thing. So he’ll take it.

“Thanks…I think.”

“I know it’s hard but…they can be fun if you try,” she shrugged, forming a little sand-Zuko in her palm and handing it to him. He took it gently, worried it would crumble in his hand. But it didn’t. It stayed sturdy and solid, like a real doll. Zuko turned it in his hand, getting a good look at his mini-me.

“How do you…”

“Know what you look like?” she finished for him. “The others described you to me a while back. It’s probably not perfect, but–”

“No, no. It’s…” Zuko stared at the thing in his hand. It was small, pretty much the size of his palm. His scar was there, but that’s not what he was looking at. Zuko couldn’t stop looking at the smile on its face. On his face. How natural and meant to be there it looked. “It’s really good. You captured my essence,” he remarked playfully, sliding the doll into his pocket. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it, Sparky,” she smiled. “Seriously. Don’t.” Zuko couldn’t help but chuckle at that, looking up to see Sokka dragging himself out of the water towards them.

“Teaching Aang waterbending was a mistake,” Sokka groaned, leaving puddles of water in his wake as he plopped in the sand next to Zuko. Zuko flinched, some water from Sokka’s clothes splashing on him when he sat down with so much force.

“Watch it, you’re getting water all over me,” Zuko complained, wiping droplets from his face with the back of his hand.

“Oh I’m sorry, were you the one that just got nearly tickled to death by the ocean?! No, I didn’t think so!” Sokka exclaimed, every big movement he made just splashing more water on a frowning Zuko. “I could’ve drowned!”

“Well that wasn’t my fault, so keep the water to yourself,” Zuko rolled his eyes at Sokka’s dramatics.

“You’re such a baby, Sokka,” Toph chuckled. “Aang took it like a champ. You don’t hear him complaining about a couple of tickles,” Toph cooed in a mocking baby voice, making Sokka squint in contempt.

Sokka pointed a finger toward Toph over Zuko, “I don’t wanna hear it from you. You don’t get attacked like I do!”

“Yeah, cause I set boundaries,” Toph grinned, tossing a foot over her knee. “You guys don’t tickle me cause you know if you even try it you’ll never have use of your fingers again.”

Zuko’s brow shot up at that, and he nearly smiled, but made no comment.

Sokka had no smart comeback to give, instead bringing his hand back in to cross his arms over his chest, pouting. They sat in silence for a moment before it seemed like a light went off over Sokka’s head, the boy perking up quickly and whipping his head toward–

“Zuko,” Sokka started with a grin. “You should help me get back at Aang.”

Zuko’s brow really shot up at that, “What?!”

“Yeah, he’d never expect it from you!” Sokka said, his smile wide and excited.

Zuko stared incredulously, “Did that water hit you over the head or something? I am not doing that,” he scoffed, refusing to look at Sokka right now. He is so stupid, what makes him think Zuko would ever do something so childish?

“Oh c’mooon, you said you were here to help us, right? Well…this would be helping me,” Sokka smiled a toothy grin, really hoping to win him over.

“Just ask Toph, don’t involve me in this. I’m sure she can do some…earthbendy thing and help way better than I could,” Zuko said, looking toward Toph for help.

Toph shook her head, “Nope. This is all you, Sparky,” Zuko could see her smile beneath the shade. He growled in frustration, peeking over toward Sokka.

“You can do it yourself then. Figure it out,” Zuko said, staring back off into the ocean. Aang and Katara were bending and splashing water at each other, their laughs and happy voices blending with the sounds of the ocean waves pushing and pulling against itself.

Sokka grumbled, falling onto his back in the sand. “Was just trying to see if you wanted to have some fun before we get serious again tomorrow,” he mumbled, picking at the sand with his fingers.

Zuko tried to ignore him, but felt a poke to his shoulder on his left. He looked to Toph and saw her just staring at him with this look, like she was disappointed. Or, maybe not disappointed. More like she was saying with her eyes, “Didn’t we just have a heart-to-heart about this two seconds ago?” He felt the doll in his pocket jab into his thigh.

Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose like he often did when utterly frustrated. “If I help you, you have to do something for me in return.”

Sokka shot up, his eyes wide like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Yeah! Anything!” he paused, “Or, I mean, almost anything.”

Zuko clicked his tongue, he cannot believe he is doing this. “There’s some spices left over in the kitchen cabinet. They haven’t gone bad, I checked,” he peeked over to Sokka. “For dinner tonight, we are using those spices. No offense, but I’m tired of eating bland stew every night. If you grab those from the house…” he sighed, saying the words like they crawled from the pit of his stomach, “I will help you get back at Aang.”

“Say no more!” Sokka shot up from the sand and strut toward the house with his head held high. He was obviously very proud of himself for convincing Zuko to do something silly for once, and honestly, Zuko couldn’t blame him. He was surprised himself.

Toph dropped her throne back to the ground, the force of it shaking the ground under them as she stuck her toes in the sand. “You really gonna do it, Sparky?”

Zuko dropped his face into his hands. “I think I just dug myself into a hole.”

That made Toph cackle, and Zuko couldn’t help smiling into his palms.

–

The fish stew Katara was cooking smelled amazing. Zuko had forgotten just how much he missed the smell of real, seasoned food until he found those spices in the cabinet earlier today. At least he was getting something good out of this mess he’s got himself into.

In the living room of the beach house, Toph was proudly showing off all the sand dolls she made today. It was mainly weird shapes or animals she was familiar with, but everyone got a kick out of it.

“Oh, oh, can you do me?!” Aang practically bounced on his heels, clutching the Appa doll to his chest.

“Remind me when we go back to the beach, Twinkletoes,” Toph smiled, tossing a solid ball of sand to the ceiling, up, then down. “I made Sparky one, since he didn’t abandon me on the beach like some people.”

Aang deflated in guilt, “I thought you said you didn’t care…”

“I didn’t care, I’m just messing with you,” she grinned, throwing the ball at a quiet Zuko’s head.

“Ow! Hey, watch it–!”

“Show ‘em your doll, Sparks!” Toph said, the ball launching itself back into her palm. Zuko frowned, feeling weirdly embarrassed by it. He just sat there for a second with everyone staring at him, waiting.

“I thought you said not to mention it?”

“Well if Aang’s making commissions, he should probably see what he’s buying,” Toph said, clearly just proud the others were liking her art so much.

A little shy, Zuko reached into his pocket and pulled out the doll, holding it up for everyone to see. Aang immediately rushed over, not taking it from his hand but still looking at it really close.

“Woah, little Sifu Hotman! Toph, this is so cool!” Aang poked at the doll’s face, “Aww, she even made him smile!”

Katara barked a laugh from the kitchen close by, “Really taking some artistic liberties with that one, Toph.”

Everyone snickered at that, and Zuko couldn’t help but frown (unfortunately proving their case). “I can smile,” he said, shoving the doll back in his pocket. “Maybe I just don’t find you guys that funny.”

Sokka gasped, “What, do we not amuse you enough, Your Highness?” He said in a mockingly fancy tone.

Zuko knows he’s just teasing, but Sokka can really be annoying sometimes.

“That’s not it,” Zuko glared. “I don’t know, maybe we just have different senses of humor. But I can smile.”

He saw Aang glance over his shoulder to Sokka, who was lying comfortably on a pile of pillows. There was a weird, silent exchange happening between them that Zuko couldn’t pinpoint, but he was smart enough to know something was up.

Sokka sat up and looked at Zuko, trying a little too hard to look casual. “So…what does make you smile, then?”

Zuko raised a brow. Kind of a loaded question, if you ask him. “I mean, I don’t know. That’s sorta vague.”

“On purpose,” Sokka corrected. “I can think of a ton of things that make me smile off the top of my head. Like, uh…shopping!”

“Cartwheels,” Aang butt in.

“Sea prunes!” Katara called from the kitchen.

“Feeling the enemy crumble to the ground,” Toph said, way too casually.

Zuko felt a little cornered. This was hard for him, okay? Thinking of something like this off the top of his head was difficult when he’s spent the last three years with a resting frowny face. “Um…” he started, really digging into his brain for an answer. “My…Uncle was really good at telling jokes? They got annoying sometimes, but some of them made me laugh. If that counts.”

Aang really smiled at that, moving to sit next to Zuko on the ground. “That definitely counts,” he said, before shooting another look toward Sokka. Hm…

Sokka got up and sat next to Zuko on his other side, throwing an arm over his shoulder way too casually, “I think that’s a wonderful answer. But there’s just one problem…”

Zuko shot him a confused side-eye, almost shrinking away from Sokka’s touch. “Uh, okay?”

“I don’t think we’ve ever made you smile,” said Sokka, giving a small jostle to Zuko’s shoulder.

Toph snorted across the room, getting everyone’s attention. “You can be real smart sometimes, Sparky. I don’t know how you haven’t figured out what they’re up to.”

Zuko shook Sokka’s arm off his shoulder with a furrowed brow, “What are you talking about?”

She grinned, feeling through the floor how both Aang and Sokka were slowly inching closer to Zuko on either side. “I think they’re gonna tickle you.”

Without a second more to think about escaping, Sokka shoved his hands under Zuko’s arms, followed by Aang throwing himself over Zuko’s lap to wrap his waist in a ticklish hug.

Zuko shrieked, the sensation throwing him off guard so hard he nearly toppled over onto the ground. He would have toppled over, if Aang didn’t have such a strong grip on his waist, not to mention those fingers digging into his sides with a terrible, gentle accuracy. He was a cackling, giggling mess immediately.

“Nohoho-! Wahahait! Waitwaitwaitwaitwahahait-!” Zuko cackled, his eyes scrunched up and his smile wider than it had been in some time. He had forgotten just how ticklish he was until those fingers wouldn’t leave him alone, the digging into his armpits and the scribbling at his sides, it was all so…ugh, it was so ticklish.

“Tried to warn you!” Toph smiled, hearing Katara enter the room to watch while the stew finished cooking.

“Woowww, didn’t know you guys had it in you,” Katara remarked as she leaned against the door frame, watching with a grin. She pointed at the scuffle with her spoon, “I really expected you two to wuss out!”

Aang scoffed with a grin, having to use a lot of his strength to hold the very squirmy Zuko in his arms. “He’s not scary anymore, Katara. I mean, just watch this,” he said, before pinching at Zuko’s hips and making the boy squeal.

“Guhuhuys! Ahaha–wahahait! Hold ohohon!” Zuko twisted in his laughter, his arms sealed at his sides to no avail. If Sokka didn’t get his stupid fingers out of his armpits right now he was pretty sure he was gonna keel over and die any second now. From laughter or embarrassment, he wasn’t really sure which.

“Wait, wuss out?” Toph questioned. “Did you guys plan this?”

Sokka snickered, switching to just using one finger under each arm at a time, and somehow that was even worse. “Yeeeeah, I might’ve pulled a fast one at the beach. Sorry buddy!” he said, before, “Well, not too sorry. This is pretty funny.”

Zuko’s face felt so hot he was almost worried it was gonna catch on fire. Quite literally. “I’m gonna kihihill you twohohoo!” he cackled, finally gathering enough strength to push Aang off him, kicking his feet to make sure Aang kept his distance. But Sokka was unrelenting. “Sokka! Cuhut it out!”

“Ohhhh fine,” Sokka pulled his hands out, bringing one up to scruff Zuko’s hair for good measure. “Before you get mad, we only did it cause you looked a little left out on the beach today.”

Zuko wished so badly that Toph would let the floor swallow him up whole right now. “So your solution was to—do that!?”

“Well, yeah,” Aang smiled a little shyly, “It looked like you felt left out when we were playing earlier. I don’t know, maybe I’m wrong…sorry if that was too much.”

Katara had slipped back to the kitchen for just a moment during their conversation, coming back now with a tray of bowls. She handed Zuko his bowl first, which he took while still glaring at Sokka and Aang. (Well, mainly Sokka. He could tell Aang felt bad, and Zuko’s not like, actually mad. Just so utterly embarrassed and shy that he doesn’t know how to express himself right now.)

Katara gave him a sympathetic smile. “They really like you. They just don’t know how to…express it with you, sometimes.”

“Don’t put this on me, it was Aang’s idea!” Sokka looked a little embarrassed himself, like he’d been caught saying something he didn’t want Zuko to hear. He took his bowl from Katara but wouldn’t look her in the eye.

Aang took what Katara said with stride. She always had a way of putting exactly how he felt into words. “Yeah, it was my idea. You’re really cool, Sifu Hotman! But, I don’t know…I never wanna make you mad, but I still want you to feel included, yknow?”

With a mouthful of stew, Sokka chimed in, “Wha’ he said.”

Zuko wasn’t sure what to say right now. He still felt warm up his neck, and all the eyes on him right now weren't helping. But…he also felt really appreciated? These people certainly had a weird way of showing their affection, but they were trying. For him.

Ugh. They’re so sweet it’s almost sickening.

“We won’t ever do it again. Just…know we meant well,” Aang gave a sad little smile before taking a bite of his stew. Well now Zuko had to say something.

“No, it’s okay,” he stared into his bowl. “Affection, and I guess play, are…sorta new to me. I don’t hate it. I don’t…mind,” Zuko cringed at his own phrasing. Telling them that he actually sorta kinda had a little bit of fun just now felt impossible. He sighed, “What I’m saying is, I won’t get mad if you ever do it again. I know you’re not being mean. And it doesn’t bother me. So. Y’know…yeah.”

Sokka squinted toward Zuko over his spoon. “So, you didn’t hate it…” he shot a grin, “...which, in Zuko Speak, means you had fun right?”

Zuko sincerely wanted to singe the brows right off Sokka's face. Because, unfortunately, he was right. Zuko bit the inside of his cheek, “If I say yes will you drop it?”

“Actually, if you say yes you’re just giving me permission to turn that frown upside-down whenever I want,” Sokka wiggled his eyebrows, making Aang laugh beside him.

Zuko could only roll his eyes and take another spoonful in response, which they all knew in Zuko Speak was a definite yes.

“Ahem,” Toph turned the attention back toward her from across the room. “Now that that’s over, can we please go back to talking about how awesome my new sandbending tricks are? I’ll be generous and take free commissions for the next five minutes, but after that you suckers are gonna have to start paying up.”

Aang shot his hand up immediately, “I call a tiny hat for Momo!”

“Ok, but how about a tiny sword for Momo?” said Sokka.

Katara giggled, “We could give him little sand boots.”

Toph hummed with a nod, drawing up plans in her head before pointing toward Zuko. “Sparky? Any suggestions?”

Zuko looked around the room, everyone’s eyes on him once again. It wasn’t a bad feeling, though. They liked hearing what he had to say, even if it was just for a silly game. Zuko was allowed in on the conversation; actually, more than allowed. Encouraged.

“Um…he could use some sand shades. Really bright outside, y’know.”

There was a small beat of silence, and for a second Zuko almost regretted joining in, before everyone burst into giggles.

“Momo’s gotta be beach ready!” Aang laughed, poking the lemur in the belly. “Toph, he needs sandals. He needs them!”

Zuko couldn’t help but smile along as they kept throwing insane suggestions Toph’s way, his cheeks almost hurting by the end of it. Every once in a while, he’d catch himself glancing around the room, taking in how different it looks full of good company. It was somehow brighter, obviously louder, and the air didn’t feel as tight. Even when they circled back to Zuko’s newfound ticklishness later in the conversation, he felt comfortable to tease back about how weak they all were against the spices he had Katara throw in their stew.

Sokka’s threat of future tickles his way kept creeping its way to the forefront of his mind every once and a while. And he wasn’t…not excited about it. It’s not the tickling he’s looking forward to, exactly. Although, every time he pictures that future attack, he feels the ghost of fingers digging into him again and feels a weird smile pulling at his lips. Zuko puts it back to normal immediately when he catches himself, but it was there, and he knows that. But no, no it’s definitely not the tickling. It’s not just the tickling.

Zuko’s glad they’re not scared of him. They aren’t scared to touch him the way they do the others. It’s different for him, and he knows he’ll have to get used to all this newfound affection. But that’s something he’s willing (happy) to do.

When the night was finished and he found himself in that old familiar smelling bed, Zuko pulled the doll out of his pocket. He traced its details with his thumb under the light of fire he lit in his other palm. Sand took another shape with his friend’s help, and made him smile.

At that moment he decided, that’s what he’ll do with this house. It doesn’t have to feel so dark and alone. Zuko can reshape it.

pls consider reblogging if u enjoyed!! love yall, smooches

#tickle community #tickling #tickle fic #atla tickling #lee!zuko #ticklish!zuko #lee!aang #ticklish!aang

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izzythehutt · 3 months ago

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To counter Sirius being gay or straight- I actually don't think Sirius is very romantic/sexual/whatever. He felt to me like he was always interesting in "more important things." I think it's why I was turned away from your fic before I read it (of course it's brilliant, I love your Sirius now) because it felt very bold.

So what do you think? I know you wrote a romance for him, so it's obvious, but I'm still curious (apparently in fandom thinking characters wouldn't want/care about a romance at all isn't interesting, or so I've been told)

I think within the context of the books series for which he was created to be a supporting character, his romantic life is irrelevant. He didn't need a wife or girlfriend or love interest in the books because it would have just added another subplot that didn't contribute in a meaningful way to Harry's journey. His character's purpose is to be a palpable emotional connection between Harry and his dead parents, to be a surrogate father figure, and then to die and thereby contribute to Harry's maturation.

That being said, it's interesting how in the flashback scene we get in OOTP, James is portrayed as your typical teenage boy who is very interested in impressing girls (or one girl in particular) and Sirius is shown as completely indifferent to female attention (which he gets in that flashback, he just ignores in favor of James.) His closest relationship in canon is with James and he never "gets over it" in the books. The way their relationship is described actually kind of reminds me of how Charles Ryder and Sebastian Flyte are written in Brideshead Revisited—one of these "romantic friendships" of adolescence that kind of functions like a first love. Sirius/James and Snape/Lily kind of parallel in the narrative—especially in how both characters relate to Harry—which is why I've always joked that if you want to make Sirius gay, the subtext for him having been in love with James is right there. I don't personally interpret it that way, but I think a case could be made for it.

In some of the extra-canonical materials him having some kind of romantic relationships has been alluded to (I believe the Lupin bio on Pottermore had Remus bitterly tell Tonks that Sirius 'always got the women', lol), so I tend to write him and think of him as being a bit emotionally stunted in his youth who would have settled down with a woman later in life. He was in a war. He was being a rebel fighter. I chose to make him a virgin in my fic because I thought it was a funny subversion of his usual 'sex god' status in fandom, though I could also see him having a lot of meaningless sexual flings. I do not think him having a meaningful romantic relationship in the books is likely, given what we know about him.

I never really cared that much about his love life growing up, to be honest. His shippability was never the attraction to the character for me—the only reason I gave him a love interest in my story is that it's a family saga that thematically needed one. He has to continue the family line! I hadn't ever really thought about the kind of woman he might like until I had to create a love interest I thought he could plausibly get with.

#sirius black #sirius black meta #harry potter meta #harry potter #asks

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captainjonnitkessler · 3 months ago

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Family abolition literally is abolition of the family though. Metametamar said it better but in the reblogs there is a thorough explanation of what abolition means. Tldr the problem is people trying to water down radical politics to make them more palatable, not Marxists naming things radically (because they are radical)

I've had this conversation before re: prison abolition, and I think the problem is that 98% of the people who use those terms to describe their own politics do in fact mean the watered down non-radical version. So in that respect we're both annoyed at the same people!

I will also admit that I tend to disregard people who actually are advocating for the more radical versions because ime they usually aren't particularly in touch with reality. "Prison abolition" sounds good, but unless you can explain to me what we're doing with the unrepentant serial rapists and murderers then we're not getting anywhere. I understand where "family abolition" is coming from but if you're arguing that if a six-year-old wants to run away and live on the streets we should just let her - and I have seen that argument - that's such a nonstarter for me that I'm not even going to discuss it. "Abolish the police" is usually followed up with some kind of "community policing" plan that just boils down to vigilante justice, which is . . . not an improvement.

Overall I'd rather just focus my energy on things that might actually be achievable at some point. Like, let's focus on turning the American justice system into something that ISN'T a torture machine first, and then maybe we can revisit prison abolition y'know?

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thighzp · 1 month ago

Text

2024 Year In Review

Thank you to @0npurpose and everyone else who has tagged me in many variations of the 2024 year in review! Here's a wrap up of all my writing this year!

My details

My AO3: fullerthanskippy My fandom: Red, White & Royal Blue Total number of completed works for 2024: 52 Total word count for 2024: 107,590 (holy shit) Total hits for 2024: 151,546 Total kudos for 2024: 9,942 (AGAIN I beg you all to leave kudos!)

Oneshots

most popular by kudos: working overtime | 624 kudos

most popular by comments: young & hung | 24 comment threads least popular by kudos: tender | 52 kudos (only 240 words so I get it lol) least popular by comments: shower drain | 0 comments (there really isn't much to say, again, I get it! lol)

longest oneshot: running from the daylight | 11,372 words oneshot I'm most proud of: Artie | for obvious reasons most fun oneshot to write: better bite the bullet (baby take one for the team) | I had sooooo much fun writing the gun kink and I still want to revisit it in the future hardest oneshot to write: broke down or stranger things have happened | these are two I specifically remember during kinktober having to force myself to get the words out (that happens sometimes!) favourite title used: tough choice but if I have to choose one I'll go with | the mess that is Alex

Bonus …

Most unserious title: i'm having his baby (no i'm not but you should see your faces) | also longest title ever lmao

Multi-Chapters

my first multichap will be coming to you live in 2025 ;)

Questions

Events or challenges | Kinktober & RWRB Festive Fan Fest

Did you write more or less fic than you expected this year? | way, WAY more!!!

Did you take any writing risks this year? | so many, let's see just for a few examples: wlw, fisting, puppy play, piss kink, somno, gun kink, omegaverse, I mean I could continue on and on

What was the most challenging fic to write this year? | hands down running from the daylight (vampire alex AU), I started teasing it before I even started writing it and then I felt pressured to hurry up and get it out. not by any of y'all, but by myself. it's 11k words and I'm proud of it, but it shaped me into a much better writer for the multichap I'm currently working on!

What was your favourite fic to write? | probably wearing nothing but glitter and lashes because it was inspired by a huuuuge irl crush of mine and a very loosely based real life experience lol

Biggest success | kinktober IN GENERAL

Most surprising success | young & hung!!! I mean I loved writing it but I couldn't believe people were eating it upppppp

Biggest disappointment | I mean... (the things i do) when i picture you but it's not a surprise at all lol it's junora and if it's not firstprince, it just doesn't hit the same. also not surprised that two things can be true (taynick rpf) didn't do crazy numbers, people are touchy about it

Most surprising disappointment | none are really that surprising cause I usually know when it's not gonna hit for everyone, but I guess I'll say I expected know your audience to do better! I think people didn't like the twist or didn't believe it from the start?

What's something you learned about yourself as a writer? | I learned that PWP IS NOT MY STRONGSUIT!!! I need the buildup and that's where my rambling tends to happen lmfao

What fic was the most satisfying to finish writing? | obviously vampire alex au I'm feeling like a broken record, and I'll also add finishing kinktober is like... still so insane to me!

Fic that gave you the most trouble? | two that I just needed external inspo for because the words weren't wording were riding practice and mile high (these ideas were greatly helped by @judasofsuburbia lol thank you love)

Easiest fic to write? | suburban legends, one of my earlies fics and the words came easily in that little universe

Go to writing songs | I love having inspo playlists but I can't actually listen to music with words while writing, I'm too adhd/dyslexic for that

Go to writing snacks | usually coffee or red wine hehe

Any writing goals for next year? | only goal really is to finish and post my first multichap which is definitely going to happen!!! and otherwise I think just focusing on writing what I want to read/what inspires me and worry less about what will do numbers

Any fics in the work for next year? | of course! perhaps I'll give some insight into my current WIPs (even some y'all don't know about yet?)

age gap AU (multichap) neighbors/laundry AU young & hung sequel trans alex PWP a fic involving alex/martha as propositioned by henry/pip.... kink related age regression henry wetfic (and I bet y'all fuckin wish you knew what this one was about mwuahahaha)

***

it's been a crazy year. I want to thank @redlipstickandglitter and @firstprincehornyramblings for being my fucking MUSES, my EVERYTHING both when it comes to help/ideas with writing, as well as just wonderful fucking friends.

y'all have provided me so many spoons this year, and believe me, lately they've been mighty hard to come by! here's to even more words written in 2025! (but probably not... I'll probably never do kinktober again lmfao)

open tag for any writer friends who haven't done this yet! I'm serious - don't wait to be tagged, just tag me!!

#mine #personal #fics #alex claremont diaz #firstprince #rwrb #alex and henry #alex x henry #red white and royal blue #rwrb fic #henry fox #first prince #henry fox mountchristen windsor

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maxwell-grant · 11 months ago

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Thoughts on the master of fear, Scarecrow? Also, fave design, he has so many good ones (second BTAS, his trading card one, mistress of fear, Gaslight,, fear for sale, the Arkham Games etc)?

Hey so, do any of you remember Batman Live? It was this really fun, extravagant stage show that touched on a lot of Batman hallmarks and was generally a really fun time as far as I recall. I went to the São Paulo premiere with my family, and I was a little too young to really recall most of it now, but some things I definitely remember like the huge Joker hot air balloon made of performers in bodypaint, or the comedy sequences in the Iceberg Lounge. The one thing that stuck with me the most was when the Scarecrow showed up. Batman goes to Arkham Asylum and the entire comedy camp tone drops dead, as he walks in and finds all these bodies in straightjackets hanging from chains, and the doors open as The Scarecrow walks towards him in stilts, summoning loud smoke eruptions that are poisoning and weakening Batman as he leers over him. That part actually did scare me as a kid, and it was probably the first time I had any kind of feelings on Scarecrow imprinted in me.

I was introduced to The Scarecrow as this uniquely horrifying villain who could terrify through presentation alone. I didn't particularly understand what the fear gas was, I was too taken with that ungainly thing up there with the stilts and all those people turned into cadaverous decorations, lurking from the endless halls of the asylum, who towered over everyone and placed Batman into a writhing breakdown with a few gestures, and never appeared again until the cast roll, completely absent from the rogues gatherings after. Granted, of course that's because the stilts prevented him from joining the fight scenes, but that helped to reinforce his mystery. He wasn't someone Batman was going to punch back, no no, the Scarecrow simply vanished as soon as he was done with disarming Batman, and you'd just have to pray for that unfathomable creep to never show up again.

And I'd say this might be part of why I've never been too big on the fear gas, in part because I was first enraptured by a version of The Scarecrow who clearly didn't need it that much, or at least, could do much more besides it. The Scarecrow is, I'd say actually one of my top 10 DC characters, half of that on the basis of his designs, but he's a character who tends to really, really struggle under a lack of cohesion and being subordinate to his gimmick, much more so than the other rogues. The fear gas is a good gimmick, but it is just that, a gimmick, and one that's usually reliant on how far can the story push the horror and the visuals to at least make it effectively scary for us, otherwise it gets incredibly boring very fast, and it's not even a gimmick exclusive to him since so many other characters have similar mind control/illusion abilities/gadgetry at hand (and to say nothing of Hugo Strange, who first used fear gas and who quite frankly kicks the Scarecrow's ass in terms of quality storylines, although Hugo does that to most of the other Batman villains too)

The Scarecrow has become the go-to character for hallucination sequences / revisiting character traumas, which frequently makes him less of a character and more so a convenient plot device, a problem heightened by the larger issue here that is his inconsistent motivation, or lack thereof. He lacks the kind of "breakout" stories that his fellow major Batman villains have had that usually cement an ongoing characterization, and his most famous/celebrated appearences in mass media don't really do much to combat the assertion that he is shallow and weak and whose only asset is the gas (namely, his boss fights in Arkham Asylum, which are all about the fear gas hallucination scares, and his role in Nolan's Batman, which is very fun, but also purposefully plays him up for ridicule and lack of depth next to the other villains)

These days, the Scarecrow is a tedious pip-squeak. His schemes lack verve, his cruelties stir little in the way of frissons. Haunted by cliché to an even greater extent than the other rogues, he’s often brought low with a single sock to the jaw delivered by Batman, or by finding himself on the receiving end of his own fear-inducing concoctions. He often acts as a pawn in the hands of bigger, badder third parties. He’s ostensibly a stand-in for the figure of the reductive, smug and hypocritical psychologist, nicely bundled up for the audience to humiliate in effigy - TheMindlessOnes's rogue review for Scarecrow

In "Nothing to Fear" it is explained that Jonathan Crane has always had this "thing" for scaring people. (Just as Snidely Whiplash had his "thing" for tying women to railroad tracks, I suppose.) But this is a wan kind of motive. One senses sadly that the real motive for the Scarecrow's behavior lies in the writer's need for someone to do something reprehensible. At the root of the matter may be a difficulty in sorting out the Scarecrow's ends from his means, with a consequent confusion between the goals the Scarecrow intends to reach and the tactics he employs in reaching them.

As a psychologist specializing in phobic disorders, Crane knows how to induce fear and trembling in his victims. But this tells us nothing about what the Scarecrow wants to accomplish. And without a sense or statement of what those goals are, the writer will be tempted to substitute means for end and make the Scarecrow's goal simply the scaring of people. Usually his actions are woefully underexplained - Dreams in Darkness' review by Toonzone

You might think that I'd be advocating for the Scarecrow, then, to disregard a need for a motivation and become as unknowable and horrific as possible, to recapture the awe I felt at his Batman Live self, but no, not at all. For one, I don't think the best version of anything is necessarily the one that made the most impact on me as a kid. Two, there have been some attempts over the years to remove Scarecrow from the toxin or seriously amp him up as a threat, and frankly, most of those have only made the character dramatically worse and more boring (I don't remember the name, but there was a Batman story a while ago where he goes on a big scary killing spree with no toxin just to prove he can and it was fucking terrible). Three, and the big one here, is that this pretty much forces you to get rid of Dr. Jonathan Crane, and I think that does a disservice to the character's potential. I think that's giving up on trying to make him work as a character and I don't think you have to do that.

My preferred characterization for Crane is one that emphasizes his nature as a scholar turned supervillain. The cold and misanthropic and neurotic nerd professor who spent most of his salary on books and took to terrorizing the city as a costumed criminal in part because he wanted money to buy more books. Who takes off the costume mid-crime spree to school his henchmen on specifics of brain chemistry, who gets revenge on those that wrong his students or even employs them as henchmen, still the same guy who thinks there's nothing wrong with firing a loaded gun in a packed classroom as a demonstration. Far less interested in human connections than he is in human reactions, things that can surprise him or that he can catalogue or research or write about. Someone who's not a sadist for sadism's sake, but who doesn't really see you as a person so much as he sees a test subject. I like Crane as a snarky humorous heel who thinks of himself as amoral and mature while doing horribly immoral and childish things, the Herbert West or Rusty Venture of Batman villains (James Urbaniak is definitely the voice I'd pick for him).

My preferred kind of motivation for him is something along the lines of how he's portrayed in most of Kings of Fear, where he puts Batman through the wringer in part as an attempt to get to him and cure him once and for all, or issues #4-5 of The Batman Adventures where he induces city-wide illiteracy in part as a protest against the city's failing education. In Gothtopia he makes all of Gotham hallucinate their perfect ideal lives, eliminating the crime rate but causing the suicide rate to spike up in return, and yes it does turn out to be the set-up for a really generic "fear gas everyone with blimps and make everyone twice as scared" pay off when his involvement is revealed, but I always thought Scarecrow being able and willing to do that, to create these huge and even benevolent-seeming social experiments, as an idea with legs. Fear State was frustratingly halfway there, with the initial set-up of Scarecrow pursuing a theory for fear-based social upheaval, but on top of not being very good, it also wound up that he was just doing the same old thing again and had Batman call him out as someone who just wanted to gas the city and make everyone scared again and never changes and does anything different, which seemed like Tynion defeating his own purpose of trying to make a defining Scarecrow story and address his lack of one, completely failing to address the why the character has that kind of problem and upending itself for meta commentary before doing anything interesting.

Even Kings of Fear, easily the best Scarecrow story of the past decades if not outright ever, kinda ends in a bit of a cop-out where The Scarecrow has to be wrong ("Even when he's telling the truth, he's lying, and even when he's right, he's wrong", Gordon tells Batman to reassure him, to nullify the past 5 issues criticizing and tearing into Batman from every angle imaginable), and he has to be a sadist who just wanted to fuck with Batman and uncover his worst fears because it's what he does. Why does Scarecrow want to unravel people and wrench their worst fears into the surface? Because he's a sadist who gets off on it? I guess that's the canon answer most of the time, but it's such a boring, weak one. Because he wants revenge on the world / bullies? Still weak, done better by other villains even. Because of an unspeakably traumatic childhood that taught him the world was ruled by fear and therefore driving him to become it's master? Okay, but it still doesn't actually answer what he wants to get out of doing what he does.

We know that Jonathan Crane was a fragile youth routinely terrorized and abused by others and plainly traumatized by his experiences. We know that he is learned and brilliant and given to introspection and fantasy.

From this base it is not hard to imagine Crane turning into a man fiercely devoted to solitude and study and capable of a murderous rage when his privacy is violated. It is possible, in other words, to imagine him as a reactive force, in the mold of Freeze, systematically terrorizing and destroying anyone who crosses him but rarely wanting to start trouble himself.

Or we can imagine him as a mercenary, a specialist hired by others for nefarious purposes, but who is not himself strongly motivated by particular rages or desires.

But if the Scarecrow is going to remain a sadist and a sadist only—if he is going to be moved only by the psychotic desire to harm others—we ought to be made to feel the seductive power that sadism has over its practitioners; we should be made to feel and appreciate the hot and sour joy that comes from the purposeful humiliation of another - Dreams in Darkness review by Toonzone

It's kind of a frustrating pattern in a lot of his stories where he gives a reason for doing something, and it turns out to be a cover for yet another sadistic fear gas attack, but his cover reason was a more interesting motivation for him than what he actually was going for. A villain who mainly just gets a kick out of hurting people and concocts bullshit excuses and reasons to justify said hurting? The Joker does that already, but the Joker always clearly states what he wants and has all those ways to make cruelty for cruelty's sake entertaining. If that's all The Scarecrow is also, no wonder he's going to be so incredibly lacking most of the time (nevermind the fact that he's never going to be the guy most infamous for gassing Gotham City).

Yes, he may be sadistic and cruel, he may enjoy what he does too much, and maybe there really isn't any kind of realistic explanation as to why a man would dress up as a scarecrow to commit terrorism and spray innocent people with chemicals to make them terrified, but refer to the guy he's fighting. "Realistic" is the wrong term. The issue here is less "why" the Scarecrow does what he does, and more what is he hoping to get out of it. Granted, this is less of a concern if you're playing The Scarecrow as a figure of horror, someone who's not even really human underneath that outfit. But I think that locks away much of his versatility. The Scarecrow needs Jonathan Crane, and I think there's good stuff to like about that awful man.

I like Jonathan Crane the sardonic pragmatic scientist who still embraces his hopelessly ridiculous life, a guy who's not nearly as above it all as he'd like to be and has wants and needs moreso than he really likes to admit. I like him as a book lover, as a fan of horror, I like him as the kind of guy who'd send fan mail to Elvira and break out of Arkham just to catch a Halloween parade and guest star in a Scooby-Doo movie for a change. I like him as someone who'd have a decent working relationship with the other rogues and pal with the Legion of Doom and get into a physical spat with Riddler over a chess game. Someone who custom-makes his own outfits and equipment, who makes scythes out of animal bones to fight Batman with, who picked the scarecrow motif in part because it was a term of derision his colleagues used on him.

Who pours himself over his research as he records his theories in a tape recorder, the kind of guy who grouses at having to clean another cell because he's getting annoyed at his test subjects killing themselves, seriously guys the cleaning supplies for this batch were as fresh as they could be, and the iguana amygdalas I used should be stopping your neocortexes from overreacting this strongly. Subject #3 over there got over his fear of centipedes yesterday and he hasn't screamed all morning, I'm gonna need the rest of you to stop being such babies, okay?

It must be terribly liberating for Crane, to transcend mere ugliness and become inhuman. Of all the rogues, he’s easily the one who takes Batman’s “I need a disguise; I shall become a beast of the night” schtick and runs with it the farthest - TheMindlessOnes's rogue review for Scarecrow

And that's for Jonathan Crane, man of science. The Scarecrow, however, is not science, he is unreason incarnate, and to me what most makes The Scarecrow work as a Batman villain has nothing to do with "they both use fear as a weapon", I always thought that was a bit shallow of an angle to pursue (most, if not all, the villains rely on fear, it comes with the whole "crime" thing). The two have a stronger connection via the costume, the theatricality, the becoming a creature of the night angle. None of the other major Batman villains are going into their costumes the way The Scarecrow is. They have their personas and varying degrees of division between them and their "real selves", but few of them are wearing outright identity-separating Halloween Monster Costumes with separate names and personalities they can dip in and out of at their convenience.

And I'm gonna interrupt myself to answer your second question. I couldn't pick just one design, so counting the Batman Live one above, I picked 10. These are not in order and they're not necessarily how I'd design him, I'd say my actual favorite Scarecrow designs are fan-made, but if I was going to pick out of "official" material these are the ones I'd go for. It's time for:

(Left-to-right: George Pratt's Scarecrow pin-up, Phil Jimenez's Scarecrow design, Ed Natividad's concept art for Suicide Squad)

(Left-to-right: His TNBA design by Bruce Timm as drawn by Luciano Vecchio, Alex Ross's design for Justice, and Tim Sale's Scarecrow)

(Left-to-right: Kelley Jones' design for Kings of Fear, Jeremy Raapack's design for Legends of the Dark Knight #25, Scarecrow's design in Happy Halloween, Scooby-Doo!)

*cough*, anyway: Most of the other rogues with their signature suits or masks or body distortions don't tend to have closets full of different variant Batsuits and scarecrow costumes to choose and devote to their cause and ideal, that they sit at night tailoring on how to make scarier or more loaded with weapons, that they might even have conversations with, things that sit in their closets waiting because both of these brilliant men, men who have (or at least had) different civilian lives, men who could stop doing this at any time, who both decided that becoming a Halloween monster prowling the streets to inflict terror is a necessary, even productive use of their time.

And I think that's the key word I want to end here, productive. I think The Scarecrow needs to be more productive. Because even if he's not aware of it, he is achieving progress via his research, and there is one way he's proved his ideas: Batman walks out of every fight they have stronger. Every encounter they have is a test that Batman resists and walks out of more able to cope with his own traumas, or at least, better able to resist them being weaponized against him. I always wanted to explore the idea that Crane is genuinely convinced he's doing people a favor or at least achieving something via all these horrible Scarecrow campaigns, and one thing he has achieved is that Batman is never not prepared for chemical attacks or assaults on his mind, Batman resists ungodly trials of willpower and determination and courage, in part because he has to deal with the Scarecrow pumping terror juice in his brain semi-regularly.

The fact that Crane loses and gets beaten up and has to retry schemes again and again and kill people and join the costume parade just to lure Batman is fairly inconsequential to him, so long as it gets results. He's not interested in dissecting Batman's brain or being more like Batman, that's Hugo Strange's thing. Hugo Strange needs Batman to be fearless, allmighty and perfect, where as Jonathan Crane wants nothing more than to unearth and study the fears and kinks in the armor, the dead last thing he wants is a perfect man. Hugo Strange wants to crawl naked into the mask of the great and terrible fascist and never come out, where as The Scarecrow wants to crack open all the masks in the world and feast luridly on whatever seeps out.

Batman isn't just the ultimate trial against his fear-ruled worldview (or even affirmation), and he isn't just a breakthrough waiting to happen: he might be his greatest success as of yet. A case study on the success of exposure therapy, proof of potential medicinal applications for his formula, the greatest guinea pig of all time because he won't die no matter what you pump into him, you name it. So what if all those other people couldn't stomach the procedure, so what if those precious innocents are too weak and stupid and useless to not get in the way of research, it's clearly worked wonders for those who could take it.

And if the future belongs to men like Batman, if all of these superheroes and supervillains are the way things are going to be like forever, if the future is Bat-shaped and as vast and uncertain and horrible as the forces shaping it, the future needs to be prepared. The future needs to grapple with it's past and face it's greatest horrors and become stronger for it. There is no such thing as overcoming fear, there is only living with it, embracing it, bowing to the primordial instinct that knows the answer before you do. Mankind grew and developed it's intelligence and tools out of fear, fear of the bigger predators out there, fear of the other cavemen, fear of starvation and death and everything they couldn't understand and master until they learned to fear it. What better knowledge to pass along than fear? And who is better qualified to teach about fear?

Maybe Crane isn't just another monster with a grudge, maybe he isn't another costumed revenge killer, maybe he isn't just a power-tripping sadist bully out to torment others because he can, and maybe he isn't a hopeless traumatized madman who destroyed his professional and personal life in a monstrous quest to satisfy an obsession ruling his soul.

Maybe he is a sane response to an insane situation. Ever heard that one before?

#replies tag #superheroes #batman #dc comics #scarecrow #the scarecrow #jonathan crane #gotham city

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abybweisse · 1 year ago

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The fire, revisited

I have a crack theory that might not be too cracky.

Previously, I'd thought the fire at Phantomhive Manor was started by either the attackers (and/or John Brown) or by Tanaka (on Vincent's standing orders, in case something like this happened to him).

Well, I'd be surprised if Tanaka somehow managed to do that, considering he'd fallen from that stab wound to the back. Either John Brown or the other attackers on his/the queen's orders is still a good possibility. Particularly since I expect that John and the queen already know by then that Undertaker is a reaper.

But there's another possibility I'd never really talked about before: the reapers who came to collect all those souls. I was thinking of this during discussions about ch209, because this new reaper states there're no additional comments to make about Snake's death, even though he's in a space underground where there are body parts stored, blood transfusion equipment, and a bizarre doll who is actually Snake's killer.

You'd think he'd at least mention the odd circumstances of Snake's death, especially when there's a hunt for Undertaker and his latest bizarre dolls. I don't think this reaper is completely oblivious to what's going on; it seems to me he might be trying to actively cover up what's happening, so he's not including such details in the official documentation. It could be for selfish reasons (to avoid overtime), or it could be based on special orders he's been given.

I say that because for a long time, the reapers weren't talking about Undertaker, and Grelle didn't even know about Undertaker's past as 136649. Othello knows because he was there and he was trained with 136649. But if he's a "fugitive of legend", why aren't reapers like Grelle and Ronald aware of his history? William has been at least somewhat aware of him for a while... but he's in management. The "superiors" are finally getting reapers in collections involved with this ongoing case against Undertaker, and I suspect it's only out of necessity. If they could, they would keep the vast majority of the reapers in the dark about this deserter.

Because they consider him to be that much of a threat to their organization. For quite some time, I've thought he knows something (bad) about the organization itself, and if he spread that knowledge around to the reaper masses, there could be an uprising. We've seen it with the maids turning against Heathfield, Ada and the patients turning against the Aurora Society, and now with the top students against the orphanage. When people realize they are being controlled and harmed for someone else's benefit, they tend to rise up, and I think that's what could happen if enough of the reapers learn whatever Undertaker knows.

The "superiors" finally got serious about it, according to Othello, when they sent him from his lab to the human realm. They seem to have hoped he could make this problem go away by talking to the deserter, destroying him, or capturing him. But once Othello realized it really was him, of all reapers, he knew he couldn't handle the situation on his own... and that he and Grelle wouldn't be enough, either. That's why he sent the dove for backup.

But I think someone else in the reaper organization already knew Undertaker was involved and tried to stop him without properly documenting anything -- they tried to cover up his activities. The night of the attack, one or two reapers were sent to collect souls from the dying, as per usual. While looking through their cinematic records, the reapers saw occasional instances of Undertaker showing up in them, but the most instances would have been in Vincent's records.

Vincent's records would have had extensive chunks of memories involving Undertaker, and the information in those records (things they said to each other) could have been damning somehow. To the organization, at least. What if Undertaker admitted to being Vincent's father? What if he told Vincent secrets he knew about the reaper organization? What if he mentioned the experiments he'd already been conducting on cinematic records and corpses?

Any reaper reviewing such records might think the best thing to do is destroy all this evidence, which might hopefully destroy the information, too. Why would a reaper destroy evidence about the organization's activities, if that information could help spawn a revolution? Too much of a hassle? Doesn't understand the full implications? On someone else's orders? Perhaps the reapers sent to collect these souls were specifically told to burn Vincent's body and the manor, and those reapers did as they were told, regardless of the circumstances. I wonder what happened to any reaper who saw whatever they saw in those cinematic records.... 🤔

Whoever ordered the fire to be started, or whoever decided to start it... they did so to destroy evidence.

As well as to keep Undertaker from collecting Vincent's body and cinematic records. Because whoever this person is, they know Undertaker would have found those things useful. And they didn't want him to have access.

The end result is pretty much the same, except that now I think reapers might have actually done it, instead of attackers/John or Tanaka.

#black butler #kuroshitsuji #theories #crack theory #reapers #grim reapers #fire at the manor #john brown #superiors #reaper superiors #reaper organization #undertaker #observation #vincent phantomhive #ramblings #feb 22 2024 #long post #long reads

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the---hermit · 2 years ago

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How to get out of a reading slump

A while back posted a list of ten books to help you get out of a reading slump, but I also wanted to post a more general list of tips I personally think are useful when you find yourself in a reading slump. (I have also talked about this topic in this ask). So here's some of my tips:

Take a break. Sometimes you can get in reading slumps because you are burned out, maybe not just because of reading, but that can be affected as well. You have no obligations when reading (unless of course if you have to do it for school/uni, in which case I would still recommend trying to get some time off or at least slow down a bit in order to get some energies back). Sometimes accepting that you are in a non-reading place in life it's the best solution.

If you feel like it's a book you are reading that is putting you in a reading slump dnf it, or at least try to switch between that and another book. I personally tend to get stuck when I have only one book in my currently reading pile, because I need to vary often, so I like to have at the very least two books that I am currently reading. Realizing this about myself made me read much more, because I have avoided a lot of reading slumps. I'd also like to add that there's no shame in dnf-ing a book, if you are not enjoying your time with it there's no reason you should keep forcing yourself to read that. Maybe it's not the right time, and you'll enjoy it more in the future, or simply the book is not made for you, which is totally fine.

Graphic novels are a great compromise to get some reading done when you are in a reading slump, but you still want to something to read. This is specifically my solution for when I am in a reading slump caused by being burned out. Graphic novels tend to require less brain energy, and the illustrations usually help a lot with the flow of the story. I think this is the safest option when you are in the worse reading slumps.

Audiobooks are your best friends, whether you want to listen to it while doing other activities, or you want the narrator to help you while you follow the page, I feel like this is another great option. I personally love audiobooks, and I like to always have one on the go. This is again a great option if you are feeling burned out, in those cases I really like to listen to the audiobook as I take a walk, or even as I play some mindless games online like tetris, and similar things. These are also a great option to help when the book you are reading is putting you in a reading slump but you really have to read it. I have used audiobooks a lot in high school to help when I had to read poems or big classics.

Short story collections can be one of the best options to get back into reading. These take off the pressure of being consistent in order to remember things, because you can pick them up and leave them as you like, since most stories won't be over 25 pages usually. There's also some great options of collections that include multiple genres, which can be very helpful when you are stuck and don't really know what you want to read.

Fairytales and kid's books might not come to mind as soon as you think of what to read, but they can be very helpful to get you out of reading slumps. They are short and lighthearted which are two fundamental characteristics of good books to get you back into reading. And rivisiting some childhood favourites is always a great choice in my opinion.

Reread an old favourite or a comfort book. I know some people don't love revisiting old favourites, but I personally love them. You always get something new out of the story, and rereading a plot you know already can take off a lot of the pressure of reading, because you don't have to pay the same attention as with a story you know nothing about. This can be very helpful when getting back into the habit of reading.

Set up a cozy place to read. I am all about romanticizing the small things in life, and this is a very effortless way to put you into a good mindset to read. I personally like to light a few candles, make myself a nice cup of tea, maybe get a little treat to eat, cuddle up under a blanket and just read. Of course your set up might change depending on your preferences, just have a little fun with it, you could even try to read a bit while you are taking a bath.

Try to read outside. Similarly to the last tip, changing your enviroiment can be helpful sometimes. Some people like to read in a cafè, but you could also go in your garden if you have one or in a park.

Consume bookish content. This might seem stupid at first but sometimes seeing other people be excited about reading and books is very motivating. It has personally helped me several times.

Start a buddy read with a friend you feel comfortable with. Sharing your thoughts with someone as you read a book can keep the motivation up and a buddy read can be a great option to help with motivation, but be sure that you are comfortable with this person so that you don't feel too pressure upon you. Be clear from the beginning set a small goal and have fun with your buddy.

At the moment these are all the tips that came to my mind when thinking about getting out of a reading slump. Of course different people might have different methods, but changing things up can always be helpful. As I said at the beginning you shouldn't feel pressure when reading, and if it's a no reading moment in your life there's not shame in it, but I have also been stuck in reading slumps where I actually did want to read but I couldn't bring myself to do so, and many of these things helped me.

original posts/tips masterlist

#this has been in my drafts for months but i finally edited it #idk why it took me so long #how to get out of a reading slump #reading slump #reading slump tips #tips #reading #studyblr #bookblr #booklr #bookish #reading tips #og post #study tips #original post #books #mine #the---hermit

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yanderes-galore · 1 year ago

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Anon couldn't be here for the request period so I reserved two requests for them, this is their second one

Anon Said: "With “Dittophobia” generating renewed interest in FNAF 4, how about we revisit the nightmare animatronics a bit? Could we get some rivalry headcanons between Nightmare Bonnie and Nightmare Chica? I want to see some nightmares throwing hands (or claws in this case)."

A/N: Sure! This is based off the small behavior talk I did a long time ago! Been awhile since I've written for the Nightmares and I'm excited for this!

Yandere! Nightmare Bonnie vs Yandere! Nightmare Chica

Pairing: Platonic/Romantic - Rivalry

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Biting, Jealousy, Possessive behavior, Blood, Cannibalism mentioned, Stalking, Violence, Kidnapping implied, Supernatural forces, Mentions of death.

When it comes to the Nightmares I'm pulling from other works I've done.

Both Bonnie and Chica, they're cruel, sadistic, and crave attention.

You need to pay attention to their presence or you could get hurt, right?

Plus, I'd write these two similarly to how I wrote Nightmare Fredbear and Freddy in the past.

How I tend to write the Nightmares is they're demons.

Which would mean you have strange anthropomorphic mechanical animals haunting you.

I've said in the past they take a twisted form based on things from their target's past.

This would imply you've been to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza at least once in your lifetime.

It would only be better if you were fond of Bonnie and Chica as a young child.

When you could have first encountered these demons can vary.

Maybe similar to the Fredbear fic I've done in the past they were masquerading as your imaginary friends?

Since you were young and you came home from Freddy Fazbear's, you were always greeted by a large bunny and chicken.

Maybe when you were younger you never saw them as demons.

With your childish mind you only ever saw your friends from Freddy's.

Perhaps here they play nice, although often argue about your attention.

Play more with the bunny and the chicken appears jealous that you care more for the bunny's songs.

Play more with the chicken or eat her food she made for you and the bunny appears irritable.

It's then you meet them again as an adult.

Only to learn they aren't quite imaginary.

It's this or you meet them as an adult with no prior knowledge about them as a child.

However I feel them originally being your imaginary friends is the best case scenario.

Unless you want something similar to the Nightmare Freddy fic I did where you're babysitting a kid they are haunting.

Either way, this Bonnie and Chica are much different from their usual counterparts.

Not only in appearance either.

Bonnie still wants attention, especially from his favorite human...

He just hopes you don't mind his games getting a little violent or his music haunting your ears.

Chica also wants your attention, to the point she craves it like a meal.

The demonic chicken even still makes, she just hopes you don't mind if she puts a bit of blood in her cakes.

Maybe it could even be yours, she bets it will taste amazing.

As expected, both of them like the idea of biting you to get a taste of you.

Chica seems a bit too fixated on it.

They're demons, demonic creatures that happen to be haunting your home.

In the corner of your eyes at night you'll see them slink back into the shadows.

Maybe you'll even see the small cupcake Chica sends to watch you.

Both of them would be possessive as they're territorial.

They wants to be your tormentors but they want to do it alone.

Since they've known you it's always been one or the other.

Bonnie tries to lure you in with songs written just for you, a twisted form of mimicry compared to the real Bonnie.

Meanwhile Chica tries to lure you to her with meals she mysteriously prepared in your kitchen.

Everything from pizza to cakes, the smell wafts through rooms and into your nose.

Yet it's all strangely metallic smelling when you look past the tasty smells.

Don't be fooled, when either of them get you close, they'll dig their claws into your flesh and claim you as theirs.

They yearn to bond to you, lapping at your wounds to devour you like prey.

They're monsters, way worse than just nightmares.

Unlike nightmares... you can't escape their terror by waking up.

This is reality.

The haunting songs and smells don't stop.

You can't do anything but hide in your room as the two fight.

They pounce at each other, clawing and growling like wild animals when not trying to lure you to them.

The smell of brimstone pierces your nose as mechanical clicks and clangs rings through your ears.

Being demons, they're immortal.

However, you are not, you are merely mortal.

One of them will take you and your soul by force if they have to.

Sure, hold them off as long as you can.

Soon you'll give into one of them

The question is which one?

Will you follow the bunny's songs and be lured in like a siren?

Or will you follow the scent of food the chicken made like a rat to a trap?

The two could battle it out for seemingly forever...

But you'll fall victim to them at any moment in your life, as they'll follow you and fight until the day you rot just to take you away.

Only then could their quarreling simmer down... and that isn't even guaranteed.

#yandere five nights at freddy's #yandere fnaf #yandere fnaf 4 #yandere nightmare animatronics #yandere nightmare bonnie #yandere nightmare chica

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cloveroctobers · 1 month ago

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DANTE TORRES | FOLDER TWO: SLIPPIN’

A/N: Not me keeping a story going! Is this going to give, *Sidney’s voice*, “Don’t f-ck with the original!” Or what? I haven’t done chapters or books since my wattpad era 🤭 Guess you have Dante to thank for that! If you’re just tuning in, hope you’re somewhere comfy and you can start here.

S/N: premiere night gave what it needed to give! I’m enjoying learning more about Kiana, she’s cool in my book! I’m most interested in seeing the one Chicago crossover episode—which may or may not inspire some more content…who knows as of right now? I also originally had no plans of writing something new until February but consider this a new year’s gift? 🩵

WARNINGS: Doing what I do best! delivering angst, lots of dialogue in this one, kinda lengthy, most likely language, talks of health risk, revisiting the past, and some reconciliation?

<- need a refresher? Read the previous piece here.

﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉

Seraphina stands in front of the window, fingertips kept warm with a cup of tea as she zoned out on the view of Kansas City. A town that just felt temporary, a place where she would solely be a visitor passing through without leaving any marks behind. It’s been six months since she decided to take a leap and move to Jersey City to begin again. Unbeknownst to her she wouldn’t realize that her time elsewhere would possibly be short lived, receiving a disturbing call that brought her back to the Midwest.

She feels her phone buzz in her back pocket, breaking her out of her gaze from the pelts of rain that flicked against the glass. Blinking Seraphina pulls her phone to see a text from Manny, checking where she’s at and if she’s okay, which lets her know that she’s been on her walk for a while now. The woman lets out a soft exhale, quickly typing out a reply that she’s on her way back now. Yet she stands at the window for a minute longer, dreading the fact that she’s even here and that this will be another mountain to climb.

Sipping at the herbal tea, which warms her, she takes that as a step of courage before she turns, somewhat prepared to continue to get through this and of course be supportive to the man who always had a interesting way to teach her about love.

If one could call it that.

There’s a heat that appears in her throat at the thought that isn’t granted from the tea but she fights against it. Seraphina is aware that now isn’t the time to be selfish about the past, since she’s come a long way in this relationship. Once her eyes lift and connect with familar spring green’s, her breathing gets caught in her throat at the sight of the man.

She speaks first, “Dante?”

They’re both frozen in place in the eerie hallway, his hands are in his pockets and he almost appears like a deer in headlights, removing one hand from his pocket to rub at the back of his neck but manages to breathe out, “Hey, Nina.”

It’s that normal quiet tone of his voice that almost feels like a whisper, which somehow makes her feel like all will be fine against the sudden chill that whips from the back of Seraphina’s frame. Dante can see her shudder, whether it’s from his presence or the mere fact that she’s here in a hospital, he’s not quite sure.

He’s the first to move and Seraphina allows him to come to her. He still gives her some space but he’s close enough to see that her hair is different, much different, shorter and a light brown—almost caramel—compared to her usual dark hair, that she stopped letting grow too long awhile ago, becoming tired of having to tend to so much hair especially working as a chemist. Dante can also see beneath her beauty that there’s worry right in between her brows, she’s always had the best poker face but he can only imagine what she’s holding onto when no one’s watching.

“You changed your hair,” Dante points out, a small smile playing on his lips as he attempts to keep things light.

Seraphina begins to breathe normally, “I did. You like it?”

She’s not sure why she’s asking, she’s never been one to dwell on anyone’s opinions on what she did—except for her father and her old best friend.

The ones that seemed to matter the most.

Dante’s nodding, his eyes moved from her new hair to her face, “It suits you well.”

“Thank you,” she dips her head playing with the lid of the cup, making Dante quickly run his eyes over her fingers, purposely ignoring her nails on a particular hand, yet still wondered what else might have changed in these agonizing months before she tosses in, “…Got any new tattoos I need to know about?”

He laughs a little as he teases, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

The brings a smile to her face as she shrugs her shoulders but says nothing more. They would meet each other’s eyes again before one chose to break it and stare over the other’s shoulder instead. It was tense being face to face after all this time but the two have been through enough storms together to weather it.

“So what brings you to Kansas City?” Seraphina questions, assuming that it must be a case.

Dante moves his hands back into his pockets, “I um…your mom called my ma and told her what’s happening. My ma said a prayer for her—not just her but your family. Then she told me.”

Her throat feels thick at the new information. She hasn’t spoken to Dante at all since she got everything set up in Jersey City before taking her official leave. He was in denial that she actually wanted to leave until he started noticing moving trucks and boxes some time later. After Seraphina found out about the passing of Gloria, she decided that letting go of their friendship might be their best option to move forward in life, they went almost two weeks without speaking after their debate in her bedroom but Dante cracked first.

He apologized and begged her to stay, to not leave him but once Seraphina’s mind was made up, it was almost impossible to change it. Dante had to accept it and it added another mountain of grief he had to deal with on his own. He would call and text just not to receive any response, only to learn that Seraphina was still talking to his mother every so often, which definitely made him want to crash out multiple times.

That was a difficult time and he learned what space really means and from the one person that he never wanted out of his life, was a tough one to swallow. And now he was here.

“You drove all this way for—

“You.” Dante’s response is instant and it makes Seraphina let out a deep breath, “I’m sorry if I’m doing too much but I figured through all of this…you would want someone else here in your corner.”

Dante and Seraphina’s father never had the best relationship. Sure the pair became friends at a young age which was once full of playfulness, bright futures, and adventure before it all quickly changed for the worst. Mr. Coty was big on image and believes that who you surround yourself with said a lot about you and once he realized what Dante’s stepfather was like, he only assumed the worst for Dante. Instead of providing guidance, he brought on preconceived notions of what Dante could be.

He started acting different towards the young boy and once Dante started getting involved with that gang, Seraphina brought home those pills, and Dante beat his step-father so bad that his injuries were unspeakable, Mr. Coty began to despise a young Dante Torres. Years later Dante was here while the older man was at a high risk of declining but Dante could honestly say he wasn’t really here for him—but he would keep that to himself.

“…just tell me what you need from me?” He says after his old friend most likely has so much on her mind that she may not know what to say.

Seraphina’s eyes shine with a number of emotions, for one Dante was here after she went completely cold turkey on him. She set a boundary yet at the same time she still had a piece of him because she didn’t feel right completely cutting momma Catalina off as well. After all Dante had the woman’s first name, “Laura,” tatted on his forearm as a means of always having her near. He wanted to be angry and maybe he was that his mother still had Seraphina around and he was out of luck. Momma Catalina would push just a little until Seraphina had to be firm with her decision to her second mother figure. If you asked Seraphina six months ago what she needed from Dante, her answer would be much different.

Her dark eyes meet his and she finds that he still cares. It was heart warming to witness, honorable even and she wouldn’t forget it. He showed up for her when he didn’t have to and that meant something.

The doors behind Dante flap open, revealing a bearded Manny who looks up from his phone, doing a double take himself. Seraphina catches his questionable eyes first, making Dante the last to peer over his shoulder. Manny gives a single wave but it’s not a beaming smile attached to the usual expression where his eyes crinkle at the corners.

Dante honestly didn’t think the guy would still be in the picture. He did his best to keep his attention on his cases but he couldn’t help but to crack every now and then to get any bit of information he could on Seraphina’s new life now. He already knew that Seán, the still going strong engaged lawyer and good friend of Seraphina’s was now collecting the rent on her property for her so she wouldn’t have to constantly make trips back to Chicago. Dante only wondered if they were on better terms, if he would have been the one tasked with this instead.

There were a bunch of what if’s circulating and it only amplified now, seeing Manny Castillo being here for his Nina instead. Seraphina watched Dante’s jaw tighten at the sight of Manny before he turned back to face her. His eyes quickly shifted back to over her shoulder, rubbing at his jaw in irritation.

A pang of jealousy swirls within his frame because it felt like he was replaced.

“Hey,” Seraphina gently says making his heated stare meet her’s but it softens some, “Thanks for coming when you didn’t have to. It means more than you know, Tay.”

Dante gives a sharp nod.

The short haired woman takes another breath. Something she’s been doing a lot more since she’s been back in the Midwest. Seraphina closes the space between the two, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek and wrapping one arm over his shoulder, waiting for him to hug her back. The tension seems to erase with Seraphina pressed against him, his hands go right to the small of her back, squeezing her as if she’ll slip right through his fingers again.

It’s Manny’s turn to bring his gaze elsewhere. He pinched at his nose but gives the two their moment after seeing Seraphina close her eyes in Dante’s embrace. The hug is over much quicker than Dante would have liked but she touches his face tenderly, offering him an appreciative smile before she walks away from him once more.

Dante is determined to make sure that it’s not out of his life. Six months was more than enough and the time prior, he knew that this isn’t going to work for him. They made promises to each other and sure they were much younger then but devotion wasn’t like dust in the wind.

This relationship couldn’t be swept away.

And Dante was going to show her exactly that.

﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉

Dante had no intent of staying in Kansas City for a lengthy time, it was a spur of the moment action in all honesty. One that Voight could tell it was something Dante needed to take care of so he let it slide for now. Would a weekend be enough to get back on track if the childhood friends could? Part of him knows the focus should be on Seraphina’s father, which he didn’t get the chance to talk to her about before Manny came and whisked her away. He wouldn’t push it but it was most definitely on his mind as he sat alone in the hotel room.

He’s already spoken to his ma, who wanted all of the details but there truthfully wasn’t much to say, which meant he did more listening to the woman than what he revealed. Dante didn’t want to apply too much pressure given the unknown circumstance with Mr. Coty’s health but he would be damned if he left here without trying.

Dante’s stared at her contact name for some time until it appears across his screen on its own, spinning along the top of his phone. He takes time answering it, not wanting to appear too eager that the woman took him off block but hearing her voice may just ease his anxieties. She apologizes about it being so late calling him, informing him that she’s staying the night with her father but asked if Dante would be interested in meeting up in the morning at union station to mainly clear the air, which Dante agreed to.

He just didn’t expect union station to be as huge as it was, something he should have researched before he finally fell into slumber, instead of one hour before the meet up time. (the pictures did it no justice) However with his skills Dante was positive it wouldn’t take him long to find her in the detailed building. The high ceilings made Dante feel almost like a child and the intricate chandeliers were pleasant enough to lead the way as he found his way through to the mentioned coffee shop.

Seraphina had just beat him, taking a seat at the circular table, setting her iced coffee and flaky pastry of choice on the table before checking her phone and using both of her hands to massage at her neck. Soon Dante is making his way over to her, heart thudding in his chest. He tells her not to get up, kissing her cheek in greeting before she tells him he should order something inside before the rush starts.

“Iced mocha?” Dante quizzes as he pushes himself closer to the table.

Seraphina nods before lifting her chin at his hot beverage, “Boring cappuccino?”

He scoffs as he takes a sip at his creamy espresso, “Don’t be a hater so early in the morning, Nina. It’s not a good look.”

She playfully glares at him before she sits back against the chair, eyes deciding to people watch.

“Manny didn’t want to attend this meet up?” He slides that in, voice gentle but there was a hint of bite in it that she would obviously pick up on as he peered over at the woman underneath his eyelashes.

There’s a spec of amusement in Seraphina’s eyes, “No. if you must know, he brought my mom back up to the hospital to stay with my dad and he’s working from my parents’ house.”

“Good for him,” Dante mumbles sarcastically.

She shakes her head at him, “This isn’t necessary you know? He’s a good guy.”

“He better be.” Dante informs while Seraphina tilts her head at him in warning, “Just because I’m not around like I would like to be, doesn’t mean I’ll let anyone get away with treating you less than you deserve.”

She stares at him then, finding his words to be genuine. They’ve been around each other enough to know when their protectiveness was warranted. It was nice to see that this was still true.

“Well…you don’t have to worry about Manny in that department.” Seraphina defends.

“Good.”

“Do you want this entire conversation to be about him…because I can tell you more about him if you like?”

Dante’s quick with it, “I’d rather sit on the train tracks while waiting for a train to come by.”

“…That’s dark.”

A crooked smile plays on his lips, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be, not if you mean it.” Seraphina answers, “…Is it bothering you that much?”

“That you’ve moved on without me?” Dante asks, pushing his lips out in thought, “I just…don’t want you to forget me. These six months have been less than great without you, Nina. It’s not something I really got used to. I even thought about driving to the east coast.”

She presses her elbows onto the table, resting her cheek against her clasped hands, “I think you’d like Jersey city. At least the blending in part.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s not Vancouver but I feel optimistic there…at least for now.” Seraphina admits, reaching for her drink.

‘You should visit someday,’ part of her thinks this but she keeps it only as a thought.

Dante watches her for a moment, taking in her words and how she still thought of him. Perhaps it wasn’t all the time like he often did with her but it brought him comfort to know that she hadn’t forgotten him despite her cutting him off. There were plenty of talks between the once young teens when they snuck into each other’s rooms to lay side by side, staring up at one another’s ceilings as they talked about the future, talked about seeing the world together or even a piece of it that didn’t cut like chicago did.

Back then that was just talks but now Seraphina was taking that step…except Dante was behind her instead of beside her in their adulthood.

“Are you in a house?” Dante keeps the conversation casual, having a feeling that it wouldn’t remain this way.

Seraphina tells, “Back to condo living for me. It just doesn’t make sense for me to get back into buying something when I’m not sure JC is going to be my forever home.”

Dante perks up at this.

“I mean I’ve seen Indiana, KC, Rhode Island, Philly, JC, and of course Chicago—which absolutely is the best city in the world,” she teased with a roll of her eyes which makes Dante grin, “I just don’t want to be stuck anymore, ya know?”

Dante can understand that. He’s spent years growing up beside Seraphina but he’s suddenly starting to realize, being left behind by the person he loved dearly, hurt more than he thought it would.

“Was I…part of what made you feel that way?”

Seraphina swallows, “I can’t say that’s fully on you. I made the choice to keep fighting for more from you when you’ve told me countless of times you couldn’t give me that. You didn’t want that. So part of that is my fault so I won’t solely put the blame on you…I can see that now. It took me leaving to process that, Tay.”

Dante blinks in that way which lets the woman know that he has a lot on his mind too. Something she said in this revelation has him slightly spinning, “It’s not that I didn’t want you. It’s just that I knew I had the potential to hurt you more and I know you didn’t deserve that but I ended up doing it anyway.”

Seraphina deeply inhaled and exhaled, “But don’t you think I should be the one that gets to have a say too? I was willing, I’ve seen you at your worst and your best. Shit, your demons are basically buddies with mine and I still chose to love you. Any chance I took it there, you slipped away, it was only on your terms and it just wasn’t fair.”

“Fair?” Dante pressed his elbows into the table, “What isn’t fair is everything that we’ve been through? Getting shot at, me constantly coming to you to clean me up, the drugs, the accident…me going to juvi? The cards told us all that we needed to know. We wouldn’t make it, Nina. Somewhere if we tried…who knows where our futures would be? It wouldn’t be normal. It would always be something else that ruins us.”

Seraphina chews on her bottom lip, looking away from Dante as he spoke his truth. It really stung to know that he thought so little of the two, of what could be. This was part of his demons, of letting circumstances get in his head. Any time the word future was mentioned, Seraphina automatically thought of her ill father. She went to war with that man over Dante, he would tear him down right in front of her whether Dante was in their home or not. Nonetheless Dante never wanted to be seen as the victim, although he’s never had it easy, he still chose to fight and prove himself.

Why couldn’t he keep that same energy with Seraphina?

When it came to love past the platonic, it only felt like defeat. He was anchored in the past and it was no secret to her, never has been.

“So…now that this friendship is on pause…do you still feel that way? Ruined?” Her words stun Dante as she spun it back on him.

Dante didn’t think it was a vindictive move since there were many factors as to why Seraphina made her big move. She was always the type of person to dance to her own drum, much like Dante who had his impulsive moments but he wasn’t sure how to take this.

“Was that part of the plan?”

“Of course not.”

“Then why say that to me?”

“I’m trying to prove a point,” Seraphina sighs, “You didn’t want to try romance because of fear but we tried friendship, your way and I’m the one who put distance between us. You said it hasn’t been easy and newsflash, it hasn’t for me either but I’ve coped. Learned how to exist without you.”

Dante feels his brows furrow. The woman before him was not entirely the same, she was stronger and harder to reach.

“And I’m sure Manny helped with that.” He finds himself snapping unintentionally.

Seraphina laughs in disbelief, hands going up in the air, “Oh this again! That demon is coming out to play huh? You don’t get to do that. Every small chance that I’ve tried to move on, you’ve had a problem with, when it always could have been you, should have been, you could have solved that but you let your insecurities get in the way.”

Dante lifts his shoulders not denying it, “I can’t help it. I’ve always wanted you to be happy but you and I both know they’re not worth your time.”

“…and why’s that?”

Dante blows out a breath, letting his back hit the chair, “Because we belong together…probably in every lifetime but I failed this one by giving my love to someone else.”

Seraphina felt like her heartbeat was in her stomach at Dante’s vulnerability. She didn’t think this conversation would be a walk in the park by any means but she also didn’t expect Dante to say this.

“Now you say that?” Seraphina managed to get out around shaky breath, “And I’m just supposed to accept this after all this time?”

Dante shakes his head, “I’m not asking you to be okay with this. You’re my person too, always will be. I’ve been to hell and back with you…I just can’t let you go anymore. It wouldn’t be right.”

“For who? You?” She fired off.

Dante argued, “Mi ma told me at the beginning, every other week that you called her, you cried over me.”

“It wasn’t just you.” Seraphina hissed, “Sure you were a big part of it but starting over by myself is terrifying but I did it. Just like I kept picking myself up every time you rejected me.”

“I didn’t—

“You did.” Seraphina asserts, “You wanted me as your safe space and needed me as your shadow.”

He winced at how blunt she sounded and how she truly believed that’s what he needed her for.

His elbows rest on the table as he leans a little to peer into her eyes, “You’ve never been a shadow, you’ve always been my right hand, my best friend, my soulmate, half of me.”

Seraphina tossed her head back, feeling her eyes burn. “…Dante…you know what they say about having someone be your everything…you won’t know what to do once you lose ‘em.”

“Is that what you want to hear? That I’m lost without you?”

Robin thicke is gagged!

“I don’t want to hear what you think I want to hear.”

“Good because i haven’t done that, not once since I’ve been sitting here. I love you and that’s not ever gonna change. You wanted time, I gave it to you but it’s my turn to fight for us and I’m tapped in.”

“What exactly are you fighting for? A friendship that no longer serves its purpose?”

“No.” Dante feels as if his heart is breaking again, “T-That’s not true and I know you don’t believe that either. You love me too.”

“Course I do! I wouldn’t have thought about raising a child with you after finding out I was—

Her eyes go wide at her rambling and Dante almost forgets how to breathe. He dips his head, trying to catch her eyes but suddenly she finds her iced mocha more interesting.

“You were what?” Dante pried bringing his up knuckles by his mouth, “Don’t try and slide by that, Nina. Tell me.”

Seraphina takes her time meeting Dante’s eyes, “I was pregnant and I miscarried.”

Dante drops his head against his fist. All the background noise was drowned out by the ringing in his ears and his legs began to shake—it was a good thing he was seated. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, how long has she been keeping this a secret from him?

“When?” Dante croaked out before clearing his throat and trying again, “When was this?”

“Some years ago…back when you were in the academy and I was working at the aquarium until I got hired at the lab.” Seraphina explains, playing with the sleeve of her shirt, but the weight didn’t feel completely lifted, it just felt like she shifted it off to the one person who was the last to know.

Should have known.

Dante pressed his fist to his mouth, just gazing at a sadden Seraphina. She thought about that part of their future, creating a family together, and seeing as much of the world as they could. It was right at her fingertips but it just wasn’t meant to be.

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry you felt like you could never talk to me about our…baby.” There’s tears in his throat and he has to close his eyes since they stung.

He feels her touch against his wrist, patiently waiting for him to meet her eyes.

“…And I’m sorry that I’m adding more to your grief.”

This she means, as she offers him a small smile.

He takes it, freeing one hand to grasp her’s.

They squeeze each other’s hands so tightly, almost as if they were attempting to take away each other’s pain. He wasn’t completely okay with this, he was mixed with so much right now he didn’t know the proper response or if he had a proper one in this moment. Yes this felt like betrayal because she didn’t trust him enough to let him know, that they had the potential to create life together but at the same time she must have felt so alone going through it all.

His voice comes out strained, “You could have told me, you know? You know I would have been there for you but…you left me in the dark for years, Seraphina.”

Seraphina nods, “I…didn’t know how. I thought I was protecting you—us. You already constantly blamed yourself for the accident when we were kids and I just…didn’t want you to beat yourself up anymore over the loss.”

He laughs almost bitterly although his chest aches while he pulls his hand from her’s, “Protecting me is not lying to me. This all makes sense now, you know? Why you’ve held on all this time when you could have shared that with me? I would have been there and I hope you know that now. I thought we were better than that.”

“Well maybe we’re not,” Seraphina scoffs, “This back and forth is always constant. I finally got tired. I’ve always been sure, always wanted more. A baby wouldn’t have fixed your uncertainties even if a part of me hoped it would then.”

Dante sharply turns his head to her, “Who says I’m not sure? If I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t still be here but it was no problem for you to not only walk away but shut me out on that part of your life.”

Seraphina’s shoulder slump at this. She had to take accountability for this and ultimately she regretted holding onto this for so long. She had fear inside of her as well, it was her way of trying to protect Dante like he’s been doing all this time—in his mind. Perhaps it was all a huge chunk of miscommunications and striving to shield each other from more hurt.

Her voice is hushed that even with Dante sitting across from her, he could have missed this, “I’m sorry for that…I think I didn’t want to be more of a burden to you.”

Dante feels his head jerk back at this, “You never were. I just didn’t know how to make you understand that loving you past our friendship could make things worse. I didn’t want that for us. And now learning this…”

He stops, the blended emotions hitting him again as he struggled to clear his throat.

“I wanted to tell you but if I did…I was scared you’d leave me for good.” Seraphina feels her eyes water but she doesn’t dare let them fall.

He’s reaching for her hand again, her other going to wipe at her damp nose, quickly looking away from her old friend, “I would have never left you if you told me that. Yeah, I’ll always feel like it’s my fault that…you’ll never be able to carry but I wouldn’t have left you alone when you needed me the most.”

There’s a deep throbbing sadness in the air but it softens some with a sort of understanding sprouting amongst them. Their friendship was not only full of love but also great fear.

A sob threatens to escape her lips, “I—I started to feel alone in this for some time. Which is why I thought letting go was the best choice. I made it this time.”

Dante hates to hear Seraphina say this to him. However maybe he’s felt the same, in a different way. He knows he loves Seraphina but wouldn’t allow himself to be in love by shutting himself off to that idea. They were supposed to be so much more but years of hurt clouded their judgment in many ways.

“You were never alone,” Dante’s gaze is raw, open, and just as afraid as she is, “I’ve always been right here. I let hurt lead the way and since you’ve been gone…I don’t think we’re the same people we used to be.”

For the first time in years…it feels like Dante isn’t hiding from her. He’s no longer slipping and although there’s evident distance, he’s no longer shielding himself from what this is.

A smile sits on the corner of her full lips.

This finally feels like they’re getting somewhere and maybe this is what it takes.

“We were never going to be perfect,” Seraphina starts, “That wouldn’t be the Nina and Tay way.”

“Why does your name get to go first when I’m older?” Dante rests his hands on his chest in feign offense, a frown appearing on his face.

Seraphina rolls her eyes, her tone light and playful, “By six months boo-fucking hoo.”

Dante snorts with a crossing of his arms, “I think I’m starting to hate that number now.”

Seraphina can’t help but feel a bubble of laughter rise in her chest, a small, soft laugh that feels almost out of place after everything they’ve said. However something is there, a tiny relief, that reminds them of the easiness of their dynamic that once made their friendship so effortless. It’s like a wave of cool presses down the tension in her neck, freezing it away, making her feel as if they might be okay despite the heaviness at the start of their day.

“It’s just a number, Tay. Not a lifetime.” She tries to persuade, laughter lingering in her tone as she picked at the now cold pastry.

Dante looks at her with a growing softness, his grin reaching his eyes and that faint dimple that isn’t seen so much with others, appears at the apple of his cheek, “Maybe that’s what I need right now. A little more Nina and Tay and a lot less... all of this."

Seraphina nods along as the buzzed hair man who sported a growing 5 o’clock shadow motions to what they’ve been battling.

“That’s your gift you know,” Dante continues, “You’ve always had a way of making me strive for better…like I can do anything. Be anything, be lighter underneath it all.”

The light haired woman can feel herself dissociating as Dante’s words fill up the air. The dark of her mind threatens to bring up the uninvited voice of Gloria Perez, who she had the pleasure of meeting briefly weeks before her final departure from this earth.

“I can see why you have such a hold on Dante.” The brunette approached Seraphina outside of the lab one night as she stands at the doors, tossing her work keys into her tote bag in exchange for her car keys, her head snaps over to the voice that greets her, “He may not have talked about you much, but I’ve always known there was someone much more important. Someone much more real for him, the good against the bad. He should loosen his grip.”

Gloria’s words are like an itch Seraphina can’t get to, taunting her and ready to pull her back to stay in that moment where she met the woman that didn’t deserve Dante. She never wanted to be compared to anyone else but sometimes that’s just not the way the world works. She briefly glanced at Dante who’s still staring at her, a tenderness in his now moss colored eyes across from her. Seraphina can still hear Gloria and it was starting to piss her off—healing takes time okay! She wants to be present with Dante, this was their moment and not anyone else’s.

Seraphina steadies herself, closing her eyes and shaking Gloria’s voice away so it slips somewhere to the back of her mind because those doubts don’t define her anymore as she decides to reply, “…I think we both need to remember the Nina and Tay way a little more."

The hint of wonder mixed with just living in the moment the best way they knew how was reminiscent.

Don’t think Dante didn’t notice the shift in her expression but he doesn’t push it like he knows she would have done him. This was all a lot especially since Seraphina’s plan was to slip in for Mr. Coty and out (things took a turn) yet still found time to make this work.

“…how is he?”

This is the first time Dante’s asking, although it’s been on his mind long before he entered the hospital yesterday evening.

Seraphina tries to put on a smile but it’s weak and doesn’t reach her eyes. “Chemo doesn’t work for this kind of cancer so it’s a 30% chance of survival but they’re starting him on meds soon.”

“Oh, Nina…” Dante breathes while she sniffs and takes a sip from her straw, “What can I do?”

She lightly shakes her head but there’s appreciation on her pretty face and he wants to reach to caress her cheek in hopes that she’ll lean into him. However times are different and they’re rebuilding.

“Just sitting here with me is nice,” She lifts her shoulders, folded by a forced smile and watery eyes, “You did mean it when you said you’d be in my corner right?”

“Always.” Dante nods, “I—

He wants to say it, that he loves her, always would love her but it sits on his tongue.

She knows.

“I needed that.” Seraphina whispers, “You know more than anybody the nature of our father and daughter relationship. When he and mom came to KC, I felt like I got a piece of me back. And now to hear that his life is at risk in his sixties…that’s another thing I didn’t want to dive into but I know at some point I’ll have to.”

Dante can sense that she’s struggling with this. It’s been better, honestly as a friend looking in that her parents decided to move away to Missouri because it allowed Seraphina to just be herself and not her mistakes.

“I don’t know how to be there for him, Dante.” There’s a slight glare on her face as she peers off to the right yet it’s not directed at anyone, “There were plenty of times I needed him growing up and he did nothing but shame me for every little thing. I was such a nervous wreck around him back then. The distance between us three: mom, me, and dad worked. Now that he’s sick I’m just supposed to let everything go? Doing that feels wrong to my inner child ya know?”

His heart aches for her, but his presence remains calm as he knows how much she’s carried when it comes to Mr. Coty and even Mrs. Coty. He’s also been on the receiving end of her father’s hurtful words and anger.

Dante’s voice is careful and gentle, a nature that she can rely on, “You don’t have to have the answers Ms. Know it all,” he winks at the common nickname which makes her smile with a shake of her head, “it’s okay to just be in the now. You have every right to be angry at what he did. I was there for half of it, what he did to you—us.”

From the vile and abusive language when Seraphina wouldn’t obey him, to the sneers at just the sight of her, the neglect, the over strictness where she simply couldn’t be a kid, defying her dreams, the attempted drowning—she couldn’t remember the last time her father even held her hand or told her he loved her.

Her chest works with the storm of the past. It wasn’t only the fact of how he treated his own daughter but it was also the way he treated her friend. Mr. Coty was even harsh towards Dante and belittled him, doing things he didn’t deserve either.

Then there’s this other side of him now, fragile and wanting to make things right if God intended to take him out. Seraphina feels like maybe she should feel guilty for having a bit of bitterness in her as stood in front of his bed, watching him sleep. He was supposed to be the first man that taught her how to be loved.

“I should be there now because you never know with time right,” Seraphina laughs a little, “I could walk away for good but the little girl in me still wants to be there for him and let him know that I do love him and not just because I’m supposed to. But I can’t forget everything. The things he said. The way he treated you.”

Dante nods, knowing this has always bothered Seraphina and seen how Mr. Coty’s ways shaped her, how it’s influenced everything from their relationship to how she views the world. But he’s also seen the strength in her. He knows her better than anyone. And he knows this is part of her growth, part of the painful process of letting go and figuring out what she needs, not just from her father but from the people who care about her most.

Dante’s voice is low but echoes the weight of the history, “Seraphina, I can’t tell you what to do. But I can tell you this—what he did to us, what he did to you, doesn’t have to define your choices now. Be there for you, you have the power.” There’s an intensity in his eyes that feels like reassurance, “You don’t have to fix his sins or anyone else’s. You’ve got this.”

She realizes that’s she’s been holding onto what her father has done for years. How it’s been avoidant since they both moved, buried like most things tended to be in Chicago. It’s a move on and you’ll live moment and frankly, Seraphina Coty’s had enough.

Then there’s a sadness that sits still in her chest at the thought that she could really lose her father. There’s also another presence that’s been on her mind, her patient but blossomed relationship with her new boyfriend of two months, Manny. He on the other hand, learned the dynamic of her relationship with her parents, tried to encourage her to keep an open mind and that closed mouths don’t get fed. Manny was used to constant conversations and was in the works of putting together a sit down and then…this happened.

It was the first time they butted heads.

His intentions were good but he wasn’t there to witness it all. He probably would never truly get it since he had a fantastic relationship with his parents, almost squeaky clean, something completely different than what Seraphina was used to.

She feels the push and pull between what’s expected of her and what she needs. She can’t stop herself from thinking about the differences between him and Dante. Which is ironic since she never wanted Dante comparing her to Gloria.

Seraphina’s voice is firm, pulling herself back from the brink of uncertainty, “I hear you I do but it’s never that simple. I’ve got someone else in the picture now and Manny feels like I’ll regret it if I don’t help out. He’s trying to be there for me too through all of this.”

Dante slightly scrunches up his lips while studying his old friend. So her and Manny were serious now? Only makes sense since he’s here with her but it doesn’t stop the sting of hearing it so plainly. “Screw what Manny thinks. He can be here but he has no idea, he wasn’t there so he shouldn’t be pushing you to do something you’re not sure of yourself, Nina. I would know, I was there first and I’m not going anywhere this time. Even if you push me away.”

It’s petty sure but Dante feels the way that he feels and he can’t change it. He wasn’t here to cause problems between Nina and Manny but he was going to say what he felt. Dante could respect that Manny was here during Seraphina’s time of need but he couldn’t get with the overstepping.

He’ll learn his place soon enough.

Dante says this with quiet conviction, as though he’s making a promise to himself, to her, that this—what they are—isn’t something he’s willing to give up again, not without a fight. He let her go twice before but this time taught Dante everything he needed to know.

He can fight harder for her and that he will.

Clearing his throat after finding Seraphina observing him with her eyes, in a way that he was almost like an experiment made him a little uneasy. Sometimes she didn’t realize she was even doing it, her eyes low but focused with curiosity.

Dante continues, “I’m not here to compete. But I’m here for you. I always have been. And if you need me, you don’t have to hide from that. Especially when it comes to him.”

His statement is bold and lets Seraphina know, this whole ordeal has unleashed something in him that she’s seen in Dante before.

She exhaled with her eyes closed and says, “I don’t know what I need right now. But I do know that I’m not ready to shut you out again.”

And those words alone works just fine for Dante.

After all maybe he was beginning to see the art of letting go in order to rebuild. But some parts of him still wondered what that rebuild would look like, after they departed and went on about their days with a new found acceptance of each other.

What would they look like now?

The future, it seemed, wasn’t clear but they were still a puzzle that they intended to piece together and not let slip through their hands, this time.

﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉

-> Part two

#queued #spotify #dante torres #Dante Torres x oc #Dante Torres x reader #benjamin levy aguilar #winter writing #winter writes #chicago pd #chicago pd x reader #fic series: killing me

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