#it makes me sad that the narrative forces him to bottle up all of his anger and all of his sad

[balentay]

how DARE you two keep these in the tags

tags from @shirakum-owo-boro

#not exactly about our mr mustache over here but like  #characters that use humor to cope  #characters that cant not make a joke because if they stop being funny they'll just be sad #characters that use silliness as a weapon against horrors of the world #characters that use the funnies to heal the loved ones they still have #characters that look death in the eye and laugh because its better than being afraid #the relentless struggle to never submit to the darkness and holding on by a comedic thread #being such a funny guy that you change someone's story from tragedy to hope #looking at the people you love and saying 'im here to be your silly guy no matter the difficulty of your journey and i wont leave you' #MAYBE IT IS A LITTLE BIT ABOUT MIC #silliness as a form of love

tags from OP in response

#PREV no that is LITERALLY about mic  #like YES you GET him and he is exactly why i made this post  #because textually he's so INTERESTING because of all the reasons you stated  #like 'silliness as a form of love' is just GOD. that's SO HIM - that's EXACTLY him  #if you approach his character textually that's the only conclusion you can come to -  #that he uses his silly outlandish present mic persona to shield himself and - most importantly - his loved ones from the Horrors  #i mean that's one of his defining characteristics - his utter loyalty and devotion to his friend(s) #however when you look at him /meta/textually - which is what i tried to do with my post- #it becomes clear that his complete and utter devotion to his friend(s) at the expense of himself within the text- #comes in large part from his /meta/textual function in the narrative as a comic relief character & aizawa's foil #his function as a comic relief character means he must always revert to his outrageous silly self no matter what #and his function as aizawa's foil means that his emotions & motivations will always come second to aizawa's- #who is the more plot-central character character #so in a way mic is doubly fucked metatextually speaking #BUT. what this creates /within/ the text is MIC #this ridiculous shell of a man who would rather laugh through his own pain and ignore his own needs and well being- #than ever take off that funnyman mask if that's what it takes to make the lives of his loved ones even a little bit easier #who would do and sacrifice ANYTHING up to and including himself for the sake of his loved ones #i love him SO much my silly beautiful doubly FUCKED guy #from the bottom of my heart: #rip buddy #<33 #yamada hizashi #present mic

you know, we talk a lot about characters and/or relationships (of all kinds) being 'doomed by the narrative' around here, and how haunting and gut-wrenching that can be, especially when it so often takes the form of death and destruction and tragedy.

and we should keep doing that, obviously. death and destruction and tragedy kick total ass.

however. can we please spare a thought for the clowns trapped in that same (burning) room?

after all, what is a comic relief character if not doomed by the narrative to always act like a buffoon despite any and all circumstances, all for the sake of relieving narrative tension?

how must it feel, to have everyone around you dropping dead, losing limbs, losing loved ones, and otherwise being on the receiving end of unending torment - and all you can do is stand there and prattle off another zinger at your allotted time?

and what if you lose a loved one yourself, o jester mine? what if - hear me out - you lose multiple loved ones? what if it never ends? what will you do then?

well, if you're lucky, you'll get to mourn for all five of the seconds you're allowed to before the size thirty shoes go back on and the narrative moves on to other, more plot-central characters.

if you're not - well. it's a good thing clown makeup is waterproof, isn't it?

anyway, shout out to all my comedy kings out there doomed to play perpetual funnyman to their more plot-central counterparts despite being in undeniably comparable pain. you may be doomed by the narrative, but you are beloved by me <3

[thetrashywritingwitch]

Hi!

I wanted to ask why you didn't like the ending, or what were your expectations?, I have seen a lot of people saying it was terrible and stuff but I don't understand why, I liked it and thought it was a good closer, so I wanna understand why it's "bad"

anon - i'm not a meta writer and feel like others can more succinctly put into words why the ending falls flat and the narrative feels exceptionally grim and that nothing of significance truly happened in the end

putting some links to some explanations and summaries below for folks who don't mind leaks/caught up with the manga:

but to me, i say at 1 am on my birthday when i would like to feel joy now:

the entire narrative of bnha from the beginning was about who was worth saving. their humanity. that people aren't born villains. that society is flawed. that the hero system is flawed. that the justice system is flawed.

and yet? NOTHING CHANGED. everything is EXACTLY the same now as it was in the beginning. Hawks is continuing on the work that brainwashed and conditioned him as a child. he was not truly punished for killing Twice, which was repeatedly pushed as the Wrong and Unheroic thing to do. He was not made to face Jin's ghost and the reality of his crazed obsession (and he *is* crazed, he truly loses his composure and is yelling about killing the villains at the end). i was hoping for a Toga - Hawks confrontation. that he would see and face Sad Man's Parade and the absolute pit of despair that developed in Toga when Jin was killed. that made her truly cement that they as villains are not "human" to the Heroes. That they aren't worth saving.

and they fucking weren't!!!! THEY ALL DIED!!!! THEY WERE ALL KILLED!!!! We aren't saying Touya is still alive because him potentially living on as a husk in a tank forced to talk to endeavor is not him "living" in any sense of the word

izuku did not come up with a way to save Tenko. he had no plan. he never listened to or attempted to understand his point of view, or what was wrong with hero society at all. the last link above states this better than i can, but his total chosen ignorance of the reasoning why the villains are the way they are is why i just do nooooot like this kid and never have. his arc from scared quirkless bullied kid to confident hero who people look up to was a decent one - but outside of those surface level accomplishments? he's as flat as the paper in his notebook. he still keeps secrets and is not transparent with Uraraka or his friends (from ch 429 he hasn't grown at all in that respect) and Uraraka still bottles up her feelings.

society doesn't KNOW ANYTHING about what happened during the war. most of the fights were not televised. uraraka and toga's ending, arguably the best and most well rounded of the villain fights because she actually fought hard to understand and empathize with toga, falls on deaf ears because no one knows about it. no one saw it. Everyone still dehumanizes Toga and the rest of the LoV from their ending comments about how evil and awful they were, that they just wanted to destroy and sew chaos.

and toga died. she, out of all the LoV, had the best chance to live a better life. her quirk could be used for blood transfusions as we saw in the end. there was no reason for her to die. to make uraraka miserable because she couldn't save her - something Uraraka's character arc just throws away because she goes from wanting to be a hero for the money to wanting to save people after nighteye died. but she didn't save Toga, and izuku didn't save Tenko. no one really saved anyone (save for Shouto who made a new move specifically to stop his brother and NOT KILL HIM, but damn touya i'm so sorry they did you so dirty)

her fear came true: they weren't human in the end, not to the audience, not to the heroes (outside of uraraka), and certainly not to society that hasn't changed at all. there's no new support system in place for helping troubled youth, there's no destigmatization of "villainous" quirks because no one fucking knows or cares to know more about the LoV's roots. Thank god spinner's alive to yell at izuku about how stupid he is for killing his friend who loved video games and reading manga because no one else is gonna do it!

the hero ranking system and hero vs villain dynamic still seems alive and well. to our knowledge, villains haven't become fewer. no social services to help homeless or abused kids (touya, toga, tenko, etc), no real lasting change when it comes to quirk vs quirkless folks. that was NEVER really addressed properly - that Aoyama's parents were so terrified of their son being bullied and having a bad life for being quirkless that they reached out to a villain who gave him a quirk that was incompatible with his body and caused him pain and discomfort. all to avoid societal stigmas that come with being quirkless. as far as we've seen, society hasn't grown or changed in that regard, either. quirkless folks are probably still bullied and have fewer opportunities than people with quirks.

the whole child soldiers/kids going to war thing, well that's a shounen staple so we can't expect that to go away. the fact that the kids were maimed and katsuki fucking *died* in the war that killed all the villains... yet new kids come into UA wanting to be the new gen child soldiers. fucking WILD dissonance there.

i said i'm not a meta writer but damn i had to get some of this out there lmaoooo

anyway, maybe this clears up some of our frustrations with the manga ending and how it's been handled. have a good one

[80pairsofcrocs]

baby scarab || 41

@aniskywalkerslvr - Ahhhhh I have a fic idea for future Baby Scarab series so like first of all idk if Oscar Isaac exists in that universe but if he exists I wanna see the Moon Boys (also Layla, Khonshu and Casper’s) reactions. Like if not Oscar what about Poe, Santi or Llewyn, Duke, and Apocalypse, his characters. I really would like to see them watching Oscar Isaac’s movies together w Layla and our grandpa Khonshu, Casper can be there too. If you want ofc, it can be like they have a day in a week they gather around for a whole family dinner together. Imagine them watching Triple Frontier and seeing Pedro and Oscar together in a movie?!🤩❤️ Also them watching the “In Secret” movie where Elizabeth also plays w Oscar that would be funny😭💀 but nah scratch it cuz it’s an 18+ movie and reader isn’t 18 yet if I’m right? I had these thoughts the whole damn day. I live for the Baby Scarab series! You are doing an incredible work! I hope you have lots of fun w ur friend!❤️🫶🏻

~~~

@luvxxee - idea for the amazing baby scarab series:

y/n gets a tooth ache and acts all grumpy to which all the boys are like tf is wrong with you?? and it’s pieced together that she needs to go to the dentist and she’s never gone bc of her sad sad childhood and then they have to force her to go bc she’s really doesn’t want to (que child fear moment she’s just now confronting)

~~~

anon - AHHHHHHH I JUST THOUGHT OF THIS!!!!

What if reader notices that the moon boys are like having a bad day, so to make them fell better so makes like each of them their favorite food!!! I just thought of this so you don’t have to use it, by the way I love the baby scarab series and I can’t wait to see more!! &lt;3

~~~

anon - Hi, my name is Mei and I love Baby Scarab. I was wondering though could I personally buy a croissant at Y/N’s work place? Would love to meet her in passing then go about my day with a tasty baked good and maybe never come up in the narrative again.

Keep up the exceptional writing!

Mei &lt;3

~~~

A/N : i feel like i couldve done better tbh

masterlist - marvel masterlist - series masterlist

A/N : the plan is being set

please enjoy, and don't be shy if you want to be in the taglist, just ask <3, sorry for the long wait

pairings : steven grant x (platonic)reader, marc spector x (platonic) reader, khonshu x (platonic)reader, jake lockley x (platonic)reader

TW : medicine (pills), spidey stuff, mentions of violence, fluff, let me know if i missed anything

~~~

“kid, get up” you feel marc tap your shoulder lightly.

you groggily open your eyes and blink a few times before looking up at marc, who was trying to wake you up.

“no” you push him away by the shoulder and turn the other way, covering your head with the blanket.

you hear him sigh and yank the blanket off your whole body, making you shiver.

“you have work, now get up. steven already made you breakfast” he tells you, to which you perk up and turn back to look at marc.

“exactly, now go get ready” he leaves the room, closing your door to give you some privacy while you slowly got up and got your uniform on.

once you do so, you finish getting ready in the bathroom, like brushing your teeth and all that jazz.

you came out to see marc with a plate of food at the kitchen table.

“come eat, you have to go soon” he nods to the plate, then he loves to the fridge to shuffle stuff around in it while you go and sit down.

marc comes back and gently slams a bottle of your juice on the table, making you look up at him with a small smile.

“i love you”

marc scoffs. “why?”

now its your turn to scoff. “why do you think?”

“because i got you juice?”

“exactly” 

“nice to know” he ruffles your hair aggressively, just wanting to piss you off.

“hey- hands off” you shove him away, making him chuckle.

“khonshu will make sure you finish that, but we have to go” he starts walking backwards to the door while you nod in understanding.

“stay safe” he nods at you, reaching behind him for the door.

“we’ll see you tonight, love you” he opens the door and leaves, locking it behind him.

you smile to yourself, and happily eat your breakfast while scrolling through tiktok.

you’d come across a fun looking simple recipe, and it was vegan too.

perhaps if you got home before the guys, you could surprise them with a little treat.

just simple muffins.

but they all loved muffins so surely they’d be happy.

you finished up your food and cleaned your plate before leaving for another long day at work.

~~~

the bell rings as one of the last customers of the day comes in, so you turn your attention to them as soon as they walk in.

“welcome to espresso bay, what can i get for you?” you ask politely, the girl in front of you smiling back.

“just a croissant, please” she says, and you nod.

“can i get a name for that order?” you ask again, the girl nodding.

“it’s mei” she responds, so you nod and go to get her a croissant while she walks to the waiting counter after she pays.

once you grabbed the warm croissant with a square of dry wax paper before sticking it in a small brown paper bag.

“croissant for mei” you exclaim put to make sure she can hear you.

you set the bag down on the counter and she comes up and takes it.

“thank you so much” she nods with a smile and leaves after you wave.

that was your cue to clean up and head home, hoping that your boys weren’t back yet.

only because it would ruin the surprise if they were.

but you missed them, even though it’s only been a few hours.

it was another short walk back, since you were power walking.

and of course you threw some bird seed out for the crows.

once you got back, it was immediately time to start your muffins.

you were making three different kinds, all of them for each of your dads.

stevens we’re going to be vegan, obviously. he liked banana muffins so that’s what you’re making for him.

for marc it was chocolate. he had a sweet tooth as much as he didn’t like to admit it.

and finally for jake, you knew he enjoyed strawberry muffins. you kept coming across strawberry flavored things over time, and never once saw marc or steven eat them, so it had to have been jake.

khonshu hates strawberries, too so it just proves that your theory is correct.

you luckily had the ingredients, and quickly got to work once you got cleaned up from your job.

it was quarter to 7 when you heard the front door open and then proceed to slam shut.

the slam shook the mirrors hanging on the walls, and you were lucky you had cleaned everything up in the kitchen while the muffins cooked.

they were done, and had been sitting in the still warm oven while you waited for them all to get home.

you didn’t want to do anything to set them off, so you stayed drying off a small bowl with a towel while you heard heavy footsteps coming towards the kitchen.

it was jake that came in looking frustrated, so you avoided eye contact and kept slowly wiping the dry bowl until he left.

he paced around the kitchen for a minute before stopping and standing over the sink next to you, looking down in it with a blank stare.

you don’t say anything or look in his direction, but it only took a short choppy movement from him to make you flinch.

he didn’t notice, and he takes off his hat to slam it on the counter, making you slightly jump again for nobody to notice.

jake takes a short breath before looking over to you who was just holding a towel and a bowl in your hands while staring at the floor.

“i’m sorry i-“

jake is interrupted by khonshu showing up, making him look up at the bird with a glare.

“you” he sneers at him, walking towards him, just brushing his shoulder against yours.

“you fucked up the mission you stupid bird” he points up at him, you watching and putting both the towel and the bowl down.

jake started shouting at khonshu, the bird just tilting his head at him, and it was when jake turned around and raised his hands in the air that you brought a hand up in front of your face and backed up a step.

jake froze in his movements, bringing his hand down slowly and backing away from you as you brought your own hand down to walk towards him.

“i’m going on a walk” he says shortly, heading for the door, and would’ve made it if you didn’t shoot a web out to stop it from opening.

“princesa, let me out” he tells you, tugging on the doorknob while you come towards him, khonshu now long gone.

“why?” you ask, standing about a foot away from him.

“i.. i scared you i need to leave-“

“no you didn’t. it wasn’t you, i know you would never” you tell him, and he relaxes completely, letting you come over to hug him.

“you thought i was going to hit you, y/n” he says quietly, not wrapping his arms around you, just standing there.

“but you weren’t. it was just a force of habit” you try to explain.

“it shouldn’t be. i’m so sorry” he shakes his head, and you hear his voice crack at the end of his sentence.

“jake.. it’s okay” you hug him tighter.

you let out a small sigh when you sense a switch, leaving you to pull out of the hug and backing up.

“i’m sorry love, he’s… he’s not in a talking mood right now” steven starts slowly, and you nod.

“well, i made something for each of you” you begin, walking back to the kitchen, pulling out the single pan which had the three different kinds of muffins.

“i have muffins for all of you. your favorites” you say quietly, and steven smiles.

“that’s the sweetest thing ever” he starts, coming over slowly to put a careful hand around your shoulder.

“we don’t deserve you” marc says from the mirror across from you.

“you’re right” you start. “you deserve better” you finish, and marc chuckles.

“nice to know you still have a sense of humor” 

you roll your eyes with a small smile, wanting to try the muffins you made.

“the banana ones are for you, i made sure that they were vegan” you tell steven, making him put his hands to his heart.

“you’re such a sweetheart, we really don’t deserve this” he smiles, helping himself to one of the muffins.

he offered half of it to you, which you took happily but as you chewed on it, a sharp pain erupted in the back of your jaw, making you wince.

steven looks to you in worry.

“hey, are you alright?” he asks and you shrug.

“i’ve just had a toothache for a while, it’s no big deal” you wave him off, and he gives you a look.

“maybe you should get that checked out, when’s the last time you went to a dentist?” steven asks and you make a face.

“cant remember” you shrug like it’s no problem, and steven raises an eyebrow. 

“are you serious?” he asks and you nod.

“that isn’t healthy, darling, you should try and get an appointment” he advises and you sigh.

“maybe”

~~~

after the muffins and the whole lecture about your health, you ended up sitting down with him and watching a couple movies, while trying to lure jake back out.

“i wanna watch triple frontier next” you say and steven chuckles.

“aren’t you tired?”

“nope” 

“fine, let’s just- wait a damn minute, that’s the guy from star wars” he notices.

“yep, it’s your celebrity twin” you smile at him, which makes him raise an eyebrow.

“and one of the dilfs i have a celebrity crush on” you begin again, and steven makes a face.

“don’t say dilf” he cringes and you laugh.

“sorry sorry, let’s just watch this”

that night was spent watching movies with a certain someone in it.

it concluded of triple frontier, in secret, and many others until you fell asleep.

even thought some of them were 18+, steven still enjoyed his time with you.

jake was still weary about coming back out, even though you had repeated that it was okay, over and over.

steven carried you to your room, tucked you in and kissed you on the fore head before sneakily taking your phone and leaving the room to let you sleep.

he knew it was wrong, all of them admitted it, but it was all for the plan.

you see, your birthday was tomorrow. you hadn’t told them that, khonshu had found it out and told them.

they knew why you didn’t tell them, and it was because it only ever reminded you of when your parents gave you up.

or so you thought. but now it was considerably worse.

it just reminds you of how your mother died and your fathed left.

your dads were determined to make this the best birthday ever for you.

starting with the help of a certain someone’s.

you see, they already got casper on board. they got his number from your phone, and now they had one more call to make.

“hello? y/n, are you okay?”

“it’s steven, and we need a little favor”

~~~

A/N : the next chapter will be so much better, i promise.

thank you all for the support, i love you all and your funky requests :)

also sorry its late, i was busy today &lt;3

taglist ---

@alexloveskili @ihatemyselfmorethanmydepression @thebiggestsimpshrimp @guyinachair27 @astrobuzzsstuff @mooonlight-and-stars @moonlighting87 @mateihavenoidea @inactive-things @alondrashultz @femalemarvelself @queenthorin1 @haileymorelikestupid @jvdethirlwall @justtiredandvibing @winterfrostsarmy @themapoftinyperfectthings @littlebird101 @atzlena @httpslinow @arrowurboat @m-brekker @lifeandbandmembers-blog @adamcarlsenslvr @violet-19999 @seninjakitey @bestgirlpip @panic-in-the-multiverse @in-between-the-cafes @branolagar @bl6o6dy @annoyingmarvelreader @bee-a-cool-kid @buzzitsbeee @wintergirlsoilder2 @crow-carcass @you-bloody-shank @distinguishedmakerpandapatrol @valiantphantomangel @50shadesofcrocs @rayrlupin @kingshitonly @brekkers-desigirl @hutaos-gh0st @kayane28 @nevaeh-jasso @lizlil @scarabgrant @luvxxee

[duchesschameleon]

what if - chapter 7

summary: a long lost letter leads to an adventure in Italy for three people who find love and healing along the way. a letters to juliet au

pairing: Aaron Hotchner x GN!Reader words: 3142 a/n: okay, the last three chapters are big ones, so buckle up! the whole fic is written, I’m just working through editing and cleaning it up. there’s no warnings for this one (I think, please let me know if I need to add any!) so enjoy! please throw a comment or a reblog my way if you like it!! and as always, thank you to @qvid-pro-qvo​ for being the best beta

what if masterlist

You wake up the next morning feeling both refreshed and almost hungover. Your throat is dry and eyes are scratchy from the crying but you also feel well rested and definitely a bit lighter. You get ready slowly, taking your time to make sure any traces of your crying are gone.

It’s later than normal when you join Aaron and Dave for breakfast. They’re sitting at the normal table, but Aaron looks tense. He can’t stay still, fidgeting in his seat. When you’re close to the table, he stands and pulls out your chair for you. You blink at him as you sit down, surprised by the gesture.

“Aaron, don’t you have something you want to say?” Dave asks once Aaron’s sat back down in his chair.

He shoots a dark look at Dave before clearing his throat. “I wanted to apologize for yesterday -”

“In the eyes Aaron,” Dave interrupts. Aaron sighs and shifts in his chair so he’s facing you.

“I want to apologize for yesterday. I was out of line,” he says, brown eyes locked on yours. “I shouldn’t have said that, I don’t mean it, and I’m truly sorry.”

You nod and take a sip of coffee before responding. “Thank you, Aaron.”

It’s really all you can say, now that the truth is out there. Aaron knows about your partner, you know about Haley. You both know loss and you know that both of you don’t want to put Dave through it again.

Conversation is stilted for a few more minutes, even with Dave’s best efforts to get something rolling between you and Aaron. Things finally settle into something comfortable when you bring up your search for Carolyn. There aren’t many left on your list, so you and Aaron choose a few near each other for the day.

It winds up being a short day of searching and not a successful one. Lunch might be the most interesting part of the day, at a restaurant that you would never expect to find nor to like so much. It’s a family owned restaurant just off the main road connecting some of the small towns near Siena. You probably would have driven past it, Aaron too, but Dave has an eye for these things. For the small things that turn out to be magical, with delicious food and great wine.

“The gift of old age, of slowing down,” Dave jokes when you bring it up. You feel your cheeks heat up, embarrassed at inadvertently calling Dave old but he tuts at you. “None of that, it’s all about the experience of life. You’re young, focused on going places and doing big things. You’ll learn to appreciate these small things, spontaneous things, in time. I’m just here to help you find them now.” He winks at you, raising his wine glass in a toast that you reciprocate.

“To the finer things,” you say, clinking glasses with Dave.

“To appreciating life, la vita bella,” Dave adds, pulling back from Aaron’s glass.

“La vita bella,” Aaron whispers as he shifts to clink his glass with yours. You take a sip, holding Aaron’s gaze. He looks away after a few moments, when the air feels too thick between you two. It’s a stark difference from that morning, and a testament to how far your tenuous friendship with Aaron has come.

A week ago, you wouldn’t have imagined being so comfortable in his presence but now, you find that you don’t mind being around him. You actually like spending time with him, and you know that you’ve already forgiven him in your head for his words yesterday.

It’s a thought that sticks in the back of your head for the rest of the day, how you have forgiven him. Even if you aren’t fully certain why. You know that you hadn’t told him your full story, even when the perfect opportunity presented itself as you explored Siena two days earlier, so it wasn’t his fault for not knowing you had experienced the same loss he has. He was scared for his friend, his mentor, and you can understand that. But there’s something more to it, you just can’t put a finger on it. Instead, you shove it all to the back of your mind and focus on the remaining Carolyn’s for the day.

It doesn’t take long to rule them both out and you find yourselves back in Siena by mid-afternoon. You head to your room, eager to work more on the story and see what you have so far. Aaron and Dave spend some time poolside and try to convince you to join them, but you stick to your plan.

You sit back in the desk chair, looking over what you have. You know it’s solid, that you’re building a compelling narrative. But you’re missing an ending.

You know there are still Carolyn’s left on your list. You also know that there’s a chance Dave’s Carolyn did leave this area. There’s a chance you won’t find her on this trip, or ever. You hope that isn’t the case, you want Dave to find her and have his happily ever after, but you know that the chances of that happening are dwindling.

There’s a knock on your door, pulling you from your downward spiral. You shake the thoughts from your head as you unlock the door and pull it open.

“Uh, hi.” Aaron says, hands in his pockets and rocking slightly on his feet. “I-we just wanted to see if you were joining us for dinner.”

Your brow furrows in confusion as you glance at your watch. Well, shoot. You’d been up here for longer than planned and sure enough, it’s well into the evening and time for dinner.

“Give me five minutes to change, I can meet you downstairs,” you say, closing the door as you turn back into your room. You hear Aaron huff out a laugh and roll your eyes, knowing that means he’ll be right on the other side of the door waiting for you.

And sure enough, when you pull back the door Aaron is there looking at his watch. “Five minutes on the dot, I’m impressed.”

You roll your eyes in response as you lock the door and turn towards the elevators. The two of you walk in silence to the hotel’s restaurant where you find Dave waiting at a table. There’s already a bottle of wine on the table, from the local vineyard that supplies the hotel with all it’s wine, and three glasses poured.

“I would like to propose a toast,” Dave says, once you both sit down. He faces you, raising a glass in your direction. “Thank you, for everything you’ve done for a complete stranger. It has been the most incredible adventure to be here again in Italy and to have met you.”

You smile at Dave, heart warmed by his words. “Thank you for letting me tag along, it’s been the greatest week.”

Dave smirks at you over his glass. “I think you’ve done a little more than tag along,” he notes, eyes flicking over to Aaron before winking at you.

After that, the conversation flows easily between all three of you as you share stories about your loved ones, reliving adventures with them. It’s a night filled with laughter, with memories, and a few tears. But it’s enjoyable. Things feel more relaxed, you’re comfortable with Dave and Aaron. Which is shocking given that a week ago you barely knew them and argued with Aaron constantly. Crazy what a week in a car searching for a woman can do.

Later that night, you’re out stargazing aimlessly. On the outskirts of the city, you can see more stars than you’ve ever seen in your life. It’s gorgeous and given the fact you aren’t tired yet, you find there’s no harm walking around the hotel grounds.

On a grass covered hill, you find Aaron laying on the ground. As you get closer, you see that he’s looking up at the stars, silent and pensive. He looks almost peaceful, tranquil. It’s a different look from the relaxed smile you’re used to seeing as he drives around Tuscany.

“Mind if I join you?” you ask, standing over Aaron.

He starts and leans up on his elbows, nodding. “No, not at all.” You lay down beside him, staring straight at the sky. You can feel the warmth from Aaron’s body, see his eyes flicker over to you in your peripheral vision.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever seen so many stars in my life,” you whisper. Your eyes sweep over the constellations, taking in the sheer number of stars in the sky.

“It’s incredible,” Aaron replies and you turn your head to look at him. “I only see stars like this when I take Jack camping. It’s not often unfortunately, but we always spend at least one night stargazing way past bedtime.”

You smile and turn your head back to the stars. It’s incredible to see the night sky so full of light and dimension. You’re used to the flat black of New York, the buildings providing all the light and color. This is something completely different and makes you feel so small.

Aaron clears his throat, and you can tell he’s getting ready to say something so you turn your head back to him. He says your name, almost whispers it, and pauses. “I - I wanted to apologize, again, for yesterday. I really am sorry. I was out of line, and I want you to know how sorry I am,” he says, brown eyes full of remorse.

You suck in a breath, trying to find the right words. “Apology accepted, Aaron. Truly. You didn’t know. I could have, probably should have, told you before but,” you take another breath, forcing yourself to slow down, “I was scared. Telling you felt big, it felt scary. It felt like, almost like it was more real than it has been,” you admit. Aaron had been a person who didn’t know - who didn’t give you the look of pity and sadness whenever he saw you. And when he told you about Haley, you knew he probably would never be that person. Telling him then, became an even more daunting task. As if he would truly know you, truly understand just what you were feeling. The pain, the grief, the way it feels never-ending and like an ocean you cannot cross.

“I know what you mean,” Aaron whispers. “When you tell people, you have to face it all over again. It’s like picking at a scab.” You huff out a soft laugh at his choice of analogy but nod before turning back to look at the stars. You’re both silent, just looking at the night sky. It’s a comfortable silence, finally. You feel yourself relaxing into the grass and just enjoying the moment, enjoying Aaron’s company. 

“Do you think she’s out there? Carolyn?” Aaron’s question cuts through the silence, makes you think.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “She’s out there somewhere, I have to believe that.”

“Am I wrong to want Dave to stop, to call this off?”

“No,” you say slowly, “he can’t go on forever. No one can. You have to stop at some point.”

Aaron lets out a sigh. “Then why do I feel like Jack on Sunday?” he mumbles. “It’s nearly time for school and I don’t want to go.”

When you turn your head to respond, you meet Aaron’s eyes. They’re warm and open, filled with wonder. You hold his gaze for a moment before his eyes flicker down to your lips and then back up to your eyes.

And then you’re both slowly moving in, and your lips are touching. You’re kissing Aaron. His lips are soft and gentle as they move over yours. One of his hands holds your chin in place, keeping you still as he deepens the kiss. His tongue runs along the seam of your lips and you open them. You lose track of time, kissing Aaron, reaching out an arm to wrap around his back and pull him close to you. He shifts, the hand on your jaw moving to wrap around your shoulders, his other down your back and rolling you so you settle on top of him. Your lips move together, exploring each other, until you pull back for a much needed breath.

You’re still holding Aaron, still resting on top of him, when it hits you. You were kissing Aaron. You roll off of him, laying on your back again. The tension that had been so present your first few days with Aaron is back, the air tense between you. You stay still, mind racing as you process what just happened and what to do next. Aaron’s just as still and silent beside you, neither one of you daring to speak first.

After a minute of silence, you make your decision. You sit up, take a breath, and then stand to walk away, leaving Aaron on the hill without saying a word.

You don’t look back, focused on making it to your room. You miss the way Aaron sits up, watching you walk away. You miss the way his jaw drops as he processes what just happened, the kiss, the situation, the fact that he kissed you a day after finding out you’d lost your partner only months before. You miss the figure in a window overlooking the hill moving his hand to let the curtains fall back into place as he smiles and shakes his head.

Sleep comes to you in fits that night, the kiss replaying over and over again in your head as you toss and turn.

Logic had made you walk away without a word - you’d recently lost your partner, you live in New York, Aaron lives in DC. Someone would have to give something up for the two of you to be together. And what would everyone say about you finding someone so soon? It’s been four months, that has to be too soon.

But in your heart, you know it’s not. You know that you can’t put a timer on recovery, on grief. And you certainly can’t predict when you’ll meet someone you fall for.

Finally, sleep overtakes your brain and pushes all thoughts of Aaron, of kisses, of relationships out of your head. You’re leaving tomorrow, heading back to Verona and that’s that.

---                                                                                                  

“Good morning,” Aaron says, taking your suitcase from you. “How’d you sleep?”

“Alright,” you respond.

“Good.”

You stand at the trunk of the car, unsure what to say next when thankfully Dave comes outside. Aaron walks past you to help Dave with his suitcase, giving you a moment to take a breath and push down all the thoughts of last night.

You walk away from the trunk and give Dave a hug. “Good morning,” you say, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

He returns the favor and gives you a little squeeze, helping ground you. “You know, the stars looked amazing out of my window last night, did you get to see them?”

“Yeah, they looked incredible,” you say, pulling open the back door of the car. Dave says your name, stopping you from sliding into your seat.

“Do you mind sitting up front today? I want to stretch my legs a little.”

So you walk around to the passenger seat and settle in, quickly glancing at Aaron as he climbs in. Your heart clenches, knowing what you want but also knowing it’ll be impossible to take.

For someone who wants to stretch his legs, Dave spends a lot of time leaning forward between the front seats, snapping along to the radio and singing in Italian. You have your arm propped up on the door and keep looking at the window, at the scenery passing by. It’s bittersweet to be leaving Tuscany, going back to Verona and then New York in a few days, but as you told Aaron last night, you can’t keep searching forever.

Aaron’s driving on the winding road to the highway when Dave all of a sudden sits up and starts tapping on Aaron’s seat. “Look, it’s the vineyard that the hotel stocks! C’mon, let's go see it. It’s our favorite wine.” Aaron slows the car and turns into the vineyard, looking around to see if there’s any signs about tours or visitation.

The road in is lined with trees and bushes and you can see people in the field working. Aaron’s driving slow, still uncertain if you can even be here, when Dave starts again.

“Stop the car Aaron, stop the car,” he says, moving to unbuckle himself. He’s opening the door as Aaron’s coming to a full stop and looking at one of the women working in the vineyard. You and Aaron climb out the car, following Dave and wondering what is going on.

“It’s Carolyn,” Dave says. He’s looking at the young woman working the field, a woman who could not have been alive in the 60s.

You and Aaron share a skeptical look before turning back to Dave. “Alright, let’s get you in the shade,” Aaron says, trying to steer Dave towards the trees. It hits you then, what might actually be happening here and you approach the woman.

“Uhm, tu sai dove Carolyn Bartolini?” you ask, stumbling over the Italian for ‘do you know where Carolyn Bartolini is?”

“I am Carolyn Bartolini,” the woman responds.

Aaron rushes over to you, saying your name as it falls into place for him. “This is - it’s her granddaughter,” he says, as another woman approaches you.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes,” Aaron says, turning to the new woman, “do you know where Carolyn Bartolini is?”

The woman nods, “I am Carolyn Bartolini.”

“Do you also have a mother named Carolyn Bartolini?” you ask, a smile breaking out on your face.

“Si, she left to go riding a little while ago. Can we help you?”

Aaron introduces the two of you and explains that you’ve been looking for her mother, that Dave knew her long ago.

“Aaron, let’s go,” Dave says, calling the two of you back towards the car. “Let’s go, this was -”

“Dave, Carolyn’s here!” Aaron interrupts. “She’s out riding, but she’s here.”

“Then let's go before she gets back.” For the first time, Dave looks apprehensive, scared almost.

“Dave, we’ve come all this way and she’s here! Come on,” Aaron protests.

“I’ve been ridiculous Aaron, you’ve been saying it all along. I knew Carolyn when I was a boy, I was barely 16. I’m not the same person anymore, so let’s go before she gets back.”

“Dave,” Aaron starts.

But then you hear horseshoes. You see Dave turn his head a little, a wondrous look in his eyes. You turn to see what’s going on behind you and you see her.

Carolyn Bartolini.

taglist: @qvid-pro-qvo​ @averyhotchner​ @kelstark​ @hurricanejjareau​ @oreogutz​ @whentheautumnleavesfall​

[jos-corner-of-the-world]

Last House on the Left {36}

{Thirty five}

You’d ended up staying a few hours after the initial, awkward, conversation.  You were sitting at the kitchen table the next day, thinking over everything you and Shownu had talked about.  Night had turned to morning and you’d not left your spot you were sitting since coming home.

“You’re up awfully early.” Minghao noted when he saw you.

“Couldn’t sleep.  I went out with Shownu last night.” you said.

“How’s it going with Shownu?” Minghao asked you as he came into the kitchen to get his morning coffee.

“I’m not seeing him anymore.  Well, I am, but not as a potential boyfriend.” you told him as you picked at the table in front of you.

“Why’s that? Just not working out?” Minghao asked, hating that idea.

He could tell that you really got along with Shownu and enjoyed his company a lot, so this news was quite surprising to him. As much as he kind of hated the idea of you dating, he knew Shownu would be really good to you. Something he thought you deserved more than anyone.

“We get along really well, but he said it just wasn’t going to work.” you admitted.  You didn’t tell Minghao that you also knew it wasn’t going to work.  Your brain was still processing that part of it.

“Why wasn’t it going to work? Aw man, I liked this dude. Do I have to go and kick his ass?”

“No.  It’s not like that.  He said...He said he was doing it for me.”

Shownu had been very candid in the conversation much later in the night.  He’d said that he knew he wasn’t the person who could make you happy.  There were just too many differences and neither of you would really ever be comfortable, or happy, in a relationship with each other.

“How is breaking up with someone doing it for them? What kind of shit is that?” Minghao asked, growing mad.

“I don’t know, but it makes sense.  I just...wasn’t all in.  Or even...halfway in. Plus, we weren't dating so we didn't break up.” you told him, not making eye contact.

“Why weren’t you halfway in? Are you okay?” he asked, anger ebbing away to concern.

“It’s...complicated.”

“It’s always complicated babe.  Tell me what happened.” 

He had moved from his spot in front of the coffee pot to come over and sit next to you on the other side of the table. 

“Nothing really happened. We hung out a few times and it was really fun. But it was just different. We both realized that it just wasn’t going anywhere other than friendship.  He was the one to really put it out there though. I'm still not even sure about it to be honest.”

“Realized what? That you weren't all in? It's been like 10 minutes. I'd be concerned if you were all in.”

“That's not...it's more than that. It's just different… it's …” you cut yourself off. You didn't even know what to say or what you were feeling. 

“Hey, I'm sorry. We don't have to talk about it. I'm sorry for bringing it up. I'm more sorry it didn't work out.”

“I want to talk about it.” You said, getting up from the table.

“But I'm confused. I don't know…”

Minghao watched with guarded eyes as you were pacing in front of him.  He stood up, ready to hold you in place if needed so you could talk it out.

You knew that you would get nowhere if you just bottled it up.  But you also weren’t sure you had everything in order in your head to even have a coherent conversation, even if you desperately needed to.

“Just start anywhere. What did Shownu realize to know you weren't in?” He asked.

“He just knew my heart was somewhere else. Or at least...my head was. It was never in the moment with him.” you said honestly, repeating Shownu’s words from the night before.

“Where was your head?” He asked, concern growing as your pacing just increased.

He watched surprised as you stopped pacing and stood right in front of him, but never looked up to meet his eyes.

“It was here. At home. My head was always here. It's confusing.” You admitted quietly.

“That kind of makes sense. A lot of your time is spent here.” Minghao said, failing to follow your narrative.

“I don’t know, I just feel really close to you. I always have.” you finally freely admitted, changing the conversation with just one out of place sentence.

“Okay...and why does that have you so confused?” Minghao asked you, genuinely not understanding your anxious demeanor.

“Because...Minghao, I really don’t know if we should talk about this.” you said suddenly.

“What? Why not?”

“Because what if I spill my heart out and I’m wrong about what I was feeling? Or it gets weird? That would be really horrible.”

“When have things ever been like that with us? Yeah we’ve had our moments and we bicker sometimes, but things are rarely ever weird between us.”

“But Minghao... this is different, this is so much different. I’m feeling...things and I don’t know how to process them or what they even are.  To be completely honest I wasn’t even fully aware of the feelings until last night and this morning.”

“So just talk to me...please.”  He all but begged you.

“I think I like you.”

“Okay….?” Minghao said, still not understanding.  “I like you too.  We established this literally a long time ago.”

“Damnit Minghao, it’s more than that! I look forward to having breakfast with you in the morning. I like the stupid conversations we have everyday.  You drive me absolutely fucking nuts, but in a great way. I love the routine of you being late to work everyday so I can bring you coffee and spend a bit more time with you.  I love that you let me wallow in troubles without actually letting me drown. We fight, but we also laugh together and have fun.” you said, voice raised slightly.

“I really don’t even know when it started.” you said, before cutting yourself off. “Wait, that’s a lie.  It really started on Halloween.”

“Halloween?” Minghao asked, brain still trying to catch up with the situation.

“Well it was really the day after.  When we talked outside.  It was the first time you were really honest and pushed me to talk to you. It showed me that you cared.” 

“Of course I do. I've cared about you for a long time.”

“I know and that's why this sucks. It fucking sucks. I'm so sorry.” You said, finally looking up to meet his eyes.

“Why are you sorry, and why are you crying?” He asked frantically, trying to wipe the tears from your face.

“I'm sorry because of this, and how I feel. It's gonna ruin everything.” The sadness was thick in your voice.

“Even though I still don't one hundred percent know what we're talking about, please don't apologise. You're not going to ruin anything.”

You were exhausted. And quite frankly confused that Minghao had not yet caught up to the conversation.

Without thinking it through fully, you took another step towards him.

He instinctively took a step back.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“Would you just hold still?” You asked.

Without giving him a chance to respond, you quickly bounced on your tiptoes and kissed him.

It was a short, chaste kiss, but your mind was going absolutely crazy.

But then your brain caught up to the fact Minghao was still standing stock still.

Embarrassed, you took a step back. You put your hand over your mouth in both surprise that you'd actually done it, and the tingling your lips were feeling from the contact.

It took everything in you to look up and meet Minghaos eyes.

His face seemed to be in a permanent state of shock and bewilderment.

“Fuck. I'm sorry. I thought you were starting to understand. I'm sorry for doing that. I told you, I would ruin things, ruin us. I just...my brain has been telling me for a long time and I just ignored it because I thought I was confusing my feelings. But I don't think I was, and then I go and do this and…” you stopped when Minghao took a step towards you.

His face was still a stone image of the shock.

“What are you doing?” You asked him.

“Would you just stand still?”

And just like that you were in Minghaos arms, him kissing you this time.

Your head was still confused. And in this moment going a million miles an hour. But it also just felt right. It felt like a piece had been missing but was put in its place.

You both took a step back at the same time. Minghaos hands still rested on your hips while yours came up to rest on his shoulders.

As you looked up at him you saw the stone face had gone. But now he was looking at you, you could see all the questions written plainly on his face and in his eyes.

But you didn't get a chance to ask any questions. At that moment the two of you came together again. It was like a magnetic force was pulling the two of you together, and neither of you were going to fight that pull.

The third kiss was deep. You had your body so close to his, but you clung on, holding on to him as tightly as you could.

If this was a one time thing. If you went back to just being Y/n and Minghao; best friends, partners in crime, this moment was a moment you wanted to remember forever.

This moment was one that could possibly change your whole life, good or bad, and you weren't ready to let go just yet.

{thirty seven}

[kitkatopinions]

RWBY volume 8 has a problem with conflict resolution, and it’s that the writers took situations where more than one person was at fault, and treated it like it was on only one person’s shoulders.

Ozpin shouldn’t have lied to Team RWBY, even if it was understandable, and I can accept that and think it’s fair that the writers had him apologize for that action and try to make amends with the group. But, Team RWBY shouldn’t have forced all of his secrets and very personal past out while he was begging them not to, they shouldn’t have treated him badly after the fact, and once Jaune was involved, he shouldn’t have been physically violent over it (it makes it worse that Oscar was the one he was hurting and that Oscar’s body is the thing that’s hurt, but physical violence wouldn’t have been okay even if it’d been Ozpin’s body.) Team RWBY acted entirely dismissive of and angry at Ozpin for two and a half seasons and multiple months of in show time, showing no sympathy towards him, despite lying to Ironwood themselves about many of the same things. But instead of having Team RWBY also apologize to Ozpin for the way they treated him, instead vaguely acknowledging that trust is a risk, and act serious and gracious, don’t even say they forgive him, and don’t apologize at all themselves. I have no problem with the concept that Team RWBY screwed up by forcing Jinn to reveal all of Oz’s deeply personal trauma in high definition, and then reacted badly when they realized how deep Oz’s secrecy went. They felt offended and hurt, they were doubting their mission, they’re flawed, human characters who are allowed to make mistakes. But having the writers have Ozpin apologize only to have Team RWBY not acknowledge their own flaws and act as though Oz was the only one in the wrong makes it seem like Team RWBY - and the writers - don’t think they were at fault or need to change or grow themselves. That’s very frustrating.

The conflict with Ren and Nora is two sided as well. Yes, Ren was bottling up his emotions and lashing out at his friends who were only trying to help him. Having Ren apologize for that? Completely fine, valid, love it. But Nora reacted to Ren pushing her away by yelling at him and lashing out herself, acting like she knew his wants and needs better than him, and yanking him into a kiss without his consent after he’d made it very clear he didn’t currently want to pursue a relationship, and then acted angry and sulky and accused him of being a bad partner when that unsurprisingly only made him shut down more. Then when Ren apologized, he had to really apologize and confess his feelings in order for Nora to start accepting it, and she never apologized to him for the way she’d treated him. Once again, there’s nothing wrong with the fact that Ren apologized, but it’s a problem that Nora didn’t also apologize. Once again, the way it’s framed as only Ren having to make the moves forward makes it seem like Nora doesn’t think she was at fault, and therefore doesn’t need to change or grow herself, and the writers look like they think the same thing. That’s very frustrating.

Then you have the conflict between Whitley and Weiss. Was Whitley a snarky jerk to Weiss in V4? Yes. Was he acting like a brat even in V7? Yes. Should he therefore take steps towards healing his relationship with Weiss? Sure, absolutely. I loved them having Whitley bring in Klein to help Nora, proving he’s at heart a caring person with morals who just also happens to be a snarky person who lashes out when his feelings are hurt. That was great. But, once again, Weiss is also at fault when it comes to their relationship. For most of our time seeing Weiss, she acted like she didn’t have a brother at all, like if Whitley wasn’t in the same building as her, she couldn’t be bothered to remember he existed. (To be fair to the show, I suspect Whitley was invented during the writing of season four and I’m not mad about it, so I can discount the first three seasons of no mention of Whitley. However, the other seasons still present a problem.) Weiss had every right to her hurt feelings and reacting coldly in my opinion in V4. Unlike with Nora and Team RWBY, Qrow, and Jaune, I don’t think her behavior in V4 was an over reaction. But I definitely think her behavior in V7 and V8 was an over reaction. Weiss treated Whitley (who is in an abusive situation) with no sympathy, she was rude and acted like he was a nuisance. Even after her mom spelled out for her why Whitley acted the way he did and begged Weiss to not forget him (I’m not gonna get into how I dislike Willow right now lol) Weiss still left Whitley behind and later pointed a weapon into his face and threatened him before dismissing him up to his room like she couldn’t be bothered. Let me say just one more time that I have no problem with the narrative making Weiss act like a brat every now again and having her be presumptuous and judgmental - these are consistent and trackable, realistic flaws for her character that add interest and conflict. No protagonist should be perfect, characters like that are very boring. But Whitley is the only one to take steps forward. Weiss only responds kindly to Whitley after he does something she likes, and even then, makes no move to acknowledge her own flaws, like now that he proved himself worthy of kindness, now she’ll remember him and act kindly to him, but beforehand, she was justified in her actions. It makes Weiss’s love and affection feel conditional.

And this one is a much smaller note because idk what��Blake was supposed to be sorry for, but another example is Blake and Yang’s supposed ‘argument’ that Yang was worried Blake would think less of her over - Yang leaving to help Mantle while Blake went to launch Amity (something we’re meant to think doesn’t make them any less unified that wasn’t treated as any sort of falling out) and Blake looking somewhat bothered despite Yang seemingly not even seeing her expression. Blake acts nervous and sad, and Yang comforts her and is tender. The problem here is that Yang did the leaving in the Fire Swamp. If we’re meant to see their temporary separation as a fight and therefore worthy of guilt and forgiveness (I don’t,) then the person who should be looking guilty is Yang. Blake never even picked a side out loud, Yang’s the one who walked out of the room, Yang’s the one who seemed to leave the group on a note of contention (even though she quickly took back her doubts later,) and - through no fault of her own - Yang was the one who wound up leaving her mission and being unable to be tracked. There wasn’t a ‘this was my fault,’ but there was weird expressions of guilt on Blake’s side, and no expression of guilt on Yang’s. Like I said though, this is less important to the topic at hand, I just thought it bared mentioning because it was another one sided conflict, even if it made no sense. Neither of them should’ve acted like this was a big deal.

I think the problem here is that the writers themselves just have some morals I don’t agree with, but it makes it very frustrating to watch. “If someone isn’t trusting you, or isn’t opening up to you, or is snarky to you, it’s therefore okay to react with XYZ” is something I personally can’t get behind especially in situations like the ones we’re confronted with. “Ren isn’t expressing his emotions, it’s therefore okay for Nora to yell at him and force him into a kiss” is something I see as wrong, and it’s the same for the other instances. The main characters being flawed is good, I’m not mad that the writers had them act in these certain ways (you know, to an extent,) but what’s frustrating is how they’re not portrayed as in the wrong at all, seemingly because the writers don’t see a problem with their actions. Oz and Ren needed to give heartfelt, shamed apologies, but Team RWBY, Jaune, and Nora are treated as in the right and totally justified by the narrative. Whitley needed to prove himself worthy and make the first moves, but Weiss was treated as in the right and totally justified by the narrative.

It honestly hurts the characters involved. It makes them seem like they want more from people than they’re willing to give themselves.

[fancyfade]

Damian remembers the second time he arrived in Gotham, after he'd left Mother.

He hated it. He hated having no mission, nowhere to go. The boredom of the days as he monitored the city but did not act on his notes, in case Father would discover him before he was ready. The apathy and stagnation of no training schedule. The –

fear is the wrong word, but he cannot think of a replacement – when he woke up each time in a new place – waking up to the shattering of glass as the bottle he placed on a restroom doorknob broke when his sanctuary was invaded, waking up tied to the top of a tree outside of town, to keep himself out of sight of any aggressors –

There really was something to be said for going to sleep in the same bed every night. For... well, everywhere is enemy territory. Damian should know that and only an idiot wouldn't.

But when he was living with Grayson before all this, he was at least confident that if Grayson chose to attack him, it would be in a predictable manner. Due to one of Damian's actions, presumably to restrain him from using excessive force.

Now – Grayson isn't aggressive. He wouldn't fight Damian physically. But it'd be better if he did, it'd be easier to deal with if he would attack him than if he would manipulate him with lies. At least Damian knows how to react to the first situation.

keep reading

okay so. Very long chapter. Decisions under cut

I kind of feel like while Damian doesn’t technically need Alfred and Dick to live day-to-day life but does benefit from having someone providing structure and looking out for him... not that he would ever say that 😂 but a lot of early on stuff is typical kid stuff where Dick is providing most of the structure and crime fighting lessons and we see Damian trying to be independent and set boundaries (leaving when Dick tells him off for beating the information out of someone in B&R #2, not telling Dick about Colin because he wants to have some allies away from Batman in Batman: streets of Gotham)... kind of like typical kid stuff. Which is nice.

re: Damian's kill-code. I don't think he really felt like it was wrong at the time when he killed people, but I do also think that he wasn't murder-happy (and probably didn't even like doing it). It's not like he was killing people because he really liked killing people, it was always for a reason. He's only ever really shown to fight combatants and in Robin: Son of Batman a lot of his rhetoric is clearly he's doing it for his family – because you know, that's what he's been told he had to do. We can see that with Goliath where he projects onto Goliath and tells Goliath that he should fight for his family and his entire family is counting on him. Also significant that even though Goliath is an animal, not a person, we see Damian doesn't kill Goliath when Goliath is not fighting back. I think even if he hadn't met Bruce and Dick, Damian would have eventually been unable to keep going through with Ra's' plans (like in-character Talia is).

I also think that, because it's Ra's' entire thing, Damian probably thought that killing people for Ra's was saving the world and I imagine that (+ the doing it for family) is probably what he had to tell himself if he ever had doubts.

Damian did get to have one of the lines I liked in Morrison's run (being Robin is the best thing I've done) just I used it in a different context here, because I do think that he likes being able to save people (since we see him be concerned about civilians safety way earlier than we see him ever think killing people is wrong). But yeah Chapter 45 was the explicitly rejecting Ra's' offer (for himself and his own reasons, not because he thought Bruce was approving) and this one is the deciding to be Robin.

I also know that while it is probably narratively frustrating for Damian to still insist that he's doing this at least partly due to his dad, I do really like the gradualness of his character arc and don't want to erase that in my fic. So we can see that while he has motives for wanting to do it himself (feeling a responsibility to civilians and liking being able to live with it easier, appreciating Dick's training) he's still going to phrase it as if it's related to Bruce, even if it's in a challenging way now (like “I’ll be better than you thought I could”) not in a “please like me/ doing what you wanted” way.

Re: what Talia tells Damian about his destiny. I changed it slightly from Batman and Robin #0 because even though I do regard the Batman and Robin 2011 series and Robin: Son of Batman as my main character reference for a lot of Damian stuff, the “you will lead the Al Ghul dynasty and save/rule the world” thing Talia tells him seemed like the writers were trying to give Talia something positive to say to Damian but while not completely going against how she acted in Morrison's writing? But I really prefer @sapodilas's interpretation of Talia where she's a burned out idealist (link) and she wants something better for her son – that's why in my fic she just tells him he'll be able to do great stuff (and be free 😭) without imposing expectations that he will rule the world or anything on him.

Also as you can tell in my interpretation Talia was preparing to leave the League for a while – that's why she told Damian about all the security flaws in the bases (which he then used to hide from Ra's when he helped break himself out) and that was the purpose of the birthday fight in the Batman and Son rewrite fic – she wanted to establish an excuse to take Damian away from Ra's for a bit before she needed to use it.

Technically when Damian was having his internal monologue about Talia the initial monologue was like 'he'd only seen the part of her she'd let him see / that he wanted to see' thing here but I feel like that might be a bit too mature a thought for him at the moment with how much resentment he has on her for things not being how they used to be and feeling like he wasn't trained well enough earlier.

The Bruce wanting Damian to be free from both his and Ra's' destiny is from Resurrection of Ra's Al Ghul ending (also I find it kind of sad/funny that Bruce is better at understanding Damian needs to develop himself as a person and not just follow in his footsteps before he raises him, then when he's raising him he's bad at making Damian feel that way and Damian thinks Bruce just wants him to be a mini-Bruce in Batman and Robin 2011)

Either way hope you liked it this was almost certainly 1 of the longest plotlines I've done so far in this fic!

[de-profundis-ad-astra]

Fury, Oh Fury - Part One

Triple Frontier | Hunger Games AU

Me: Hey what if I started working on Fury again? Y’all: Me: Hey if I started working on Fury again would you read it? Y’all: Me: Okay okay you’ve forced my hand I guess I gotta start working on Fury again

Rating || Mature (for graphic descriptions of violence/gore and strong language) Characters || Ben Miller. William Miller. A good chunk of this fic will be heavily focused on the Miller brothers, because I’m most comfortable writing them and I feel like I know them the best. Rest assured, Pope and Catfish will be making appearances ~eventually~ Word Count || 4.2k Taglist || (Starting out tagging some mutuals and people I remember from the previous taglist)  @firefeatherx​ @mylifeliterally​ @mandoplease​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @skylyknightly​ @havenforafrazzledmind​ @beatriz-silva-00​ @veuliee​ @veuliee2​ @oldstuffnewstuff​ @dindisneydjarin​ @lilacyennefer​ @dignityneeded​ @agirllovespancakes​​ @xjustmenobodyelse​​ @oscarflysaac @jaime1110​​ @goldenhour-goldenboy​​ @pascalz​​ @briskywalker​​ @herestherealproblem​​ @givemethatgold​​

Author’s Note || For anyone who might be new here, @veuliee​ sent me a concept that I kinda uh, tripped over my own feet and plunged face first into and that’s the story of how I started writing a Hunger Games AU for Triple Frontier. Things got unbelievably crazy once I started work, and I’ve had some pretty unhealthy work/home boundaries with being virtual. I’m trying to establish some healthier limits and make more time for my writing, and this seemed like a good enough starting point. That and the outlines for the rest of this fic are still staring at me and demanding to be written.

So, here goes.

Home hasn’t felt like home since Will left.

It’s been nothing more than a house since the day of the reaping, almost a month ago. A collection of walls with a roof—the same as any other building. The place where he grew up. A place to rest his head and feed himself between training sessions. It won’t be home until Will comes back.

If he comes back.

Will has trained for this, Ben tells himself when doubt creeps in, wraps its icy fingers around his lungs and clenches tight, pushes down on his chest in the dead of the night and it feels like Ben is drowning. Will practiced and fought and earned the chance to volunteer for District Two. He wouldn’t have been selected as the male tribute for this year if his teachers hadn’t felt he had a strong chance of returning victorious.

But there had been Two’s female tribute also. And the tributes from One and Four. All were formidable in a fight, and knew the tips and tricks to survival that would be essential in the arena. Not to mention the Games themselves were an absolute wild card. For all Will’s training, he still could be killed by a natural disaster of the gamemakers design, stabbed in the back by his allies, a tribute from an outlying district could catch him off guard.

There’s far too much that can go wrong; Ben drowns each and every thought behind his own training at the academy.

He can’t let that kind of vulnerability shine through. Not to his father. Not to his peers. Especially not when he’s being followed as much as his brother in the arena. Since the field of tributes narrowed down to eight five days ago, when Capitol cameras and personnel arrived to interview him and his father, there’s been hardly a moment of privacy. So Ben covers his fear with a smile, says he has full confidence that his brother will be home as soon as he can. He laughs when they ask him if he’ll volunteer one day, just like his brother did.

Ben answers with a grin, says he has no place to make that determination—but who knows? 

Deep down… he knows. He’s known for a while now. He’s young, but he’s already tall, strong, quick. A prodigy, they’d said of his skills. A promised child, just like his brother was.

In spite of his age, Ben is favored to volunteer and represent District Two in the coming years. For now, though, the focus is on honing those skills, shaping him into the best warrior they can to bring pride to District Two.

The Capitol, they say, are charmed by him already. The idea of two brothers bearing the title of Victor is the kind of narrative they’re keen to fall for. So Ben plasters that smile on and lets himself become a part of the show.

Because if he lost Will…

If he lost Will—

Where would home be?

--

All of District Two seems to have hit pause, every pair of eyes glued to the nearest screen.

Peacekeepers-in-training pause their exercises. Future tributes stop their sparring matches. The lines at every shop in town are on hold. Even the children have stopped playing their games to witness this.

And in the city square, standing in front of the Justice Building in a roped off section reserved for family, the mayor, and a handful of District Two’s more recent victors, thirteen year old Benjamin Miller tries to keep his fidgeting down to an occasional scuff of his feet on the dusty ground or flex of his weary muscles.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it seems we are entering the final moments of the Fifty-fourth annual Hunger Games!”

The massive screens mounted in the square broadcast live footage from the arena. Presently, two feeds are placed side by side, dedicated to the two remaining tributes of this year’s Hunger Games. One tracks Will’s every move, the other follows his opponent: the boy from District Four.

Will abandoned the Career pack when there were still fourteen tributes left. One night, during his watch shift, he left them behind, taking with him a pack with enough food to last him four days, a bottle of water, a sleeping bag, a hunting knife, and his preferred sword. A long, wicked thing most people might have struggled to wield two-handed. Will handled it with ease. One-handed.

Speculation rippled through the district at that. The decision to leave so early in the Games was shocking enough. Why not kill the rest while they slept and increase his odds of victory by an exponential margin? It was known that the pack would disband eventually, but why so soon?

At the academy, Will was both praised and berated for his choice. It was understandable to leave before bonds formed and killing another tribute turned into killing an ally. But so early? When so much could go wrong? It was a risk not many were brave enough to take.

In the arena, navigating the terrain proved to be its own exercise of survival. This year’s terrain consisted of three mountains of varying height, surrounded by dense forest. It became apparent early on that the woods were not safe, as they were crawling with all manner of predators, both organic and manufactured by the Capitol. Two weeks into the Games, the gamemakers destroyed the entire forest with a raging wildfire, killing an additional two tributes.

The forest now uninhabitable, Will had taken to carving out several hiding places among the mountainsides. Once he’d burned through his rations, he relied on hunting small creatures still inhabiting the cliffs and whatever his mentor was able to provide through sponsors. With the element of surprise working for him, Will had managed to ambush and eliminate four additional tributes, bringing his kill count to a whopping ten—high above the average for a typical career.

Almost half of the playing field, brought down by one seventeen-year old. Will must have struck a deal with his allies before the start of the Games, because during the bloodbath, he’d done most, if not all of the killing while the remainder of his team secured their supplies from the Cornucopia. If he walked away from this, he’d be the pride of District Two for a long time to come on that merit alone.

When the tribute pack thinned down to four, the gamemakers struck again. Devastating rockslides hammered each mountain, cutting off both Will’s access to his hiding spots, and any freshwater sources he’d relied on. The slides killed two tributes, the girl from One and the boy from Five.

Ben remembered watching in abject horror as his brother fled from the avalanche, finally managing to take cover underneath an outcropping of rock that shielded him from the worst of it. He’d escaped, though not without accruing a fair amount of scrapes and bruises along the way. The worst of it was a small, but deep cut slicing through his eyebrow. By a small miracle, it had stopped bleeding within an hour, but half of Will’s face was now crusted with streaks of dried blood, only adding to his already haggard state. He lost his knife in the chaos, but managed to hold onto his sword—his saving grace.

Not only that, but the only reason the boy from Four had survived was because he’d turned on his companion as they fled. When they were clear of the slides, while her guard was down, he’d shoved her back, right into the path of an oncoming boulder. She was crushed before she could even appear shocked by the betrayal. There weren’t even any remains left for the hovercraft to collect.

More whispers rippled through the district, then. Yes, it was sad. But it was what needed to be done.

No fresh water. Most of the wildlife either dead or scared off. Two tributes. It was evident the gamemakers wanted to end this fast. The Games had already lasted nearly three and a half weeks, far longer than average. This year had proven to be a particularly hardy bunch. Even getting a small water bottle into the arena at this rate would likely cost a large fortune.

Which meant they were on their own.

The moment the dust cleared, the cannons fired and faces projected in the sky, everyone knew what came next. Immediately, a space was cleared in the square for Ben and his father, victors called out to join and prepare to offer either congratulations or condolences depending on the outcome of the final encounter.

On the screen, Will inches his way along a narrow path on the face of the tallest mountain. All he has on his person is his sword and his clothes, veritably shredded after three weeks of fighting for his life in such an unforgiving environment. The landscape is similar enough that when Ben looks at the screen with the boy from Four, he can’t tell how near they are to each other. Will grew up in the mountains of Two. In theory, he should have an advantage over the boy from the coast. Nothing is ever set in stone, though—not in the Hunger Games. Four had proven himself to be quiet the adaptable tribute.

They have to be getting close, Ben thinks, there’s no way the gamemakers would push them away from each other at this point.

As if in answer to his thought, a low, feline snarl rumbles through the speakers. It’s faint, far away, but Will hears it. Everyone hears it. Pressing his back against the rock, he dares a swift look down towards the origin of the sound. As if oblivious to the cameras trained on him or simply not caring, Will’s shout cuts through the wind. 

“Fuck!”

The camera angle switches, and Ben’s heart plummets.

Prowling about fifty feet beneath Will’s feet is a strange breed of feline, the likes of which Ben has never seen before. Three of them. Large, with a pale golden coat and small round ears. Long, curved, razor-sharp claws extending from all four oversized paws carve thin scratches into the rock as they pace back and forth beneath him.

Ben’s first thought is cougar, but then the cat looks up, and he beholds the elongated canines extending far past its lower jaw. He’s learned about it in school. A kind of cat that went extinct long before the continent was even known as the Americas. Despite his best efforts, Ben cannot recall its name.

It’s undoubtedly a muttation, designed and put out by the gamemakers to do one thing: kill.

The long-toothed cat bares its teeth, its companions following suit. From his perch on the mountainside, Will’s chest moves rapidly. He’s struggling to control his breath, Ben realizes. His throat tightens, his stomach tangling with itself.

Beside him, his father murmurs, “Move, William, move.”

“Look at that!” one of the commentators yells. “It seems the gamemakers have one last trick up their sleeves to push Will and Reed together!”

Ben grips the rope in front of him as if that is the only thing separating him from Will. The big cat crouches, leaps up to a rock jutting out from the mountainside, ten feet closer to him. Ben spares one glance towards Four’s feed. He doesn’t seem to be faring much better. Another trio of cats nip at his heels as he struggles to ascend the mountain.

Will’s breathing slows and deepens, and he masters himself enough to take several tiny steps closer to the end of the path. There, he will easily be able to summit the mountain, another twenty feet above his head.

The cats leap up another ten feet, and Will draws his sword with one hand. Bracing his free hand on the smooth, grey rock, he angles the blade towards the advancing cats and continues inching along. Only a few more feet separate him from the safety of the broad platform of stone. Beneath him, one of the cats leans back onto its haunches. Its entire body trembles before it goes preternaturally still, preparing to make one last leap towards its prey.

Reading the movements, Will does the same. For a moment, they lock eyes. Blue to gold, predator to predator. Silence grips the square. Ben’s lungs strain against his ribs, but he doesn’t let himself breathe. Not yet. Not when it feels as if a single puff of air could alter the course of history in this moment.

The cat leaps.

So does Will.

He goes nearly parallel to the ground, his free hand reaching out for something he can catch himself on and his sword hand sweeping downward the same moment the cat swipes a clawed paw towards him.

The honed edge of the sword slices deep into the neck of the feline. A trail of blood droplets follows the arc of the blade as Will twists in midair, angling his body so his back will take the brunt of the impact and tucking his chin down into his chest. The cat yowls as it tumbles back, the sound turning into an awful gurgle before cutting off. Its body falls down the steep mountain face. Ben only catches a short glimpse before it tumbles off the screen, but he can see that Will cut deep enough that its head is barely hanging on by a few tendons and muscle fibers. A thick streak of red smears the rock where it fell.

With a grunt, Will slams into the ground, sliding over the dirt and loose rocks for a moment before his body stills. He remains there for several seconds before ever so slowly, he turns onto his side. Pressing his left hand into the ground, Will pushes himself up, dragging his feet beneath his shoulders. As soon as he puts his weight onto his legs, he gives out and he topples back down.

Any relief Ben felt at his brother’s life-saving maneuver is swelled out by a pulse of fear when he sees why his brother can’t stand.

A duo of long cuts, so straight and deep it looks almost surgical, extends from the middle of Will’s thigh down to his ankle. Ben had been so busy watching his brother he’d been oblivious to the fact that the cat had gotten him.

Each breath Will takes has blood oozing from the laceration until the leg of his pants are soaked and glistening a deep, sullen red. He tries, and fails, again to rise to his feet. Even using the sword as a support, he loses his footing and crumbles, his weight kicking up a cloud of dust when he hits the rock.

“In a stunning turn of events, it seems that the outcome of these Games have already been determined…”

Get up, Ben thinks with every shred of desperation he has. Get up, Will.

Will sluggishly turns onto his back, and hoists himself upright with his legs stretched in front of him. It seems to take every bit of energy he has to shrug his jacket off, and slide it underneath his bleeding leg. He brazenly ties the sleeves around his thigh until his arms are straining and the blood flow slows. The makeshift tourniquet may save his life, but it’s only a matter of minutes before the damage is so permanent that he risks losing the limb altogether.

Again, using his sword for support, Will heaves himself to his feet. He wobbles again, and Ben feels his heart rise into his throat before he steadies himself. Will straightens, and takes a few limping steps towards the final ascent. He’d been so busy tending to his wound, worrying about the big cats, that he hadn’t heard the approaching footsteps. Ben, too wrapped up in concern for his brother, hadn’t checked the other video feed, hadn’t heard the commentators call out in shock—

When Four crashes into Will and sinks a knife into his shoulder.

Ben, his father, the city square, the entirety of District Two, cry out in collective shock as Will and Four go down, Four pinning him with a roar so inhuman it sends a chill skittering over Ben’s bones.

It’s worse, so much worse than he’d imagined.

Blood sprays, and Will’s fingers splay when he hits the rock. His sword clattering too far for him to reach. Ben barely processes what he sees as he fights to remain upright. He feels the cameras in the square narrow in on him. He can’t give out. Not now.

Will rolls, flipping Four off of him and onto the ground, wrenching the knife in his shoulder free in the process. His blood drips down the blade as Four angles it in front of himself, his own arm shredded, likely from his encounter with those big cats. Will slowly climbs to his knees, beaten and bloody and entirely at a disadvantage. The blood, the dirt—he looks more animal than human when he bares his teeth.

Ben’s never seen anything like it. Anything so unearthly, so primal and raging.

Four leaps again, and Will leans down. As Four descends on him, Will straightens, and there’s a clang of metal on metal.

It takes a moment for Ben to understand what he sees.

But there’s Will, knife in hand, his face red with the effort it takes to keep Four from landing another blow. He’d lost his knife in the avalanche. He’d seen it.

How long had Will kept a knife hidden in his boot, waiting for a moment such as this to use it?

Will manages to deflect what would have been a life-ending blow, but they topple again. Four bellows as Will’s blade plunges into his forearm and twists. The shrieking of Four, coupled with the spray of blood, sends a chill weaving down Ben’s spine.

Move, move, move!

Four’s free hand slams into Will’s face hard enough to crack bone, and Will stumbles back, blood gushing.

Will just grunts, his brow bunching in pain and concentration.

Every part of Ben shakes.

Four punches his face again and the sound fracks from Ben, “Will.”

Four yanks his arm free of Will’s knife, blood spraying like rain as he slashes at Will. He catches Four’s wrist in the follow-through with both hands, pinning his arm across his body. Four swings with his free hand, the punch easily dodged this time by Will.

They stare at each other for long, uncounted moments, nothing between them but howling wind and heavy, pained panting.

Then Will does the last thing Ben expects him to.

He headbutts Four.

Will releases Four’s arm as he staggers towards the edge of the peak, right towards where the long-toothed cats stalk in wait. The blow proves disorienting enough, and though Four swings his arms wildly to regain his balance, he takes one step back too far back and plummets.

He screams as he falls, but it goes hauntingly quiet when he hits.

The impact of Four’s body on the stone is heard across the nation. They wait for the cannon, but there’s nothing.

The mutts attack.

Will sinks to his knees.

Ben clutches the rope so tightly his knuckles whiten. It could be minutes, it could be hours, before the cannon booms at last.

Will looks to the side, his eyes finding the camera as if he’s known precisely where it was the entire time. Something like relief shines there, overpowered by pain and fury and something feral as the announcer declares, “Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victor of the fifty-fourth Hunger Games, William Miller—the tribute of District Two!”

--

Two days later, Will’s final interview in the Capitol airs. Before now, he’s been kept keenly away from the cameras, and it becomes clear why the moment Ben sees him for the first time since his final glimpse in the arena. He wears a sharp grey suit, but any evidence of his injuries on his face have been wiped away. Whether by makeup or surgical alteration, Ben can’t tell. His skin is smooth and pristine, unmarred by bruises or cuts or even the faintest scar.

The crowd breaks into applause as Will is presented. He gives a winning smile, but the haunted glow is still there. He still looks a little too much like a cornered animal. His stylist is praised for his masterful capture of Will’s strength, physique, and iron-willed character.

Will sits in the victor’s chair like he was born for it. Maybe he was. He views the highlights with the rest of the nation, and answers his interviewer’s questions with grace.

“While you were there, in the arena,” says the host. “Was there any one thing that kept you going?”

Will seems to think on it for a moment, working his jaw over before he answers, “My brother. The whole time… I just wanted him to know that I love him.”

The audience croons about how strong and brave he is. Ben feels himself swell with pride.

He wants to be like Will one day, he thinks.

--

The wait for the train is its own agony.

District Two is nearest to the Capitol, but operations there don’t start until late in the morning on a good day. With the conclusion of the Games so fresh, it seems they need a few extra hours to get moving.

At last, the train rolls into the station late in the afternoon. No one comments on how Ben stood there, waiting for almost the whole day as more and more citizens of Two arrive to welcome their newest victor. They chatter amongst themselves, clearing space for Ben’s father as he arrives at last, fresh off his shift as the town’s head Peacekeeper.

As the train crawls to a halt, the voices around Ben die down, awaiting with bated breath for Will to show himself. Ben feels like he’s about to burst from his own skin with the anticipation—

The doors open, and there he is.

Will’s eyes snap to Ben’s almost instantly. The relief that cleaves through him almost knocks him to his knees.

Ben thinks it might have, had Will not leaped down and ran to him.

Will opens his arms, and Ben finds his way home.

--

Will remembers every face of every tribute in that godforsaken place.

The ones he killed directly haunt him the most.

He kept count of many things in the arena. The minutes that turned into hours that turned into days away from home… away from Ben. The number of breaths he still counted himself lucky to take. But most poignant of all was those faces. Each one, their faces as they died, had been etched into his memory. Every time he blinks, he sees them.

Ten. He killed ten of them.

The train barely makes a creak as it speeds over the railway. The ride from the Capitol to District Two isn’t long—barely an hour.

Though he grew up in one of the “wealthy” districts, there is a certain elegance to Capitol wares Will thinks he’s going to miss. He relishes in every moment he has left, wresting back thoughts of death and killing and betrayal.

He hadn’t been lying when he said it was Ben that got him through the worst of it in the arena. But that hadn’t been the whole truth, either. It was the thought of how he could redeem himself after so much tragedy, inflicting so much pain on others. He couldn’t do that if he let himself die in the arena.

How did Ben—little Benny, who perhaps wasn’t so little anymore but would always be to Will—see him now, at the end of it all? What could he say that would make all the violence, all the killing, right.

He didn’t know how, but he would do it. Will would make sure to see it done, no matter what it took.

Will is barely formulating what he can say to his brother when he feels the breaks engage on the train. All too soon, just like that, he’s back home… whatever home is, now. Sure, he’ll have the house in Victor’s Village and of course his family would be allowed to live with him, but the concept seems too foreign, now. He suspects it’ll take some time to adjust to that.

His mentor—a victor from about ten years ago, beckons him forward. Will’s legs are surprisingly shaky as he rises to his feet. Outside, he can hear the district already clapping, cheering for him. He tries to imagine Ben there, tries to pretend that his brother will be happy to see him, that he’ll be happy to see Ben.

The doors open.

Light floods the train car, and Will almost lifts a hand to block the sun. The initial surge of stimulus is overwhelming. The light, the sound, the unrelenting heat of the mountains. Will blinks hard to adjust his eyes.

As if by gravitational pull, he sees him.

His eyes find Ben’s, almost an exact mirror of his own. His brother’s eyes are wide, his face broken into a grin so wide it’s a wonder his skin hasn’t split.

That’s all it takes.

Will leaps down from the train car and runs. Every thought, every doubt, every word flees his mind as he takes in the sight of his brother. Healthy and whole and alive.

Ben’s there to meet him. They collide, and Will finds his way home.

[dangermousie]

I just loved this shot. I actually notice how often he is below her image (or her real self) looking up, which is such a key to the dynamic. It’s especially interesting because normally he is head and shoulders taller than she is so it has more of an effect. 

The thing I loved throughout the ep was that even as he couldn’t remember her outside her comic role, he was confused and bothered by her and just as the first time, she was the key to his self-awareness, she is the key this time as well - he became self-aware so far on this go around precisely because she was around, making him feel what his character is not supposed to feel, waking him up. He may be the only one able to change the story, but she is the only one who can wake him up so he’d do so. Talk about entwined. (Also, her little sad smile as she wants him not to remember her - my heart.)

Has anyone else been feeling that Haru has slowly been replacing Kyung within the narrative as well - it’s another example of story being bent due to the sheer force of will of the characters and trying to right itself somehow. Here, the classmates expect Kyung and get Haru, Haru now has girls swooning over him, he even throws the ball like Kyung. 

The real Haru is beginning to leach through more and more as the episode progresses - even when he doesn’t remember her, opening bottles for her is far cry from “don’t touch my shirt when you talk” Haru of his first moments past mind wipe.

OK, it’s official - Squid Fairy knows the madam somehow; I wonder if she was in the past comic.

This bit, with the smirk, gave me chills. Ju Da is becoming self-aware and she is nowhere near as maudlin nice as her fictional counterpart. I love it.

Also, she clearly likes Do Hwa in the shadows - look at her watching him practice or sadly staring at his picture on her phone. I actually like what EY is trying to say here, same as with Haru v Kyung - outside of a dramatic fictional set-up, why would any sane woman prefer a jerk to someone who treats you very well and is overall a wonderfully nice person?

Guess who else is self-aware! Kyung’s brother. I love the concept of pretty much everyone becoming self-aware eventually and the world descending into chaos.

This was kind of insane. He doesn’t like her with Kyung though on a conscious level that makes no sense for the character - you can see the programming and the real basically fight each other (and so he grabs Kyung’s hand as if he’s jealous of Kyung as some sort of a weird programming compromise.) 

Oh, Do Hwa. He is literally the nicest character in this drama - he cares for Dan Oh and Haru, he loves Ju Da expecting nothing in return, he even loves his oblivious programmed friend Nam Joo. He is a lesson in how to be selfless - but then so are Dan Oh and Haru as well - they put the happiness of the person they care about higher than their own. Meanwhile Kyung watches like an alien from another planet.

Yeah, you know that selfless gene? Kyung has whatever the opposite is. The scene where he had Haru bring flowers for him to give to Dan Oh - brutal. And some sort of perverse revenge for what - Dan Oh acting the way the author wanted her when she didn’t have control? Dan Oh not enlightening him (which why and how could she.) Awake Kyung is still a terrible person, even if more lowkey realistic one. It’s pretty clear he cares for Dan Oh insofar as he’s able to care for anyone, but he is incapable of a healthy, functional relationship or attitude. PS He’s also not that bright - doing all of that would make Haru self-aware faster.

Even memoryless, personality-changed Haru keeps this basic tenet of him because it’s at his core.

Haru mark 2 yells! And is emotional.He is much less quiet than his Haru mark 1 counterpart; probably because Haru mark 1 was almost mute and shellshocked by his experience and this one is not. I also love that he is confused and it bugs bugs bugs him to see Dan Oh treat him as a stranger and he has no idea why. And yes, he is self-aware now, in some record speed! Oh, and back to his staring up at her.

Oooof. This hit hard. It’s such an exploration of free will and reality and I cannot even imagine what a mind trip it would be to not even know if your basic memories, your basic sense of self and world is real - that even off stage you are made by memories and experiences that were not only controlled by another but that may not have existed at all. Real Kyung is still not fully so and can never be so because his personality has been shaped by events that never even happened, since I am sure there was no childhood portion in the manga. Does Do Hwa like Ju Da in the shadows because his character was made to like her on stage in the story and the feelings carry over and are a basic part of his personality now, even in reality?

This! This! Shivers. It reminds me of concepts like “how do I know this world is real and I am not just imagining it in my head; there is no way to prove it.” Or “how do we know the past actually happened and it’s not just a memory our brain made up and the whole world is just this moment; just in your head.” And, as I mentioned to @theseasasleep​, while the drama didn’t intend it, it made me think of predestination in Calvinism and how that concept always freaked me out - most other religions or branches of them allow the concept of free will and your ultimate fate changing depending on what you do, but Calvinism is like the world of EY - everything is predestined and predetermined - your character and ultimate fate and so what you do doesn’t really matter. I always wondered how the followers did not descend into nihilism and chaos (yes, good earthly fortune was supposed to be a sign of God’s grace but it wasn’t really necessary; and in its extreme, you could murder five people every day and still go to heaven since it was predetermined before you were born.) And in another thought about how much free will people have - people in RL have choices but so many of their choices and their reactions to choices are predetermined for them - by their circumstances, their upbringing, their very DNA. It’s more free will than in EY, but how much more? 

Final thought - EY is so smart and so good and gave me so much pleasure that I honestly don’t care if it sticks the landing; which is the same I felt with W and Queen In Hyun’s Man (I thought the latter stuck it perfectly, the former wobbled though I liked it anyway, in part because I just wanted Dong Chul to be happy after his hell of a life, and in part because I thought the concept was that once you became fully actualized and escaped authorial control, you were a real person and so moved to the real world.)

[scoundrels-in-love]

Did you slip in through open doors and sit down, just to look at me like that (every day) | Chapter 2 - Jaime I

Brienne doesn’t mean to lie to her father. She just wants him to stop trying to set her up with men who aren’t Jaime Lannister, whom she’s secretly in love with. Unfortunately, that’s exactly who eagerly inserts himself in the narrative as her fake boyfriend. And her father is coming to King’s Landing in two weeks.

Truly, what could go wrong?

Also on AO3. Still part of @jbmonthlymadness Mutual Pining March.

He is so, so fucked.

Not quite the same way he thought a week ago, but still very much fucked.

Jaime glances over to where Brienne is watching a game on the couch for what feels like the hundredth time this half hour. While that itself isn’t unusual, everything else is. Tenseness in her shoulders he isn’t sure he will lure out with a stupid joke and then slay with even worse one, the way they’ve barely spoken to each other today and that his heart is being harshly kneaded by some huge, clawed animal. He’d say it’s a lion, but considering his House that feels just a little cliche .

Though, according to Elia, he is a walking cliche and a terribly executed one, at that. He sighs, realizes that the beer bottle really isn’t where he’s blindly grabbing for it, and averts his gaze from his fake girlfriend. There is exactly one word too many in that title and it’s neither girl or friend. If only he could convince Brienne of the same.

Jaime has tried , he really has. Gotten up earlier to make sure he can prepare her coffee and go on a jog with her, kissed her goodbye on the cheek, pestered her into having a lunch during work hours and ordered takeout to arrive just after she got home the days he knew he’d be home even later than her, sent her obscure memes about animals he found on some nature activist group on Raventome that he frankly didn’t get but hoped she would and have a good laugh between work and more.

Granted, he does all these things regularly anyway (except the cheek kisses, but he isn’t sure they’re as much of a highlight of the day for her as they are for him), but now it’s daily. And it’s not a bother, like Brienne tries to convince him to think, and Jaime would gladly do it for the rest of the foreseeable future. Even waking an hour earlier, although he likes to think that if they were properly dating, he’d persuade her to explore other workouts they could do in the time without leaving the house.

Elia suggested it’s because she’s stressed about the convention, but Jaime knows better. (“Of course you do, that’s why you suggested to be her fake boyfriend instead of telling her you’ve been head over heels for her for years now.”) No, Brienne’s work has nothing to do with the skittishness in her eyes, the way she freezes when he presses lips to her delightfully reddening cheek, sometimes daring to brush corner of her mouth or lingering a second too long because her proximity makes him a little dizzy, or stumbles over conversations topics as if they are larger than boulders she can easily best when hiking. She doesn’t even shut down his flirtations anymore - instead she looks away and mumbles something or trips into the next topic.

Their new arrangement is the cause, and the realization has been rolling toward him like a house sized morning star down a gentle slope.

“Jaime? Movie’s starting,” subject of his sweet agony and worry calls out and Jaime realizes he has quite literally spaced out. And that perhaps his inner narrator is going a little overboard. Elia would have another laughing fit if she knew.

He grabs the snacks and another beer and presents them to her with a smile, falls heavily in his spot that earns a little bit of glare from Brienne because, of course, she’s concerned for the springs and one of these days he will tell her he can think of more interesting things to wreck their couch with. ‘One of these days’ feels like an awful stretch and ‘a mountainclimb later’ sort of thing, though. He heaves a sigh.

“Everything alright, Jaime?” she asks and he looks at her, armed with a bright smile and an easy no, when they crumble faced with concern that colors the blue of her eyes deeper, yet gilded shade like the last glimpse of sunset paints the sea. Of course Brienne finds time to worry about him, despite seemingly thinking she’s standing between two cannons labelled ‘work’ and ‘fake boyfriend’, ready to shoot.

He wants to pull her close and press a kiss to her furrowed brow so much he can physically feel an alternate reality, one where he’s braver and does just that, manifest.

Unfortunately, in this one Jaime only laughs and plops his head in her lap, facing the TV. “Of course I am, B. But if you’re so worried, you can always pet my head and tell me it’s going to be alright.” He likes it when she says that, the way she sets her jaw mulishly and seems to simply talk it into existence with sheer willpower and kindness. But never for herself, only others.

Brienne stills for a moment, then, much to his relief, makes indigant noise and pushes at his shoulder slightly but with no real force. “I’m not a cushion, Jaime” she tells him and he shifts just so he can grin up at her.

“C’mon, I’ve been a good boyfriend this week, have I not earned one lap cushion coupon? I must use it before it expires.”

“ Fake boyfriend,” she says seriously and Jaime looks at the screen again so she can’t witness his grin shattering like the window of Casterly Rock’s kitchen when he had been six and too eager while playing ball. He might feel even more chastised than after the lecture Tywin had given him, which had left a stone grinding sharp edge in his gut for a week.

“Fine, but I am not going to pet your head. You are not an overgrown housecat, no matter how much you may act as one,” Brienne relents, but by the end of the movie, she brushes back a strand he has shaken into his eyes and halfway through the second movie, she actually runs her hand through his hair and he barely manages to remain still, instead of following her hand like foam graces a wave’s edge.

All things considered, Jaime feels re-energized for the next week and his little war campaign on Brienne’s heart. He likes to think of it as war, though she is not a thing to conquer despite her truly formidable walls, just to trounce the narrative she has set for herself.

Once, before that fatefully shitty night when a pipe in his first own apartment burst and Brienne had invited him to stay over until it was fixed (and then he never really left), they had talked about who they would be in Targaryen and Stark eras, both revealing their dreams about knighthood.

Already knowing her love for ridiculous, historical(ly inaccurate) romance novels, he had joked if she’d not like ballads written about her instead, but Brienne’s face had shuttered and she had reminded him that no one would go to war for her . “I would rather defend the innocent and fight than stay home a sad and unmarried maid,” she had concluded, before going off about Blue Knight and other warrior women of Tarth. Jaime had already known back then that in any lifetime she’d be worthy of many great songs - of love and otherwise. But the bridge of their friendship was tentative still and he had had no intentions of being the one to lay the siege on her heart.

And when he had wanted to, he had already been so deep in the annoying, best friend role and still so utterly not having his shit together he didn’t feel he had the right to start the march. Someone better would surely come along. Except no one has, three years later still, and Brienne seems to think it’s a sign she only deserves a photoshopped suit-hanger and Jaime would rather be pierced endlessly by her glowering and risk her friendship that he treasures above anything he has ever known, than passively let her continue believing that.

For now, he’s only dying because of work, as they are currently quite swamped. It doesn’t help at all that his brain is a little (or a whole lot, but who’s counting) occupied with various Romance-Brienne-So-Hard-She-Doesn’t-Know-What-Hit-Her strategies. His plans for Friday come to immediate stop when he arrives home and finds Brienne fallen asleep at the kitchen table, her laptop’s screensaver of pixelated Kingslayer and Blue Knight from their favorite cartoon bouncing around the screen. He had installed it the first week of living here and despite her initial grumbling, she has never changed or disabled it.

This would be easier if Brienne’s one quirk when working at home wasn’t changing her workspace every few hours, as if it helps her think. It’s one of her most restless habits and typically, Jaime finds it adorable, but now that he has to haul half-asleep Brienne to her room he… Who is kidding, he also finds it endearing.

“Jaime, I can walk,” she scoffs, but leans on him anyway and when he helps her lay down on the bed, her eyes are soft and a little dazed and he thinks of early spring mornings, when nothing but the birds and clouds are awake yet, against the blueness of the sky.

Brienne curls up and he pulls a blanket over her and she gives him a sleepy smile, so warm that the consistent pull toward her feels anchored to the sun itself. He follows it and leans down and presses lips to her forehead. She exhales softly and when he pulls back, her eyes are closed, but there’s an almost sad turn to her lips.

“I really don’t want this to end, Jaime.” Her voice is so quiet he almost doesn’t hear - he wouldn’t if he wasn’t so close. His heart does an odd thing in his chest, something that would make it more of a rope dancer than a lion leaping through a ring of fire.

Jaime brushes a strand of her hair back, gently, in an attempt to reassure what odd fear has burrowed into her heart. He shouldn’t be so happy every time Brienne expresses she doesn’t want to lose him, but even her brilliant light can’t erase generations of carefully cultivated selfishness. “It doesn’t have to.”

“But it will.” And then she nuzzles deeper in the pillow and he knows this is a conversation to be finished (or maybe repeated) when she’s actually awake. Quietly, he walks out of the room and when the door has shut gently, bounces toward the living room with a grin that everyone would tell him begs for a punch.

There is hope for him yet.

[curioussubjects]

come be a season 12 truther, baby, with me

In honor of tonight’s Berens/Glynn episode (!!!!), I’d like to take y’all on a magical journey in which I share why I think Dean and Cas got together in season 12. 

Keep in mind that this post takes for granted that Dean and Cas are in love with each other and that their relationship has been increasingly coded as romantic with each passing season. Consequently, what this post does is point out some key moments in their relationship and argue why they don't get together before 12. I'll also go briefly over 13 and 14 for reasons I'll explain later in the post. First, though, let me go over seasons 4 through 11, with some pit stops along the way:

Seasons 4 & 5: this isn’t the destiel you are looking for. the ust is delicious, yes, and i, too, got sucked in posthaste immediately groped by an angel lj community style. At this point Cas is still too alien for anything beyond the development we see on screen happen. HOWEVER, season 5 is the first time we get to see Cas being human (The End) and Cas being less connected to heaven and how that affects his behavior. This will matter. 

Seasons 6 & 7: the pining omg the pining. The notable things I want to point out with these seasons is a. this is the beginning of Cas doing things to spare Dean and it not ending well (Cas dies #1, soulless!Sam); b. Dean is v. sad; and c. we also start noticing the emotional toll of Cas’s divided loyalties and how human he has actually become since s4. Hurty feels all around.  

Season 8: purgaytory babes aw yeah! Still lots of terrible awful pining. This is a turning point with the addition of the bunker as tfw hq: we have a home in play now, a static emotional center. Cas is still off doing his own thing, Dean still wishes Cas would just let him (+ Sam) help out. Cas going off on his own leads to disaster #2 (Angels fall, Cas loses his Grace). For all deliciously angsty get together purgatory fics and spec, there’s too much of a gap between Dean and Cas on Cas’s part due to his guilt over betraying the Winchesters in s6 & slaughtering angels & leviathan. On the other hand, we do see Dean being more emotionally open, but to no avail. Bad timing. This is a trend. [oop also worth noting we get Dean being kinda done with the one night stand thing because always with the adios and ahem also hint hint Cas refusing to stay put]

Seasons 9 & 10: aka Dean and Cas make bad decisions, but mostly Dean. The biggest turning point here is Cas being human for an extended period of time. There is still plenty of spec over the effects of being human on Cas’s Grace and his Soul. What we can say for sure, though, is that Cas is much more human once he becomes an angel again. In contrast to s8, s9 sees Cas being vulnerable and Dean pushing him away (first because of Gadreel, which he didn’t want to do really and that’s even sadder kdjfgksdfj & later because he was pushing everyone away due to the mark).  

9.06 Heaven Can’t Wait: there’s been so much amazing fic and spec about this episode with its fanfiction gap, but I can’t see a deancas get together here, folks. I know, it’s terrible. The lying from Dean and the hurt from Cas, imo, make the distance between them quite insurmountable at this point. While the episode is amazing (Bobo’s debut, too! So ♥) and has some notorious subtext throughout, I just can’t see the character bridging that gap into anything physical, much less emotional. Nevertheless, this episode does show perhaps the first intentional romantic tableaux with Dean and Cas, and that’s not nothing. 

10.16 Paint it Black: from the point Dean gets the mark of cain until the end of season 10, anything between him and Cas is quite impossible. But one of the reasons I’m bringing up this episode in particular is because of the confession scene. For one, it’s a rare bit of emotional honesty from Dean and for two, it tells me that while he and Cas may be well aware of the thing between them, it’s still uncharted waters. Makes sense, too, there’s been A LOT going on since s6.  Anyway, he’s the full confession, so we can put a pin on it:

You know, the life I live, the work I do…I pretty much just figured that that was all there was to me, you know? Tear around and jam the key in the ignition and haul ass until I ran out of gas. I guess I just thought sooner or later, I’d go out the same way that I live – pedal to the metal, and that would be it. [...]  Now, um… recent events, uh… make me think I might be closer to that than I really thought. And…I don’t know. I mean, you know, there’s – there’s things, there’s…people, feelings that I-I-I want to experience differently than I have before, or maybe even for the first time. [...]  Yeah, I’m just starting to think that… maybe there’s more to it all than I thought.

Do you ever see a character having an epiphany and find yourself wanting to cry because this is it right here. Dean is just blatantly admitting he wants more, which all culminates in season 11, so...

Season 11: The pining is still here, but it’s worse now since it’s the whole plot? It’s been *checks calendar* 5 years of this. How are any of us still kicking I don’t know. Your slow burns could never. Cool worth noting points: Cas says yes to Luci (bad decision #2.5, lots of mitigating effects_I don’t actually hold it against him that much but Dean is another story & not entirely rational at this point); for the first time since the early days, Dean and Cas are on equal grounds: they’ve both fucked up a lot and have hurt each other. The issues this season are outside their dynamic. Amara and Lucifer here serve as externalizing forces for Dean and Cas’s problems and by the end of the season we’re getting a clean slate. We’re also getting a new showrunner, so. No wonder. What this season does that is also super important is that it sets up the stage for the possibility of an actual relationship between Dean and Cas, something that has, up until this point, been pretty much impossible. 

11.04 Baby: Y’all know what I’m about to quote here, right? The convo between Dean and Sam about having something with someone who understands the life. Here we still have Dean reverting to the idea that it’s impossible, which is a direct contrast to the openness in 10.16. It’s understandable, though, considering there’s been little reason to think anything like that would be possible (see all the mess and poor timing from seasons past). The quote in question, though, marks a continuing development in on of the things Dean is struggling with this season:

DEAN: Piper? That's awesome. Heather. One-night wonders, man. Shoot, we're lucky we still get that at all.  SAM: Really? You don't . . . Ever want something more? DEAN: I'm sorry, have you met us? We're batting a whopping zero in domestic life, man. Goose eggs. SAM: You don't ever think about something? Not marriage or whatever. But . . . Something? You know, with a hunter? Somebody who understands the life?

Compare this exchange with what we get from 11.11 and 11.19:

11.11 Into the Mystic: I’m bringing this episode as a crossreference to 10.16 and to show again that for all the closeness between Dean and Cas there’s still a marked distance they haven’t yet bridged. Thanks Mildred for the delicious exposition:

Darlin'...If there's one thing I've learned in all my years on the road, it's when somebody's pining for somebody else. [...]  Oh, don't try and hide it now. Follow your heart. Remember?

11.19 The Chitters: Continuing our trek regarding Dean wanting certain things we have this gift of an episode with Jesse and Cesar, and this exchange:

Dean: [with realization] Oh, so … [points back and forth to Jesse and Cesar] Cesar: Yeah. Dean: Okay, that’s… Cesar puts his beer bottle on the table and looks at Dean, while Jesse is being silent. Dean: What’s it like, settling down with a hunter? Cesar: Smelly, dirty. [turns to Jesse] Twice the worrying about getting ganked.

I’d like to point out, too that the fear of getting ganked is thematic when it comes to the tension between Dean and Cas. More on this when we hit s13. 

Alright, now having said that, let’s take a look at season 12. Bear in mind, this is the official start of Dabb’s era, even if he kinda began taking over in 11, and the change in vibes is obvious. In fact, 12 jumped out at me as a turning point in retrospect, after getting smacked by the domesticity of 13 and 14. Under the cut because I can’t shut up, and things are long enough as is. 

Season 12:  Finally, the promise land, y’all. So, what s11 was for Dean in terms of setting up the relationship stage, s12 was for Cas. In its initial beats, any way. Important to keep in mind that until the Kelly debacle, this was the longest Cas has been around the bunker. Things seem remarkably chill. Of course, we’ll notice that there’s still a lot of baggage hanging around because despite Dean and Cas being in a more stable place, they haven’t actually dealt with their interpersonal problems. I didn’t single out directly this episode, but do keep in mind Cas’s declaration in 12.09 First Blood as far as how much the Winchesters matter to Cas & how we also see Dean and Cas be particularly singled out with them seating together in the backseat of the Impala. 

12.10 Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets: This episode, oh my god, the goodness. In the wake of 12.09 we have Dean and Cas in a tiff because Cas mistake #3 (killing Billie and “cosmic consequences”), this is a pattern. Twice the worry of getting ganked, etc etc. But where this episode really shines is through the contrast between Ishim’s obsession with Lily and Cas & Dean’s mutual affection for each other. Ishim sees no difference here and, to him, Cas’s feelings for Dean are a human weakness. Returning to my point about human!Cas, this episode underscores that Cas’s increasing humanity is what puts him in the place where he can want what Dean wants instead of either being too alien to get it (see s4 & 5) or unable to experience it properly (Ishim). 

12.12 Stuck in the Middle (With You): Cas’s trajectory culminates here with the whole I love you (@ Dean), I love all of you (@ Winchesters). Let’s note too that Cas is dying here, in a way that is much more human than going up in light. This declaration of different types of love is entirely human. It’s also a definitive step wrt to Cas and Dean’s relationship because of what happens in 12.19. This. is. it.

Offscreen happenings: Mixtape, how Cas knows the Colt is under Dean’s pillow. This is hella suspicious. 

12.19 The Future: This episode changes everything, y’all (bobo and meredith, folks, bobo and meredith ksjdhfakjshlfksd). Consider watching this episode again and pay attention to some weird things: 1. Dean’s reaction to Cas going awol. Compare it to Sam’s, who is like whoa Dean chill. Now, thought experiment, imagine something happened between Dean and Cas, and then just radio silence from Cas. Imagine how Dean would react with getting ghosted by Cas specifically after something happened between them.  2. Cas comes back to the bunker with the specific goal of stealing the Colt, which he already knew was under Dean’s pillow -- something Sam didn’t even know.  3. “He came into my room and he played me.” So, this quote right there, makes it seem like some seduction for personal gain, right? But Cas clearly knew where the Colt was already, which means something happened before  Cas came back to the bunker. Cas played Dean in seeming to have reconsidered not working with Sam and Dean wrt Kelly. This is still a point of drama, but it leads somewhere else (see s13 & s15). 4. WHEN DID DEAN GIVE CAS THAT MIXTAPE OMG 5. Dean and Cas’s brief convo in Dean’s room is clearly Dean just wanting Cas to stay, so they can work (and be) together -- because they’re better that way. Which, yeah, truth. 

Sequence of events: Cas tells Dean he loves him -- Dean is clearly shook by it -- Dean gives Cas a mixtape (romantic gesture, often a declaration of feelings; in true Dean speak too lolsobs) -- Cas somehow knows the Colt is under Dean’s pillow -- ???? -- Cas goes awol -- Dean acts like he got ghosted by his partner.

Like. Y’all realize they probably had some emotionally constipated getting together moment, right? Something that Dean clearly initially thought meant things were gonna change, now. Something that Cas couldn’t allow to happen until he could give Dean a win. Y’all are seeing this, yeah? I’m not saying they slept together and were full of feelings, except that’s kind of what I’m saying. But ymmv, there are other possibilities beyond sex. The full of feelings isn’t up for debate, though, even if the whole thing is informed by ridiculous amounts of miscommunication. 

Ok, maybe the narrative is still too subtle (?????), but as I said before, looking at 12 with the knowledge of 13 and 14 does offer a new perspective because of the difference in dynamic between Dean and Cas. I know lots of people look at 14, mainly, as having dialed back on the destiel side of things, but I always thought that was a strange take. Largely because they’re so domestic and their dynamic, ie, the lack of tension, reads like an established relationship. It’s a different kind of beast than we have been used to so far, so it does look alien on screen, especially since we “skipped” the conventional getting together cue that would let us change gears. Let’s take a look at 13 and 14, then.

Season 13: Ah, yes, the season of shit gets domestic. The pining? Gone? What? Deancas now reading like an established couple? It’s more likely than you think.

13.1-13.5: Dean’s grief mini-arc. Dude’s acting like a widower. We all know this. I want to gesture towards the reunion moment though with “it’s never too late to start all over again.” To. Start. All. Over. Again. I’m just saying. 

13.6 Tombstone: hi this episode is pure love and Dean is so happy his sweetheart is back from the dead? He’s even ok being Jack’s third dad now? What a time to be alive. Also? apparently Dean and Cas were just having movie night together? Dates? Mutual Pining dates prior to shit going to hell in 12? Do you ever cry? What else are they getting up to offscreen? What else will they get up to off screen? MUCH TO THINK ABOUT. 

Season 14: MORE DOMESTICITY. With some pining because Michael. But...heart eyes when Dean comes back? Watch that scene again with Dean going off to shower. Suspicious. But then shit hits the fan and we’re all sad again. boo. 

14.15 Peace of Mind: Look me in the eye and tell me Dean and Cas talking in the kitchen about Jack doesn’t read like husbands talking about their child. Look me in the eye and tell me Cas just texting Dean to gossip about Sam isn’t coupley asf. 

14.18-14.20: Ah, yes, the divorce arc. Awful. Terrible. The culmination of Dean’s problem in all this: he lashes out, he pushes Cas away, his anger is alienating. Cue all of us suffering. But while Dean is clearly in the wrong in how the deals with his feelings, let’s not pretend some of his anger doesn’t come from a long established issue between him and Cas, which had its last traumatic turn when Cas died in s12. Dean isn’t being rational here; he saw Cas doing something on his own, and he saw that his mother is dead. What else could happen? Why won’t Cas just trust they can work as a team? Divorce arc was entirely too literal. 

But what about what we’re building up in 15? That seems like it could be a getting together plot, too, right? Well, yeah. It could very well be. But I’d argue the tension we’re seeing isn’t a will they or won’t they because they already have. The tension is instead will they or won’t they use their words to talk about the baggage that has kept them from truly being confident about their relationship. There’s a crucial step in their togetherness that they’re still missing, which is also the bedrock of the divorce arc that spanned TWELVE FRIGGIN’ EPISODES. Y’all. Y’all that’s half a season. And we’re not even entirely done with it yet because Dean was cut short in purgatory, and they haven’t dealt with Cas’s side of blame in this mess yet either -- that Cas keeps going off on his own and getting hurt (and getting other people hurt), and Dean has to deal with the fallout. The deep emotional understanding, the truly being on the same page is what we’re on the edge of our seats for. And, you know, that’s a whole lot more exciting than witnessing their for realsies first kiss. I’m also confident Dabb & co will deliver the conclusion to this emotional arc and it will be a whole mess of feelings on all our parts. 

For the moment, though, it’s looking a lot like Dean and Cas had a rocky start to their ~involvement, then DEATH, then they got together feat. sweet sweet domestic fluff, then DIVORCE. So, yeah. Season 12, guys; it’s where it’s at. 

As for the more performative aspect of Dean and Cas’s relationship…that’s a whole other thing and all I can say is they got the green light for something, but I don’t know what it is and it’s driving me bananas, but it’s definitely something and we can talk about that, too. Place your bets, etc.  I’m clowning on the “I love you” pay off because it’s a glaring missing piece in this whole story. See also: holding hands? Carving Cas’s initials on the table? Saileen endgame parallels? All supported by the narrative. Like a lot. So. *finger guns*

[alopiassupersillyosus]

Thoughts on Miracle Queen and Heart Hunter

It wasn’t that bad (heads up, TLDR at bottom)

Sure, a lot of things were disappointing on the surface. Chloe is back to being an idiot/another akumatized miraculous holder, the big reveal to hawkmoth of all the heroes so far, the weird possible implication of romance between Alix and Max which should never be a thing, master fu, and probably a few that I don’t remember reading.

But I think, if we think a bit deeper on this, it’s not a lazy attempt at writing. 

To start, Chloe is a human being. We cycle through when it comes to change because we can’t just go from being/acting one way to behaving another way. She’s learning to trust, and she has been a relatively better person (she is the ONLY one who has fought off an akumatization. Marinette hasn’t been able to do that). Her mother seems to have had a huge influence on her, and it was HER parents who were akumatized, you can see why she might’ve been a good choice to go up against them. Plus, if Queen bee paralyzed them in place, it might’ve been a lot easier to take them down. Strategically and emotionally, she probs should’ve been selected, but Mari was in crisis mode with her feelings. So I’d say it’s a justified moment of weakness, even if it’s a little wishy-washy.

Since we mentioned her, let’s take a moment to look at Mari in these two episodes, shall we? She’s breaking, finally coming to terms with something she already knew was under way. This season seems to have been leading up to Marinette breaking down. We started with noticing she was making akumas almost as often as Chloe, whether she meant to or not. When she went to the museum, she started to really face the fact Adrien doesn’t have feelings for her, and she’s noticing her own feelings waver too. On top of this, we also see her resolve crumble - she’s been able to avoid akumas for a while, but when she was expelled, she was akumatized for a brief period. At this point, she’s got a LOT on her shoulders. In these two episodes we see her finally open up a little when she tells Luka she’s sick of having to put up a front all the time. Remember, poor girl has not been allowed to feel sad, or overtly angry, or any negative emotions because the ladybug miraculous holder specifically CANNOT break. Chat noir we can almost come back from, but the ladybug miraculous has the purification ability. So she’s been all bottled up, and breaking slowly. While all this is going on, she’s moving away from romantic ideas of Adrien, we see her resolve when she lets Adrien and Kagami get ice-cream together, almost in defeat. Contrast this with the end of the episode, where she’s a lot more sicure in this moment (not fully because, as with Chloe, change takes time. It takes relapses), and she brings her dessert to Luka, letting go of Adrien. 

ALSO DID WE NOTE HOW COMFORTABLE SHE IS GETTING WHEN SHE STOPS THINKING OF HIM ROMANTICALLY

Same goes for Adrien, he’s been reducing his creepy persuant culture of Ladybug when he’s Chat Noir, and we can see this in the lack of “My Lady”s in the two episodes. Sure, as mentioned before, CHANGE TAKES TIME, so he’s not completely ready to be with Kagami. And WHAT A MATURE YOUNG ADULT to say “I don’t think I’m ready yet” as opposed to forcing himself to do something he can’t yet do. Even if he wants to. That’s what kids should learn these days. 

Also, look at that, you lose all your memories when you’re no longer a guardian, that surely won’t come back to bite us later. Right? Bro, that hurt like anything, but that opens wayz up to being utilized by Nino (as hawkmoth only knows him as a hero, but not which hero). Also, think of the implications for Marinette. She might have to let go of being guardian at the end of the series and forget everything, OR she could give fu back the title, or an individual the title, and she can continue to be LB. IDK, it’s open-ended and a nice possibility for added drama later on. That’s only lazy to me if they don’t utilize it, for now I’d like to think the writers were just being clever. 

What’s next? Oh, Max and Alix? That’s all that’s left. Cool. If that’s a romantic implication I do not accept it. These two would be a forced narrative and I have no need for it. People do not need to be coupled up to be complete.

BUT

If they were there bc they’re chill-bro cool friends, possibly on the Ace/Aro spec, then I’m totally here for that representation. Even if they aren’t Ace/Aro, but they’re just showing that 2 bros, chilling with an ice cream that insinuates romanticism, can still hang platonically and platonically share that ice-cream, I’m also for that. Show me a girl and a guy can hang out without romantic entanglements getting in the way. That’s the Alix and Max I know.

TLDR;

Chloe has been through a lot, and change takes time. Real change will have relapses. Marinette is breaking, but also working through it and coming to terms with loss in a way. Pursuant culture is bad. Chat Noir is starting to realize that No means NO and it doesn’t matter how many times you ask. It’s creepy to keep asking. Guardian memory loss is a possibly delicious drama starter and actually brilliant so I hope it’s done well. Max and Alix make a great platonic duo.

and most importantly

Just because you didn’t agree with an episode didn’t make it bad, and it didn’t make the writing lazy. These writers are playing the long game. We just passed the halfway marker.

[arigatouiris]

out of my league // t. h — 02

Pairing: Tom Holland x Critic! Reader [I use female pronouns]

Warnings: swearing; eventual fluff; angst; hurt/comfort; a little bit of cliche because come on.

A/N: If Tom seems a bit out of character here, I apologize. This is after all, my first time writing for him, and it’s all based other fanfiction I’ve read about him or how I see him on screen. Do let me know what you think, it’d be great if some of you had pointers! 

Also, the story does start out a bit slow in the beginning, but trust me, there’s a lot of stuff that’s going to happen that can potentially make things very, very interesting. So hoping to see your reactions~

Thanks for all the love and support, darlings~ 

Word count: 2845 

Series Masterlist

 01 | 02 | 03 |

Ch. 02

At times when (y/n) was not critiquing, she found herself buried in books. She would never call herself an avid reader because she was working most of the time, and for her, reading to write a review didn’t come under reading for fun. 

     It had been close to a year since she had read anything that she didn’t have to critique, and for the first time, she felt a tad bit cheerful for it. It was a book called The Girl Who Fell From The Sky, and narratives such as these always caught her eye. However, this wasn’t how it used to be. Things before never phased her when she was buried into a book; she could man any distraction and not let it come between her mystic connection with the book she held in her hands. However, now, being an adult changed everything.

    (y/n) found it hard to maintain concentration—this didn’t mean that the book wasn’t interesting; she found it interesting enough, though, whenever her phone went off for a notification, her eyes would instantly lift off the page and land on her phone. 

The hate mail fell in number, but they came nonetheless. While some were personal, others were not too fond of her physique and mannerisms on social media. (y/n) had to shut down and deactivate Facebook, Instagram, and didn’t bother to even check Twitter after the fiasco. It had been three days since her break and last conversation with Mr. Holland, after which he hadn’t tried contacting her or approaching her for another apology.

But, these days, journalists made sure that the shelf life for any news story lasts longer than it intentionally was supposed to last. It wasn’t as if they had something against (y/n), it was simply them doing their jobs, and making sure they get enough viewership and interaction with the audience as possible. And here, in London, people loved the best Spiderman, and people loved the man who played the tragic character, Lionel—Tom Holland. 

And even if (y/n) never personally attacked Tom, and attacked instead a writer who was always constantly attacked by even the most amateur of critics, news channels made sure to squeeze as much juice out of this story—(y/n)—as possible.

    And this meant going through her critiquing history.

That Wednesday night, (y/n) remembered watching Love, Actually for the thousandth time, alone in her little cozy home, ignoring the rain outside during the monsoons that pervaded London. After the movie ended, teary eyed for being the secret romantic that she was, (y/n) swiped across random channels until her eyes fell on a picture of herself on television. Immediately, she checked the time. It was over 9 o’ clock. It was prime time. She was doomed.

How am I not off the news yet? Really? They’re going to punish me for doing my job? The tears, they fell now because of the news and not Hugh Grant’s handsomeness. Covering her mouth with both hands, she watched in shock as Jenny began to narrate another story of hers. A story she hadn’t thought was serious.

    “Turns out that our favourite critic,” Jenny gestured sarcastically, “had also gotten into a small duel with another actor before Tom.”

    “That did not happen.” (y/n) whispered, grimacing at the screen.

    “Apparently, after having viewed the hit movie, Do You Remember Us? starring Chris Evans, (y/n) had written a nasty review about the direction of the movie!”

(y/n) groaned. Chris was such a sweetheart, she remembered fondly. He even made a statement on the internet saying how much he liked the review and how he understands the displeasure several fans felt with the way the film was directed. 

     Slow and neat in the first half and rushed toward the end—forcing an exit for the character in the movie, which wasn’t called for in the slightest. But, journalists never pay heed to comments that could lighten the bruise on the person in question. It was almost as if news channels were bullying her for being a critic, and perhaps, it was because she had made so many others in the past very unhappy for the reviews she had written.

    She knew when she got into this job that it wasn’t appreciated by several artists. Years and years put into bettering her best, (y/n)’s words were considered truth almost, for how raw and real her critiquing style was. She made it a point to talk about good things and bad things in every movie or TV show or book she criticized, and criticizing never meant just saying bad things. 

Movie directors would often appreciate her good reviews and saw that more people turned up to their films after the review was published. And even if she had written a disappointing review, (y/n) always made it a point to never badmouth any artist—it was their hard work at the end of the day. A vision that they saw, which perhaps didn’t deliver in the best way for the audience. And this is no one’s fault. Rushed or otherwise, (y/n) ensured that her reviews, bad or good, would talk about the importance of art as a whole.

But, all of that didn’t matter right then. She was hated because Tom Holland “hated” her review and didn’t agree with her. No other celebrity had ensued a statement for her review in such a way before, not directly at least. Displeased writers or directors would contact her personally and ask for an explanation, which she would handle very professionally.

     If only Tom had contacted her—not that he had any right to since there was nothing bad written about her in that review. If only he had read the entire review, he could have seen how (y/n) had mentioned some of the key writing skills that Jean did possess.

She stood up immediately, with a newfound confidence. Heading to the kitchen counter, this decision of hers that popped up out of nowhere, had in fact, come from one place—loneliness and sadness; the two often came together, and weren’t good influences. 

     Picking up the bottle of wine carefully, (y/n) didn’t bother about taking a glass out. The wine bottle had already been opened the night she had written the review, it needn’t be poured into the glass at the moment. I don’t care anymore, she thought before gulping down a mouthful of the red wine, which stung the back of her throat the second it was swallowed. She was never really too much of a drinker, but the night called for it. Turning off the television, (y/n) decided to drink with the quiet tune of her raging thoughts.

    It took five such gulps and fifteen more minutes for her to officially fall under the dangerous level of intoxication. She was giggling at nothing now, teary eyed for reasons that all fell under moronic during normal circumstances. Intoxication had its own way of letting you know how alone you are in the world; of how to doubt your choices, and how to not be proud of them. 

These thoughts came slowly and almost hesitantly, but when they came, it was as if they were welcome.

Her phone rang, but she didn’t pick the call. She thought of Jean, and she thought of how she wanted to call him up—she had his contact from a few earlier reviews, all of which were not so pleasant—and she thought of demanding an explanation. She thought of Susannah, of how she once thought of her manager as the nicest person on the planet, but was someone who only cared first for the firm and (y/n) came slowly following behind like a lost puppy. 

     She thought of all the years of hard work she had put to come to a position where writing those reviews made her money. She worked as a reporter, and on the desk, and almost everywhere and overtime to get to this spot—and it was snatched from her for simply doing her job.

    And she thought of Tom Holland. The attractive and kind actor, whose performance as Spiderman in the Avengers series tore a hole in her heart. She remembered how she sobbed uncontrollably when Peter Parker faded into dust in Tony’s arms. She remembered how she sobbed uncontrollably when he was brought back, again in Tony’s arms. She thought of all the nice things she had written about Tom, the bubbling little high school girl crush that was dormant inside of her led to further disappointment since it was the very same Tom that had taken her hard work away.

As if it were a reverie, drunk (y/n) noticed her phone ringing at last. Trudging toward her device, she saw that the caller ID wasn’t visible. And just as she was about to pick the call, the call ended. In her intoxicated state, she checked how many times this person had called her—there were four missed calls. Blinking a couple of times, and before she lay her phone back on the couch, it rang again. This time, she picked. And this time, she didn’t care if she sounded drunk.

    “Who is it~?” Her voice was sing song.

There was shuffling on the other side, and no answer.

    “Are you... another journalist? Calling to get a note from me for the review I wrote—”She was hiccuping now. “I’m sorry, so yeah. Where was I?” She giggled after this sentence.

It was as if the person on the other end was simply waiting. (y/n) took this as a positive for her questions.

    “I knew it! Okay, okay, okay. Whaddaya wanna know?” She dragged the ‘o’ at the end of her question.

    “I didn’t even write anything bad about Tom… Did you guys even—”Hiccup. “—read the review? Don’t my old reviews count anymore?” She dragged the ‘ore’ at the end of her question. “I wrote such nice things for Tom before! Even on here! I can’t believe he made that satement, oops. I meant, statement. Sorry.”

There was still no voice on the other end.

    “I just did my job, really.” Her voice was low now and perhaps, the intoxication had reached the level of sadness, which allowed her to cry. “I don’t want to be hated on like this.. I pretend as if those words don’t hurt me, but they do!” She dragged the ‘oo’ in the end of her sentence.

    “I’m sorry.” Came a voice that she couldn’t recognize.

    “You have nothing to be sorry for, journalist.” She said, smiling wide, tears falling down her cheeks.

When the call ended, (y/n) decided she had had enough. Going to bed seemed the only viable option, after having such an intense conversation with a stranger.

    “Is something the matter?” Harry asked, staring at his brother.

    “Yeah, your face is funny.” Sam said, grinning.

Tom looked up at his brother with a straight face.

    “I meant, you look very sad over somethin’. Is everything alright?”

Tom sighed. It was the kind of sigh you sigh when something is so wrong and you blame nothing but yourself for leading it there. Harry and Sam looked at each other before looking back at their brother. Tessa was asleep next to Tom, and if she could talk, maybe she’d know what was up in Tom’s mind.

    I feel so bad for her, Tom thought, recalling the conversation (or the lack thereof) he had with (y/n) over call a couple of hours ago. She was quite obviously drunk, another fact he felt terrible for. Tom was quite an observant person, and he could hear it in her tone how sad she actually was. 

As if a shock came over his body, Tom quickly opened his phone and browsed for her reviews—the ones she had written on Spiderman and Avengers; the ones she had mentioned were nice.

    Tom felt worse for not having read them before. She had written descriptively on how well thought out the movie was, and had even mentioned Tom’s improvisation at the end (the scene where he said he didn’t want to go, as Tony Stark held him in his hands). He sighed once more, the same distressed sigh, and rubbed his hand under his jaw. 

     He had called to apologize, having seen her in the news. It was the first time he had seen her face, (e/c) eyes and a nice smile, her hair neat and kempt. Another failed apology, he thought before laying back on the couch.

The next morning, Tom called her first thing, during his morning run. For a second he thought maybe it was too early and that she might still be asleep, but when she picked the call, he felt his heart skyrocket.

    “Hi, I called you last night—”

    “That was you?!” She didn’t sound pleased.

Tom chuckled nervously.

    “Oh my God, you heard me when I was drunk? Couldn’t you have stopped me! This is so embarrassing!”

    “No, no! I didn’t mind! I mean—” Shit, what am I saying? “I meant, I can understand. You don’t have to feel embarrassed—”

    “Mr. Holland, I did not want to cry out my sorrows to you when I was intoxicated. You could have at least let me know that it was you on the other end. What was that?!”

Tom was quiet. He knew he had stressed her out, but now he genuinely wanted to help. He stayed up almost half the night reading so many of her reviews, seeing how she had never insulted a single artist or writer for their art, but only criticized the story. Tom, who had no idea how critiques were written or what thought went into it (and had only believed it was saying bad things, honestly), had finally learned that there was more to criticising than met the eye. (y/n) was a hard working woman, and Tom had somehow made things quite difficult for her.

    “Listen, (y/n), can I call you that?”

There was no response. Perhaps, she had understood that he had something to say, and was allowing him the chance to speak.

    “(y/n), I really want to apologize for what happened. I made a mistake and reacted hastily. I’m going to make things right, but I want to run it by you once before I do it. Please let me apologize to you properly over coffee? I insist—”

    “I already told you, Tom,” his heart beat faster at the way she said his name. It made him feel terrible. Her talking reminded him of his guilt. “I don’t want to meet you for coffee, and if I can recall, I asked you to leave me be.”

    “Yes! Yes, you did. But, listen, I just feel so terrible—Oh my God.”

What Tom saw was a bunch of photographers heading his way. Recognizing him was fairly easy, and because he was on call, he had forgotten to take the path that could have avoided the early morning paparazzi that was waiting for him at the “posh” end of town. Tom groaned before turning around hastily and making a run for it, looking like a complete fool for doing so the way he did, but there was no other faster reaction his brain offered.

    “Hello?” (y/n) was growing impatient.

    “I really have to call you back, (y/n), I am so sorry—”

    “Don’t call me back. Good day, Mr. Holland.”

And there goes another wasted effort for an apology.

Tom didn’t call her back. Not like she expected him to, she had made things too hard for him to apologize. She half expected him to tell one of his friends about how he’s tried so hard to apologize and how she’s being so hard on him—and this invariably getting on the news as well, garnering more hate for her. 

     (y/n) licked her lips before putting on a white baggy sweater. She sat at the edge of her bed and brought her legs up and folded them under her, before grabbing the book she was reading earlier. Just as she read a sentence, her house bell rang.

    “Coming!” She called out, before stopping midway.

What if they’re journalists? It couldn’t have been hard for them to find out where I live, her heart was beating at 300 mph at the moment with the mere thought that it could be reporters at her doorstep. She didn’t have the heart nor the energy to deal with any other person at the moment. Her heart had already been damaged way too much.

    The bell rang once more, and her heart along with it.

(y/n) cursed loudly for not having a peephole through which she could have seen who was on the other side. She had to open the door before finding out who was on the other side. Shutting her eyes and quickly muttering a prayer to who knows what, (y/n) opened the door.

And the shocked face she made perhaps didn’t startle Tom as much as his awkwardly smiling face startled her.

series taglist: 

@strangemaximoff​​, @aestheticgaybish​, @noobmaster63​​, @why-are-all-the-teens-gay​​, @wonders-of-the-multiverse​​, @boushalaivre​​, @jackiehollanderr​​, @nerdypisces160​​, @yourwonderbelle​, @quackson606​, @stickyqueenbouquetsstuff

[vampirearataka]

Poor, Lonely Whitey

Reigen’s lasting affect on Mob can be seen throughout the series, one of the more famous, the analogy of not pointing knives at someone ie psychic powers. However he points a knife at Mob emotionally— and is thus left behind.

This is an analysis of Reigen’s actions and behaviors, specifically in Season II, Episode 6, and why he would lash out on Mob the way he does.

TLDR: reigen projects onto mob the feelings he has about not being enough and lonely and depressed and manipulated, and when that fails he bottles it up and pretends to move on

First off, I’m so proud of Mob for sticking up for himself. He had a great time this episode with his friends!!! But when Reigen says “Grow up for crying out loud!... I’m one of the biggest reasons you’re able to control your powers!”

Reigen invalidates all the progress we’ve seen Mob making. We open after the title sequence seeing Mob do the most push ups he has— that’s his progress! Yet, Reigen pulls him away from the friends he holds dear and tries to make him think that the Reigen Savior Trope is a reality.

But it’s not. And thus, Reigen is alone again.

Throughout this episode, I believe one thing is made clear: how hard his depression hits him. Depression isn’t always crying at night, constantly crying “woe is me!” It can also be apathy. Exciting new events can just feel.. mundane.

You would think leaving a crappy job and starting a business would be exciting. He appears rather bored and to have rented the place without a plan. This makes it clear he wanted a change from the repetitivity white collar work has.

But we’re seeing that this cool, fun, psychic job... isn’t that. It’s repetitive. We’ve seen these scenes— it nearly plays frame by frame the same.*

*note: the manga shows us during this arc how he’s about to close spirits and such down-- and that its bc of mob that he doesnt. its bc of mob he doesnt hate his job *

This shows us how Reigen feels— that each day plays out the same, no matter what adventures await. This is a common feeling of depression.

And now he has no one. He knows this, but he projects his negative feelings onto Mob. This is shown earlier, when he tells him that his friends are just using him. It’s also shown when he says:

“He shouldn’t have anyone he can talk to about his problems other than me. If he cuts ties with me, he’s going to end up alone again. There’s nothing to worry about. He’ll be back here. I know it. But I’m not sad about this at all.

Obviously we see that Mob is, in fact, not lonely. He’s hanging out with his family and friends, using this opportunity to be with them. “If he cuts ties with me, he’s going to end up alone again.” Reigen seems to be referencing Mob. Yet, we know he was never REALLY alone. The story has been ABOUT his bonds with the people around him.

“He’s going to end up alone again” refers not to Mob, but to Reigen. The scene cuts to the night sky as Reigen says “you’re probably feeling pretty lonely right about now,” is another example of him projecting his own loneliness onto Mob.

This is the more direct show of his projection. Mob must be feeling awkward, he thinks, and instantly hides when he sees him.

He obnoxiously tells Dimple that “I hope you have fun following around a normal middle schooler!”

He knows that Mob really is just a normal kid, this is something he normally emphasizes with his rhetoric of no one being special and everyone having their own abilities. He wants to be around Mob again, but he lets his pride get in the way.

Why does he project onto Mob this way?

He doesn’t want to admit it. He is lonely and depressed. But he’s a business owner, he’s getting more popular among clientele, he’s 28! It’s the prime of his life! He should be feeling great.

His identity of a business man affects his whole life.

The first thing he does when he gets home after work is... work. He has nothing else to do, and no one to see.

But he’s supposed to be in his prime.

This idealism is quickly shattered on his birthday.

It starts with him logging onto FaceBook (FriendBook) and realizing that it’s his birthday. No one has wished him a happy day.

But then his mom does! Yay! Except... she’s telling him to hurry up and get married, and her so-called present to him is a link. A link to a flyer about a job, a “real” job, the very white collar job Reigen hates.

As he reads it, we don’t see his face, at all.

This is a very clever tactic by the narrative. His previously forced optimism and the mask he puts up, is shattered here. But we don’t get to see that. We can’t see his reaction— just him scrolling.

All we are allowed to see is his hand tremble as he reads.

After this, he decides it’s time to go to a bar. He’s not particularly excited it, as he describes the people there as the type to fall for pyramid schemes and cults.

He says it’s perfect for him. In the context of that, it’s because he’s a smooth talker, and they’re attracted to him because he helps them with all their problems.

Strange thing to say about the place you and your friends go.

He tells his supposed friends that it’s his birthday. He gets (somewhat awkward) well wishes. A woman there almost immediately begins to try and sell him a pillow, since it’s his birthday!

He realizes...

He aims to change himself after this. What’s changed? The narrative is sneaky in showing him getting even more popular and doing well with clients.

But when you think about it, nothing has changed. The feelings he previously projected are just now bottled. He didn’t want to acknowledge it, and after a horrible birthday where he DID, he shoves it away.

He’s still doing the same jobs. He’s still alone, only helping and offering advice to people as contact. He says he wants to “become somebody”, even though he already WAS. But he can’t say that. And now he’s forced away the company that made him happier.

And episode 7 will only make him feel worse.

[iamanartichoke]

It’s been five months since I filled any tumblr prompts, but I needed to take a break and write something aside from Sea because of reasons, so here I am. I cleaned out my inbox awhile ago but I kept screenshots of the prompts I had yet to fill. Also, this is a first draft, unrevised, so please don’t judge me. I was just kind of winging it. I hope the narrative makes it clear what’s kind of going on here but, in case it doesn’t, the short version is that Loki’s being held in SHIELD custody after the Avengers found him pummeled by the Hulk. Loki’s memory is shot and Thor is trying to put together the pieces. 

Word Count: 2460 

Loki wakes to the sound of Thor crying.

The sound is very, very strange. His brother has never been much for tears - easier to rage first and mourn later, if ever. Loki cannot recall the last time he saw Thor cry - but, then again, his head is throbbing and the world feels dim. He cannot recall much of anything.

The room is much too bright and everything hurts. Loki opens his eyes to blinding whiteness - white walls, white furniture, white blankets on the bed. All of that whiteness makes his stomach turn. He looks over to see Thor slumped in a chair beside the bed. He has a hand pressed over his eyes and his shoulders tremble. He has not noticed that Loki is awake.

“Thor,” Loki whispers. He cannot seem to raise his voice; his throat feels raw and torn.

Thor’s head snaps up and he hurriedly wipes his eyes. His cheeks remain tear-stained. “Loki,” he gets out, and straightens up. Loki notices Mjolnir sitting on the floor beside Thor’s chair and he flinches. Something is terribly wrong about all of this. “You’re awake. How do you feel?”

Loki feels … Loki feels as if he has shattered into a million pieces. The longer he is awake, the more conscious he is of how much everything hurts. He feels like he is on fire, blazing heat, yet he feels like there is ice coursing through his veins. His stomach twists like he wants to vomit; his temples throb like he is being spun around in circles too fast to breathe. He is sore and bruised; he is weak at his core.

“Terrible,” Loki finally responds. His gaze falls to Mjolnir. “The battle. Did we win?”

“Did we …?” Thor trails off. “The battle … it’s over, Loki.”

Loki nods, giving in and closing his eyes again, just for a few moments. The pillow is soft and cool beneath his head and he is so tired. “Yes, it’s over,” he agrees. “But did we win?”

“We … we didn’t win anything,” Thor says. “The Chitauri are beaten. The wormhole is closed.”

“Then we won,” Loki says and lets out a sigh.

There is a long silence. Loki feels Thor’s palm against his forehead and he opens his eyes again, looking up into Thor’s face. Thor’s brow is furrowed, and there is a deep sadness in his blue eyes that cuts Loki to the core. “You’re confused,” Thor says, when he meets Loki’s gaze. “But it doesn’t matter right now. It’s over, that’s what’s important.”

“He’ll come for me now,” Loki whispers. Thor has to lean in closer to hear him. “Thor. He’ll come.”

“Who will?”

A chill crawls up Loki’s spine and he squeezes his eyes shut. Consciousness is escaping him, fleeing fast. “Thanos.”

* * *

The next time Loki wakes, he’s screaming and thrashing so wildly that Thor has to physically restrain him. “Loki, Loki,” Thor is saying, his hands on either side of Loki’s face, his body practically on top of Loki’s to try to hold him still. There is an alarm blaring in the background. “Wake up, Loki!”

In response, Loki summons all of his strength. He shoves Thor with a force that takes both of them by surprise. Thor goes flying back, crashing into the opposite wall.

“We need backup in here!” an unfamiliar voice shouts.

“No!” Thor shouts back. “I’ve got him!”

Loki isn’t listening. He scrambles off the bed, wildly seeking someplace - any place - to hide. The room is so white and open. There’s a row of glass windows by the door, behind which Loki sees at least half a dozen shadowy, hulking figures. Chitauri soldiers, he thinks, and panics. Thanos. Green and gold seiðr flickers at his fingertips; he hurls magic through the glass, hearing it shatter, and then Thor is yelling something and through the din, Loki recognizes the sound of gunfire being released back at him. He hurls a force-field up around himself as he skitters toward a far wall, ducking behind a low cabinet.

“Stop!” Thor bellows. Loki presses his palms to his ears and squeezes his eyes shut. It is so loud. “Don’t shoot!”

“Hold your fire!” snaps the unfamiliar voice and, a split-second later, the gunfire ceases.

Smoke lingers in the air. The bullets have torn holes through the bed and the sparse furniture; casings litter the ground, a shell rolling precariously close to Loki’s bare foot. He notices, for the first time, that he is wearing Midgardian clothing - loose pants and a tunic, both white. Where are his boots? Where is his armor?

“Loki.” Thor is crawling toward him - literally crawling across the floor, slowly, as if Loki is a wolf caught in a hunter’s trap and Thor is trying not to spook him as he nears close enough to spring the release. “Loki, it’s just me. It’s Thor.”

Loki slowly lowers his hands from his ears. The force-field is still intact around him but, as Thor moves closer, Loki allows it to dissipate. “Thor,” he gets out. “There were - I thought - the Chitauri. They’re here, Thanos is here. I have to -”

Abruptly, Loki turns and peers out from behind the cabinet to look. It is hard to see through the haze of gray but beyond the shattered glass, he recognizes Nick Fury and, behind him, several armed guards. Their weapons are at the ready, their gunfire only halted by Fury’s outstretched hand.

“No, no, it’s just me,” Thor is saying. Close enough now, he reaches out and closes the distance. He wraps his arms around Loki and pulls him close, holding him so tightly that Loki can hardly breathe. Out of the corner of his eye, Loki sees the guards finally lower their guns; with Thor there, they won’t dare shoot again. “The Chitauri are gone.”

No Chitauri, Loki realizes that now. Just humans. Stupid, trigger-happy humans. He is safe - for now.

Loki’s throat tightens and closes as he remembers the nightmare he’d barely just escaped from, woken by his own screams. Endless tortures await him at Thanos’s hand; his nightmare had been both a memory of where he’d been and a preview of what still awaited him, and now Loki cannot stop himself from crying.

A sob breaks from him as he presses his head to Thor’s shoulder, feeling his brother’s soothing fingers making small circles between his shoulder blades. Pain, hot and heavy, courses through his entire body. Nightmares aren’t supposed to hurt, so why is he in so much pain?  

“They’re not gone,” he gets out. “The Other will come, and Thanos …”

“Shh. No one is here for you,” Thor murmurs, against Loki’s hair. His breath is warm. “You’re safe.”

“No,” Loki says and shakes his head. “I’ll never be safe, Thor. I failed. I failed, I failed -” He is sobbing in earnest now, hiding his face from the observers at the glass windows, from Fury. He buries his head into Thor’s neck - Thor, who is so unwaveringly strong, who is his big brother, who had left Loki to fall from the Bifrost and into Thanos’s hands.

Thor, who had not come for him when Loki had needed him the most.

Thor had left Loki to die, and Loki had come back and tried to kill Thor. Perhaps, they are even now.

“Who did you fail?” Thor is asking, rubbing Loki’s back. His voice never loses its soothing tone. “Who is Thanos, Loki?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Loki gets out. “Don’t you know?”

“How could I know?”

Loki swallows hard, reeling in a deep breath, trying to slow his own tears. He changes the subject. “Why were they shooting at me?”

“Well, the magic might have had something to do with it.”

“I thought they were Chitauri.”

Thor hums softly and presses his lips to Loki’s temple. He doesn’t reply.

* * *

They move Loki into another room, identical to the one destroyed by the bullets. Once he is settled in, Loki sleeps for what feels like an eternity but is really, Thor informs him when he wakes again, only three days.

“You need to eat something,” Thor says, and Loki lets out a little whimper of exhaustion. He doesn’t know how he could have slept for so many hours and still feel so tired. “I’ll fetch you some soup, all right?”

“Yes, all right.” It is going to be difficult to stay awake even long enough for that, but Loki tries. He pushes himself into a sitting position, mindful of his injuries, while Thor goes to the door and presses a few buttons on the keypad. The door slides open and Thor steps through and it slides shut behind him again.

While Thor is gone, Loki draws his knees up and rests his chin on them as he glances around the room. Everything is stark white, blank, unfamiliar. Loki closes his eyes. He doesn’t even remember how he got here. His mind feels so fragmented, fleeting memories and images chasing themselves around while Loki scrambles to keep up. What has happened to him?

Thor is back before Loki can work himself up into a panic. He returns to the room carrying a large blue mug and a bottle of water, both of which he brings over to Loki. “They’ll bring you a real meal soon,” Thor says as he sits down in the chair beside Loki’s bed, “but for now, you can have these. Chicken noodle,” he explains, when Loki sniffs at the mug suspiciously.

“I’m told it’s the ideal Midgardian meal, when one is ill,” Thor adds.

“Thank you.” Loki cautiously lifts the mug to his lips and takes a sip of the thick broth. It’s steaming hot and delicious and suddenly, Loki is ravenous. He swallows down the entirety of the mug and, when he is finished, Thor gives him the bottle of water, which he downs just as quickly.

“I’m starving,” he admits, passing the empty bottle back to Thor. “I didn’t realize.”

“You’ve been unwell,” Thor says with a shrug. He sets the empty bottle and mug aside and then leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “We need to talk, Loki.”

Loki swallows hard. He looks down, unable to meet Thor’s steady gaze. “Okay.”

“You keep mentioning Thanos,” Thor says, “and how you failed him. Do you remember anything? The battle - the Tesseract?”

“Of course I do,” Loki snaps, even though he doesn’t. He ducks his head, twisting the sheets between his fingers.

“Tell me, then,” Thor prompts, when Loki’s silence stretches.

Loki swallows hard. “I don’t - it’s complicated, Thor.”

Thor makes a sound low in his throat, like a growl, and it occurs to Loki that despite how Thor has been taking care of him, Thor is angry. The realization makes Loki flinch; he wants to curl away from this confrontation, wants to curl himself back up underneath the blankets and sleep another three days. His head throbs and he closes his eyes.

“Complicated isn’t good enough,” Thor says. “Complicated isn’t an explanation for what you - for what happened.”

“For what I did,” Loki corrects softly. He drags a hand across his eyes; he can already feel the tears starting. “You can speak it for what it is.”

“Can you?” Thor asks.

Loki opens his eyes and looks up at Thor. There is anger there, in those steely blue eyes, but Loki finds confusion as well - confusion and desperation. Thor is desperate to understand.

“Everything is a blur,” he admits softly. “Some things, I remember. I wish I didn’t. Other things, I can’t make sense of. I have flashes, images that don’t mean much. At the core of it all is Thanos.”

“You have to tell me who Thanos is,” Thor implores him, leaning forward a bit. “Is he the one who sent you for the Tesseract?”

Loki nods. “I didn’t have a choice, Thor. The things that I did … “ It wasn’t me. That wasn’t me, he wants to say, but the words get stuck in his throat because they are a lie. Thanos did not put anything into his mind that was not already there. Not like Barton, like Selvig. It wasn’t me, but it was.

“The scepter,” Thor guesses, when Loki remains silent. “He controlled you, then. Yes?”

Loki keeps his gaze firmly on his own fingers, twisting and pulling at the bedsheets. “It is very powerful,” he says, which is neither a lie nor a confirmation.

“He controlled you, and sent you here for the Tesseract. I knew it,” Thor says, which makes Loki look up sharply. “I knew there had to be an explanation. I asked you, on the mountain - do you remember?”

Who controls the would-be king? The words scream through Loki’s mind like a siren and he visibly shudders. He lets go of the sheets and wraps his arms around himself, suddenly feeling cold. “I am a king,” he whispers.

“No, Loki.” Thor reaches out and gently touches some of Loki’s hair, pushing it back from Loki’s face before he lets go again. “We’ll make this right, okay? I promise.”

Loki laughs at that, weakly. “How? Am I not a criminal?”

“No. You’re only here because we didn’t know what else to do. After the Hulk …” He breaks off, at Loki’s confused expression. “You don’t remember that part?”

“No,” Loki admits. “The last thing I remember is speaking to Stark.”

“Well, at some point after that, you ran into the Hulk. He nearly killed you.” Thor averts his gaze. “I thought you were dead. When we found you … it didn’t look good.”

That explains the dull throb of his various injuries, pain consistently on the edge of his awareness. “So I am here … because of the Hulk?”

“More or less. I am supposed to take you back to Asgard, but you have been in no condition to make the trip. Not long after we found you, you woke up and … you were hysterical. Screaming nonsense about Thanos and what you’d done. Fury had to sedate you. He used the tranquilizers SHIELD kept for the Hulk. Ironic, isn’t it?” Thor lifts an eyebrow and grins a little.

Ironic, Loki thinks, and pulls the bedsheets up. Exhaustion is creeping back in; he’s surprised he managed to keep it at bay this long. “I’m tired,” he whispers.

“Get some sleep,” Thor says, and settles in next to him. “I’ll wake you up in a few hours for a real meal. Okay?”

Loki nods. Thor’s kindness is a balm he does not deserve; Thor has offered it based on something that hovers between truth and lie, yet Loki cannot bring himself to reject it.

Thanos will come, sooner or later. Loki will suffer eventually.

He will hold onto Thor in the meantime.

* * *

[lady-feste-pendragon]

OPTION TWO: KING OF ATTOLIA: THE HIT BROADWAY MUSICAL (and this idea is mine so it’s a looooooong one warning you now)

WE OPEN with a huge ensemble cast song of heckin course in which all of Attolia COMPLAINS about this HUGE PAIN in their COLLECTIVE BUTTS, telling the story of how the thief of eddis DECEITFULLY and WRONGLY kidNAPPED their prECIOUS QUEEN who may have been bloodthirsty and barbaric but who careS she was ouR queen and she’s beAUTIFUL and we loVE her and we hATE the king who forCED her to marry him bOO to the king doWN with the king we hATE him he’s TERRIBLE and the song ends with Aris comes sprinting on stage, disrupting all the singers and sending the song to a skittering halt bc guys!!!! 

Costis punched the king!!! 

To which there is suddenly a lot of Whispered Talking about oh nO costis is so niCE and now he’s gonna diE bc he punCHED the kinG also what did the king do this time--inSULTed teleus no heckin wonDER costis punched him but still v tragic cut to scene 2 Costis in his cell, pacing, sitting, standing, pacing again, and there’s a knock at the door. It’s the king of attolia, approaching from Stage Right, a bottle of wine tucked under his arm and two cups in his one visible hand. Costis lets him in. The king sets the wine on the table. He lifts his right hand--no. It’s a hook, the audience can see for the first time. The King of Attolia is missing his right hand. 

The song neglected to mention that. There’s lots these songs neglect to mention plot twist Nobody talks about How the King lost that Hand it is a Forbidden Topic 

There is no song when the king tells costis he’s being promoted, only a stuff uncomfortable silence whenever the king is not speaking. Toward the end of the scene in strides Attolia asking if Attolis has decided whether to hang costis or behead him. Attolis answers neither, costis will be promoted, and Attolia makes a noise of disgust and leaves. 

A few songs follow as Costis settles into his new position and since this whole narrative is filtered through his eyes, the audience is lead to believe all the things about attolis from the first song are true. He dresses like a peacock, he has no dignity, he’s spiteful with his servants, he makes costis do stupid things. The queen pulls Costis aside and asks him to Keep an Eye on the King for her, to report back to her occasionally. He assumes the queen will one day do away with this idiot king and he is surprisingly conflicted about that. He gets his I Want song, which is mostly just “I Want This Stupid King To Leave Me Alone” lol. 

Another important note: One of the songs is a council song that’s v political and it’s mainly during this song that we learn 1) the king is a v good singer so what was the deal with people complaining about his voice/speech/accent in that first song, and 2) Oh, that’s it, the king can’t rhyme. Attolian formal speech (sung, in this case bc Holy Musical Batman) is traditional broadway style meter and end rhyme. Eddisian formal speech has internal rhyme, has specific meters and important in-meter repetition, but no end rhyme. When Attolis sings, he Never rhymes, although you can see him Trying, actively trying so hard and only getting as far as slant rhyme which makes everyone involved Wince terribly bc Ugh That Accent, This Stupid Backward Eddisian Goat. Attolis and Attolia as of yet have no duet, but they meet in hallways sometimes and greet each other in song and it’s awkward and weighted and Short. Attolis has a lovely I Want song in which he locks all of his attendants out of his room and sings to himself (while costis is Right There, Sir) how homesick he is, and how much he misses Eddis and his freedom. It’s v sad. Attolia also has a solo during the council scene, which is also short, her time is coming i swear

THE KING’S WEDDING NIGHT is a bawdy awful song and an Absolute Bop and dite is terribly proud of himself and everyone’s humming it on and off for the rest of the act. It makes gen horrifically mopey which makes costis’ head hurt but the king is starting to grow on him. like a fungus. after all he sang that really sad song about how much This Sucks and yeah, fair, everybody’s putting stuff in his food and bed and crap and Maybe if we were Nicer to him he wouldn’t seem so Awful (all of the guards make fun of him for this). There is a short “lilies i rule, heads you do” scene that takes place during another short council scene right before The Dinner of the Fateful Dance, and during that council scene Attolis doesn’t even Try to Rhyme and people keep interrupting the council song to hum The King’s Wedding Night and he gets visibly more and more agitated as the coin keeps flipping and the song keeps playing and he leaves in a huff. Attolia tells him as he stalks off that he Has to attend dinner and during dinner he Forces (!!!) the queen to dance with him to a lovely instrumental song, which seems to play first in slow motion while Phriesine sings of Attolia’s backstory, of her first marriage, of the importance of the king’s humor when the queen offers him her wine. Suddenly the song speeds up, and the queen’s hair tumbles past her shoulders, and she’s smiling, why is she smiling? Costis blinks as the king gives her back her hair pins. That was certainly telling, but only if you’re paying attention. 

Act One ends with Costis on his day off with a sense of unease, until he passes some guards who are struggling to put away the dogs and suddenly he knows! and he takes off running!!! bc where is the king!!!!!

Act Two opens with Costis desperately singing a prayer (Ten Golden Cups) as he runs and arriving in the garden just in time to see the king easily dispatch the second to last assassin. The third is apprehended as the rest of the court arrives, assuming Costis has done the deed. The assassin is questioned furiously with the king leaning against costis and he spits furious vitriol about the king, the same things everyone was singing about at the beginning but with more bitterness, and ends with “The queen should have kILLED you when she cUT OFF YOUR HAND!!!!” and if there are enough nonfans in the audience and if the actors are doing their job right it should feel like all the air has been sucked out of the room bc you don’t taLK about that!!! the queen arrives then and attolis kisses her and presses his forehead to her shoulder and suddenly everyone is rhyming as the royals are rushed up to the queen’s chambers. The king is put on a bed, spewing blood. The queen faints, the king is Distraught, everyone is shoved out of the room. Attolia is left alone with Costis outside the room and she Sings. It’s a short song, and mostly is Extremely Angery about the assassination attempt in her Own Garden in her Own Court to her Own King. When they’re let back in in the next scene it’s Duet Time Babey!!!!! Attolis and Attolia sing together about their relationship and their Love and their past and their present and how they’ve learned to step past it all and costis watches, feeling like an outsider but also So Stunned. He tells the king about the cups and the king swears they will be there

From here things start happening Very Quickly, It Seems. The king is ill. The queen is singing more often. The queen of eddis comes to visit, not just the king’s cousins as in the book. Unfortunately we have to cut out the part where sophos goes missing bc sophos can’t exist in this universe he adds too many variables we get one (1) storyline and we can’t mess this up. The king speaks with Relius and that’s Scary. There’s another ensemble song during which Costis is the only one to defend the king and he is Uncomfortable when the king’s wedding night motif plays again. And Then the king Destroys the house of Erondites and the queen has relius thrown in jail (also during that time the queen has a vicious, terrifying, short solo that’s more like a temper tantrum and a panic attack rolled into one and the king Soothes her) When the king is Destroying that baron’s house?? 

he rhymes. 

Perfectly, flawlessly, he rhymes. He matches Attolian cadence note for note, word for word, and then he folds Eddisian repetition and internal rhyme into the mix. Attolia joins in, her own musical style rising up to meet his. The exchange lines, ending each other’s rhymes, Attolia ends up using more Eddisian themes than even he does. He proves he could do it all along, he just didn’t want to, and now he proves he doesn’t have to by ending that proclamation in a purely Eddisian way. And the next scene? Relius. Attolis. The dungeon. The King’s Wedding Night: Reprise. Perhaps the most terrifying reprise ever written. And in the end, he lets him go. And Relius returns to Attolia and once again begs her forgiveness and Attolia gets her own terrifying, heartbreaking solo, and in this one? she uses Eddisian cant and Attolis isn’t even in the room. She forgives him in a blend of Eddisian and Attolian that becomes it’s own musical language, and the only one used by the royals for the rest of the show. 

Does that sound like the end? because it’s noT guess who haven’t had a duet yet!!!! it’s Attolis and Costis time!!!!! the attendants wake costis bc the king is drunk on a rooftop and he is supposed to Fetch the king. Costis learns to speak the language the king and queen have already been speaking to each other, and the king declares he has work for costis to do. And yeS the king slips, and tumbles, and falls--until it’s clear he can’t catch himself, his foot is off the parapet--and he flails and Something catches him, and pushes him gently back up, and a gentle rich chuckle fills the stage as the voice of a god says “go to bed, Eugenides.” Eugenides and Costis stare at each other, wide eyed, terrified. “The gods really do speak to you,” Costis whispers and Attolis confirms it and a Vow is made, “will you serve me and my gods for all your days?” In the end Costis agrees and asks him to come to sword practice tomorrow.

The final scene is fairly short, Attolis’ defeat of the guard and of Teleus and his being named Annux, and Attolia is there, and i actually am not sold on that as the actual ending, this scene could be moved before the rooftop or could be deleted altogether except we Need the annux line and i want attolia to be there ugh problems problems but either way the curtain closing song is an invocation of hephestia which, invocations should also feature bc i heckin love me an invocation song but that’s it that’s the play can u imagine these idiots singing in front of a live studio audience boy i die!!!!