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nothingbutsweetwords · 5 months ago

Text

ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ꜱᴏɴ, ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ!ɴɪᴇᴄᴇ

"ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ʜᴇᴀʀ ɪᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱɪʟᴇɴᴄᴇ..."

Word count: 6000.

Fandom: House of the Dragon.

Pairing: Aemond x Reader!Velaryon!Niece.

Warnings: Angst.

FALLING — 7. Her.

During the first moons of her stay at the Red Keep, everything seemed new and exciting. There was some sense of freedom in not having her family around, but with each sunrise, it became more complicated, and the longing grew stronger.

The letters she received from her mother initially brought comfort, but soon they became short. No matter how many words her mother wrote about her, her siblings, and her father, it was never enough. She wrote daily, though she only sent them every three days. She would tell her about her day, always omitting her nightly outings, and tried to hide how much she missed them, and her mother, worried, always asked about Aemond's progress.

Over time, even all the letters became inadequate; they couldn't fill the void she felt. She longed to hear their voices, feel the warmth of their hugs. She questioned a few times if it had been a good idea, but she quickly dismissed those thoughts to remain resolute.

Aemond spent most of his time in the yard, both morning and evening, promising to become the best warrior for her. This caused their visits to the library to decrease. Nevertheless, every night without fail, they slept together, face to face, finding solace in each other's presence.

Her lessons with the septa became increasingly tedious, or perhaps she just grew more easily bored. She spent a lot of time in Helaena's room, who seemed happy to have her. Helaena continued to intrigue her with riddles and enigmatic phrases, making her wonder when each prediction would come true. So far, none seemed bad, so she wasn't frightened or worried. Helaena also helped her improve her embroidery technique, although there wasn't much to be done; it wasn't her strong suit. Soon, the lack of activities even led her to become interested in her insects, delighted to see her aunt’s enthusiasm.

One day, while sitting on the floor, Helaena placed a ladybug on her hand. "It tickles" she said, laughing softly as the insect walked across her palm. Helaena smiled at her, happy to share her passion with someone.

"They all have seven dots, the red ones" Helaena said, revealing an interesting curiosity. "She likes you" she added, looking her in the eyes with a slight smile. She thanked her for saying that.

"What about those?" she asked, pointing to a wooden box with a transparent lid, where several insects could be seen inside. There were some spiders and others she couldn't name.

When Helaena turned to look in the direction her finger pointed, her smile faded a bit. She took the box in her hands and allowed her to observe them from above, while the ladybug continued to walk between her fingers and fly from one hand to the other.

"I do not trust them yet" she said quietly. "I am not sure whether their wishes are for good or ill."

“Why?” she asked, genuinely curious.

Helaena pointed to a large black spider from above and said: "They weave intricate webs, and sometimes those webs can hide important secrets. I'm still trying to unravel which ones" she said, frowning. "But what I know is, we have to beware of the guardian of secrets" she warned, as if wanting to protect her from an-as-yet unknown danger. She simply nodded, hoping nothing bad would come of it.

As time passed, life at the castle continued with its ups and downs; Aemond's training, the enigmatic conversations with Helaena, the whispers of the people, and the few letters from her mother. Even through it all, she found moments of peace, and convinced herself that despite the challenges, she was exactly where she needed to be, next to him.

Occasionally, she found distraction by visiting her grandsire's room. She spent hours there, reading to him, listening to his fascinating stories about their ancestors and the old Valyria. Often, she asked for tales about her mother's youth, seeking to feel closer to her.

She had also begun to insist on Lyra's presence during every meal, finding in her company a sense of familiarity, a relief from her growing homesickness. As expected, everything began to feel cramped, and Lyra, as perceptive as ever, had noticed it, and she herself could no longer ignore it.

She missed her family terribly, and there was nothing that could ease that pain, except the obvious. She felt trapped, guilty for wanting to go to Dragonstone and leave Aemond behind, but she couldn't help it.

"Could it be that, perhaps, I've made a mistake coming here?" she asked one night, her voice filled with doubt and shame for exposing her deepest thoughts.

"I do not think things are that simple, princess. You came here with good intentions, and missing your family is only natural, it does not mean you have made a mistake" Lyra replied gently.

She nodded, acknowledging the truth in those words. "I do really miss them" she murmured, longing evident, head bowed. "No matter how hard I try, this is not my home."

"Why do you say that, princess?" After dinner, Lyra had drawn her a warm bath, and now, in her nightdress, Lyra was gently brushing her long hair.

"I've heard the whispers when I walk alone in the halls." Lyra nodded, understanding the situation and listening attentively to her words. Both were sitting on the bed, and she was with her back facing her lady-in-waiting, between her legs. "It's as if they believe me deaf. I know what they say or think, and it's not... good" she confessed, pain reflected in her voice.

Upon hearing her last words, Lyra set the brush aside and drew her close, wrapping her in a comforting embrace. Lyra was the daughter of one of Rhaenyra's ladies-in-waiting and had lived her entire life in that family. Though only a few years older, she felt a deep maternal love for the princess.

"We must not let such foolish words disturb our ears, and if they do, let us ensure they do not enter our precious minds, yes?" Lyra said, whispering with firmness. "They mean nothing."

She nodded, and unable to contain herself, she began to cry softly in her caretaker's arms. They remained like that for a while until she could calm down. She appreciated Lyra's love and understanding, feeling fortunate to have someone like that by her side, watching over her well-being.

After some time, Lyra left the room, wishing her goodnight. This was her signal to get up, put on her cloak over her shoulders, dampen her face a bit to erase any trace of dry tears, and take the gift she had prepared so much for him with the help of her mother. With a mix of excitement and nervousness, she headed towards her destination, seeking to find another place of peace and connection amidst the storm of emotions that assailed her.

Aemond's nameday wasn't until the next morning, but she never had much patience for such things. That night, like all others, she entered the room with a candle in one hand, only now she hid the gift behind her back with the other.

Aemond was sitting by the window, his gaze fixed on the night sky. She closed the door with her hip, as both her hands were occupied, and walked over to him. Aemond's face showed signs of fatigue, even some sadness. She knew he was trying to stay awake while waiting for her, as always. The notion of time had escaped her during the shared moment with Lyra, and he always ended up terribly exhausted by his training. Seeing her arrive, Aemond settled and offered a tired smile. She circled the bed, placing the candle on the small table, and with her free hand, she took off her cloak, hiding the gift underneath on the nearby chair.

She walked towards him slowly, observing the clear sky. The moon shone over the city, enhancing the delicacy of his face.

"This is how the night was when I claimed Vhagar" he said, with sorrow. Her heart squeezed at his words, she sadly knew he would never have a flight like that again.

"What was it like?" she finally asked, cautiously. She had never dared to ask about that moment, fearing to reopen wounds, but now that he mentioned it, her curiosity stirred again.

He smiled, still looking at the sky. "I never imagined flying would feel like that" he said, his voice filled with gratitude. "Did it ever trouble you when I did?" he asked.

"What? Claim Vhagar?" she inquired, surprised by his question.

"Yes" he said softly, his voice tinged with apprehension.

She smiled at him, placing a hand on his shoulder, her eyes reflecting pride. "Of course not. It was meant for you, a warrior destined for a warrior." Her words carried a sense of admiration and certainty, a testament to her unwavering belief in his capabilities. "And that was just the beginning, Aemond. Together, you will be unstoppable" she said, her voice whispering with conviction and anticipation. "I do feel safer knowing we have you as protectors."

"Thank you" he expressed, hopeful. She knew the journey was just beginning, and the horizon stretched like a promise of all the adventures to come. "I did it on behalf of us both." She smiled gratefully, gently squeezing him.

"I know they will write books that will pass through all the ages, Aemond, about your courage and triumph" she said, walking towards the sofa.

"I'm not sure about that much" he replied, laughing lightly at her words.

"Then I will be the one to write them" she said, pulling the gift from under her cloak. "Close your eye" she instructed, with an excited smile. Aemond obeyed, but not before giving her an odd look.

"Open your hands" she indicated once she was in front of him again. He did so without question, and with a gentle gesture, she placed the gift in his hands, which lowered slightly at the unexpected weight.

"Now you can look" she whispered. Aemond did so quickly, and looked surprised at the delicate blue velvet bag. She was looking at him with excitement and a touch of nervousness. It was the first time she had given such a planned gift to someone, and she hoped not to disappoint. But even if she did, she would never find out, as he would never show it.

"It's your nameday present" she explained with a radiant smile. "I couldn't wait to give it to you on the morrow, and I wanted to be the first one to do it" she said, letting out a small laugh from her lips.

"I love it" he replied, placing the gift on his lap and looking directly at her, the faint moonlight adorning his gaze with a softness that made him appear even more beautiful.

"You haven't even seen it!" she exclaimed, softly laughing. "Come on, open it."

"I would love anything you gave me" he said laughing too, while untying the laces of the velvet bag to reveal the gift. She had a premonition that his words were sincere.

He carefully pulled the wooden case out of the bag. It was made of ebony, so its color was dark like the night, almost black, and was decorated with delicate carvings. He ran his hand over the surface, appreciating the abstract shapes as if they were a work of art. He had a slightly open mouth as he admired the case with admiration. Then, carefully, he opened it, revealing the true gift.

Inside rested a valyrian steel dagger, shining and forged with impeccable craftsmanship. Its sharp, polished blade reflected the light with a silver shine. Each side of it was adorned with intricate engravings that wound from the hilt to the edge.

His eyes lit up upon seeing it, and a sincere smile spread across his face. "It's valyrian steel" she explained enthusiastically, "so you'll always carry a piece of our roots."

The handle was equally impressive. It was wrapped in black leather, a material that, according to the smith, provided a more comfortable and secure grip. However, the highlight was the sapphires embedded in the handle. The sapphires, of a deep and radiant blue, were skillfully set into the metal, creating a vibrant contrast with the silver. Each sapphire was carefully polished, capturing flashes of light that gave the impression of small stars embedded in the hilt.

The guard of the dagger, also made of steel, was decorated with intertwining motifs that complemented the sapphires in the handle. Aemond took it in his hands carefully, observing every detail meticulously.

She had often heard him speak about Viserys's dagger, seeing the longing in his eyes when he did so, as well as the sadness knowing he could never possess it. That's why she had tried to make something unique for him, something exclusively his, perhaps even something that could be passed down to future Targaryens, always remembered as his.

He set the dagger aside and looked at the box. Inside was a sapphire too. She knew some people carried those precious gemstones as talismans, believing they protected the eyes and helped see beyond the physical. Besides, she had always thought the color matched his eyes. It seemed like a thoughtful detail, but she didn't dare mention its significance.

"My father gave me two he brought back from one of his expeditions to the Stepstones a few years ago" she explained, smiling as he held the sapphire between his fingers, admiring it in the light streaming through the window. "I have the other one" she added shyly. "So you always have a piece of sky, or sea, and I hope it always reminds you that you are destined for something big." He set the sapphire aside and continued to observe. She wondered if he would be attentive enough to explore further, and of course, he was.

The box was lined with more velvet and there was a small cushion where the dagger rested. During her lessons and visits to Helaena, she had embroidered the fabric, and the tailor had turned it into this. She had tried to depict waves and the moon in different shades of blue and teal, with some white stars. They might not have been perfect, but she had poured her heart into them.

He traced the fabric with his fingers, still not saying a word.

"I embroidered it" she added proudly. Then he put the dagger back in the case, but kept the sapphire in his hand. She waited anxiously for his words. "I’m sure it does not compare to Viserys', but..."

"It's perfect" he interrupted, his voice sincere. She let out a sigh she didn't know she'd been holding, a wave of relief and happiness at his reaction. "I..." he began, hesitating. He shook his head slightly, searching for words. Then he put the case back in the velvet bag and stepped away from the window ledge. Once face to face, he hugged her unexpectedly. With one hand he held the gift and with the other he held her tightly. She returned the embrace with a smile, now more relaxed.

"Thank you" he whispered, holding her even tighter, their hearts almost merging in that hug. When they separated, his eye sparkled, holding back some tears, just like hers. "Let us go to bed" he said, noticing his body was cold from being pressed against the window glass. He approached a shelf where he kept some of his most precious books and now his most precious object, then headed for the bed, placing the sapphire on the bedside table after admiring it again.

Smiling, they both got under the covers, facing each other, feeling their bodies warming up again. They both reached out their hands at the same time, their hands meeting in the middle. They laughed softly and intertwined their fingers in the middle of the bed. It was their routine, talking like this, face to face, until they ran out of things to say, with their hands joined. Then they slept together, sometimes with her head on his chest, sometimes with him nestled in her arms.

"I loved it" he said sincerely. "Absolutely everything," he assured her, "no one has ever given me a better present."

She smiled proudly, happy with his words. "I'm glad you liked it."

They looked at each other in silence. It was a comfortable silence, warm even. It was at that moment, suddenly, while they looked at each other, that hundreds of thoughts flooded her mind like a torrent. Did everyone experience something as wonderful as this? Did everyone have someone to whom giving the whole world, along with their heart on a silver platter, seemed not enough? Did everyone's heart beat so wildly when looking someone in the eyes? Or was it something that only happened when it was the most beautiful face in the kingdom gazing back at them?

She opened her mouth to say something, but stopped when she saw that he seemed to want to say something too. They both remained silent, waiting for the other to speak first.

"You can go first" she said softly.

"No, you're a lady, you go" he insisted courteously.

"No, please, you tell me" she said, almost pleading with her eyes, though she wasn't exactly sure what she hoped to hear, still trying to understand the strange sensation in her chest.

"Tell me, please" he echoed at the same time, and they laughed again at the coincidence.

"You're my best friend" he exclaimed finally.

"You're my best friend" she replied, in perfect sync.

They laughed again, and as they truly heard each other's words, they smiled. She felt warmth rise in her cheeks. At that moment, everything made sense to her. That special, innocent feeling, that pure joy, so complex yet so simple, was love. She didn't need to fully understand it to know it was real, and that it was reciprocated.

They lingered for a moment, lost in each other's gaze. Aemond's eyes glowed with a tenderness that mirrored her own. Without needing more words, they leaned in slowly and shared a hug filled with affection and silent promises. The moonlight bathed the room, enveloping them in its silver glow. Every moment seemed magical, as if time had stopped just for them.

In that instant, in the tranquility of the night, they both knew that despite the challenges, they would always have that special bond that united them.

Finally, they settled comfortably under the covers, still close, their hearts beating in unison, and they embraced the serenity.

Once back in her room, she spent the day with Lyra again. If it were up to her, she would have spent the entire day with Aemond, but she knew he would break fast with his mother as usual. Later, he would be busy with his training, something that excited him especially now, with the anticipation of wielding a real sword, finally, as he had come of age for it.

At dusk, after writing to her mother and enjoying a hot bath, the woman helped her dress in the carefully chosen attire for the occasion. She opted for a flowing blue dress and some delicate jewelry. As Lyra began to brush her hair, preparing to style it up as she always did, she decided to change her mind.

Aemond had always praised her curls, often running his fingers through them in the night until he drifted off to sleep, and she thought it would be a pleasant surprise for him to wear her hair loose, something she only did in the privacy of their rooms.

When she was almost ready, Lyra was about to accompany her to the hall where the feast would take place, but they heard soft knocks on the door. Few were the times someone sought out her room, so both were intrigued. Lyra walked towards the door and opened it, while she adjusted the sandals that complemented her dress. When she looked up, she found Aemond standing in front of her, looking at her in awe, with Lyra behind him, barely able to hide her huge smile biting her lower lip.

She felt the blush rise to her cheeks, they were not accustomed to being so close in front of other people, so she didn't know how to react, a little flustered with her lady-in-waiting standing there.

Aemond's hair was neatly tied back in a half ponytail. His left side was partly covered by the patch he wore during his training, and he was dressed in a handsome green suit.

"I’ve come to escort you, princess" he murmured shyly, mindful of the third presence. She smiled and nodded, walking towards him and taking his right arm.

"Happy nameday, my prince. May you both enjoy a good supper" Lyra chimed in, opening the door for them to leave.

"Thank you, my lady" Aemond replied courteously before walking out of the room.

Once out of the enthusiastic gaze, she squeezed his arm and looked at him. "Happy nameday, my prince."

He looked at her with a smile that radiated happiness as he guided her through the dimly lit corridors by torchlight, the sun already hidden. "Thank you, my princess." The next words seemed to come with a touch of adoration and nervousness. "You look beautiful tonight... well, you always do, but tonight especially so."

She responded with a grateful smile. "You look lovely too, as always, my prince." He smiled faintly, an expression that denoted a hint of skepticism, as if he couldn't quite believe all the compliments she gave him. As they walked together, their footsteps echoing softly against the stone floor, she broke the silence with a curious question. "What gifts have you received so far?"

With a gleam of joy in his eyes, he replied, "my grandsire had a new saddle made for Vhagar. It's magnificent." His voice filled with enthusiasm. "My mother gave me some ancient books from Oldtown, and she also surprised me with Daeron's visit. I barely remembered his face." She widened her eyes in surprise, vaguely recalling Daeron, who was her age and whom she had seen only once. "Helaena gave me a suit embroidered by herself, with two intertwined dragons" he said with palpable excitement, hoping it meant something. "And Viserys gave me a Valyrian steel sword, with a belt that also has space for a dagger. Aegon mentioned he would give me his present later" he concluded happily.

She smiled, glad that each gift sounded well thought out, just right for him, although still puzzled why he referred to his father by his name. As they finished their conversation, they found themselves standing in front of the imposing doors of the grand hall. Instinctively, both separated their arms as the guards opened the large doors, announcing their arrival.

The guests stood in the center of the hall, conversing animatedly, except for the king and the Hand, who were already seated. The queen approached them with a maternal smile and planted a kiss on her son's forehead. "We were waiting for you, my dearest" she said affectionately. Then, taking his hand to guide him to his seat, she turned to her. "Princess, we did not expect you. What a lovely surprise" she added with a smile.

She felt a small knot of uncertainty in her stomach, wondering if she was intruding, but Aemond wouldn't have sought her out if that were the case. She returned the queen's smile and noticed how she gestured to the servants, who quickly added a chair and tableware next to Helaena. Helaena smiled at her and, before she could greet her, moved towards that newly added chair, giving up her place directly in front of Aemond, which she appreciated. Perhaps Helaena wanted her to sit opposite her brother, or simply preferred not to be near Aegon, an understandable preference.

She sat down with a grateful smile, though still somewhat uncomfortable. The feast began, and musicians played cheerful ballads that filled the air with a festive atmosphere. Laughter and conversation flowed along the table, and she almost forgot how much she missed her family, caught up in the distraction of the moment. She noticed that the wine jug beside her needed refilling more often than others, and wondered how long it would be before Aegon spoiled the mood. He was fun and pleasant when sober, but she couldn't say the same when he was drunk.

"Princess, I heard you've been learning High Valyrian" said the king, smiling at her with somewhat weary eyes. She smiled happily at the question, and Aemond paid attention, interested in the conversation.

"Yes, your grace. Aemond has been an excellent instructor" she replied proudly.

"She is making incredible progress" Aemond added, shyly.

"I bet it comes easy to you, just like your mother" the king said, smiling before taking a sip of wine. Perhaps to an untrained eye, Aemond's slight disappointment might have gone unnoticed, but she saw it, and understood why. She couldn't blame the king for loving his daughter so much, as her mother was a splendid person, but she felt sorry that he didn't see the fortune in having Helaena and Aemond, who were just as intelligent and kind.

"With Aemond as my guide, it's only natural for me to learn quickly, your grace" she said, smiling at Aemond. He seemed to appreciate the gesture, and the king looked pleased with the response, nodding before moving on to another conversation. Aegon's raised eyebrows and mischievous smile did not go unnoticed.

Helaena was showing her a figure she always carried, a wooden butterfly that Viserys had given her when she was a baby. She wondered if maybe that was the origin of her fascination with insects. As they continued talking, she felt an unfamiliar finger tangle in one of her curls, pulling it lightly. It was Aegon, who was looking at her hair with mocking attention.

"The Arryn blood is strong, is it not, niece?" he said sarcastically, and in a low voice, ensuring the king did not hear.

She tensed at the comment, and Helaena looked at Aegon disapprovingly. Her body stiffened, and her cheeks burned with embarrassment. In that moment, she inwardly cursed herself for not wearing black and for wearing her hair loose, proudly displaying her curls. Aegon simply removed his finger and engaged in another conversation, losing interest in teasing her, but she couldn't return to her previous state.

Helaena gently squeezed her hand, offering a small supportive smile, but it did little to calm her. Aemond didn't seem to hear the remark, for which she was thankful.

She felt more alone than ever, like an uninvited guest in a place she once called home. And she came to understand her siblings' anger at such insults, not to the same extent, of course, but she did.

The rest of the dinner passed without further incidents. Some guests joined in a lively dance once the meal was over, and laughter was heard in the hall as the wine continued to flow.

Aemond glanced at her several times, concerned about her obvious discomfort. She didn't want to spoil his celebration, so she tried to offer a reassuring smile whenever their eyes met.

She found herself caught up in various pleasant conversations with the other nobles present, mostly with Daeron, who was her same age, and Heleana. She tried to keep away from Aegon as much as possible. Aemond, on his part, approached her on several occasions, rescuing her from the dull talks of the elders. He tried to distract her with amusing anecdotes from his training or asked her about stories of dragons, which she knew by heart. Though her mind was elsewhere, she appreciated his efforts to make her feel comfortable and protected.

Finally, as the feast began to wind down into the night, Aemond approached her with determination in his eyes.

"Princess, would you like to take a walk through the gardens? The night is beautiful" he suggested.

She smiled, grateful for the chance to get away from the bustle. "I would love to, my prince."

Together, they left the main hall and made their way to the quiet gardens of the castle. The moon shone above them, illuminating their flowers lined path as they walked silently along. Aemond seemed less tense now, more relaxed under the starry sky, offering her his arm courteously.

"I'm sorry if anything made you uncomfortable tonight" Aemond finally said, breaking the silence. "I hope nothing else happened" he murmured, a slight concern in his eyes.

She shook her head gently, feeling comforted by his worry. "It's not your fault, Aemond. I'm fine. Just... I'm not used to being without my family."

He nodded, looking at her with understanding. "I know. And I know sometimes people can be... thoughtless" he said, almost apologizing again.

They walked a bit further in silence before she found the courage to speak about what she was really thinking. "Do you ever feel that way, Aemond?" she hesitated for a moment. "Like you don't quite fit in?"

He stopped and looked at her directly, uncertain. His eyes, under the full moon and clear sky, seemed deeper, more reflective, sadder at her question. "Sometimes," he admitted softly, "but when I'm with you, princess, everything seems to fall into place. I do hope you feel the same."

Her heart skipped at his sincere words, feeling a twinge of guilt for longing to return to her family. "Thank you, Aemond. Should we head back? It's getting chilly."

He smiled, softening his features. "Yes."

They continued walking together, enjoying the peace and serenity of the night. As they progressed, leaving the gardens behind and climbing the keep stairs, she said, "I hope you've enjoyed your day, my prince." He nodded. Once they reached the hallway they shared, she whispered: "Should I visit you tonight?"

"Of course" he replied naturally, offering a comforting smile.

"You said Aegon would bring your gift, I wouldn't want to arrive at an inopportune moment" she said, reminding him.

He nodded, realizing he had forgotten his earlier conversation with his brother. "You're right. Maybe I should come instead. I can come right after he leaves" he suggested, and she eagerly agreed to the plan.

When they finally stood in front of the door, with no one in sight, her hands began to sweat nervously. It was just a temporary farewell, like countless others before, so she didn't understand why her body felt so restless, or why her heart was pounding so hard. And why were her thoughts centered on whether kissing him would ease her mind?

Before pushing the door, she turned to him, catching Aemond’s smile, oblivious to her internal doubts. "May I, perhaps, try something?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly, hoping she hadn't misinterpreted any signals.

He arched an eyebrow, curious at her question, but nodded in consent. Without further ado, she took a step forward and, with determination, closed the distance between them. She pressed her lips gently against his, all her questions melting away in that fleeting moment. She closed her eyes, unable to see Aemond's initial surprise.

When they parted, Aemond's face was flushed, his eye wide with astonishment, causing a flutter of concern in her chest. Before she could apologize, he mirrored her action, leaning in and returning the innocent kiss. This time, both closed their eyes, letting themselves be carried away by the moment as their hands instinctively intertwined.

As they pulled away, shy but content smiles graced their faces. The special discovery left them breathless.

"Goodnight" she whispered, a thrilling buzz inside her.

"Goodnight" he replied with equal softness and carrying the same exhilaration.

Once inside, the room was again in perfect order, something she was thankful for. Aemond always seemed to value the organization and she wanted him to feel like in his own space. Peaceful, comfortable, happy. Her chambers were perfectly illuminated by the moon and the glow of the fire burning in the fireplace, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere.

She walked to the door she used every night, leaving it slightly ajar, then shed her dress, donning her nightgown and slipping immediately into bed. She tried to immerse herself in the book on her nightstand, but her mind kept returning to the shared kiss. Touching her lips with the tips of her fingers, she wondered if it had also been Aemond's first time. She hoped it was.

Soon she realized it was futile to try to distract herself with the book. Her heart still raced, and her mind was full of questions and anticipations. She tossed and turned in bed, unable to stay still as she waited for Aemond to arrive. She was worried, fearing she had ruined everything with her impulsiveness. Or worse, that Aemond had changed his mind after that.

Exhaustion finally overcame her, her head swirling with thoughts, and she fell asleep hoping everything would be okay between them.

The sun stung her face as she began to wake, the warmth of the morning enveloping her. There were faint noises in the room, but still too sleepy to make them out, she tried to ignore them. Suddenly, her eyes flew wide open and she sat up abruptly. The bed was empty, but the secondary door remained open, an invitation to scolding from her lady-in-waiting.

Lyra soon noticed she was awake. With a sorrowful expression, she approached the bed slowly and sat beside her. The princess's gaze searched for answers, but none of her assumptions came close to the reality.

"A raven has arrived today from Dragonstone, my princess..." Lyra began softly, choosing her words carefully. She nodded, attentive and anxious to know more, urging her to continue. "Your father, Prince Leanor, has passed away" she announced.

With those words, the princess's entire world shattered once more in an instant. Tears began to cascade uncontrollably, unleashed without any permission, but she knew it was only a matter of time, a storm that had been brewing finally erupted. Her overwhelming feelings of longing for her family and the unsettling sense of being like a stranger in the castle where she had grown up intensified her anguish even more. Guilt and regret gnawed at her, constricting her chest and stealing the air in her lungs. Lyra tried to soothe her, urging her to breathe, but it was in vain.

So many moons spent in the Red Keep, precious time lost with her father that could never be reclaimed. Now, with the loss irreversible, she couldn't even seek answers about how it happened, the trauma of Harwin Strong's death still raw. Her chest tightened, heaving, as her mind spun relentlessly, refusing to accept what her ears had heard.

Lyra enveloped her in protective arms, a bulwark against the whirlwind of emotions crashing over her as the harsh news unfolded before her. "We must leave immediately, there is a ship waiting for us" she murmured softly, aware of the princess's magnitude of pain, but to the urgency of the situation too.

Tears continued to flow unabated as she nodded, succumbing to the overwhelming sensation of loss and guilt that engulfed her. She allowed herself to be consumed by it while Lyra hurriedly guided and helped her dress. Once ready, servants entered to assist with the luggage, moving efficiently as those who understood the gravity of the moment, and Lyra asked her to wait while she gathered her own belongings.

When the lady disappeared from her sight, she, with a pounding heart, hurried to Aemond's room. Upon arrival, Queen Alicent was just stepping out, her face a mask of concern and sorrow.

"I'm deeply sorry for your loss, princess" she said with palpable sincerity in her voice, closing the door behind her, but condolences were a luxury she could not afford now. She needed to see if everything was okay with Aemond before leaving, the thought of departing without clarity on their relationship or at least a farewell filled her with unease.

"Is Aemond awake? I wish to see him" she implored softly, tears silently streaming down her face. People passed around her—members of the council, servants—all casting sympathetic glances that went unnoticed.

"He does not wish to receive visitors at the moment" the queen replied firmly.

"But it is urgent" she insisted, desperation seeping into her voice. She tried to move past her and grasp the door handle, her hands trembling but determined, but the queen stopped her.

"I'm very sorry, princess, but you must understand" Alicent said, her tone unyielding.

On the brink of collapse, with each passing second more overwhelming than the last, she pleaded, "please" but received only refusals.

Moments later, Lyra appeared carrying a suitcase, hurrying towards her. "My princess, we must depart now" she said, after offering a courtesy to Alicent.

"But I need to see Aemond" she insisted, her voice a desperate whisper. Lyra looked to Alicent silently pleading for a concession, searching for a shred of sympathy, but the queen remained unmoved, her gaze fixed on the princess.

"We can exchange letters by ravens, yes? But the ship will depart soon, princess" Lyra said, her words weighted by both empathy and urgency.

She felt frustration and helplessness engulf her, on the verge of shouting in rage. With no other choice, she took Lyra's hand and let herself be led away, each step a battle against the hopelessness that surrounded her.

@helaenaluvr @purplegardenwhispers @callsignwidow @scarletbedlam @fics-i-love-and-recommend @squidscottjeans @oh-you-mean-me

Last part from her POV as kids!

#aemond one eye #aemond targaryen fluff #ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x female reader #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic

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callsign-dexter · 10 months ago

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My Brother's Wingman 18+

Request: Ok... I debated with myself, but... I'm gonna be a selfish bitch now and some idea in as a Bday present for me (even if its still coming on friday) and I hope you dont mind <3

So I'd have MAJOR Rooster feels, you cant imagine! Thats why I thought about something with him, where she's Jake's sister and they have some kind of secret affair, as Bradley is slightly scared of what would happen if Jake finds out. Soo they sneak around for some time until one day you're both at Mavs hangar working on a plane (while he's gone with Penny and let's you over) and you get really turned on by Bradley being sweaty and covered in dirt, soo you somehow end up sleeping there together but later Jake comes there as he was looking for Bradley and catches you both, so you have to explain everything and Bradley fears the worst. Luckily Jakes cant do much against true love and finds his peace with it ?

Omg does that makes sense? I'm also so so sorry it's gotten so long :O

Pairings: Bradley Bradshaw x Seresin!Navy SEAL!Reader, Jake Seresin x Navy SEAL!Twin Sister!Reader

Warnings: fluff, smut

A/N: Happy belated birthday to the anon that sent this in and I'm sorry that it is late. I hope you enjoy! Also @talesofreading and @imagine-all-the-fandoms prepare yourselves it gets steamy!

Jake Seresin had a twin sister, you, that was almost a female version of him but could bring him down back to earth when he got too high and mighty. You both knew how to push each other’s buttons and you both did it out of love even if it seemed like you both were harsh to each other. You were a Navy SEAL and loved it, you really thought about becoming a pilot like your brother but you loved being on the ground more and plus you got to deal with guns and more combat.

You had been stationed at Naval Amphibious Base, in Coronado which was only 28 minutes away from where your brother was stationed now. Occasionally you would go down and visit him and go to a bar called The Hard Deck and have a few drinks with him and his new squad and you liked them all but one in particular caught your eye. When you saw him, he always had a Hawaiian shirt on with a white shirt underneath and form fitting jeans that hugged him everywhere and in all the right places, he also had this mustache that you could only imagine all the pleasure that it could bring you. It seemed like you had caught his eye too because he had been looking at you nonstop and you would only know this because you had been looking at him nonstop as well and throwing your signature Seresin smirk his way.

——————————————————————

You had just arrived at The Hard Deck after your brother practically begged you to come and you finally broke down and said yes. You had just gotten back from a deployment and were more than eager to blow off some steam. You walked into the bar and looked around to find it filled with civilians, aviators, and tag chasers. You hadn’t come in your uniform because you didn’t want to be in it any longer even though you absolutely loved being in it but not at this moment. You immediately saw the blond haired, cocky, and full of himself aviator that was your brother. You walked over to him and pulled the pool stick from his grasp and took the shot yourself and sunk the ball and you smirked as you came up. “Hello, sister.” He said and you turned around to him.

“Why hello there, little brother.” You said he rolled his eyes.

“By one minute.” He said but pulled you in a hug and then you pulled away and looked at everyone who was silent and stunned.

“Aren’t you gonna introduce your sister to us, Hangman?” A guy a Hawaiian shirt and a mustache said and when you said that he looked good, he really looked good enough that you wanted to pull him inside the bathroom and do him right then and there. He had yet taken his eyes off you and you and you didn’t mind at all.

“Rooster this is my twin sister-“ Jake began

“Older sister.” You said smirking and looking at him for a second and then your eyes were back on Bradley and again he rolled his eyes.

“By one minute. As I was saying this is my twin sister, Y/N ‘Bullseye’ Seresin. She’s a Navy SEAL and off limits to anyone.” He said and you rolled your eyes.

“Well Y/N it is a pleasure to finally meet you. I’m Bradley Bradshaw.” Bradley said and sent a smirk of his own. Everyone went around and introduced him themselves with their names and their callsigns. You also learned that he was your brother’s wingman.

“Bullseye. How did you get that name?” Bob asked and you smiled at him.

“It’s because I never miss my target that I’m aiming at.” You said and Bradley could’ve sworn he was falling more in love and that his jeans were becoming a little tight. “I’m gonna get something to drink. Anybody want anything?” You asked and they nodded and told you what they wanted as you were walking up to the bar Bradley stopped you by the wrist.

“I’ll help you.” He said and when you looked over to your brother, he had this look on his face but you just smirked and dismissed it and headed to the bar with Bradley. You arrived there and Bradley flagged down what looked like to be the owner. She walked over and smiled.

“I haven’t seen you around before. I’m Penny.” She said and smiled a sweet smile that reminded you of a mother.

“I’m Y/N Seresin I’m visiting my brother.” You said and smiled and she nodded letting you know that she knew him.

“Ahhh so you’re her. He’s told us a lot about you.” She said

“All good things. I hope.” You said and she nodded.

“What can I get you two?” She asked

“Another round for the group and whatever she is having.” He pointed to you.

“I’ll take what my idiotic brother is having and put it on his tab.” You said and she nodded and chuckled and got to work.

“So how long have you been a SEAL?” He asked you and you turned to look at him.

“For as long as Jake has been an aviator. We went into the academy together and then we split paths but still stayed in touch with each other.” You said and he nodded

“Have you always wanted to be in the Navy SEAL?” He asked and you nodded.

“Yea I have. Mostly to get under my parent’s skin but it really spoke to me.” You said and he nodded and about that time Penny came back with the drinks and then you walked back over to the group and they took their drinks. The rest of the night was filled with drinking and getting to know each other and getting the chance to knock Jake down a peg and embarrass the shit out of him which you did with a smirk. After the embarrass the shit of your brother came to an end and everyone went to their other activities you slipped outside to grab some fresh air and look out over the ocean. You weren’t out there long when you felt someone slide up next to you. You turned and looked at the person and saw that it was Bradley and you smiled.

“Needed a break?” He asked and you nodded

“Yea, it was getting a little hot in there.” You told him you both looked at each other for a minute and then you both were leaning in until your lips touched and the sparks flew. You pulled away when air was needed.

“I really like you.” He said and you smirked.

“I really like you too.” You said and then you both leaned back in and the rest was history.

——————————————————————

You and Bradley had been dating for 3 years and somehow managed to keep it a secret from your brother, and that was amazing because you were either there in San Diego on the weekends and would visit your brother or Bradley was at your place in Coronado. It had been your weekend to stay over at Bradley’s, he told you that he was going to be staying at Maverick’s, you had met him during your time visiting your brother and now boyfriend and you both really hit it off, hangar so he could work on a plane that he and Bradley had started to restore. You and Bradley have agreed to meet at his home and then he would drive to the hanger in his Bronco and grab some food on the way there. You both had just arrived at the hangar and after some making out you both got out and headed into the building it was late when you got there so you both figured you would eat and then he would work on the plane while you watched.

The next morning you both slept in but not for long because of your guys’ internal alarm clock and you both were up and heading out of the trailer. Bradley made you breakfast and as you both at cuddled up to each other you both enjoyed the comfort of each other. “Have you thought about telling my brother?” You asked him as you both had finished eating and you put your plates on the table in front of you.

“I’ve thought about it but scared about his reaction.” He said and you nodded “You?” He asked.

“I thought about it but I like keeping it a secret. He knows I’m seeing someone but he doesn’t know who and it’s driving him insane and I love it.” You said looking up at him and chuckled.

“I have to admit it is fun. He also knows I’m seeing someone but doesn’t know who.” He said and you chuckled. You both talked for a little bit and then you sat back and watched him work the plane and looked at the pictures and other things around the hangar. Every now and then you would look over and watch the muscles in Bradley’s back flex and it was slowly turning you on. He would occasionally turn around and look at you and you could see the dirt and grease smeared across his forehead and the sweat that was covering his forehead. You bit your lip as he turned back around and continued to work. You pressed your thighs together just thinking about him taking you right then and there all sweaty. It wasn’t long until you couldn’t take it anymore and slowly made your way to him and slid your hands up his back feeling his muscles work and then around his waist. He stopped what he was doing and turned his head where you captured his lips into a fiery passionate kiss, he brought his arms down and turned around dropping the tool he had in his hand neither of you caring. He brought his hands to your waist and slowly backed you up until you hit the shelf.

You looped your finger through his belt loops and tugged him closer enough to feel his erection through his form fitting jeans. He licked your bottom lip and you opened your mouth and his tongue slid into your mouth and your tongues battled for dominance until his won. You only pulled away when air was needed. Bradley’s pupils were blown with lust to the point where his irises weren’t visible. “You’re so sexy.” You said and that seemed to do something within him because he was attacking your neck in and you allowed him access he sucked and bit to the point you knew there was going to be hickeys. He trailed his hands down to the back of your thighs and patted them lightly signaling you to jump and you did so. This wasn’t the first time you both had sex together and each time you did so it felt like the first time and it was always so fiery and passionate but rough at the same time and you loved it and so did he.

Bradley walked towards the trailer and blindly opened it and then walked to the bed and then gently threw you onto you which made you squeal but then he climbed up and attacked your neck again which made you moan. “Bradley.” You moaned out and he slightly rubbed his clothed erection on your clothed core and you moaned again. He let up and smirked and you looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“I love it when you moan my name.” He said and then he was quick to shed his clothing and then he helped you get rid of yours until both were naked in front of reach other “Absolutely beautiful.” He said and your thighs clenched together around nothing. He brought his hand up to your soaked core and ran a finger up and down your folds “So wet for me.” He said and you nodded and moaned.

“You’re the only one.” You said and moaned when he slipped a finger in and rubbed your clit at the same time. Once he felt like you were ready, he pulled out and you whimpered at the loss of contact. You didn’t have to wait long until you felt him slide his erect cock up and down and then you both moaned as he slid into you. Your hands went his shoulders and dug your blunt nails into his shoulder blades as he set a slow and steady space. He put all of his weight on his elbows and continued a slow and stead pace. “Faster.” You moaned out and he did as you asked and picked up his pace.

“So tight. Always so tight when I fuck into you.” He said and moaned out he hit all right places and knew exactly where to hit to find your g-spot and when he did you felt the rubber band in your stomach tighten.

“Bradley, so close.” You said and he nodded.

“Hang on baby.” He said as he picked up his pace he started to sweat more and you had started to sweat as well. His thrusting was starting to get sloppy. “I’m close, baby. Cum with me.” He said and then he changed his angle to thrust deeper in you and that what made you come undone and you came hard as he came painting your walls white. He stayed put catching his breath while you caught yours. He slowly slid out of you and then laid beside you.

“That was perfect. Just like all the other times.” You said and turned your head to him and kissed him.

“You’re perfect.” He spoke. Both of you laid there for a few minutes and cuddled until your stomach growled and you both laughed. “I’ll go and get some dinner started.” He said and you nodded and laid there basking in the after sex high. Once you felt like you could walk you got up and put on your jeans and his shirt. You joined him and watched him cook and when he was done, he handed you your plate and then he sat down beside you on the couch that Maverick put in not that long ago and you both ate dinner and then headed to bed. Bradley closed the hangar up making sure everything was secure and pulled The Bronco inside. The both of you headed inside of the trailer and headed to bed.

The next morning you woke up after Bradley and your hand went to his side but you felt it was empty but still warm this confused you but you didn’t have a long time to be confused because you heard what sounded like your brother’s voice.

“Hey, Rooster! Maverick told me you were going to be here.” The voice said

“What’s up?” Bradley asked

“I needed the plans for the new Top Gun class that’s coming in on Monday.” He said

“Yea, they’re in The Bronco. I was gonna work on them this weekend but got distracted.” He said and they both headed to the car and that is when you decided to make your presence known. You got up and luckily was still dressed and walked out of the trailer.

“Jake?” You asked and he turned around not expecting someone else to be there as you walked closer to him.

“Y/N/N?” He asked and then Bradley turned around wide eyed. “What are you doing here?” He asked and you didn’t speak but then he turned to Bradley and he had a look of a deer caught in headlights. Jake went back and forth from you to him and then he took in your clothing. “Is that Bradshaw’s shirt?” He asked and again he got no answer.

“Jake.” You began “We can explain.” You said and he nodded and then you looked at Bradley and walked over to him and stood next to him and Jake turned to look at you both. “We’ve been together for 3 years. We both had fallen in love with each other 3 years ago when I met you down at The Hard Deck.” You said expecting him to be mad and lash out as you leaned into Bradley and he put an arm around you but he didn’t.

“I’m not mad.” He said and you made a face of shock and so did Bradley.

“You’re not?” You asked and he shook his head.

“No. I’m surprised you kept it a secret this long but I can’t be mad at true love.” He said and both you and Bradley sighed in relief “Besides I had my suspicions especially since Rooster kept disappearing every other weekend up close to your base and when you came down here to supposedly see me.” He said with a smirk “I’m happy for the both of you and I’m happy it was Rooster that you had fallen in love with.” He said.

“That means so much to us.” Bradley said and you nodded.

“Now those plans.” Jake said and Bradley nodded and grabbed them and the three of you headed over to the table and couch and you sat quietly thinking as they worked. You smiled watching the two people you love work together and get along, any other boyfriend would’ve only lasted a week around Jake but he was just being protective of his twin sister. You were just happy to finally have someone that loved you just as equally and maybe a little bit more than your brother. You knew everything was going to be fine and nothing in the world could split you apart from the two men you loved and held so close to your heart.

Tag list:

@kmc1989

@els-marvelvsp

@atarmychick007

@nyx2021

@grandstrangerphantom

@angenu01-blog

@talesofreading

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader fic #bradley bradshaw x reader imagines #bradley bradshaw x reader smut #bradley bradshaw x reader fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x you #rooster x reader #rooster fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun x reader #top gun fan fiction #top gun fanfic

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sunshine-jesse · 10 months ago

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In defense of Andrew Graves: Facing Yourself

Alt title: Andrew Graves: The Will to Plow Her

I think my analysis of Andrew is one of the best essays I've written so far. But since then, I think I've expanded my understanding of his character in a way that urges me to add on to my prior essay. What I intend on doing is further fleshing out my reading of Burial, and going deeper in detail on why I think Decay ends up panning out the way it does. This essay will end up sharing a lot of text with my prior one, but will add enough scattered throughout that I think it merits a complete reread instead of just scrolling down and seeing what's new.

I've focused a lot on Ashley in my past writings. She's my favorite character in the story (and depending on how episode 3 pans out, maybe ever) and I'm pretty mortified by how some parts of the fandom have reacted towards her, so I pretty much made it my life's mission to push back against that. From highlighting the ways Andrew mistreats her, to coming up with justifications for her behavior that aren't just being a manipulative bitch, I really wanted to prove that a more favorable picture of her could be painted than most were willing to.

But in doing so, I've left Andrew in the dust.

In highlighting his flaws and the ways he mistreats Ashley, I think I've implied a level of intentionality to his actions that I don't believe he has. When I say that Ashley did nothing wrong, it's in direct response to the idea that she holds the most responsibility and agency in how their dynamic plays out, when in reality, I believe she has very little. Most of her actions in-story are in reaction to a variety of stimuli that come directly from Andrew, that he has control over and are aware of how Ashley feels about. His refusal to use clear and direct language to deny her most toxic tendencies causes her more and more stress as time goes on, and instead of giving her clear answers he opts to be catty, passive-aggressive, or, at his worst, threatening. Never direct and never clear, except when establishing boundaries over his name after the choking scene. Andrew fails to help Ashley be better in some frankly depressing ways throughout the whole story, especially in their childhoods, so we never get to see where she'd fall short if given a better influence.

...

Kind of. More on that later!

In mentioning his thing about preferring to be called Andrew instead of Andy, I also implicitly mention one of the places where Ashley falls short in their dynamic and could stand to do better: recognition.

This scene says a lot. It's the most heartbreaking scene in the game, if you ask me, and probably the single most profound and well-written moment in the entire story. I could write a whole 2000 word essay on it alone, but I've already said most of what I have to say about it through what I've said in other essays, so I'll spare you all that. Instead, I'll use it to highlight something:

"I had fun."

Their dysfunction is fun to her. She's so used to abuse and alienation that even the most awful, stressful (as far as we know) route of the game is still fun to her. And that's not a sign of her being a secret evil sociopath or whatever; that's actually not abnormal behavior to develop for a lifelong victim of abuse. Those highs and lows, those strong emotional highs and lows are -addicting-. They're -fun.- Part of why abuse victims get into so many abusive relationships is because it's easy to pick up on those patterns of thought and take advantage of them, and the cycle of abuse is often furthered when a victim of abuse tries to draw out mutually abusive behaviors in someone with no interest in having that kind of dynamic.

This is where I'm willing to acknowledge Ashley's manipulative tendencies. Not just as a matter of controlling Andrew for its own sake, purely out of jealousy or possessiveness, but as a matter of trying to further the only dynamic she's ever known in her life. Better the devil you know, right?

That push and pull- that emotional rollercoaster- is all many of us know. And it's all Ashley knows. This dynamic is something she's so used to that she reacts incredibly harshly to any attempt to change it, because she doesn't know that things can be better. Because of this, she refuses to engage with who Andrew really is, and tells herself- and him- that she *hates* Andrew:

This scene is almost as heartbreaking as the above one in a lot of ways.

Andrew putting his foot down about the Andy/Andrew name dichotomy wasn't arbitrary and it wasn't just about his comfort. It was about Andrew giving a clear indication about what needs to happen for their relationship to improve. He's recognizing the cycle between them and wants to put a stop to it, because he's confident that things between them CAN get better and evolve into something healthier. Ashley, not understanding that their dynamic can get better, because their "fun" little push and pull of abuse is all she knows, rejects that. She rejects the unknown, and says- in Andrew's mind at least- that she'll never accept that new dynamic, nor will she accept who he really is.

Ouch. No wonder he looks so sad in that screenshot.

They have a conflict of understanding here, and I think it's fair to pin most of the responsibility on Ashley. Andrew was clear in what he wanted, and Ashley just... Didn't. She didn't see the importance of it ("...whatever that means in practice") and didn't really ask. This gap in communication, perfectly displayed in this scene, is likely what causes the Decay ending. He wants things to be better, and wants to treat Ashley better, and whether or not he understands the ways in which she communicates with him is in part what determines what he sees her as.

But there's a lot of evidence that he always wanted things to be better, that he always wanted to treat her better. But external factors have made it very, very difficult, and I think there are two key points in which he started to shed the importance of those external factors and seek that better relationship, both of which happening in the apartment: The killing of the warden and the 302 lady. In the first case, he was forced to do it to protect Ashley in a way he hadn't done before, or depending on how you look at it, since the death of Nina. But the intentionality was the key point here. After this point, he calls Ashley Leyley, which may or may not seem important at this point, but it's something I'll draw attention to later, so keep that in mind.

Next is the killing of the 302 lady, which is the much, much bigger point. We don't learn much about it until later on- as at first he just gives an excuse about the nail gun that doesn't line up with what we see on the map- but during the dream, it's revealed it was a calculated, intentional killing that he did to make sure there was no evidence left behind, and because Ashley (supposedly) would've wanted him to do it anyway. I say supposedly because Ashley herself doesn't seem to ever want Andrew to kill for her past Nina's death, because he only ever kills for her to defend one or both of them. If you want more evidence that violence for violence's sake isn't something she wants, look at this part in the final dream:

A knife isn't what opens the door, despite it being placed on the ground in that very map. While it seems obvious that the knife (violence) would be the key to solving the puzzle, it's put there explicitly to show you that it isn't. It's not what she wants; what she wants is a flower.

So, why is this important? Why am I centering Ashley- again- when this essay is supposed to be about Andrew?

It's because these two killings are when Andrew's self-delusion over who he really is starts to break down. It's still there, mind, as he still relies upon Ashley as an excuse to justify it, but, as well as what I've said before, the name ultimatum is an implicit confession that the normalcy he finds comfort in is starting to lose its grasp on him. There's a lot that's been said about Andy being something close to a "moral impulse" for Andrew, given his child self's reaction to Nina's death being the only thing he does that approximates a normal moral response to his and Ashley's actions, but if you do think that- which I think is a reasonable thing to think even if I don't necessarily agree- there's something you must also keep in mind:

-He- is the one who doesn't want to be called that anymore. -He- is the one who wants to let that moral impulse go, and Ashley is the one making it difficult.

That reading is assuming that Andy is a moral impulse, which I think is... either wrong or too simplistic. Every time I see that reading, it's from someone who's trying to paint him too sympathetically and absolve him of most moral responsibility. I also find it infantilizing to equate morality with childhood in such a way? But that's another tangent that I didn't sign up to talk about. What I do think, however, is that it's a useful framing device to display his own relationship with morality; the allegory to his child self doesn't have to be there for the general pattern to exist.

When Ashley starts to grill Andrew over the killing of the 302 lady, he gets mad. Very mad. Ashley sees it as pointless, as him covering his own ass, but he genuinely did it for her sake, because he thought that's what she wanted, and that it'd make her happy. But what makes her happy isn't violence- or any similarly extreme action for that matter- it's attention and validation. Something he's always reluctant to give her, despite the fact that he always chose her over the alternatives. But despite making that choice, it's always empty and meaningless, because in Ashley's mind, he never did it for her sake.

And hoo boy, does he not like it being framed like this.

He is perfectly willing to do whatever it takes to keep them happy and safe... but only for her sake. It has to be for her sake. He still needs that traditional role, and he still needs to have a narrative in which he's the good guy- a protector. Because it can't be for his sake. It can't be because that's what he wants. He has to uphold that romantic (in the literary tradition sense) ideal. His darkly romantic idealistic streak colors many of his actions and beliefs. This is most plainly visible in his quip about a double suicide being romantic, but it's also visible within the symbolism present within his dream, such as how he can only pave his own path in blood unless Ashley lights the way. It's visible within his appreciation for poetry, and it's visible with how the cultist within the dream speaks in Shakespearean English.

But the transient nature of this ideal is also revealed within this dream, because there's never a cohesive, guided path, even with Ashley there to light it up. Contrary to Ashley's dream, where you literally have maps showing you where to go, Andrew's dream has many more dead ends and no map to guide him. The symbolic role he acts out gives him no clarity, and there's no overarching narrative; merely a bunch of disconnected symbols.

This is contrasted with Ashley's dream, which has narratives so clear that the story literally gives the dream an episode title.

In a sense, he wants to view himself as an actor acting out a role in a story. He wants his life to be poetic, to represent something greater, and to have a cohesive narrative. This is why he's so disconnected from his true desires: He's more concerned with acting as a representative of an ideal than a person with agency. But every time the mask drops, every time he stops acting, his true self becomes visible. He naturally settles into being comfortable around Ashley, in treating her with warmth and kindness, and their banter becomes much less toxic. As intent as he is on acting out his role, it does nothing for him, and as his dream sequence shows, it doesn't even form a cohesive narrative, because he can't act one out. It's too contrary to who he really is, and what he really wants. But that idealization doesn't just apply to himself, it also applies to Ashley. Specifically, who Ashley is, vs who he wants her to be.

In his unique dream sequence, he sees two versions of Ashley; the child version of her- Leyley- and the adult version of her- Ashley. And the differences in the ways he interacts with the two of them are stunning. Leyley is an obstinate, annoying child. She's the one he NEEDS to take care of, and he hates that. He hates Leyley for what she did for his childhood. He hates that he needs to provide for her. He has the option of trying to kill her, even, over something as small as a candle!

But in the room with all the murders, the gilded cage, he sees Ashley as an adult. This version of Ashley is stuck in a closet that he himself has to open- and to choose to see. Their interactions are calm and friendly. She teases him a bit, sure, but she's still helpful, and they have fun together. He doesn't need her, and she doesn't need him. He needed Leyley- needed the candle- but here, there are other limbs strewn about for him to take. And, crucially, he doesn't even have the option to kill this Ashley for one of the limbs.

And during the choking scene, he lets her go the moment she acknowledges that he doesn't need her anymore. This is the first time we know of that he seems comfortable enough to set a clear boundary, which is acknowledging that their prior dynamic is dead and that they're now Andrew and Ashley, not Andy and Leyley. It's a bit late to express a clear boundary -after- literally acting like he was going to kill someone, but it's the first time we know of that he sets a clear standard for what, in his mind, would improve his relationship with Ashley.

After all, what he wants is to want her, not need her. He wants Ashley for Ashley's sake. Not for what she can provide him. He doesn't even need her for sleep, he just wants her. But Ashley has trouble acknowledging this, because he's never before shown that WANT. Only a NEED. She keeps trying to find ways to make him need her, because she's never seen what his desire for her is really like. She's only ever seen him desiring someone else, someone other than her.

She's only ever seen him as Andy, because she's never truly seen Andrew, only the violence he can inflict on others. But Andrew can see both:

He can see Leyley, the needy, bratty child who always needs his attention, that he needs to provide for. The one he hates and wants to get rid of. The one he kills for to protect.

And he can see Ashley, the one who engages in friendly and cute banter with him. Who comforts and shows him physical affection. The one he loves. The one he kills for to make happy.

He just can't choose which one he wants to see. Every outside influence- from his parents, to Julia, to Nina- makes him see her as Leyley. Ashley herself makes him see her as Leyley too, whenever she brings up all the things he did for her, and calls him Andy, his child self, instead of Andrew, his current self. And as long as he sees that child, he feels like one too, and can never give Ashley anything that comes from the heart.

But he really, really wants to see Ashley as an adult. He wants to take pride in her, how much she's grown, and how driven and competent she really is.

But god damn, does that bitch ever make it hard, because there IS no real difference between Ashley and Leyley. She's grown and changed over time, taking more adult (and stereotypically feminine) responsibility upon herself, but the fact that her temperament and personality hasn't changed much obfuscates that growth. When you talk to Ashley in the closet during the dream after getting the limb, Andrew asks Ashley to come out of the closet, but she refuses to come out because he won't invite Leyley over to play, which is a pretty strong metaphor for how he interfaces with different aspects of Ashley's personality and refuses to accept others. But the reality is that he needs to accept both, or rather, see her whole self as Ashley, rather than just the parts he likes.

In the end, it's him who has to make the choice how to see her. Ashley can only see what she's been shown, but Andrew can choose.

And in the basement scene, he makes that choice.

If Ashley refuses to leave him alone with their parents, that's it. In one of the most critical and important moments of his life, she couldn't give him the space needed to make up his own mind. She couldn't treat him as an adult. She couldn't see him as Andrew. If she does give him that choice, she chooses to acknowledge that Andrew is an adult who can be trusted to make his own decisions, even though she (perhaps foolishly) believes that this choice lines up with her own interests. And frankly it does either way, but in accepting their mom's offer, her chooses to see her as Leyley once and for all. He chooses not to reciprocate what Ashley showed him. He does it because he needs to, not because he wants to. Because it's his duty, not his desire.

This is what results in the Decay ending. Through his inability to see Ashley as an adult, he surrenders his agency and views all of his actions as an extension of his responsibilities, his role, which he no longer wishes to uphold. He dissociates fully from who he really is, acting in accordance with that disconnected, barely-cohesive narrative that exists only within his mind. The game starts to resemble the heartwrenching tragedy that many seem to take for granted that it is, as their dynamic fully doubles down on its painful toxicity. And, in an example of a poetic book end, Ashley's dream shows a double suicide, closing the book on their tragic tale.

It's tragic. It's heartwrenching. It's poetic. It's beautiful.

...Except it's not. Not at all.

It's actually fucking stupid, pointless, and brutal, and Burial shows us that. When we view their spiral as beautiful, we project the same darkly romantic ideal that Andrew possesses onto the story.

But the actual reality is horrifying.

Ashley spends most of Decay terrified of Andrew, the one person she found comfort in. He acts cold, distant, and aggressive towards her, showing pointless cruelty instead of any warmth. All she wants is comfort; all she wants is to not die. She doesn't want to engage in this death spiral at all, and, in her dream sequence, shows none of the same willingness to die alongside Andrew that Andrew does with her. The moment we stop focusing on the end of the Decay dream sequence, which has very striking imagery, and if you choose not to shoot, one of the most beautiful scenes in the game, we can see it for what it really is:

A scared animal running away from a predator.

The moment you see Decay through Ashley's eyes, and not the perspective of some romantic ideal, Decay becomes terrifying, tense, and painful. There is no catharsis to be had in this tragedy. It's easily avoidable as long as Andrew chooses to engage with reality, and not the empty promises of his mother and incoherent narrative of his ideal.

Finding beauty and meaning in tragedy is how we cope with the harshness of reality. But there is no coherent narrative to the tragedies we experience, just like there's no coherent narrative to the ideal Andrew wishes to uphold. It's something we create- that he creates- but it's not something that actually exists.

And when Andrew casts aside his desire for that ideal, and the responsibilities it shackles him to, it grants him clarity that he never had before. He sees the world for how it really is, and acknowledges that nobody- the least of which their mother- is as different from Ashley as they pretend to be.

They're no better than her, and he's tired of people pretending that they are. People are all the same, no matter what ideals they try to uphold and represent. They still sacrifice others in the name of advancing themselves, still punch down whenever they can, and still lay blame on those beneath them rather than try to take control of their lives. They just use those ideals to justify themselves, but Ashley, and now Andrew, reject even the need for that justification.

This is why I believe the story is nihilistic. Not in that it asserts the inherent meaninglessness of life, but in that it grapples with the ideals we uphold and how they obfuscate the reality of the world we live in. The story, intentionally or not, highlights how ideals are often but a pretense we use to justify what we were likely going to do regardless, and how holding to them too strongly can lead to our ruin- and how monstrous they make us look to those who do not share them.

Consequently, this is how I view the part of the fanbase who thinks Decay is a good ending.

(the characters themselves represent existentialism rather than nihilism but i couldn't really fit that analysis in here without it feeling forced so i might cover that another time)

From that point on, their relationship becomes a lot more friendly, lighthearted, and playful. They ironically start acting more like children, but to quote CS Lewis:

"Critics who treat adult as a term of approval, instead of as a merely descriptive term, cannot be adult themselves. To be concerned about being grown up, to admire the grown up because it is grown up, to blush at the suspicion of being childish; these things are the marks of childhood and adolescence."

He's not ashamed of being playful with Ashley, or showing affection towards her. He's grown up. He finally sees her, and himself, as an adult- although he still doesn't show that in full until much later on (more or that later). But in Decay, he still sees her as a child, and to an extent, probably himself. Let's compare the ways in which he reacts to being called Andy. In Decay, he lashes out at Ashley and gets angry, even threatening her. But in Questionable Burial, he calmly says that Andy is dead and doesn't need Ashley's comfort, but still tries to reassure her that she's still needed. He's not ashamed of or hostile towards their prior dynamic, because he's grown past it. He still acknowledges Ashley's need to feel needed, but here, he recognizes its importance to her, whereas he was hostile towards it before.

It's a display of respect towards her feelings.

This interaction doesn't happen in the Sane ending, however. He doesn't play games with her and is just a lot less fun to be around all together. Why is that? Because he still hasn't yet shaken viewing Ashley as Leyley there. He still views her as a burden, as someone who needs taking care of. He's calmly accepted that, too, mind you, but he lacks respect for her because she's still a child, in his mind. But in Questionable?

The vision did more than just make him extremely embarrassed and lay his deepest desires bare. It forced him to recognize Ashley as an adult. When choosing between "Never" and "Never say never," if Never is chosen, the burden of thought is lifted off of him. But if Ashley chooses "Never say never!", he has to reckon with the fact that Ashley is an adult, someone who can consent to those kinds of things. Someone who MIGHT. Someone who has agency, and can make her own decisions. And more importantly… someone who can trust him to make his own.

Whether he desires sex or not is secondary; he's always had those feelings and has always been ashamed of them. But now that the part of him where that shame came from is dead and buried, there's no childish impulse to grow up. There's no attachment to the hate and bitterness he had before. Look at what he worries about when he picks up that she's uncertain or confused about who he is now:

It's her feelings.

He wants to be fun to be around. He wants to make Ashley happy. He loves her, and not as a romantic interest or even as a sibling. He loves her independent of all that baggage.

He loves her as a person.

Their relationship runs contrary to societal ideals in some pretty huge ways. So contrary, in fact, that it's hard for some to accept it as anything good, that it can ever be best for the people involved. It's incestuous. It involves them killing and eating their parents. It involves them distancing themselves so much from society that it's hard to believe they'll ever fit in it again. It's chaotic, it's messy, it's codependent, and maybe even toxic. And yet, here they are. They're coexisting. They're happy. They're healing. They're navigating the world in the only way they can: together.

Meanwhile, in Decay, Andrew refuses to allow himself to get closer to Ashley. He surrenders all agency to her, buys into his own narrative, drinks his own Kool-Aid, and may or may not condemn one or both of them to death in the process. Like it or not, the only path where Andrew takes ownership of his life is the one where he's closest to his sister. It's the one where he decides where they will go next, the one where he decides his own feelings matter, and acts in accordance with what he wants instead of how he thinks he should act.

His agency, his freedom, and his growth don't happen in spite of his codependency; they're happen because of it. They can't grow alone. They can't heal alone.

In reading the story, one must interrogate how important those societal ideals are in the face of the realities of what makes people happy. Are those ideals worth upholding in spite of this? Can we really allow people to fall through the cracks in the name of social norms? Can we blame people for taking rash actions when the social contract has failed them?

Or are we so blinded by those ideals that we can't see that people can be happy while blatantly disregarding them?

All I know is that in Burial, Andrew, having cast aside normalcy, now appears to be truly happy for the first time in his life.

Who are we to take that from him?

#the coffin of andy and leyley #andrew graves #ashley graves #tcoaal #gaming #gravecest #tcoaal essay

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youryurigoddess · 5 months ago

Text

Aziraphale’s secret investigation and overlooked Clues

Remember this frame from Good Omens S02E06? Apparently Aziraphale had been using the empty carton box brought by Jim to store things in. It became a new home to at least two out of three “Lost Quartos” — the supposedly lost Shakespeare plays briefly but hilariously mentioned in the Good Omens book — as well as a very mysterious legal document.

Thought probably half of the Good Omens analysts here, including the ever so wonderful @fuckyeahgoodomens, who managed to find some information about the deceased John Gibson from New Cumnock (1855 - 1905).

Unfortunately the most interesting thing about this early 20th century provincial postmaster was his youngest child James (1894 - 1973), a quite famous stage (West End!) and film actor immortalized on screen in The Master of Ballantrae (1962), Witch Wood (1964) and Kidnapped (1963).

After that particular discovery the fandom-wide search seemingly led nowhere and the topic died a premature death.

And I almost figured it out seven months ago.

“But Yuri, you’re so clever. How can somebody as clever as you be so stupid?”, you probably want to shout across a busy London street at this point. Well, let me tell you. Much like Aziraphale, I'm blindingly intelligent for about thirty seconds a day. I do not get to choose which seconds and they are not consecutive.

Only tonight the stars have aligned in an ineffable way.

For those of you who don’t follow this account, some time ago I’ve realized that John Gibson isn’t the only testator whose estate was being investigated by Aziraphale right before The Whickber Street Traders and Shopkeepers Association monthly meeting.

If you watch S2 finale closely enough, you should notice that Crowley not only stress cleans Aziraphale’s bookshop — he also goes through the books and papers on his desk between the last three angels leaving the bookshop and Maggie and Nina’s intervention. A seemingly permanent arrangement of the props post-shooting, visible in detail both on Radio Times tour and SFX magazine photo shoot, sheds even more light on this detail.

The close-ups published after S2 release are legible enough to refer us to a much more prominent historical figure, Josiah Wedgwood (1730 – 1795) — an English potter, entrepreneur and abolitionist. Founding the Wedgwood company in 1759, he developed improved pottery bodies by systematic experimentation, and was the leader in the industrialisation of the manufacture of European pottery.

Long story short, I transcribed the handwritten pages abandoned on Aziraphale’s desk, found out the source and the full text of what could be identified as Wedgwood’s last will and testament, took a walk to visit his Soho workshop, and proceeded to write a lengthy meta analysis about it.

I was today’s years old when I realized that there’s something else connecting those two dead British men.

The Scottish Post Office Directory of 1903 recorded John Gibson from New Cumnock as a “stationer and china dealer” (above) operating from the shop located in the town’s post office building.

Indeed, a close look at his post office shop window in the Henderson Building (below, bottom left) reveals an artful display of fine china and pottery next to postcards printed by Gibson.

There are multiple ways to connect this surprising link with possible S3 plot points, obviously, but it’s getting late, so let’s just name the two most important ones.

You’ve probably heard of the Holy Grail, maybe from Monty Python or Good Omens S01E03 1941 flashback. Depending on the version of the story, if can be a cup, a chalice, a bowl, or a saucer — but almost always a dish or a vessel connected personally, physically and metaphysically to Jesus (unless you’re partial to Wolfram von Eschenbach’s idea that the Grail was a stone, the sanctuary of the neutral angels who took neither side during Lucifer's rebellion).

A slightly more obscure dish related to the Son of God appears in the sixteenth chapter of the Book of Revelation as a vital part of His Second Coming. The Seven Bowls (or cups, or vials) of God’s Wrath are supposed to be poured out on the wicked and the followers of the Antichrist by seven angels:

Then I heard a loud voice from the temple telling the seven angels, “Go and pour out on the earth the seven bowls of the wrath of God.” So the first angel went and poured out his bowl on the earth, and harmful and painful sores came upon the people who bore the mark of the beast and worshiped its image.

The second angel poured out his bowl into the sea, and it became like the blood of a corpse, and every living thing died that was in the sea.

The third angel poured out his bowl into the rivers and the springs of water, and they became blood. And I heard the angel in charge of the waters say, “Just are you, O Holy One, who is and who was, for you brought these judgments. For they have shed the blood of saints and prophets, and you have given them blood to drink. It is what they deserve!” And I heard the altar saying, “Yes, Lord God the Almighty, true and just are your judgments!”

The fourth angel poured out his bowl on the sun, and it was allowed to scorch people with fire. They were scorched by the fierce heat, and they cursed the name of God who had power over these plagues. They did not repent and give him glory.

The fifth angel poured out his bowl on the throne of the beast, and its kingdom was plunged into darkness. People gnawed their tongues in anguish and cursed the God of heaven for their pain and sores. They did not repent of their deeds.

The sixth angel poured out his bowl on the great river Euphrates, and its water was dried up, to prepare the way for the kings from the east. And I saw, coming out of the mouth of the dragon and out of the mouth of the beast and out of the mouth of the false prophet, three unclean spirits like frogs. For they are demonic spirits, performing signs, who go abroad to the kings of the whole world, to assemble them for battle on the great day of God the Almighty. (“Behold, I am coming like a thief! Blessed is the one who stays awake, keeping his garments on, that he may not go about naked and be seen exposed!”) And they assembled them at the place that in Hebrew is called Armageddon.

The seventh angel poured out his bowl into the air, and a loud voice came out of the temple, from the throne, saying, “It is done!” And there were flashes of lightning, rumblings, peals of thunder, and a great earthquake such as there had never been since man was on the earth, so great was that earthquake. The great city was split into three parts, and the cities of the nations fell, and God remembered Babylon the great, to make her drain the cup of the wine of the fury of his wrath. And every island fled away, and no mountains were to be found. And great hailstones, about one hundred pounds each, fell from heaven on people; and they cursed God for the plague of the hail, because the plague was so severe.

#good omens #good omens meta #good omens analysis #aziraphale #aziraphale’s bookshop #set design #good omens props #the good omens crew is unhinged #john gibson #josiah wedgwood #fine china #pottery #holy grail #seven bowls #second coming #yuri is doing her thing

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pilferingapples · 6 months ago

Note

I was just reading the "Enjolras and his lieutenants" chapter and I noticed that Enjolras used the informal you for both Courfeyrac and Jehan, but not for Feuilly. Would you happen to know the historical/language reasons as to why that is? I thought it may be because both are students and where I'm from, students use the informal you, even if they don't know each other. But Bossuet addressed Marius with the formal you when they first met, so I'm not sure if that really is the reason for that. Does it mean that canonically, they aren't as close as Enjolras is with the others or could there be another reason for it? Also, do you know why he still only adresses them by their last names, even though he's using the informal you?

Nonny you are asking me about one of the Great Questions of the Novel: what the heck is going on with Feuilly and the t/v distinctions?

I am not going to dive into the weeds of standard t/v use,but --along with all the usual applications, in canon era and especially the kind of social circles that Hugo knew best and is setting up for the Amis, " tu" seems to have been common for young men to use together (a) with friends from childhood (b) among certain groups of Romantics , Because Romantic Friendship (c) particularly relevant here , among certain republican groups, because of the implied equality of everyone using it. Cosette will reference this use later:

And obviously all of this only makes Enjolras vous-ing Feuilly weirder!

And complicating the theorizing, Enjolras does use Tu for Feuilly later on, during his big barricade speech:

Écoute-moi, toi Feuilly, vaillant ouvrier, homme du peuple, hommes des peuples. Je te vénère.

I have no solid answer, only theories! Theory 1: Feuilly is, somehow, fairly new to the group in Lieutenants. Counterargument: then why is he already one of the Lieutenants? And in what seems to be a particularly Secret secret meeting with ONLY the Lieutenants in attendance?

Theory 2: Maybe Feuilly's much older than we generally estimate , enough to make the Tu seem less automatic? The later use of tu at the barricades seems to argue against that, but maybe that's a special " we're all fighting and about to die" level of intimacy, since Tu does seem to be in general use there? Counterargument: hugo refers to them all being Young so very, very often, and ok that seems to include Up To Maybe 35, but still. Feuilly's part of their age cohort by all other signs.

Theory 3, Not Very Satisfying but Realistic: Hugo's bein' weird. Hugo personally used Vous for almost everyone, unless they were either direct family or , to be blunt, someone he was having an affair with. He definitely used Vous in friendships most anyone else would have considered a definite Tu situation. Maybe Hugo had an idea about it that he didn't flesh out; maybe he just wrote that and didn't catch it in edits; maybe his handwriting there was just really especially awful and whoever did the Clean Copy that day * didn't transcribe it right and no one later down the line saw it as a typo. Mundane, unrelated to the narrative reasons.

Counterargument: none ,really, except it's kinda boring.:P

Theory X (silly fandom only theory) : Enjolras and Feuilly are trying to act like they are on more formal terms , for shenanigans reasons. Maybe they're working on their Cover for a Secret Mission. Maybe they're trying to hide the fact they've started dating.

As for the Last Name thing, it's just how some people , especially men, are? I don't know that it really needs more explanation, but by all means tell me if you've got a theory! Personally I've always liked " Everyone is named Jean (so they default to last names) XD

usually, but not always, Juliette Drouet

#thank you Nonny!!#sorry for the delay. my cats are VERY Helpful today #Feuilly talk #hey nonny nonny

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captainsophiestark · 1 month ago

Text

Vigilante Book Club Part 3

Jason Todd x Reader

Part 1 Part 2 - Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober, and for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: DC

Day Four Prompt: "No, we're not doing that."

Summary: Jason and his new SO have their official first date.

Word Count: 2,216

Category: Fluff

A/N: Shoutout to @v1ckycheesue for commenting about wanting to see the date! I wasn't sure I was going to come back to this idea, but something just popped into my head, so now we're here :) No promises, but there might also be a part 4 at some point on the horizon!

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I stepped out of my building with a smile, waving as soon as I caught sight of Jason on his motorcycle, waiting for me right where he said he'd be. After months of friendship and forming a mini book club with the Red Hood, earlier this week, I'd learned his secret identity thanks to a phone call from one of his brothers. Thankfully, Jason didn't mind, and even better, it had led to Jason asking me out on a date. He'd had a bit of a family situation to attend to earlier, but tonight was the night, and having him meet me outside my apartment on his motorcycle was certainly a good start.

"Hey!" I called once I was close enough. "How did the family dinner disaster go?"

Jason scoffed and rolled his eyes. "It went great, once I got there and kicked everyone else out of the kitchen. Somewhere between five and ten of us regularly attending family events and somehow I'm still the only one who knows how to cook."

I grinned. "Well, from personal experience, I can attest that you are an excellent chef."

"Thanks, babe," he said, huffing a laugh as I finally reached him. He held out one arm for a hug, and I stepped into him, wrapping both my arms around his shoulders as he sat on his bike. He brought his other hand up to rest on my hip, giving it a light squeeze before moving me a step back from him. "You look great."

"Thanks! You do too. So... are you gonna tell me what we're doing tonight?"

"Not yet," he said with a grin. "I still want our first stop to be a surprise. But you do need one more thing before we go."

I raised an eyebrow as Jason turned around on the bike, digging into one of the side bags before turning back to me with a bright red helmet in hand.

"Here, let me help you get it on."

I smiled, Jason helping me pull the helmet down over my head before holding either side of it, giving it a little shake to make sure it fit snugly. He grabbed the part right in front of my mouth and ran his finger across it, giving me a satisfied smile.

"Looks good. Go ahead and hop on, and we can get out of here."

I climbed onto the back of the bike, wrapping my arms tightly around Jason's waist as he pulled his own red helmet on over his head. It wasn't the same as his Red Hood helmet, but it did look pretty similar. I grinned, even though Jason couldn't see me.

"You ready sweetheart?" he asked, his voice crackling over an in-helmet comms system. I nodded, then realized how unhelpful that was.

"Yeah, I'm ready. Although I do have a question."

"What's that?" Jason asked. He started the bike as he spoke, the engine roaring beneath us.

"As somebody trying to maintain a secret identity, don't you think it's a little conspicuous that you've got a motorcycle helmet the exact same color as your vigilatne helmet? And almost the same style?"

I heard Jason huff a laugh, and his response took a few moments to come through the radio. Part of that might've been Jason trying to focus while he merged with traffic, but he'd never be able to convince me that was the entire reason.

"Nobody's figured it out yet," he finally said. Now it was my turn to laugh.

"Well, there you go, I guess. I'll keep my fingers crossed for you that nobody in Gotham suddenly becomes observant. You know, I could repaint your helmet in some sparkly colors for you, maybe put some stickers on it that say 'NOT Red Hood', help you keep your secret. We could make it a date night."

Jason snorted. "No, we're not doing that."

"Your loss babe."

I held tight to Jason as we swept through the city streets, looking over his shoulder and trying to figure out exactly where we were headed. I didn't put it together until we turned a corner and pulled into the parking lot for my absolute favorite bookstore in the city.

I gasped, and I heard Jason chuckle over the radio.

"I take it you're excited?"

"Jason, I got nothing but green flags from you from the moment you brought my favorite book back to me, but I cannot begin to tell you how amazing this surprise is. This is my dream date."

Jason chuckled again, pulling the bike into a spot near the front as he responded.

"I'm glad a bookstore date's as exciting to you as it is to me."

"Oh my god, you have no idea. You are actually a dream come true."

"Right back at you, sweetheart."

With that, he stepped off the bike and pulled his helmet off, taking mine from me a moment later when I did the same. I had a beaming smile on my face that I couldn't wipe off if I tried, and as soon as he saw it, Jason smiled too.

"Alright, I'll never be the one to put limits on getting books, but let me tell you what I was thinking for tonight," he said, taking my hand and helping me off the bike. We started walking to the front doors together, shoulder to shoulder and hands held tight. "I was thinking we each pick a book, ideally one the other person hasn't read before. Then we do an exchange and read the books the other person picked out for us."

Jason looked at me as we came to a stop just inside the bookstore, apparently waiting for my reaction. Like he hadn't just said something out of a romance novel.

I leaned up to kiss his cheek, squeezing his hand as I did. When I pulled back with a smile, Jason had one eyebrow raised.

"That sounds absolutely perfect," I said, and a minute later his face broke out in a wide grin.

"Okay, good. I'll go get your book, you go get mine. Whoever's done first finds the other."

"Deal. Let's do this."

Jason and I headed off in different directions, hunting through the bookstore for just the right book. A few weeks ago, he'd told me he'd never read Dracula, one of my favorite books and a classic that seemed right up his alley. We'd talked about reading it together for our informal book club, but we hadn't done it yet, and I couldn't think of a better book to get him for our date.

Unfortunately, we were in a bookstore, so I had to make a few detours on my way to my goal. I ended up with a small stack in my arms by the time I finally made it to Dracula, and I chewed my lip in thought as I stood betwen the stacks. What if he didn't have room for us to put these on the bike? What if we were going somewhere after this where the books would be a problem? I rarely managed to walk into a bookstore and walk out with nothing more than what I'd gone for, but maybe I could just take picture of the other titles with my phone-

"There you are."

I turned to see Jason behind me, a stack of books in his own arms. I grinned.

"I'm glad to see I'm not the only one who made a few pitstops on my way to the date book," I said. Jason scoffed.

"Of course not. I don't trust people who can easily avoid detours in bookstores."

"Neither do I. It's for sure a red flag."

"Well, I'm glad we both passed the test," he said, grinning again. "Now come on, you ready? I think it's time for the next part of our date."

"I'll follow you."

Jason and I checked out with both our stacks of books, which he carefully loaded into one of the bags on his motorcycle. It was a tight fit, but he managed to make everything work without any of the books being at risk of bent pages. The other bag remained conspicuously closed, and I raised an eyebrow at him as he helped me get my helmet on again.

"Is there a reason you didn't split the books between both bags?"

"Yeah."

"...And that reason would be?"

"A surprise." He grinned. "Come on, you'll know in a minute. It's not too far of a drive from here."

I climbed on the back of the bike behind Jason, holding onto him tight as we wound through the city streets. Before long, we were leaving the traffic behind, turning onto narrower and narrower tree-lined roads climbing up one of the mountains outside of the city.

"This is a pretty murder-y date spot, just so you know," I said over our comms. I felt Jason's chest rise and fall with a laugh under my hands the same time it came crackling over the radio.

"Are you trying to warn me about something, sweetheart?"

I shrugged. "I mean, you're the Red Hood. I think we're both probably pretty safe."

He huffed another laugh, taking one hand briefly off the handlebars to squeeze mine. I wrapped my arms around him a little tighter, and after a few more minutes of riding on darkened trails, we came out on top of one of the tallest hills. Jason parked the bike, then hopped off and offered a hand to help me. We both knew I didn't need it, but I took it anyway.

"Alright, this is one of my favorite spots in the whole city," Jason said, tucking both our helmets away before opening the tank bag that didn't have books in it. He pulled out a basket with one hand, then grabbed mine again with the other.

I followed him to the treeline, until we reached a ledge overlooking the city. I stopped short, letting out a little gasp. I'd never seen it from a vantage point like this before. All the lights sparkled like stars, while the forest around us was perfectly peaceful.

"Wow," I breathed. "Jay... this place is amazing."

"I know. And even better, none of my siblings know how to find it."

I laughed, watching as Jason took out a blanket and unfolded it, then started setting up the rest of an evening picnic.

"You know, I'd actually really like to meet your siblings."

"Oh don't worry, you will. They've been wondering for a while now who I've been meeting up with regularly. They're all nosy motherfuckers, they'll probably show up in disguise to crash our next date."

"...Is it weird that I'm kind of excited for that?"

"Yes. Extremely."

I just laughed again, moving to join Jason on the picnic blanket he'd set up for us. I sighed and leaned into him as he wrapped one arm around my shoulders.

"I have to say, this might be the best date I've ever been on. Buying each other books and a romantic picnic overlooking the city? That's impossible to beat," I said.

"That was my goal," he said, pulling me closer with a grin. "I'm glad I succeeded. Now come on, I don't want this food I packed going to waste."

Jason and I dug into the picnic, which was packed full of our favorite foods. We laughed and talked the night away, perfectly comfortable, just the two of us. It was technically our first date, but we'd been spending our nights together for long enough that a peaceful, romantic night together seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

"Jason, that was amazing," I sighed, leaning into him once we'd finished dinner. He leaned back on his hands, and I curled into his side.

"Yeah. It was. You know, I'm really glad that guy stole your favorite book."

"I guess that's one way to say you're glad you met me."

Jason grinned and leaned in to kiss my temple. "You get me."

I sighed, and the two of us just sat there together for a while, curled up on the blanket and looking out at the city. Finally, I sighed.

"So... what would you think if I proposed a finale for this date?"

"That depends. Is this a subtle way of telling me you're ready for the date to be over?"

"No! I just had an idea I think you'll like, and I want to pull my weight a little on making this the most magical evening ever."

"Oh yeah?" Jason asked, sitting up and moving me with him. I turned to face him, a giant smile on my face as his hands wandered to my waist. "And what might that idea be?"

"I was thinking we could go back to my place..."

"I'm with you so far."

"And then I was thinking we could make some tea and curl up on the couch and read the books we got for each other."

Jason grinned, putting one hand at the nape of my neck and pulling me in for a kiss. I smiled into it, leaning forward and resting my hands on his chest as Jason deepened it. When he finally pulled back, I was breathing hard.

"That sounds fucking perfect. You're literally my dream date, let's go."

I laughed, especially as Jason packed up our picnic with record speed, then took my hand and nearly dragged me back towards the bike. The two of us laughed the whole ride to my apartment, only to cuddle close on the couch while we started reading hand-picked books together. It was definitely too early to call, but I wouldn't mind spending the rest of my nights just like this.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen

DC Taglist: @gaychaosgremlin @v1ckycheesue @lavender-dinos

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skateordiebitch · 6 days ago

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I loved the proposal fic! You're very talented <3 Please don't ever stop feeding the fandom! Another request: Dom having this huge crush on you and being flirty and touchy all the time, sending you songs, making excuses to talk to you but you don't take him seriously because of his reputation (we all know that boy is a cheater lol) but then he grows on you and you realize he likes you for real.

Sorry if this is messy or confusing but I'm sure you can turn this into something good because you're a great writer!! <3

you are the right one || D.F. x reader

'you are the right one and i'm just the boy who is lookin' at you, so what will i do?'

summary: charming? absolutely. loyal? that was up for debate. dom has an insufferable crush on you, and his reputation is as messy as his pick up lines.

you guys really have no idea how much it means to me that people actually read these omg. like WHAT?! thank u so much for all the support, and i've been absolutely loving these requests! please submit as many as ur hearts desire frl.

this fic is inspired by 'you are the right one' by sports. enjoy! <3

Dominic was the kind of guy who could charm a rock.

He was always around—at parties, at coffee shops, wherever you happened to be, he’d somehow appear with that half-smile and a glint in his eye.

The look that said he had all the time in the world to flirt with you.

It wasn’t a secret that he had a reputation, and you’d heard plenty about it. So when he started paying attention to you, you took it with a grain of salt.

He was practically notorious.

His name was synonymous with scandal; the stories floated around like smoke in a crowded room, filling every corner. He’d been caught sneaking out of afterparties with one girl, only to be spotted cozying up with another a few nights later.

People talked about him like he was a force of nature—someone who left a trail of broken hearts in his wake, yet somehow still managed to charm his way back into everyone’s good graces.

Known for giving others a little too much attention, sending flirty texts to way too many people, and for leaving relationships messier than they started.

You’d heard it all.

Which is why, despite his insistent attention on you over the past few months, you’d tried not to take him seriously.

He had a way of simply popping up at every gathering, every coffee shop, every late-night hangout. And no matter where you went, there he was, leaning against a doorframe or lounging in some corner with that half-smile.

It was the look of a guy who knew he was being watched.

Every time he leaned in a little too close or casually dropped a line about how he couldn’t get you out of his head, a voice in the back of your mind reminded you of his reputation.

You’d seen him in action, laughing too easily with strangers, that familiar gleam in his eye whenever he found someone new to capture his attention.

But that didn’t stop him from trying.

It almost seemed like a challenge to him, as if winning you over would prove something—not just to you, but to himself.

Dominic was nothing, if not persistent.

—

It started off with little things.

You’d see him at a party, and he’d make his way over, leaning just close enough to make your pulse race.

“Hey,” he’d say in that low voice of his, like he was letting you in on a secret. “Fancy running into you here.”

You’d roll your eyes. “Not that fancy,” you’d reply. “You’re here every night.”

He’d laugh, brushing it off. “What can I say? I’m where the action is. And apparently, so are you.”

Or even one night, at a mutual friend’s house party, he caught you in the kitchen, pouring a drink.

“Here we go again,” you muttered as he sidled up, practically beaming.

“What?” He feigned innocence, leaning against the counter like he had nowhere else to be. “I’m just here for the ambiance.”

“Sure,” you replied dryly, stirring your drink. “Not here to bug me at all.”

“Bug you?” He placed a hand over his heart, looking deeply wounded. “Why would I bug the most interesting, most beautiful person in the room?”

And as time went on, you realized he was doing a pretty good job of getting under your skin. He was funny and had this odd knack for showing up exactly when you needed a laugh.

But, it was all smooth talk, and you knew better than to read into it.

—

He would even pop up in your messages with carefully curated playlists and random memes at odd hours. One night, at nearly three in the morning, he sent you a song. You clicked it, half asleep, listening to the slow, soulful lyrics.

“Seriously? You’re sending me Drake at 3 a.m.?” you texted back.

His reply came almost immediately: “What? I just thought you’d appreciate the vibes. Don’t you like it?”

You couldn’t help but smile, even though you knew better. “It’s fine,” you replied, trying to sound unimpressed, “If I was a prepubescent boy.”

He shot back, “Ouch. I pour my heart into a late-night playlist, and all I get is ‘fine’? Remind me not to be romantic with you anymore.”

“You call that romantic?!” you teased.

He responded with a winking emoji. “You’d know if I was trying to be romantic. Trust me.”

You laughed, but kept your guard up.

That was just Dominic—he never quit.

He sent you song after song, funny memes at all hours, anything he thought might make you laugh. He’d slip compliments into the conversation when you least expected them.

Charming? Absolutely. Loyal? That was up for debate.

You knew he had a habit of leaving a trail of broken hearts in his footsteps, and you weren’t about to fall for it.

But, he was relentless. He seemed to show up everywhere, always ready with that same easy charm.

—

One day, you found yourself sitting outside on the patio of your favorite cafe when he strolled by, immediately making a U-turn to come sit next to you.

“Need some company?” he asked, his voice dripping with faux-casual charm.

“Mmm, not particularly,” you replied, taking a sip of your coffee.

“Perfect, because I’m excellent at being unwanted company,” he said, sliding into the seat across from you and leaning in. “So, I have a dilemma. You seem like a good person to solve it.”

“Oh really?” You smirked, raising an eyebrow. “What kind of dilemma?”

“Well,” he drawled, pretending to look serious, “I can’t figure out if I should ask you for your number… or just keep showing up everywhere you are and hope you’ll take the hint.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “You already have my number, Dominic. Remember when you sent me that completely unnecessary playlist at three in the morning?”

He grinned. “Ah, yes. That was for your listening pleasure. And it was absolutely necessary, by the way.”

“Dominic, please,” you paused, “I swear, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were following me.”

“Me? Follow you?” He grinned, looking scandalized. “I would never! I just happen to have excellent timing.”

“Should I file a restaining order against you or something?” You chuckled, sipping your drink.

“C'mon, you wouldn’t do that,” Dominic purrs, “How would we be able to swoon over each other? Maybe, you're just everywhere I go. Who says… you’re not my stalker?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to brush it off, but the truth was, you’d started to enjoy the banter.

“You’re so full of it, Dominic. Your ego is gonna spill out of you someday.”

“Maybe,” he said, leaning in just enough that you could smell the faint hint of his cologne, “Maybe, I just like being wherever you are,” he said, his voice playful but sincere. “Ever think about that?”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s it,” you replied, rolling your eyes. But when he looked at you with those eyes, warm and mischievous, it was hard not to feel the tiniest flicker of something more.

There was something infectious about his easy confidence, the way he didn’t mind looking silly as long as he could make you laugh. You were starting to understand what all of his other girls saw in him.

He seemed to notice the crack in your defenses and leaned closer, voice low. “Give me a shot. One date. No games, no flirting with anyone else.”

You gave him a skeptical look. “I’m not exactly into sharing, Dominic. And word on the street is you’re into… well, everyone.”

His expression softened, but there was still a glimmer of that charming confidence. “What if I told you I’m into just one person now?”

“Yeah?” you challenged. “And how long’s that going to last?”

“As long as you want it to,” he murmured, leaning close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath.

You laughed, shaking your head. “You say that now. But I don’t have time to be just another girl in your playlist, Dominic.”

He straightened, putting his hand on his chest in mock offense. “Wow. You really think I’m that bad, huh?”

“Honestly? Yes, I do,” you said, unable to keep the smile from creeping onto your face.

"Why is that?" Dominic asked, as if he was genuinely perplexed.

You tilted your head, giving him a look. “You really want me to list all the reasons?”

He leaned back, crossing his arms in that casual way of his, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Go on then. Enlighten me.”

You took a deep breath, pretending to count off on your fingers. “Let’s see… for starters, you flirt with anything that breathes, you’ve got a track record of, I don't know, cheating on people, and I’ve heard more stories about your ‘endeavors’ than I can count. Should I go on?”

His smile didn’t waver, but something in his eyes softened as he listened, really listened. “Alright, fair points,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish look. “But maybe I’ve grown up a little. I'm ready to settle down. People change, right?”

You raised an eyebrow, skepticism evident. “People change, but Dominic, you’re—well, you’re you.”

He laughed, and for a moment, it was as if the whole world faded away, leaving just the two of you in that charged little bubble.

“Guilty as charged,” he said with a shrug. “But what if I’m tired of being that guy? What if I want something real for once?”

There was a flicker of sincerity in his voice that made your heart do a little flip. You glanced away, unsure of what to say, feeling a warmth in your cheeks that you hoped he wouldn’t notice.

“Look,” he continued, his voice softer, “all I’m asking for is a chance. No strings, no expectations, just… a chance to show you who I really am. I promise I won’t pull any tricks. What do you say?”

You hesitated, trying to ignore the excitement sparking in your chest. A part of you wanted to say yes, to give him that one shot. But there was also that voice in the back of your mind, reminding you of all the things you’d heard, all the stories that seemed impossible to ignore.

But then you met his gaze again. He wasn’t grinning or trying to charm you with a clever line. He was just standing there, his face open, honest, like he was waiting on the edge of something.

“Fine,” you said finally, surprising even yourself. “Prove to me that you've 'changed,' and I'll give you a chance.”

He let out a breath, a grin breaking through. “Deal! I swear, you’ll see. I'll show you that I'm the guy you've been searching for your whole life.”

You shook your head, laughing at his confidence. “Big promises, Dominic.”

He gave a playful bow, pretending to be serious.

“You deserve nothing less."

—

And, in the weeks that followed, things started to shift.

You found yourself looking forward to his messages, to the way he’d light up when he saw you, to the little moments where he’d brush his hand against yours and you’d feel that thrill you couldn’t deny anymore.

He was actually... proving something.

He was still the same Dominic—funny, charming, a little ridiculous—but there was something deeper, something real that he was finally showing you.

He kept sending you songs, but now you listened to them more closely. They weren’t just random choices—they were songs that held meaning, songs that made you feel like he was trying to tell you something without saying it out loud.

You guys actually sat and talked for hours, the conversation flowing naturally, the usual teasing giving way to deeper things.

He shared stories about his family, about the things he wanted to do that no one else knew.

And for the first time, you caught a glimpse of a Dominic you hadn’t expected—a thoughtful, almost vulnerable side that he rarely let anyone see.

—

On one Thursday evening, Dominic texted you out of the blue:

“Come to my show tomorrow night. I’ll even reserve you the best seat in the house.”

You’d almost laughed out loud. The confidence. The nerve. Yet, his invitation was so open, so brazen, that you found yourself hesitating to reply with your usual sarcasm.

Instead, you typed back, “Best seat? And what does that entail?”

“A chair within arm’s reach of me at all times,” he replied instantly, adding a winking emoji. “So I can serenade you properly, of course.”

Rolling your eyes, you typed, “I’ll think about it,” but you knew you’d already made up your mind.

Maybe you wanted to see him in his element, to see if this easy charm carried over to the stage, or maybe you were just curious to see if he’d actually live up to the hype he constantly built up around himself.

—

The air in the venue was charged with anticipation, warm bodies pressed together, the smell of spilled beer and cheering fans filling the room.

As you pushed your way closer to the front, a sight caught your eye—a single chair with a handwritten note taped to it.

“Reserved for my stalker,” it read in his sloppy scrawl.

You rolled your eyes but smiled, feeling a strange flutter in your chest. Somehow, Dominic had managed to make this loud, chaotic place feel... personal?

The lights dimmed, and the murmuring crowd hushed as Dominic appeared on stage, guitar in hand.

His usual confident grin was there, but something else lingered beneath it—something softer, maybe even vulnerable. The crowd cheered, but as he adjusted the microphone, his gaze found yours, and it held there, unblinking, like he was trying to tell you something without words.

“Hey, everyone,” he said into the mic, his voice a warm, familiar sound. “I’ve got a few new songs for you… some just for fun, and… one for a special someone, who might know who they are.”

His eyes stayed on you for just a moment longer before he looked away, and in that second, a ripple of curiosity and warmth spread through you.

He started to play, fingers gliding over the guitar strings with ease, and then his voice filled the room.

The song was slow, raw, each note lingering in the air. His lyrics were unexpectedly honest—about someone who held him at arm’s length, who had walls around them that he’d do anything to tear down.

He sang about working harder than he ever had, about falling for someone who wasn’t swayed by his charm but made him want to be better.

You sat, utterly captivated, your eyes locked on his, and it felt like there was no one else in the room.

The song had an intimacy to it, like he was peeling back layers you hadn’t even realized he had, and it struck you right in the heart.

When he sang the final line—If I set fire to these walls right now, would I set foot inside your mind? And if you say yes, am I allowed… back in?—a shiver ran through you.

As the last note faded, the crowd erupted in cheers, but Dominic’s gaze stayed on you, as if to say, ‘Did you hear me? Did I finally prove myself?’

The rest of the show was electric, each song a pulse of energy that had the crowd moving, dancing, singing along.

But nothing else hit quite the same way as that first song, the one that felt like it was made just for you.

By the time the show wrapped up, you were buzzing with emotions you hadn’t expected, wondering if you’d been wrong about Dominic all along.

After the final song, you made your way backstage, weaving through the crowd.

When you found him, he was standing by himself, wiping the sweat from his forehead, looking a little nervous—a side of him you’d never seen before.

His face lit up when he spotted you, but his usual smirk was gone. Instead, he looked almost shy.

“Hey you,” he said, voice a little breathless. “You… you made it.”

You raised an eyebrow, giving him a teasing smile. “Yeah, I made it. Figured I’d give you a chance to show off.”

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, did I? You think maybe I made my case?”

You hesitated, but then nodded, your voice softer than you’d planned. “Yeah... I think maybe you did.”

There was a beat of silence, then he took a step closer, and his hand brushed against yours. It was a small touch, but it sent a shiver up your arm, and suddenly the air between you felt charged, like you were the only two people in the room.

“So… there’s something I’ve been wanting to do,” he murmured, his voice low and warm. He lifted his hand, tracing his thumb lightly along your cheek. His fingers trembled slightly, a sign that he was holding back just as much as you were.

You swallowed, feeling your pulse quicken. “Yeah?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper. “What’s that?”

In answer, he leaned in, his breath warm against your skin. The world seemed to slow, the noise of the crowd dimming until all you could hear was the soft hum of his breathing.

His lips brushed yours, tentative and gentle at first, but when you didn’t pull away, he deepened the kiss, his hand slipping to the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

It wasn’t like any kiss you’d had before.

It was slow, unhurried, filled with the kind of warmth that made you forget every warning you’d given yourself about him.

You could feel his heartbeat against your own, his fingers curling into your hair as if he was afraid you might disappear.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes searched yours, and there was no hint of that usual confidence. He looked… hopeful.

“Think I could finally take you on a date?” he asked softly, his thumb grazing your cheek.

You smiled, feeling your walls crumble in a way you hadn’t thought possible. “Don’t make me regret it, Dominic.”

He let out a laugh, warm and relieved, his eyes bright with something that looked a lot like joy. “I won’t,” he promised, brushing a stray hair from your face. “Not this time. I mean it.”

And as he stood there, holding you close in the dim glow of the backstage lights, you felt something click into place.

You didn’t know where this was going, or if he’d really changed for good, but in that moment, it felt like enough.

#euphoria #dominic fike #dominic fike fan fiction #dom fike #my writing #dominic fike imagines #dominic fike x reader #dominic fike x you #fan fiction #fanfiction #requests #requests open

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baxterstockmanisthecenterfold · 2 months ago

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any current story WIPs?

I've honestly been a little secretive about it lately. But I have had a Stockman story in development for a long while now. Since about mid to late 2019 actually. It's a little dumb. But It was a while after i had watched "Into the spiderverse" & I loved the movie so much that it was an actual butterfly effect in terms of what it would later lead me to write & create a ton of stories & characters that I have hidden for now but I do genuinely want to share with the world some day, that'll hopefully be well received.

In the meantime tho, It also inspired me to do my own multiverse story (which I'm aware is as of now a very overdone storyplot at this point), that I did start working on in 2019 & 20. But after I left the TMNT fandom & dropped all my TMNT related things I stopped working on it too & it was pretty much left dormant for the next 4 years. Earlier this year tho when I did get back into the Stock side of TMNT, I did consider revisiting the idea & after a while I decided to finally get to writing it again & I'm already 4 chapters in. Tho like I said tho. It is a little dumb & overdone now. But just for my own personal accomplishment I want to finish it.

These old pictures I made aren't entirely far off. My current story premise is pretty much The Stockmanverse.

It's not a bad for bar copy of Spiderverse, but like I said it did inspire it.

The plot is, it's been a year since Owari & the Foot clan disbanded & Baxter had no other choice but to go back to his old miserable life & his old miserable job. But not for long as he wants to make a superior comeback so the world can finally recognize & remember his genius. Later in the night while looking for parts to start his plan of action he accidentally discovers a hidden underground facility full of refuge Triceratons all being led by Mozar who survived the Ulixes’power cores & Fugutoid's dark matter explosion but barely, as there's barely any Triceratons left. So they're building a machine that opens up a portal to the multiverse to get more Triceratons from all over the multiverse to rebuild their army & species & then take over the multiple galaxies. Baxter gets himself discovered & small hijinx ensues, and one of his MOUSERS gets caught in the mix of the machine. Baxter's barely able to escape but now he's constantly looking over his shoulder because of this new secret he learned, if things couldn't get bad enough, he finds out there's a new batch of MOUSERS running around. Only he didn't make them. Could a copycat be related to last night's discovery?

And that's pretty much the gist of it. I don't know when I'll be finished with it but I do know I plan to finish it & even share it if anybody's interested.

#into the stockmanverse #not a creative name but its what im used to calling it tbh #its also going to be a self discovery story #with baxter starting to finally come to terms with the person he is #and if he still wants to continue being that person #aka the writing development we were robbed of in the actual cartoon #ask #anon #my art #tmnt #2012 #baxter stockman #idw #2003 #1987 #rise of the tmnt #baxine stockman #baxter stockboy #The Triceratons

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vanilla-lip-stick · 17 days ago

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Brainrot

So I am about ten years late to the fandom, started reading Elsanna fics about half a year ago. A few times before that, Elsanna stories appeared in my AO3 searches, but I shied away from those because of the incest aspect, I won't lie. However, I was running out of femslash stories to read, to I thought, well, I can read the unrelated stuff, it's fine.

I found those two utterly charming and adorable, and I couldn't get enough. So I eventually peeked into the pile of stories where they were sisters but not only sisters. And I still found them utterly charming and adorable, but also, at times, broken, repressed, yearning, hurting, fighting, loving. It quickly became my favourite ship (and it currently still is), and I particularly like the sister aspect because I always was a sucker for forbidden love, always liked it when writers ventured into difficult territory, asked difficult questions, gave ambiguous answers, because that's what life usually is, at least from my perspective.

After, at the time of posting this, five published stories on AO3 with about 70 k words, I'll tell you a little secret: I have never seen Frozen. Most I know about it and about Anna and Elsa I know from fics, and bits and pieces from other sources. If you read hundreds of thousands of words of fanfiction about them, I guess something sticks.

Also, many of those fics have inspired ideas of my own. New entries keep popping up in my backlog, and I already have about 50 outlined in various degrees. Just to give you a taste of what's in there, have this screenshot:

Yes, those numbers on the right are page numbers. More numbers? Then have this:

Before I started to treat writing seriously some years ago, before I finally committed myself to try my best to become a professional author, I was one of those people you wondered: where do writers get all these ideas from? Now, I find myself on the other end of the spectrum. I have too many ideas. (That above is, mind you, just my Elsanna backlog. My backlog for originals is even longer. Not that size matters.) There's no way I could possibly turn every idea I have had until now into a story even if I turn 100. And sometimes, this thought is so hard to cope with because while I don't think each of these ideas is a gem, there are many of them I love in one way or another.

(Some ideas, I am really scared of, and one in particular makes me sick whenever I stumble across it because it covers a topic I, as a reader, usually give a wide berth. Not so long ago, I read a fic that had this, thought I could perhaps take it, and looking back I have so say: no, I can't, and I have to fight the images in my head when I remember certain parts of the story to stay somewhat sane.)

Anyway. I wish writing didn't take so long, and I wish I were immortal until one day I decided I have had enough. I'm sure many of you can relate. (If there even is someone out there reading these ramblings. If there is, come say hi. Or find my stories on AO3.)

#elsanna #ao3 #fanfic #writing

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pico-farad · 4 months ago

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I hit episode 90 of Vrains! Season 2 is long, so I'm stopping here to put down some thoughts.

But before that, I wanted say that I was blown away by the response to Secret Identities AU! I didn't even know the Vrains fandom was still alive, but clearly I was mistaken. I plan to make a part 2 going over more characters and changes I'd make, but I'm going to hold off until I've finished the series, so that I can factor in the larger arc of the story.

For now though, here's my thoughts on the second third of Vrains (up to Aoi vs. Bohman). I had too much to say again, so this part will cover Soulburner and Flame.

Critique is meant in good taste. I don't think the Vrains writers will be offended.

All Vrains season analysis posts

⇀ Soulburner

Well, I saw this coming. With a protagonist like Yusaku, the writers need a character who can engage him and generally fill up that "Yugioh friend" role, which was sorely missing in Season 1. Naoki, Go, or Ai? Not marketable enough. They needed to make an anime boy, and they sure did.

That said, I was expecting more from Yusaku and Soulburner's relationship, it's a little... nondescript. They had the same problem in season 1, where the writers don't leave room for the characters to just be characters and bounce off each other, it's all just plot and duels and exposition. At least season 1 had the excuse of Yusaku's trauma alienating him from others, but not only has Yusaku already resolved to overcoming that barrier, but Soulburner is one of the only people who can connect with him because of that experience.

I really would have liked to see them connect more on both being victims of the Lost Incident. Season 1's emotional conflict resolved with Yusaku putting his trauma behind him, so Season 2 needs a new emotional conflict. This would be an excellent use of Soulburner's character, except they've made the strange decision that Soulburner has also already overcome his trauma... offscreen.

Don't get me wrong, the Soulburner vs. Blood Shepherd episodes are good. Having Soulburner and Flame trick Blood Shepherd with their acting is a fine gotcha, but think about what we could have gotten if Takeru was allowed to grow through the story itself -- Yusaku and Flame both encouraging him, Takeru finding strength in Yusaku, the only person he knows who has been though the same trauma as him, but was able to stand up to Hanoi nonetheless. Instead, we don't even get to see Yusaku's reaction to Soulburner's backstory, he's stuck outside the bubble.

I can see why people like him though. Both his designs are good, he gets some funny lines, some good duels. I like his trait of fanboying over the heroes who saved Vrains, EXCEPT that the duels vs. Go and Blue Girl were unforgivable and I WILL go deep into that in their sections, mark my words anime boy.

Most of all though, I like his relationship with Flame.

⇀ Flame

He's funny. Like if Jack was five inches tall. I like how he just casually puts words in Soulburner's mouth. ("Prepare yourself! Soulburner never shows mercy!" "What? I didn't say that." "You didn't?") Flame thinks he's the Ratatouille rat in this relationship, both of them think they're the one calling the shots, and that's great.

I wish that element of their relationship had come back in the Soulburner vs. Windy duel, which is another case of introducing an interesting challenge for the characters -- in this case, the idea that Flame should want to be independent of Soulburner -- only to once again go Psych! Bamboozled! They were just acting the whole time!

Ah yeah, they sure tricked me into thinking we would get some good character development...

It's a shame, because I think Windy actually does raise an interesting point. The audience is biased towards thinking of Soulburner as the one who calls the shots -- he's the one who plays the cards, who declares attacks and announces effects, while Flame is the one who looks like a mascot and provides standard Yugioh audience commentary. It makes complete sense for Windy to instill doubt in Flame this way, because the conflict between the Ignis and humans is that humans think AI should only serve humans, and Ignis believe in their own free will.

For reference, here is the exchange that happens (paraphrased) after Soulburner refuses to listen to Flame's advice not to set a card (though this is just part of the act)

Windy: Don't you want to fight using your own will, Flame? Partners are just a nuisance. That's why I got rid of mine. Soulburner: Nuisance? During the Lost Incident, the captured spent every day in an unimaginable situation. Despair, day after day... When we were freed, we were so happy that our hope became reality! But you stole that away from your partner because you thought he was a nuisance? Flame: Windy, we were able to be created because they spent day after day enduring despair. We should be thanking them. We have no right to steal their hope!

Flame's rebuttal to Windy is so bizarrely essentialist. The Ignis don't owe anything to the Lost Incident victims, much less gratitude. They didn't ask to be created, and they are not responsible for the crimes of SOL. The message should have been something like "I chose Soulburner with my own free will."

Flame does not owe Takeru anything, but he chooses to be his partner, because the whole point of the Ignis is that they have free will. That is the proper resolution to Windy asking "Don't you want to fight using your own will?" The answer is no, they choose to fight together. Even if Soulburner appears to be the one calling the shots because he wears the duel disk, they are equals, and the reason Soulburner takes the lead is because Flame trusts him. 5D telepathy chess undercuts that.

⇀ Lost Incident Victims, and Alternate Season 2 thoughts

The more I think about it, the more I wish they used the different Lost Incident victims to explore different reactions to trauma. Yusaku used it to fuel him and his revenge, Takeru went down a route of self-sabotage and lashing out, Jin shut himself down, and Spectre, uh, decided to be Like That lmao.

Here's the set-up that I would have done for Season 2: after Jin is kidnapped, Yusaku decides to seek out the other Lost Incident victims to see if any of them have been targeted too, which could give them a clue on how to get Jin back. This is how he meets Takeru.

Yusaku has to learn how to connect with people, which follows up on the season 1 finale, where he resolves to open himself up to others and tells Revolver that he wants to be friends. By befriending Takeru and helping him overcome his trauma, and eventually the other Lost Incident victims too, it builds up to the reprise of Yusaku vs. Revolver, where Yusaku finally succeeds in connecting with Revolver, who he realizes is another victim of the Lost Incident.

Jin and Miyu get to be actual characters this way, too, rather than just damsel devices. I'd also pay to see the deranged interactions Spectre would have with Yusaku.

#yugioh vrains #pico commentary #vrains season analysis #ygo

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aldryrththerainbowheart · 2 years ago

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Through the fire and brimstone

Fandom: Berserk

Tags: Guts x reader, hurt/comfort, sprinkle of soft smut, dash of romance

Note: As I was writing SFW alphabet for Guts an idea came up to me while filling in one letter. It got so long that it deserved its own fic. I'm honestly surprised by the quality. This is the last thing I'll write for Berserk because I have dozens of other writing projects, as well as life outside of Tumblr. Consider this Aldryth's swan song to Guts.

By the way, I listened to this while writing this, if anyone's into that.

The last rays of the sun fell over Midland as the Black Swordsman settles for another sleepless night. With a handful of loyal companions in tow, including their healer. Said medic was rather displeased with the swordsman, for the man had thrown himself carelessly towards death yet again. Proof of that was countless new wounds marring his body. When he could walk no more, the group settled at the place he collapsed for the night.

One of the apostles was dead. You watched Guts skillet them with your own eyes. He stood over their corpse as he breathed raggedly, trying to modulate the aftereffects of his berserker armor. You knew he was badly injured, even with the armor in the way of your sight. You didn’t need it, your years of experience taught you many secrets of the human body, healthy or injured. However, you didn’t press for answers, knowing that the swordsman would only push you away. It truly got on your nerves sometimes and made you wonder why you traveled with him if he’s gonna push you away all the time. Especially since it was he who insisted you’ll join them in the first place.

Only when he could not stand on his feet anymore, you were allowed to work on him in relative peace. Propped up against a tree hidden from others a few feet away, half-conscious, half-awake, Guts resembled an autopsy examination rather than a person. Under your skilled hands, gashes closed, tendons joined back together and cells regenerated at rapid speed. Truth be told, your abilities could not be as successful were you not dabbled in magicks.

As you tend to him in silence, you noticed that his hands, laying limply over his thighs, were shaking. You looked up to search his face, desperately trying to mask the fear that settled over your heart. When he noticed you staring Guts croaked “I…I can’t stop them.” At that point, the knot in your stomach was tighter than a clenched fist. You knew his usual reaction to acts of sympathy…and yet. You took his trembling hands in yours and firmly hold them in place, as you pressed your forehead to his and gently prompted him to follow your breaths. Once he stopped shaking, you leaned away only for Guts to cage you in his arms, squeezing you painfully. You choked on your breath, trying to let enough air into your lungs but not to startle him into letting you go. You didn’t know what to do, whether to hug him back and whisper some words of encouragement or simply remain in his arms without moving. Understanding Guts was…difficult. He didn’t react to intimacy and kinship the way other people did, and the last thing you wanted was to startle him. He was like a cornered animal at times. Still, you need to do something. You squeezed him back with all your strength, letting a few more strings of healing magick seep into his skin if nothing more than to just comfort him. As you propped your chin on his shoulder, you whispered reverently in his ear.

“I’ll follow you through fire and brimstone. Whatever it is, we’re gonna get through this together.”

And you would. Together, you’ll stop this madness, no matter what it takes. You followed Guts for this reason, that and a secret part of you wanted to stay close to him, even if it would just so he lives another day.

There was a beat of silence after you said that. The next thing you know is a feeling of impossibly soft plush lips pressing desperately against yours. The hands that were tightly wrapped around you roamed your body, clutching feverishly as if to assure themselves all of your body parts stayed in place. For a moment you were so startled by the kiss, the warmth, and the softness. You allowed yourself thoughtlessly to go limp in his embrace and delve into the kiss. Tongue tentatively peeking out to touch his. Guts groaned helplessly as he pressed you on the moss-covered forest floor. Your hands ran over the expanse of corded muscle until they settled on his stomach, where you felt something warm and sticky against your fingertips.

His wounds have opened.

The moment it dawns on you, you tear your mouth away from his and try to push him away. Guts, displeased by the interruption, only lifts himself on his arms, unwilling to go any further. With guilt laced voice, you urge him to stop, else he gets more injured. He looks down at the reddening bandages and lets out a silent curse as you heal them once more.

He moved his face towards you once more, aiming for a kiss. You stopped him with a finger on his lips. “No strenuous exercise, or you’ll get even more hurt. I you know I-Ah...” Guts stopped your chiding with a light nip on your fingertip. Peering at you with dark glint in his eyes.

“I want you.” He whispered with a deep timbre in his voice, tugging at the neckline of your top and bending to kiss your neck. “Here. Now. I need you.”

I love you.

The thought moved through his mind, and Guts fought the instinct to drive it away. He didn’t say it alound, but he didn’t chase it down and squashed it, either.

“Guts, I…” Despite your nagging tone, you let your head roll to the side, giving him more room to nibble at your earlobe.

He was pushed away from your warmth once more. “I’m responsible for this party’s health Guts, I threaten your health for romp in the woods.”

Heet his head fall back against the tree bark.

“So…” Your fingers ran over his bandaged chest until they reached his breastbone and your eyes met his, “…we’ll have to be very careful.”

He can be gentle, he can be very gentle. Just let him hold you, hide inside your body for a while. Guts reached for you.

You held that hand against his solar and pushed him, gently but firmly, back against the bed of moss. “I'm the one who's going to be careful.”

“You dinna have to.” Guts protested as you crawled over him and settled on his lap, with your thighs caging him.

You pinned him down with your arms, “I'm going to do everything. And you must lie there and take it.”

There was nothing in the world that came less naturally to Guts than reclining on a cloud-soft moss bed and allowing someone else to do everything. Much less someone he'd come to treasure and protect.

But part of him liked the idea.

Liked it very, very much.

#berserk x reader #berserk anime #berserk manga #guts berserk #berserk #guts x reader #farewell kentaro miura

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kris-mage-fics · 3 months ago

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Thanks for the tag @phenanthreneblue!

1. How many works do you have on AO3? Eight 2. What's your total AO3 word count? 7,656. So far I've only published short little one-shots. 3. What fandoms do you write for? Shepherds of Haven, Scarlet Hollow, and Ebon Light. 4. Top five fics by kudos 1. Had it Been Anyone Else (Ebon Light, it's Haron angst hours lol, spoilers for the end of the game on Ernol's route) 2. A New Room (Ebon Light, Haron fluff, spoilers for the end of the game) 3. Fog (Scarlet Hollow, Tabitha angst, no real spoilers) 4. An Unlikely Engagement (Shepherds of Haven, Kyrahlise/Blade, very, very minor spoiler for Chapter 8) 5. The Best Proof of Love is Trust (Shepherds of Haven, spoilers for Chapter 3 which is in the public demo) It doesn't escape me that they are almost in publication order 5. Do you respond to comments? Always! Though sometimes it takes me a while to do so. I rarely get them so it isn't that hard to respond to them. 6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Absolutely Had it Been Anyone Else! It's literally pure angst. Though when I write for Tabitha it always ends up angsty too, so Fog and The Secret of the Greenhouse aren't exactly sunshine and roses. 7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Some may disagree, but I think The Best Proof of Love is Trust has a very happy ending! 8. Do you get hate on fics? Not so far.

9. Do you write smut? No? Yes? I've written some, but haven't published any. Smut is hard for me to write because I visualize everything, and there's a lot to visualize in a smut scene compared to a scene without much action. So it's exhausting to write. Also I suspect it's harder to keep sustained enough interest to write a full scene because I'm on the asexual spectrum. It's not something I'm opposed to, it's just harder than other writing for me. That said, there is a sex scene I really want to write, but it probably won't be very sexy, lol! 10. Craziest crossover? Haven't written any. 11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not as far as I know. 12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope. 13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? No, but it would be foolish to say it'll never happen. ;) 14. All time favourite ship? I could make a tier list, but I don't have a favorite anymore than I have a favorite food or tea or board game, lol! 15. What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I started a fic that's a newspaper article on Kyrahlise. It's written as a hit piece on the Hero of Haven, trying to imply she's actually a bad person. The reporter interviewed people in Ashtown who know her, but reading between the lines you figure out they didn't dig up anything and are just overly skeptical of a Diminished woman who quickly gained some fame and power. I planned to end it with a little segment from the perspective of someone Kyrah used to know, where they figure out she's now the Hero everyone won't shut up about. I still like the idea, I just doubt I'll ever finish it.

Also I started one where it's written like the reports from one of the people sent to spy on Blade. Thing is the spy knows Blade, so they see him falling for Kyrahlise and are like, "wtf?!? is she enchanting him? is he actually in love? omg he's so bad at this! wow, it looks like she actually likes him too!" Also they think Kyrah is super sus because a lot of the things she does don't make sense and aren't explained. (Full disclosure: this idea was heavily inspired by a conversation other people had on the ShoH patreon.) 16. What are your writing strengths? Dialogue and banter, always knowing where my characters are in a scene and what they are doing (the upside of the visualization thing), sweet/cute moments, and angst when I'm in the right mood. 17. What are your writing weaknesses? Finishing, lol! Editing, it's hard for me to let go of trying to be 'perfect'. I'll get really stuck on a sentence or paragraph and obsessively revise it even though it's fine, just because I think it can be better. I know it's not healthy or sustainable, and I'm working on it. (I can point to a particular sentence in a fic that I literally spent hours on!) Action! It's the same visualization problem I have with writing smut, it's a lot to keep in my head and it quickly wears me out. Getting the right voice for a lot of characters. My writing tends to be introspective and verbose, which doesn't work for everyone. So it's a struggle to find a balance between the character's voice and my natural writing style. 18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language? I think it's great, for other people to write! I'm pretty terrible at languages, and don't trust myself to get it right without consulting someone who knows that language. Given a lot of what I write for is fantasy with made up languages, that's not going to happen. 19. First fandom you wrote in? Ebon Light, in fact it's the reason I even tried writing in the first place! 20. Favorite fic you've written? I think it's a three way tie between: The Secret of the Greenhouse -- I think I did a good job getting some creepy vibes in such a short piece. It doesn't align with canon at all, but in my opinion it's my best Scarlet Hollow fic. The Best Proof of Love is Trust -- I feel like I succeeded at my goal of showing just how much thought Kyrahlise put into a big choice in Chapter 3, as well as some of her character and past. Had it Been Anyone Else -- I had the sudden need to break Haron's heart. I seem to have accomplished the mission since 100% of the comments mention it being either sad or heartbreaking.

Ngl, I don't know who to tag on this one. Because besides Phen, and one other person, I think most people I know only have one work on ao3, or none. So open tagging it is! If you see this and want to join in, consider yourself tagged, whether you are a mutual or not!

#yet again I don't know how to answer questions succinctly lol #I get lots of ideas for weird fics and I always struggle with finishing them because I assume no one wants to read them #yeah I write what I want but I know all the stories in my head already #I don't have a lot of energy so I focus on things other people will like too #so that's why I don't think the stories I mentioned above will ever get finished because they are more unconventional #but idk maybe I'm wrong and y'all want to read my weirder ideas? in which case please let me know if you do want to read them #seriously even if just two or three people like it then it's worth it to me to finish #tag game #fan fic writer questions #thank you husband for telling me how to spell succinctly I was at an absolute loss on that one lol

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sebsxphia · 1 year ago

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You just found you are pregnant a few days ago. You ordered a onesie with "Daddy's wingman" written on it, wanting to do the reveal to Jake with it. You also securely hid the pregnancy test. The only problem is that it takes a few days for the onesie to be delivered.

One evening you are sitting on the couch, Jake's head in your lap, watching a movie. In a commercial break, he turns to face you, and places a loving kiss to your lower belly. It wasn't uncommon for him to kiss you on your thigh or your stomach, but this time it makes you worried that he found out you are pregnant before the reveal. He can feel you tense up, and he looks up at you questioningly. You are nervous, because you don't know what his reaction would be - not just to the news, but to the fact that you didn't tell him yet.

"You- you know?" you ask him.

"Know what princess?" he asks back. Your overthinking makes you believe that there is a slight accusation in his tone, and you can't help the tears that gather in your eyes.

"I wanted to tell you sooner, I swear, but then the delivery was late, and I wanted to make it special-... baby, please don't be mad at me!" you rush out in hiccups, the early pregnancy hormones playing with your emotions even more than just overthinking.

He sits up lightning fast, and craddles your face in his hands, "Honey, shhh, what is this all about?" he inquires gently as he tries to soothe you.

That's when you realise he didn't know, but now you felt awful for ruining the surprise and sob even harder, burying your head into his chest. He is at a complete loss, feeling worry bubble in his heart, but he knows the best he could do is calm you down. So he pulls you close into his arms, one hand going into your hair, the other caressing the length of your back. He lays kisses on the crown of your head. He whispers gentle words of reassurance, like, "everything is fine, baby, everything is okay", "Shhh, Darling, you are alright", "That's it Sweet, let it all out", "I'm here Honey, I'm here" into your ear until you calm enough to only have a last few tears roll down your cheeks, and your breathing is starting to even out with a few deep gasps here and there.

"Y'know, Honey, I don't know anything yet. If you wanted it to be a surprise, it still can be one," he murmurs softly to you, and you swallow hard at the idea. He kisses your cheek, coaxing you to agree. He kisses your lips after you nod.

Two days later, the onsie arrives. Your surprise goes better than expected. After the initial celebration that consists of Jake kissing you dizzy, hugging you into him, spinning you around, another long kiss filled with devotion and pure love, some giggling and Jake asking again to make sure it is true, he lays his forehead on yours and asks you if this was the secret you feared he somehow knew. He kisses you once again after you nod timidly, picking you up and carrying you to your bedroom for the rest of the celebration.

So sorry for making this so long!

Congratulations on reaching 4k followers!!! You deserve every single one! Thank you for always being so open to ideas, for your fantastic writing and for all of your amazing contribution to the fandom! You are incredible! Lots of love 💗💕

-💚

OHHHH JAKE MY BELOVED FATHER TO BE! 🥹 no, because the way that jake would still absolutely go along with the surprise, even if he knew, or if he had an idea of what it was, he would still hold his breath in anticipation, and he would still be absolutely over the moon, regardless of how you told him.

aaaah i love this sweet thought so much! thank you so much for this my beloved anon, and for your wonderful congratulations! 🥹 it means so much to me and thank YOU for always providing myself and this wonderful fandom with such incredible and heartwarming thoughts. i’m sending you so much love, mwah! 🥰💗🫶🏻

#💌you’ve got mail #jake hangman seresin #💚 anon #💐 these are for you!!

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astercontrol · 3 months ago

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One of the exercises my pattern recognition loves, for some reason, is to take widely accepted ideas in fandom, things that are basically considered obvious from canon, and figure out ways that the truth could actually be something else.

This is an obnoxious thing to do, sometimes.

I get annoyed at my pattern recognition routines for this.

Especially when I don't even have any particular reason to want the new interpretation.

And especially when (like a lot of my sudden weird inspirations) it happens in the middle of the night.

----

But it is difficult to fight against.

Because whenever there is "proof" that something isn't true in canon, a creative enough mind will find ways around it.

If the proof is "no character ever mentioned that, and they would have mentioned it if it were true"…. all it takes is a plausible reason for someone to keep something secret, or even just not to bring it up in a particular context.

If the proof is "a character literally SAID that was not true"… likewise, all it takes is a plausible reason for someone to lie.

If the proof is "it involves a character who is dead in canon," we just need a reason why the character is believed to be dead but is actually not. (This is especially feasible in canons where there is a potential in-universe mechanism for someone to be copied, resurrected, etc.)

If the proof is "we saw something happen onscreen that is extremely incompatible with the new interpretation," then there's always the possibility of that onscreen event being some type of illusion (especially in canons with magic or technology that make that very feasible).

And I am especially irritated with my Recognizer… (I think that's what I'm going to call it from now on-- Recognizer, an annoying little Pattern Recognizer that buzzes around my head like a tireless insect, looking for puzzles to solve that absolutely nobody needs solved)…

…for becoming fixated, lately, on the question:

What is it, exactly, that makes TRON 2.0 incompatible with Legacy?

(Thank goodness the Recognizer isn't trying to take the comics into account… yet, at least. If I had to watch it try to reconcile Betrayal and Ghost in the Machine with the other canon and with each other, I'd probably eat my computer.)

Anyway. So far I've got:

The structure of ENCOM. I need to look more closely through all those emails from 2.0… they show the power balance of the company changing in ways that seem to diverge from what we see at the beginning of Legacy. (At least Flynn seems to have disappeared in both? Though the times may not line up.)

However, I imagine a lot could change at ENCOM between 2003 and 2010. And we have to remember that not everything said in every email has to be true. Some might even be spoofed emails, sent by FCon for whatever deceptive reasons they might have. We can theoretically disregard any 2.0 canon that comes from the contents of an email, if we can explain it on those grounds.

Alan's family. In 2.0, Lora is apparently dead from a digitization accident, and she and Alan have a son. Neither of these were mentioned in Legacy (although lack of mention isn't proof in itself). Also I believe Lora appears, alive, in some of the supplemental Legacy material.

Going from what I saw of the game's plot, we could imagine that Lora was somehow recovered, later on, from the data that became Ma3a. (If I recall correctly she was eaten by a Seeker? But that doesn't necessarily mean destroyed?) Anyway, if enough of her ended up being recoverable, she could theoretically have been found and rerezzed back into the User world, sometime between then and the events of Legacy.

And, of course, possibly the biggest obstacle: In 2.0, Alan is aware of the world inside the computer.

He got digitized in there as part of FCon's sabotage attempt. It appears (though it doesn't seem absolutely certain?) that this was the first time he'd been digitized into the computer, or even knew it was possible. But after the events of 2.0 he definitely knows about it.

If Alan knew this could happen, it would be… challenging, at the least, to explain a lot of how he acted in Legacy.

---

(And this line of speculation, I think, is really what my Recognizer is focusing on.

See, I don't think it even cares all that much about reconciling 2.0 into the canon. I think it mainly just wants to believe there were some early days when Flynn and Alan and Lora and Roy had fun together exploring the world inside Encom and meeting their programs.

If it were a rational being, it would just make up an AU for this.

But it is not a rational being. It's a deranged pattern recognition subroutine, and its entire obnoxious goal in life is to find or force connections between things, until it can figure out a way everything makes SENSE together.

Sometimes the most nonsensical thing you can possibly do is try to make everything make sense, Recognizer.)

---

First issue: If he knew that people could be digitized into computers, why did Alan not find out what had happened to Flynn?

Well… maybe he did know. Or had good reason to suspect. After all, someone's been paying the electric bill at that arcade to keep the computer running all these years.

If so, though-- why had Alan not tried to get Flynn out of there?

Maybe Flynn had specifically requested for him not to, not unless he paged asking for help.

Or: maybe Alan had tried. Maybe he'd even gone in! Maybe he barely made it back out with his life, without even being able to confirm Flynn was in there somewhere. Maybe he looked through the code trying to fix things from the outside, but realized there was no totally safe way to extract Flynn at this point or even identify him for sure.

Or: Maybe he did extract Flynn from there, time after time. Maybe Flynn kept going back in, and getting his stupid ass in trouble again and again. And the more it conflicted with his job, and the more stress it put on Alan… the more Alan decided, I am too damn old for this, this is a job for someone young and crazy and reckless like Sam, but even Sam is gonna have to wait until Flynn actually admits he needs help and actually pages me asking for it, the stubborn idiot.

In any of these scenarios, though, there's the further question: why did Alan not tell Sam more about what he was getting into?

And there, again, we can only speculate:

Maybe Alan reasoned that Sam has had many years to file away his dad's old stories firmly under the heading of "made-up tall tales," and if he told Sam the whole truth, Sam would refuse to believe it and just be angry.

This may or may not be actually true about Sam… but if Alan thought it, he may have refrained from telling him to increase the chance Sam would actually take on the task.

In any case, Alan sending Sam in there is… an ethically questionable decision at best.

Hell, even if Alan didn't know about the world inside the computer, sending Sam in was a questionable decision. He didn't know what would be waiting there at the arcade for whoever answered the page, and for all he knew it could be something dangerous. For all he knew, whoever answered the page could be walking into some hostage situation, with the mafia holding Flynn captive and demanding company secrets or something.

But… I can see his reasoning, even if I side-eye its ethics a bit.

Whatever he knows or doesn't know about the computer system, Alan knows he's not cut out to handle danger nearly as well as Sam is.

And he knows Sam, of all people, would want the closure of doing this, finding out Dad's secrets on his own.

And, if Alan knew something about those secrets already-- that even explains why he kept this solely between himself and Sam, instead of involving anyone else who might be better equipped than either of them to handle ordinary, real-world dangers.

But… all this notwithstanding, there are probably still some hangups for my Recognizer to deal with.

The one it's gotten stuck on now-- perhaps even stuck enough to let me go back to sleep-- is in the Next Day short.

Specifically, the very end, when Alan and Roy are alone together.

Everything up to that, the Recognizer can disregard any statements it doesn't like, because they could have been lies or omissions for the benefit of the public.

But assuming Roy and Alan both have been inside the computer-- as the Recognizer stubbornly wants to believe-- they don't have any reason to lie about it to each other.

So Roy's very last line-- "Why do you think Flynn gave you the cool nickname?" makes no sense, if they've both met their programs and know they were named after them.

But honestly… nothing about that last line makes sense, in any interpretation.

Namely:

Even if they hadn't ever met their programs as living personifications, they know they wrote their programs... and presumably Roy's program was also named Ram outside the system.

Alan (from the earlier interviews in the short) clearly knows he was nicknamed after the program he wrote, so I can't see why Roy wouldn't already know the same.

Ram is an obviously cooler nickname than Tron.

So…. shut up, Recognizer.

Stay stuck.

For now, at least.

#tronblr #tron #kevin flynn #ram tron #alan bradley #sam flynn #tron legacy #lora baines #ma3a #tron 2.0 #the next day #headcanons #pattern recognition nonsense #roy kleinberg

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