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therandomficwriter · 9 months ago

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Crossing All The Lines

Who: Aaron Hotchner

What: Reader has feelings for Aaron and dances around them with quick glances when you think he’s not looking. Then reader gets hurt and accidentally confesses in the heat of the moment.

Request: Nope

Warnings: Typical canon criminal minds violence, talks of getting shot, blood, Slight age gap but otherwise age isn’t mentioned, etc. (Let me know if I missed anything!)

A/n: I know its been forever since I've written anything but I’m back into my criminal minds binge and currently have Hotch brain rot so yeah,,, n e ways please feel free to enjoy! A/n 2: Ngl I've been working on this one since June of 2023 and barely finished it now (Feb. 2024) so this was a loooooong wip but besides that i really hope you guys like it!

You guys have been going at it for hours now. The sun had set long ago and many of the officers have gone home, the new shift well settled into their stations.

Despite the amount of time you and the team had spent trying to get to the bottom of the unsub’s reasoning, which would bring you guys one step closer to finding out who it might be, you are no closer to figuring it out now than this morning.

Reid is going off on another one of his tangents and you are trying desperately to pay attention and keep your mind from wandering, the late hour not helping you much.

Everyone is in a different form of concentration but, none the less, in a similar state of exhaustion. Morgan is slouched in his chair, head in his hand, Rossi on his fourth, maybe fifth, cup of coffee, but there’s one person you can’t help but let your eyes wander towards.

Hotch stands at the head of the table, arms crossed on his chest, tiredness prominent in his features. Your eyes follow him as he moves across the room, removing his suit jacket and discarding it onto a chair. Moving back to his original spot, he rolls his sleeves slightly up to rest upon his forearms, then loosens his tie ever so slightly.

He leans over the table and opens his mouth to begin talking but, if you are being honest, not a single word is heard by you. Your eyes stay glued to his arm, his muscles flexing slightly from the way he is gripping the edge of the table.

You try to pay attention, really you do, but it is no use. Your sleep deprived brain is not allowing you to focus on anything but the man in front of you. If you are being honest, you have grown feelings for him but you don’t dare act on them. I mean how can you blame yourself? There is just so much you admire about him, you can possibly go on for hours just listing off the reasons.

As your mind seems to drift off, you don’t seem to notice Hotch has caught on to what you were doing.

Feeling eyes on him, he glances around the room and soon catches your eye. Upon meeting his eyes, yours slightly widen and you quickly look down, willing your face to not heat up at being caught with your shameless stares. You swear at yourself thinking if he brings it up you’d blame it on the late hour and lack of proper sleep.

Unknown to you Hotch’s lips quirk up, amused at your reaction to being caught, chuckling softly to himself. He looks around the room once again, taking note of the tired faces of his team and decides to speak up.

“All right team, let’s call it a night. We’ll pick this back up in the morning when we’re all rested. Maybe then we will be able to think about this more clearly.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, the team quickly gathers their belongings and heads out of the station towards their shared vehicles.

The ride back to the hotel was uneventful as everyone split off into groups between the two SUVs. You opted to ride with Hotch and Rossi taking advantage of their silent personas, definitely not because you favored the first of the two.

Taking your place behind the passenger seat, you quickly got as comfortable as possible on your way back to the hotel. Usually you would try to fill in the silence with different topics varying from the case you guys were currently investigating to what book you were reading at the moment, but right now you could barely form coherent sentences with your sleep deprived mind.

You could feel yourself slowly drifting off, the smooth ride and the sound of the car moving along the street help bring you into a deep slumber.

Unbeknownst to you a pair of eyes traveled across your sleeping form, glancing back and forth between you and the road. A small sigh escapes his mouth as he notices your breathing even out.

Hearing someone clear their throat, Hotch casts his eyes toward the passenger seat where Rossi is sitting with a knowing look on his face. His eyes turn back to the road.

"Dave..." he says quietly, tone coming out as a warning.

Rossi raises his hands in defense, keeping his voice down as well "I didn't say anything."

"I know that look. You have something you want to say," Hotch mutters, face annoyed.

"Aaron in know that look on your face. How long are you planning on keeping her in the dark? You deserve to be happy and I can tell she is the reason your mood has improved a lot lately," Rossi keeps his voice low as to not wake you up.

Hotch moves his eyes towards you one more time, taking in your features, he notices the slightest content smile on your face not having a worry in the world while sleeping. He lets out a deep sigh eyes leaving your figure and focusing completely on the road.

"Because I am her boss and she is my subordinate. I can not cross that line even if i wanted to. I can only imagine what the higher ups would say if they found out."

"Besides she deserves someone better, someone closer to her age, someone her could provide her with everything she could want or need. Why would she want someone like me," he finished off.

Rossi shook his head, "You, my friend, are completely clueless. How could she not want to be with you? Have you seen the way she looks at you? And don't give me that B.S. about your status as her boss, as if that matters. Trust me Aaron, that girl would follow you through hell and back if you asked her and i know you would do just the same."

Hotch let Rossi's words sink in. He kept his head forward, choosing not to reply in order to completely shut down this conversation, not wanting to get his hopes up too high.

Luckily the hotel quickly came into view and Hotch felt himself relax slightly. As soon as the suvs were parked everyone got off and split up and made their separate ways into their hotel rooms. Getting off, Hotch made his way to the back passanger side to wake you and send you off to sleep in your room.

He got to his own room, going through his normal night time routine before slipping into bed. Despite the late hour and lack of proper sleep the night before, his mind seemed to run non stop. It wasn't the unresolved case or fact that the unsubs motive was hard to pinpoint.

No, his mind seemed to be full of you. The conversation with Rossi seemed to have kickstarted his thoughts into a spiral. Eventually he drifted off to sleep his final thought of you and what he believes could never be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eventually you and the team had finally managed to find the link between the victims and his motive became clear. Richard Cornwall, a local who lives in the outskirts of town on his family ranch had been taking the victims and making them weaken enough to use in his own version of "hunting."

The evidence pointed to you all that he was a narcissist that believed he was too good at hunting the local game that it no longer was fun to him. So he thought that using real people would provide more of a challenge, that way he could really prove he was the best and what he did.

Currently on route to the Cornwall family ranch, y'all prepared yourselves. It was common knowledge that he was a hunter so you knew he had to have a surplus of weapons as well as being on the look out for and traps he might have left around the property.

Parking the suvs in front of the main house, you split up to survey the property looking for Cornwall and the latest person he had kidnapped.

While the rest of the team searched the two story house, you, Hotch, and Reid had taken the left side of the property going straight towards the barn, stalls, and the field. You noticed a deer blind a little ways away in the field making a mental note to take a sweep of it after checking out the barn.

After clearing the stalls, you guys made your way though the barn with no signs of Cornwall or the victim. Reid noticed a corner of the barn that seemed to be where he left the vicitms to bleed out. The deep red was splattered on the walls and completely covered the floor. Hotch took note of it saying he would get forensics to take samples of it.

As you guys began to exit the barn after clearing it you turned your head towards Hotch and Reid to tell them about the structure you saw in the middle of the field. As soon as you opened your mouth, the sound of a gun shot rang though the air.

You were down within a second, the shot hitting you right in your left shoulder causing you to let out a scream, your other hand reaching out to hold onto the wound. You began to feel lightheaded, the blood coming from your shoulder seemed to be never ending.

Hotch and Reid quickly crouched down taking cover in the barn as another shot rang out. They each grabbed one of your arms pulling you inside to safety with them. The yell you let out was worse than anything Hotch had heard, he could only imagine the pain you were feeling right now.

He radioed the rest of the team and the rest of the officers to let them know to be on the lookout notifying them you were currently down. They only know the general direction the shot came from, not too sure where Cornwall was.

"The blind" you let out weakly.

Reid spotted the deer blind a little ways out in the field and let everyone else know the location so they could proceed with caution.

You on the other hand, felt like you would pass out any second now. You felt like you were on fire, your shoulder growing heavier by the second. Soon your vision started getting spotty, white dots littered your sight as you tried to blink them away, tears streamed down your face from the pain.

Hotch turned to look at you to make sure you were alright but quickly noticed the flushed look on your face, your lips were pale, a sign you were soon to faint.

"Hey, L/N, look at me. You need to stay awake for me." he urged, shaking your head a bit to stimulate you.

The sound of his voice was coming in and out, growing louder then getting harder to hear, your ears no longer wanting to work. You blinked a bit trying to focus on him and what he was currently saying to you.

"Y/N, you're losing a lot of blood, they might have to do a blood transfusion at the hospital," he ushers out, desperation evident in his voice, "What is your type?"

In your current state, you tried hard to process what he was asking you. You vision was quickly growing worse and it was getting harder to hear him. You let out the first thing that came to your mind.

"You."

The last thing you heard was JJ's voice over the coms informing they had got unsub in custody and finally found the last victim who was luckily alive. Black soon consumed your vision and you were out like a light.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The feeling of the ground rumbling beneath you was the first hint to you that you were slowly gaining consciousness.

Soon the low sounds of a siren could be heard, slightly muffled to you. You tried desperately to open your eyes but you couldn’t find the strength. But you could feel a weight in your hand and you tried to flex your hand, your fingers twitching slightly.

At that you could have sworn you heard what sounded like your name. You tried to focus your hearing a bit more.

“Y/N,” you heard a man say.

You know that voice. You’ve heard it before somewhere. The sound of it seemed to make you calmer. At the sound of his voice again you tried once more to open your eyes.

A blinding light above you is the first thing you see, yet everything still seemed to be foggy. You glance at you surroundings, your eyes barely open a crack. That is when you see him.

He looked absolutely ethereal, you could’ve sworn he was an angel here on earth. The bright glow from the lights casted a halo around him. But there’s no way he could be here right now. He opens his mouth to speak again.

“Y/N, are you alright? Do you need anything? We are heading to the hospital right now, we should be there any moment.”

You stared at him for what seemed like forever just taking him in. His sentence went in one ear and out the other, as if he never said anything to begin with, as if he wasn’t even then, a mere figment of your imagination. You couldn’t wrap your head around what was going on or where you were. The only thing you could say was what you were currently thinking.

“I dream of you so often, I don’t know if you’re even real.”

And with that you felt yourself slowly slipping back into unconsciousness. The sound of that man’s voice imbedded deep in your mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A low beeping lulled you out of your unconscious state. Your eyelids felt heavy, as if they were made of concrete, not allowing you to open them just yet. You stayed there unmoving, trying to get accustomed to your surroundings, willing yourself to try and feel anything around you.

You could feel the soft pillow underneath your head and the, somewhat, stiff bed underneath you. In your head, you knew your were laying in a bed somewhere, but for the life of you, you could not recall a single thing that happened to you or where you could possibly be at this moment.

Racking your brain, you tried desperately to remember what was going on. The last thing you remembered was that you and the team had a case you were working on. Where was it? Oh, right, you guys were currently in Texas. The unsub was a fisherman? No, wait, a hunter.

As you started to recall more and more of the case it all started to come back to you. You, Hotch, and Reid were searching the barn. That's right, you were right on his trail and then... he shot you.

'Wait Hotch, Reid, are they alright?'

Your eyes suddenly shot open at the thought of your friends hurt. Wincing at the sudden bright light around you, you blinking trying to get used to the sight around you.

At the same time, all your senses rushed back to you all at once. you could hear that constant beeping again but this time a little louder. Looking towards your right, you noticed the heart monitor displaying your heart rate. You stared at it for a little bit and watched the line move at a rhythmic pace before you realized that your left hand felt a bit heavier that usual.

Your fingers twitched, slowly flexing, trying to grasp at what was resting in your hand. You turn your head slightly, glancing down at your hand, only to notice another hand placed over yours.

Eyes widening at the slight, you move them from the hand, up the arm and towards the person it belonged to. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight before you.

In the chair next to you, Hotch was leaned back into the chair. His left arm was slung over his abdomen and his right arm was stretched out resting on the side of your hospital bed, hand intwined with yours.

He look so peaceful in his sleep, which was a stark contrast to his usual stoic expression, despite the slight furrow in his brows. How he managed to look so comfortable in that hard plastic chair was beyond you, but you were sure that the exhaustion of the events the night before finally caught up to him.

You watched him for a while, your heart strings pulling at the thought of him so worried about you that he actually slept in that uncomfortable chair all night when he had a nice warm bed back at the hotel you guys were staying at.

The sounds of someone clearing their throat pulled you from your thoughts, as you glance towards the doorway where the sound came from. Rossi stood there leaning against the door frame, a knowing smile gracing his features.

Feeling the heat rise to your face, your eyes dart away from Rossi and down at the blankets the covered you. David knew of the feelings you harbored towards the man to your left, having caught you staring at him a little longer that usual a couple of times. He soon got the truth out of you after a night of drinking, to which you spilled your heart out to the older man in hopes of getting advice from someone that knew Hotch inside and out.

"How you feeling kiddo?"

Hearing his question spoken softly, you glance back up at him and clear your throat feeling it dry from not speaking for hours on end.

"Alright. Just a little sore I guess," you rasp out quietly.

He raises his eyebrow, "A little? Kid you got shot with a rifle, I don't blame you if you said you it hurts like hell, which I'm pretty sure it does."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," you chuckle softly at his words before glancing back down.

You can't help but let your eyes travel back to where your hand was intwined with Hotch's, letting out a little sigh. Rossi's eyes follow yours, then travel up to where his friend slept soundly.

"You know," he starts with a small smile, "he was really worried about you kid. He's been with you since the ambulance pulled up. He refused to leave your side and even rode with you the whole way over here. We even had a hard time trying to get him to go shower or even change. He insisted that he had to be here when you woke up."

You shift your focus up to Hotch's face, taking in the words Rossi was saying, heart melting at the thought. Your mind raced at the implications of what this all meant but you quickly shut them down, not wanting to get your hopes up.

"I'm sure he would've been the same if it were any one of us," you replied, shoulders slumping a bit at the thought.

David rolled his eyes at your words, "You know what I mean Y/N. Sure he would've been worried if it happened to any of us, but I doubt he would be sleeping if those god awful chairs all night if it wasn't for you."

At that you could feel the hand in yours start to twitch, Hotch moving slightly as he began to wake up. Your breath caught in your throat as his eyes started to flutter open. The first thing Aaron saw as he fully woke up was Rossi standing in the doorway staring right at him.

"Dave? What are you doing here?"

Rossi chuckles softly, shaking his head as he pushes himself away from the door frame to stand up straight.

"Oh nothing, figured I should probably go get a bite to eat and maybe a cup of coffee. It seems like you guys have a lot to talk about," he finishes, nudging his head in your direction.

The look of confusion quickly washes away from Hotch's face as his head snaps in your direction. He takes in the sight of you wide awake, a slight flush on your cheeks that he assumes is because of your injury. He could feel your hand flutter underneath his as he glances down at it. The sight of your hand wrapped with his causes his heart to skip a beat, the moment it resumes he swears he can hear it pounding in his ears.

Rossi clears his throat once more gaining the attention of the two, "Well I better be off, let me know if either of you want something. I hope you feel better kiddo."

You let out a small 'thank you' and he smiles at you then sends Aaron a knowing glance when you aren't looking before turning and making his way out. You both sat there in silence, not knowing what to say to each other.

"How are you feeling?" Hotch finally asks, breaking the silence between you.

"Honestly, I've been better," you let out a little chuckle, trying to ease the tension, before turning solum again remembering your current state.

"I'm sorry for worrying you. I should've know better, if only I-"

Hotch cuts you off with a reassuring squeeze to your hand.

"Don't," he says firmly, "Don't you ever blame yourself for something that is out of your control. You did all you could and your observations helped us catch the unsub and the last victim was found alive."

"I know, but I just feel bad cause you had to sleep on that," you say, gesturing towards the chair he was sitting on.

He lips quirk up ever so slightly, "Don't worry about it, I should be used to it now because of all the late nights I spend at the office. Besides, I wanted to. I wouldn't do this for just anyone," he says, starting to gain the courage to tell you what is on his mind.

"Hotch-" you start, only to be cut off by him.

"Wait, just let me say this," he holds his hand up. you nod encouraging him to continue.

"Y/N, you are the bravest person I know, not to mention the most caring and thoughtful. You always tend to put others first, but are still able to stand up for yourself and voice your needs. I admire so much about you that I could possibly go on forever. What made me fall for you is beyond me, but I know what I'm feeling is real. I kept telling myself that I shouldn't love you, that I shouldn't cross that boundry, but its not as simple as it sounds. No matter how hard I tried, you made me fall harder and faster without doing much," he sighed, "Even if you don't feel the same, i just needed to tell you."

At the end of his speech your eyes were shining with unshed tears. Never have you heard anything as sweet and poetic as that. You could feel every one of his words in your soul as if he was speaking right to it. He had put his heart on his sleeve for you and you thought it was only fair you did the same.

"Aaron, when I first met you I thought you were just a cold, stoic, blunt man,"

Hotch could've sworn he felt his heart ache at the words leaving your mouth, but that soon changed as you continued.

"But, then I met you and learn a lot about you. You actually had a similar sense of humor as me and know how to dish out a joke as well as take one. Your wit is one of the things that surprised me the most about you. Not to mention that you protect the ones you care about with your life. You come off as nonchalant when in fact you care so much about each and every one of us on this team. And despite what you think, you're the best dad Jack could ever ask for. You really are his hero and I don't blame him. You say you admire me but, oh boy, you have no idea how much about you I cherish and appreciate."

"At first I thought it was nothing more than just a silly little crush, but it turned into so much more than that. I couldn't stop thinking about you no matter how hard I tried, it happened without me even realizing it. You are the first thing on my mind when I wake up in the morning and the last thought I have before I drift off to sleep at night, its like you're all that's in my mind. My heart has yearned for you longer than I knew it myself and now that I know that its not just me, I'm willing to cross that line as long as you're there with me," you finished giving his hand a loving squeeze.

Aaron stared at you with loving eyes and you could've sworn your heart stopped at the sight. You looked at him shyly with the newfound revelation of your feelings towards each other being mutual. You could feel yourself slowly leaning towards him and him doing just the same.

As the distance between you grew shorter and shorter, you both were stealing glances at each others' lips. Just as you were about to close the distance, a sharp pain shot right through your shoulder causing you to wince and pull back.

Hotch looked at you with worry helping you lean back into the hospital bed. His eyes scanned your face for any traces of discomfort as you got situated back into place. Your eyes met as if he was ask you a silent question, you nodded letting him know you were fine as he sighed in relief.

Chuckling a bit a the situation, he shook his head slightly before leaning down and placing a tender kiss to the crown of your head.

"Let's wait till you get out of here for that," he smirks, "Besides I need to treat you out to a nice dinner before we could have some dessert" he finished with a swift kiss to the knuckles of your hand that was still interlocked with his.

You couldn't help the heat that quickly rose to your face at his comment. Never, did you think Hotch could be that smooth. Rolling your eyes, you gently slap his arm causing him to laugh softly.

"You're so corny."

"Well you better get used to it cause you're stuck with me now," he replies with a smile.

You shake your head with a giggle, "Can I take that back?"

"Nope," he says, smile growing wider as a mischievous look glints in his eyes, "Besides you said I'm just your type."

The memory of what he was talking about quickly floods into your mind.

Your face flushes a deep shade of embarrassment and you quickly cover your face with your hands, "Oh my god!"

A/n: I really hope you guys liked it! It took me quite a bit to write but i really love the way it came out! I honestly think this is probably my favorite one I've written so far! Just to let y'all know i do have quite a bit planned out so be on the lookout for that and hopefully I'll be able to put out little thing here and there! Once again if y'all want to be added to the tag list the link is here ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ and just fill it out for whatever you want to be tagged for and if you don't know what I write for just checkout my masterlist or leave and ask and I will reply as soon as i can get to it!

Taglist: @uraveragegorewhore @drayshadow @wlfstxr @nikkitc0703 *The ones in red are the ones I couldn't tag so if you want to be added again or removed just fill out the form or comment on here!*

#criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #hotch #aaron hotchner imagine #hotch imagine #thomas gibson #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction

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maigetheplatypus57 · 1 month ago

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So post-dsmp finale cbeeduo get divorced and it’s as messy or as amicable as you want. Whatever, they part ways, figure out a custody agreement for Michael, and go their separate ways.

Anyways, 19-year-old divorcee Ranboo shows up to MCC 33, he competes, has fun with friends, then gets invited to the afterparty at some club or bar on the server (they forgot the name).

They arrive, enjoy the music, dance or catch up with other people they haven't seen in a while, then get completely wasted because hey, it's a Saturday night, they can afford to deal with the hangover in the morning (Tubbo, Tommy, Jack, and Beky are going to have even worse ones than him, he snickers to himself, recalling the Pink Parrots’ drunken antics throughout the competition).

Around an hour before the bar/club/whatever closes Ranboo figures they might as well take a break and try to sober up a little before heading home (server hopping while drunk isn’t exactly dangerous, per say, but it definitely won’t help with the light nausea or headaches that tend to arise from such trips) so they head out the side exit into the alleyway, hoping fresh air and some relative quiet will help them more than the loud music and stuffy, enclosed space would.

And well, Ranboo knew that there was a reason that this MCC was different, special, even, and it had something to do with a certain hermit joining the event for the first and only time. They’ve seen the quiet awe and fangirling from even their fellow competitors as they tried to take pictures or say hello to the famed redstoner in between events.

(And even if Ranboo Didn't know about the Hermit from this MCC or from their overlapping social circles, Tubbo made sure that Ranboo was More than familiar about the man back during their New L’manburg and Showchester days, eyes lit up and rambling enthusiastically about clocks and hoppers and other redstone jargon that Ranboo tried but was never quite able to follow. It was cute, very cute at the time, and definitely one of the many reasons that Ranboo fell for him back then.)

With all of that, however, Ranboo was definitely surprised when they found Etho, leaning against the wall in the same alleyway they had escaped to.

The two of them introduce themselves, and make some small talk to pass the time, albeit a little awkwardly as introverts are known to do.

At some point Ranboo mentions his son, and a curious Etho asks for their age.

“I-I’m 19.” he stammers, hoping that Etho doesn’t judge him for being a teen parent or acts weird about it.

Etho hums for a bit, thinking about it, before taking out a cigarette and lighting it.

“You know... when I first got my keyboard, you were just a baby, isn't that weird?” he says, before taking a drag out of his cigarette.

And it's at that moment, the soft red glow of the cigarette bathing the space between them in warm light, that Ranboo realizes three things:

Redstone cigarettes are apparently a thing, and man that's kinda cool. Weird, but cool.

Etho looks really hot right now, with his piercings reflecting off the red light of the smoke, his jacket shrugged off in the warm August air to reveal his bare shoulders and tank top, and the way his red eye glows brighter with the new intake of redstone in his system, giving him a look that’s almost electrifying-

and 3. Ranboo may, just possibly, have a thing for older men.

But instead of voicing out any of these thoughts, Ranboo, in the terrible combined states of being really flustered and really, really drunk, so drunk he can barely think straight, blurts out instead:

“C-can you put that out on me?”

#maige's posts #maige's ramblings #maige's writings #ethoboo #dsmpshipping #mcytshipping #hermitshipping #hc x dsmp #ethoslab #cranboo #c!ranboo #sorry guys i swear i love happily gay married beeduo but i simply find the idea of them being divorced funnier okay #anyways was thinking abt ethoboo again and found this in my drafts. it only took me several months after the crackship tournaments lmao

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thiswaycomessomethingwicked · 3 months ago

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Have you ever thought about what it would be like if Eomer and Grima met as children lmao (also love your work🤍 I’m a huge fan of what you write and I’m married to Grima as well he’s my wet pookie)

sometimes there are people who come into my inbox with only the best and most amazing messages - you are one of them! (also thank you so much for the lovely compliments! I'm always so happy when people like my Grima nonsense <3)

I have never considered this but it is objectively hilarious. It would require them being the same age, which shifts their dynamic a bit I think since Grima is, at a minimum, like 13 years older than Eomer but really it's much more like 15 to 20 or more, depending if you're doing book or movie Grima re: age. (Book is ambiguous. He's described as "old" but what does that mean? Aragorn's also old! Anyway, I usually head-canon him as somewhere between 45-50. Eomer's like 27 and making some Peak Life Choices Boy Howdy.)

ANYWAY

Them meeting as children would be a mess. Grima's that kid who is like "I dissected the dead bird the cat brought in, do you want to see it? The insides are interesting--you can see where it might have been ill and dying anyway" and everyone is like "….no". He also suffers from the "everyone thinks I'm a weird freaky asshole so I might as well be the weirdest freakiest asshole they've ever met" - ouroboros situation. I also think he was born prickly which helps little. His natural personality is like pickle brine and life just made it worse.

(Eomer: it's a good thing pickle-backs exist. Shot of whisky followed by a shot of pickle brine. It's great.

Grima: what are you saying??

Eomer: that you're an acquired taste. and sometimes I feel like I've woken up after a bad night at the bar with Eothain.

Grima: .. ….,. .,,.. you know. I'll take it.)

Eomer is rough and tumble and also trying to live up to the Image of His Father. He's also a prince and therefore used to getting what he wants when he wants it. I think he was also born a bit truculent. Like, the slightly compulsive need to just Start Shit with people on occasion is there in his late 20s, I presume it was there in his childhood as well. It's not a constant thing, but when it strikes Eomer cannot resist.

(will this one day end up with him causing an International Incident? possibly.)

At the same time, I think Eomer was a child with a sunny disposition that dampened really swiftly after his parents died and he became a bit grave and serious in his teens. When you're fifteen and taking up your father's mantel and being told that he was a Hero and you're going to be Just Like Him is a lot to hold and I think Eomer's response to it was to try and be the Grave Heroic Lord that people expected him to be. Another ouroboros, just in a different direction to Grima.

All of this to say - them meeting at like twelve? Disaster. Grima would be weird and trying to figure out how to keep Eomer from beating him up or something but he's not perfected the ability to manipulate people or situations because he's twelve. Eomer would be like "why is this freaky kid staring at me and being weird" then would either try and start shit or would ignore him because Eomer is a Prince and Grima is a Commoner.

Also, I think Grima started doing his thieving at a young age and Eomer is at once offended because that is against the law! and you're not supposed to do that! and only sneak-thieves and villains do that! at the same time I can see ten year old him thinking it secretly kind of cool and badass. There's some mischief in Eomer that Grima can prod into the light of day (not to mention the natural desire kids have to test boundaries and push limits).

They meet because idk Grima's father is in Edoras for business reasons. It's sheering season, there's wool to sell.

(a half-drabble-thing below the cut)

Grima's loitering in a market square watching people and feeling a bit envious of the other boys who muck about together because he wants to be included but he knows if he tries it'll end poorly so he just watches and feels resentful.

Eomer's been taken to market by Theodred for whom Eomer acts as page since it provides him a quasi-apprenticeship in how to be a good Eotheod lord. Theodred being fourteen years older than Eomer has his household established and is in a good position to take Eomer on. Theodred says, ‘You can take a few hours to yourself. Consider it a half-day holiday.’

Eomer is well-chuffed with this development and is sauntering around with some of his mates. Determining if they’re going to make trouble or not – Eomer is conscious of needing to set a good example and wanting his cousin and uncle’s approval so does talk them out of the more insane ideas.

The squad gets distracted at some stall or other and Eomer isn’t interested in the wares so is looking around. He sees a slight, strange looking kid a few stalls over who is leaning against a pole watching them then he watches some of the common kids who are kicking a ball about in the square, others are running hoops &c. Eomer doesn’t at first pay attention to him because he’s just some peasant. Look at his clothes! Clearly not from Edoras. Clearly some boy from a farm or small village.

Then the boy seems to disappear and Eomer thinks that this is strange. He was sort-of keeping an eye on him since Eomer got a sense that he was planning some mischief but now he’s gone. La!

Into thin air.

Eomer’s mates are done with this stall—they want to go to another. Or maybe find a cockfight to bet some of their allowance on. All else fails, they say, we can go up to the first floor of the White Hart and look at the girls passing by.

This all sounds swell to Eomer and the roudy group makes their way towards the back of the market where the more dubious activities occur. As they round a corner Eomer collides into someone who hadn’t been there but a moment ago. It’s the boy from before! The little rat-faced one with the greasy dark hair and large eyes.

Eomer’s back up and dusting himself off as one of Eomer’s friends hauls the boy to his feet, ‘Don’t you watch where you’re going? Eh? We’re walking here, can’t you see?’ He’s jabbing into the boy’s chest and the boy is in turns frightened but also, somehow, sneering at them as if he were their better. The boy is gripping his hands into fists and there is dirt between fingers, as if he had grabbed up something from the ground. ‘What’s that smell? Sheep-shit? Wool? You got wool for brains?’

Eomer is all, ‘Leave him alone. He’s not worth it.’ And his friend laughs, wags a finger at the boy, ‘You’re lucky we’re kind.’ Then they’re off and Eomer doesn’t really think about the encounter until they’re at the cockfight and he goes for his purse to put a bet on and finds it lighter than it was an hour ago.

When they crashed into that boy.

And Eomer recalls a hand near his back then his belt but he hadn’t thought much of it. Just thought the boy was floundering a bit, being knocked over as he was, and Eomer so much bigger than he.

The little bastard nicked some of his money!

The little bastard is good if he got some but not all. Too smart to take the whole purse, too smart to cut it. The fall must have loosened it enough for some of the coin to fall out and the boy grabbed it up. Eomer thinks he should report the theft, because no one is above the law as his cousin tells him with regularity. As Third Marshal it will be Eomer’s job to ensure that justice is dispensed. It will be his job to ensure that the laws of the land are enacted fairly, honestly.

But it was only a few coins. In any case, Eomer doesn’t think the boy could stand the whipping that would follow. He had a pinched, starved look about him. That cringing, mincing manner some apprentices get when their masters are hard handed. When his friend was jabbing a finger into the boy’s chest Eomer had half expected the ribs to cave in.

Best leave him be. He’ll get his comeuppance at some point should the boy makes it to manhood with the same unwise habits.

Fishing out some pennies, Eomer says, ‘I’m going in on the cockerel with the green feathering on its wings.’

‘Only five pence? And that bird is going to lose, look how small he is!’

‘He may be small, but I think he’s got some cunning in him. In any case, thrift can be the mark of a wise man.’

His friends laugh: oh ho ho, Eomer sounds like a grandfather. Look at their friend the prince Eomer, trotting about as if he were a sage.

Eomer rolls his eyes, grabs one of his friends closest to him to knuckle his head, then they are cajoled into behaviour by the pressure and presence of the crowd.

Eomer’s bird wins the day. He preens all the way home.

Years on from then, Eomer will be visiting his uncle and cousin in Edoras and his uncle will say, ‘Come meet the man Aethelrod has marked as his successor, once he can no longer perform the role of Law Speaker.’

Eomer will say that Aethelrod has years left in him, surely? And his uncle will laugh his loud laugh that fills the golden hall: Oh yes, he’ll be long lived. Still, best to think about the future early.

When Eomer follows his uncle out through the golden pillars and the golden doors of Meduseld into the sun, he will see the broad, soft face of Aethelrod at the top of the stairs and behind him a tall man built lightly, with dark hair and large eyes. And Eomer will look at the man and the man will look at Eomer and Eomer will think the face to be familiar though he cannot place it. The man will bow, a perfectly executed action of someone who practices. Aethelrod will thump the man’s chest with his large fist and say, ‘This is Grima son of Galmod, found him out in the hinterlands some years back. He’s whip-fast and clever as an adder. He’ll do well for a Law Speaker, my lord. He’ll do very well indeed.’

And the man with the large eyes will seem to stare through Eomer then he will smile and it will be one of dark amusement. As if there were some joke being played at Eomer’s expense. Eomer’s back will get up, his skin will bristle, he will think that this man from the hinterlands shouldn’t be so confident or comfortable. He has yet to prove himself, after all.

It will be later, months or years on from the introduction, when Eomer will be rounding a corner in Meduseld and he will collide with Grima who has somehow made himself a fixture in Theoden’s household and Eomer cannot help but think there a secret, subtle magic at work. Because who is this man? No one has heard of him? Who is his father? Some shepherd from the east Emnet. No one of note or noble name. And if a man has no name or history can he be trusted?

In any case, they will collide and Grima will step back begging his pardon, he will be bowing, and Eomer will be saying, ‘It’s fine, don’t worry about it’ and Grima will be leaving, their shoulders will be brushing, and Eomer will think he feels the ghost of a hand at his back, his belt-purse, and when he looks over his shoulder he will see Grima also looking back and Eomer will realize oh Gods, it’s that kid. It’s that boy who nicked half my allowance that one day. And he will wonder at himself and how it was he never made the connection, but the moment is over because Grima is gone—back to the main hall where he will weave his plans for advancement and Eomer is in his room, checking his purse, and thinking to himself: I could have sworn there was a cup on the bedside table. A pretty one with gold in the rim. I could have sworn I left it there this morning.

#ask #reply #eomer #grima wormtongue #lotr #lord of the rings #griomer

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bellestarot · 2 months ago

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Mbappé's Reading

September 01, 2024

Right Now

He has been feeling some insecurities about what comes next. What will be the next paths his career will take? He’s had many pessimistic thoughts about it.

But he has been getting support from many people for this new phase in his life, so he’s not alone.

He’s entering an unknown territory and doesn’t quite know what to expect, but he’s hoping his efforts will be appreciated and that new opportunities will open up. In a way, he’s being challenged to try something new and to find new ways to see life.

He is a very sensitive person.

He is very connected to the beach and often seeks answers in the ocean. He feels a strong connection with the water.

He might be traveling right now to a paradisiacal place where he can relax and reflect on the decisions he’s making.

Even with people supporting him and being there for him, he isolates himself a lot. He’s trying to take care of himself more and develop self-love, treating himself better.

Love Life

He still hasn’t gotten over a past relationship with someone who hurt him deeply.

He also hasn’t forgiven himself for what happened between him and that person. He’s still struggling to move on and has hope that this person might come back to him, though I don’t see that happening. He also doesn’t feel like meeting new people right now, but he’s receiving a lot of support from his friends. I think these people remind him of how important and necessary he is.

I believe he has a lot of self-esteem issues and insecurities, but I see that he will be able to improve these feelings and love himself more. I think he’s also looking for ways to value himself.

Career

There was someone who used to be a friend to him, someone he cared a lot about. Ending that friendship has been very difficult for him because it was someone with whom he shared many memories and happy moments, possibly someone his age, maybe from the team he used to play with. They had a falling out and decided to go their separate ways.

He feels very stressed with his current team.

Regarding news about him, he feels that sometimes his freedom and ability to enjoy life are being restricted. He has a strong desire to do things that others might consider reckless or wrong, but he wants to have fun. He doesn’t want to pretend to be perfect just to please the media.

There was a male figure, possibly in sports or his career, that he admires greatly. He has longed to work with this person, maybe on a project, but unfortunately, they are quite distant from each other. He might need to travel to meet this person, but it’s someone he hopes to work with.

Overall, he has been financially successful in his career. Despite initial pessimistic thoughts and difficulties, I believe things are going well for him. The profits are coming in, and he and his team are doing a great job.

Family

He loves to get together with his family for dinners and conversations, but sometimes he feels very restricted because his family has some very conservative and traditional views that he doesn’t agree with. This has caused him a lot of anxiety due to their differing mindsets.

He has received a lot of help from a male figure, possibly his father or a grandfather, who is assisting him with his career and managing his finances. He greatly values the advice from this figure; it’s important to him.

He loves his family and enjoys spending time with them, which brings him a lot of happiness and smiles.

He is also supporting a younger relative who is looking to start a career, possibly by opening their own business. He has been very supportive of this person as well.

Friendships

He misses a friendship that has become distant. I’m not sure if this person has stopped being his friend, but he has a strong desire to see this person in person. It might be a more logical man, possibly an air sign, whom he used to be close to.

He also feels very upset and hurt about the end of another friendship with a man, possibly around his age. They might have had a physical altercation.

It’s as if both of them need to mature before they can rebuild their friendship. They seem quite immature together.

He has had a strong urge to do things considered wrong by others, like speeding while driving, because he feels very trapped and stressed by people controlling him and telling him what he should or shouldn’t do. This has left him very stressed. Additionally, there is a female friend who likes him, but he doesn’t know how to react or what to do about it. It’s something this person kept hidden for a long time, and he only recently found out.

Future

There’s something he desires greatly that will take some time to become a reality. The universe will make him wait for it, as it is somewhat decided by his mentors as well. He’s being encouraged to pursue his dreams and not give up, even through difficulties, making this an important journey in his life.

He will experience betrayal from some friends, which will significantly change his perspective on friendships and whom he can trust. He will feel deeply hurt by these people.

It will be a very challenging time in his life.

He will mature more and become the captain of his own life.

He will develop more self-love and take care not only of his physical health but also of his mental well-being. He will also become more responsible and selective about the people he lets into his life.

However, there will be some individuals who will truly hurt him, possibly people from his own work environment. He will be disappointed by many and see people for who they really are, which will leave him quite upset and anxious. But somehow, I believe this will be a learning experience for him.

#tarot #tarot reading #kylian mbappe #mbappe tarot #celebrities #spotify

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ihaveatheoryonthat · 10 months ago

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This one's... kind of fun. Honestly, I might come back to it, I just haven't gotten anywhere for some time, now, and it's bugging me. Let me know if this is one you'd be interested in seeing play out in full, because it could be nice to throw a sillier project in there after AGAS wraps up.

(This is another one that deals with trans characters before they've officially come out, though it's not the main focus, just part of the story. The approach is different from other pieces I've shared in the past, and I don't expect that it will be a problem, but please just approach it in good faith. I never mean to offend, I just like to explore things in different ways.)

Emmet had fucked up.

He realized it immediately after the fact, already entire seconds too late. For all that he’d done his research, for all that he knew the where and the when, it had done nothing to warn him for how his plan might backfire. Celebi was reclusive, but not an unknown, and its fleeting form hadn’t given him any reason to fear reaching out for its help.

Instead, it was the wind it blew about on-- the breeze that carried it to and fro in time-- that chilled him down to his core. He couldn’t possibly forget the sensation of it, because it had signaled the start to the worst week of his life-- up until the previous year, that was. In a way, that wind was the reason he’d reacted so harshly when Ingo had failed to check in after [whatever], and what had driven him here in the first place. It had set a precedent.

When they had been young children, playing in the wooded outskirts of Anville Town, Emmet had felt that same wind rush past him, and just like that, his brother had vanished.

If he’d known, he wouldn’t have sought Celebi out. He would have explored any and every other option before resorting to this one, but he’d already made his choice. In the immediate aftermath, he was dismayed to realize that their family’s suffering had come at his own unwitting hand as he tried to right an injustice for the second time.

A small, achingly familiar form darted away, taking shelter around the corner of the shrine. From where he knelt, Emmet could plainly see a pair of dark shoes under the elevated base; they were pointed away, the child’s back pressed to the only cover he had as he tried to figure out where he was and what had happened to him. Emmet braced a hand against the shrine’s edge, helping to lever himself up from the ground, and in the process, noticed that his offering was nowhere to be found, accepted as payment for this… favor.

He suspected the historical society wouldn’t appreciate the disrespect it showed, but he knocked lightly against the shrine’s nearest face and took a step to round the corner. There was a sharp intake of breath, then the sound of running on soft grass, and he found that he couldn’t blame the child; to be torn away from home so abruptly had to be terrifying, no matter a person’s age. He’d been trying not to let himself dwell on that exact point for some time now.

“It’s okay.” He said in the gentlest voice he could muster, and [floundered] for how to follow up. He remembered the week of the disappearance with an agonizing clarity, but it was an unrelated detail he found himself grasping for-- had they started using their real names before, or after? If he called out right now, would his twin know who he was talking to?

...it was probably close enough that Ingo had already decided on what he wanted to be called. Even if they hadn’t progressed to the point where they were actively testing it out between them, he would recognize the name as his.

“I’m sorry.” Emmet said, staying put at the shrine’s edge, one hand resting on its corner, “I made a verrrry big mistake. Please forgive me, Ingo.”

The child stayed still for another couple of seconds, and then-- seemingly ignorant of the fact that his every move could be and was being tracked-- began to inch around the shrine in the opposite direction. Emmet was relatively sure he could catch him if he tried to run, but for now, he waited to see how this would pan out. His currently-much-younger brother paused as he reached the edge where the eastern and southern corners met, and from the [edge] of his vision, Emmet caught a hint of movement. He didn’t look right away, making a dedicated effort not to scare him-- any more than he already had-- but, gradually, he turned his head.

There was a single silver eye peering at him from the other side of the [shrine], fingers curled around the wood just below it. He offered a shallow, apologetic smile and half turned, repeating, “I’m verrrry sorry, Ingo. This was never my intention.”

The boy disappeared back around the corner, but didn’t actually go anywhere. He probably needed time to think, to process. After a moment, Emmet heard his old name echo down the old village, warbling and fearful.

He turned in full and lowered himself onto one knee before answering in kind; it felt wrong to call that name again after so long, but it made the building anxiety opposite him pause, at least for a few seconds.

“I’m right here.” He added, listening for any change, “I am Emmet. I look different now, but I’m still your brother. Can you trust that?”

Around the corner, he heard a [steeling] breath and, finally, Ingo emerged. He looked exactly how Emmet remembered from back then, a perfect match to the missing child posters, down to the black jumper and cardigan he’d been reported ‘last seen wearing’. It would have been sweet to see his older twin so much smaller than him, were it not for the look on his face and the stubborn fold of his arms.

“I only have one brother.” He lied, somehow leaning forward in accusation while also keeping one foot poised to dart away if need be. “You’re not Drayden. Who who are you really?”

“I am Emmet,” Emmet said again, patient, “We’ve talked about this. I know we have. I have two brothers, and so do you.”

[…]

“Ingo,” He said flatly, patience waning, but only for the circumstance, and not the child before him, “You have not corrected me on the matter of your own name. Not once. How many people know what you like to be called?”

The boy muttered under his breath, but it was audibly, “Just Emmet…”

Emmet himself hummed in agreement. “And how would you intend to proceed from here? Do you even know where you are?”

It sounded unfairly judgmental-- of course he didn’t know. He couldn’t know. He’d just been ripped through time and space and was helpless to do anything about it. Emmet wasn’t sure what the worst part was: that he’d been the one responsible, or that it wouldn’t be an isolated incident.

If anything, the question seemed to rile his brother up; the shallower pout pulled into a proper frown and, as unhelpful as the observation was at the moment, it was kind of adorable.

“Obviously not! What kind of a question is that?” Ingo demanded, arms folding tighter in a self-soothing gesture that he wouldn’t even process in the moment. He looked off to the side, as if to gauge his surroundings, but at this age, he’d never set foot in eastern Unova-- hadn’t even seen it outside of travel documentaries-- and didn’t stand any chance of figuring it out on his own. It wasn’t meant as any slight to him, he just didn’t have the body of knowledge he needed.

His expression pinched in distress as he looked down the hill-- no doubt processing the fact that he was surrounded on all sides by an unfamiliar evergreen forest-- and he took a couple of steps down the incline. Emmet made no move to stop him; he could tell from the body language that his brother wasn’t about to bolt, he was just overwhelmed and trying to make himself understand.

Emmet sighed and closed the gap between them, recognizing the way Ingo’s breathing started to shudder. He didn’t know what he could do to help, but he had to do something; he almost reached out to touch his shoulder, but belatedly remembered that he fell under the umbrella of ‘stranger’ at the moment, and it wouldn’t be welcomed. He ended up sitting down next to his twin, legs hanging over the small ledge, shoes grazing the slightly-dewy grass. Hopefully it would make him seem more approachable, less of a looming unknown.

What he absolutely didn’t expect was for his brother to grab his face in both petite hands and force them to look one another in the eye. He still felt minor tremors travel through the boy’s arms, but Ingo’s expression was stern and searching.

“If you’re Emmet, why do you look like that?” He asked, after a moment of serious contemplation.

Unable to stop himself, Emmet snorted. “Like what? I look like you. That should prove it by itself.”

Ingo’s nose wrinkled at the comment, but it seemed he had more important matters to focus on. “No, you told me you want to look like Drayden when you grow up.”

“Ah.” Emmet said, [?], “It’s tragic. Drayden has a propensity for facial hair that we lack. Verrrrry disappointing.”

He raised one of his hands to graze the smaller one holding onto his face, and when that didn’t net a negative reaction, he picked his brother’s hand up and held it in both of his. “I understand that it does not make up for what I’ve done, but I want to help you. Would seeing Drayden make you feel better?”

Ingo thought about it for a few seconds-- maintaining intense eye contact all the while-- and then pulled his hand back. At first, it seemed like a no, but then he sat down on the ledge next to Emmet; he still maintained a safe gap between them, but put them back on the same general level. Immediately after, he looked to Emmet’s far hand-- his right-- gaze raking over the Xtransceiver that peeked out from beneath a sleeve. It would have been awkward and uncomfortable letting someone watch him navigate his Xtransceiver, but today he didn’t try to shield his contact list, and he saw Ingo squint at it before navigating to the next screen-- likely noticing his own name at the very top.

The boy leaned away again while the phone rang, abruptly reminded that he was feeling skittish, which left Emmet as the only one in the field of view when their brother answered. Drayden looked him up and down, reading his expression the very same way Emmet had read Ingo’s a minute before, and, in lieu of a formal greeting, asked:

“What did you do?”

“I am Emmet. I have erred.” He said bluntly.

“Elaborate.” Drayden demanded in kind.

He glanced to his left, at where Ingo was scrutinizing the screen and nibbling on his bottom lip; he still looked on-edge, but some of the tension was dissipating as he watched their older brother and heard him speak. As much as he wanted to convince Ingo that he was who he claimed, he understood that it would be orders more difficult when he had to contend with such a large age gap and the matter of a full transition. By comparison, Drayden had changed very little about himself, and was much more recognizable; he looked older and dressed differently, but the basics stayed the same.

Emmet decided to facilitate this track; maybe if they talked in greater depth, Ingo would warm up to the fact that they really were the family he knew.

“My research on Celebi indicated that it has been seen here in Unova. It likes Zorua and hides in forests to play with them. I decided I would try to get its favor.” He admitted, watching Drayden steel himself the longer he spoke.

“You claimed that you would keep me abreast of any developments; why didn’t you follow through?” Drayden asked, but he wasn’t really looking for an answer-- not yet, at least. His eyes moved to the backdrop of trees behind Emmet, and connecting the dots was child’s play.

The only child present seemed to have picked up on that, too, and wasn’t paying attention at the moment; instead, he was half-turned to look at the shrine again, as if he expected to find a Pokemon lingering there. Emmet gave his hand a brief tap, trying to corral him for the moment, and he reluctantly turned back around.

Drayden’s gaze moved back down to his younger brother. “It rejected your appeal, then? It’s clearly not good news.”

Emmet opened his mouth to reply and left it that way for a moment, trying to figure out how to handle this.

“It… accepted my offering.” He said, eventually.

Drayden didn’t [allow] him even that inch of [?]. “But?”

“There was a miscommunication.” Emmet said. He looked back over to Ingo, who had his head tilted to see the screen better, and was only barely out of frame. Instead of talking to the eldest, he directed his next question to the youngest-by-technicality. “Can you say hi? It would help explain.”

Ingo didn’t respond verbally, but he inched closer so the forward-facing camera would be able to capture them at the same time. Emmet murmured a thank you and adjusted his Xtransceiver accordingly. Drayden’s brow furrowed, becoming a ridge worthy of one of his dragons, and, in disbelief, he quietly called an old name.

“Ingo.” Both of them said, simultaneously, correcting him without any heat. Since the boy in question didn’t have anything else to say at the moment, Emmet added, “We were testing our names out a long time before we told you.”

“Emmet.” Drayden [?], his usually [thunderous/?] voice a mere croak, and he didn’t have to say anything else to get his point across. Emmet knew. Emmet had known how royally he’d screwed up only three seconds into this mess. He nodded, eyes turned down, ashamed of his actions and making no effort to defend himself.

“Where are you right now?” Their brother asked, strength seeping back in and demanding an answer.

Clipped, Emmet [?], “Abundant Shrine.”

Drayden echoed it back at him, already moving and deep in thought. Ingo echoed it, too, but he was more focused on putting a name to the place; he turned back around to look at the eponymous shrine once again.

“Stay where you are. I can be there in 30 minutes.” Drayden said. His attention strayed to something in his immediate vicinity, but once he’d dealt with it, his eyes turned to the smaller of the two figures. “Ingo, stay with Emmet. I understand that this has to be frightening, but we’re going to make sure you’re taken care of, alright?”

At the sound of his name, Ingo had turned around. He scanned the image on the Xtransceiver’s screen again and hummed in affirmation, giving his head the tiniest forward tilt.

“Alright,” Drayden breathed out, relieved, “I’ll see you soon; 30 minutes.”

Emmet nodded back, and Ingo held up a half-curled hand to say goodbye; shortly thereafter, the video cut, leaving them staring at their reflections-- and then each other’s. Neither of them said anything, and Emmet dropped his hand into his lap. Ingo drew his legs up onto their level and wrapped his arms around them, still incredibly [scared] and uncomfortable, but he stayed put, right where he was.

If their arms brushed against each other, neither of them mentioned it.

-------

Ingo had always been very active when they were children, so it felt weird that he stayed in place the entire 30 minute wait, only moving enough to straighten his legs out for a few minutes, avoiding a cramp. When he felt a little better, he pulled them back up and tucked them under his dress, scuffed flats poking out from beneath. His fingers worked into his sweater’s cuffs on either side, and he rested his chin on his folded arms, staring down into the [?] that led to Undella.

Decades prior, when he’d finally [resurfaced], he hadn’t had any memory of where he’d been, the entire week of his disappearance rendered blank. Their parents had taken him to doctors and then a therapist, trying to understand what had happened and-- just maybe-- help recover the [memory], but nothing had ever worked. Back then, Emmet had stuck with his brother like they’d been glued together, unwilling to take his eyes off of him for the duration of an appointment. Most of what he could remember was Ingo’s building frustration-- both at the adults’ insistence and his own inability to provide answers.

Now, it seemed self evident that his memory of that week--this week-- had been a casualty of time travel. Emmet tried not to delve too deep into the implications that held and, instead, used it to his advantage: he could show or tell Ingo anything he wanted without fear that it might change something in their distant past. Chandelure would be far too much too soon, but halfway through their wait, he released Galvantula to keep them company and help break the tension. It had looked between them, completely lost, until Emmet gave a very, very brief explanation, consisting entirely of “Ingo is having a verrrry hard time right now. Will you sit with him?”

So, when Drayden arrived from the north-- riding in on his Salamence’s back-- it was to the sight of a child being flanked by his much-older twin and an incredibly confused spider. When they both stood up straight, allowing him to look them over properly, his expression screamed that he was dismayed, but not surprised.

He drew a deep breath, eyes flicking to Emmet like he had some very pointed comments to make, but he held his tongue, ever the composed politician. Instead, he focused on Ingo, who subconsciously inched forward; his hat must have fallen off as he got up, because he held it in both hands, kneading it anxiously.

There was a [recognition/trust] in his expression that Emmet told himself not to be jealous of; the two of them were incredibly close, of course, but they had different relationships with Drayden. Emmet was the youngest, and he’d grown up with an older sibling right there to lean on, so their distant older brother didn’t seem so [significant]; Ingo, meanwhile, only had Drayden to look up to in that regard. By the time they were old enough to understand their family’s dynamic, the eldest had long since moved on to his life in Opelucid, making his presence the exception rather than the rule-- and all the more valuable to Ingo in particular.

No one would deny that the two of them were each other’s comfort people-- typical of twins, and utterly proven by Ingo’s reticent behavior without his same-age sibling-- but Emmet knew that, to his brother, Drayden meant ‘safe’ in a very unique way.

He was glad, actually-- [envious], but glad. It meant there was someone who could help put his twin’s mind at ease. Emmet was still being mindful not to touch too much or too suddenly, but he tapped the backs of his fingers on Ingo’s arm, urging him to go greet their older brother. The child stepped forward, and when that proved safe enough, repeated the process once more, then again and again until he’d crossed the distance.

For a moment, he stared up, taking in the details and then-- undoubtedly much louder than he’d intended-- said, “You changed your hair.”

“I have a new job, now; I’m afraid I had to adopt a new hairstyle to accommodate.” Drayden said. Unlike many, he didn’t alter his tone to talk to children-- he spoke to them on exactly the same level he would talk to teenage challengers and other adults; he moderated his words and made sure he explained things more carefully, but he wouldn’t patronize someone based on their age. This straightforward approach was the correct one, and Ingo finally stopped working wrinkles into his hat from sheer nerves.

Emmet could tell that Drayden hardly even thought about it as he picked it up and settled it on their brother’s head, tugging the edges down and then tucking it so it sat properly. The same could be said for Ingo, who immediately straightened and then went still, allowing him to fix it without a word of complaint. It was actually quite sweet.

Drayden looked at him for a moment longer before cutting to the point. “Can you tell me what happened to you?”

“We were playing by the greenbelt,” Ingo started, watching Drayden’s expression intently, already seeing what he could read into it, “It rained last night, so there were Tympole in the puddles, and we watched them for a long time. After that, we went to find a good branch to hang Emmet’s sweater on, ‘cause someone got wet and we didn’t want mom to find out.”

Drayden snorted, which startled Ingo at first, but quickly proved helpful; his eyes lit up at having made their brother laugh, and he continued on more readily. “We were arguing about which tree was better when the wind started. I don’t know what happened, then.” The admission took a substantial amount of steam out of him. He looked at Emmet, then returned his attention to the eldest, “We talked some after that, and then you told us to wait for you.”

“Alright. Thank you, Ingo.” Drayden rumbled; it was a very deliberate tone-- not a ‘kid voice’ but comforting, the way he would try to help any family member. He looked up and raised a brow, plainly asking for Emmet’s version of events-- as if he was one of their parents, arbitrating a disagreement.

“I sought out Celebi’s help. You already know why.” Emmet said shortly; even if Ingo wouldn’t remember this week, there was no sense in saddling him with the knowledge that would disappear for a second time. “I thought I made my intentions clear, but I guess not. Instead of what I asked, it brought Ingo here. We talked. I apologized. We called you. Now you’re caught up.”

Drayden maintained eye contact the entire time, but after he’d finished speaking, looked away to the shrine. “Is there any way to call Celebi back?”

“Yup. It would need a new offering, though. I only had one.” Acquiring a new one would be a pain, but doable. The offering itself was a glorified dumpling, but the ingredients weren’t the most common, and he’d had to track down the gourmet who frequented Route 5 in order to have it made correctly. Emmet wasn’t looking forward to dealing with her again, but he would do it to put this right.

“Alright, then that’s the end we’re working toward.” He looked back to each of them in turn-- Emmet first, then Ingo. “Would it be presumptuous to assume we’re headed to my house?”

“No.” / “The apartment would be too much right now.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Ingo dragging the heel of his shoe through the grass, insulted. “I’m not a baby, you’re just old.”

Though it didn’t show on his face, Drayden choked back laughter; Emmet slowly looked at his younger-older brother and let out a sharp breath. He knew for a fact that it had been retaliation, but not solely for his comment regarding their apartment; he used to say something very similar to their eldest sibling whenever he put his foot down on their childish plans. Dragons, was this what it felt like from the outside, whenever they’d wound each other up?

“Be that as it may. I think a familiar environment is best.” […]

After a few extra seconds to let him stew in it, Drayden took pity on him; he plucked a pokeball from his belt and held it out to their youngest brother, “Would you like to see Swablu again? I’m sure you could bribe him into taking you to Opelucid; you know how he is.”

The look on Ingo’s face would have been laughable-- trying to work out how a creature the size and density of a wadded-up pillow could take anyone anywhere-- but it was cut short as he accepted the pokeball and released Altaria.

There was a short, excited gasp, followed by a hushed, “You evolved!”

Altaria stared unabashedly for a handful of seconds, then looked to its trainer, as if asking if this was some kind of joke.

-------

[this would be a closer]

“[…] can scarcely express how much I’ve missed you, but right now, I need to tell you something of the utmost importance.” [either state that his tone clearly means he remembers now, or have Emmet realize that this is the child’s voice he’s been hearing for the past week] “You’re living on borrowed time. As soon as I set foot in Unova, you’re a dead man.”

#submas #ihaveatheoryonthat pkmn #writing scraps

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xdolls-crownx · 1 year ago

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I’m tired and this is just a random thought. My typing will probably make jack sense and I’m probably really off on a lot of accounts

And Scythe, if you see this, feel free to correct anything I messed up (already relevant lore wise, I mean)

this got long-

so light magic is obviously the opposite of dark magic and if I remember correctly, it’s a somewhat calming presence. It’s not meant for violence.

does that mean it could counter what dark magic does to its users?

there’s the obvious issue of when it gets used to much or just to a point where this voice tells them negative things about themselves in an almost trance like way. I think one of the reasons it never got solved was because every time it gets mentioned, it revolves around Dark. Dark, it’s I am to be correct, never got the chance/never told Blade about the voice and in doing so, never was able to find a way to reverse it.

Dark magic has been around for ages and I don’t remember where light magic comes from but it’s not as old as dark magic is which means that this could just be a reoccurring think with dark magic users and since light magic hasn’t been around as long (and I’m gonna guess dark and light have been at each others throats for who knows how long) there hasn’t been a viable solution.

Dark and Blade met right as his voice appeared which means they never really had all THAT much time to get close where as V and Cheeky have known each before the voice showed up.

I think there is a way to reverse this and I think it’s a mental thing(?). Hypothetically, if Cheeky, seeing as they’re able to get inside peoples heads, could somehow get into V’s head and do something (idk what) that might basically tell the thing to fuck off, then V might not go insane (or whatever happens to them).

this voice stems from the negativity stemmed around dark magic (I think). Dark had the issue where he was always out down and Blade was trying to tell him like “hey. You’re not a fuck up, my dad is just an ass.” One key difference, unless proven otherwise, is that Blade didn’t have the ability to get into peoples heads so if she was able to get into his head, there’s a possibility that the outcome between the two of them might have been different.

my knowledge of the lore needs a refresher like big time and in doing so, I have to figure out if my theory’s can be disproven (don’t get me started on how I think Blade isn’t actually related to the light guy who calls the shots)

#scythe audio #I’m planning on doing like a giant run through of everything #And make like a timeline/who goes with what #Because now that scythe has pointed out ON MULTIPLE OCCASIONS that everything is connected #I need a refresh #Because there is a lot going on #And a lot of storylines #Fuck #i sound like MatPat

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megumiswife4 · 1 year ago

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Entwined Shadows 3

Part: 3

Pairings ~ Megumi x Fem Reader

Warnings ~ slow burn, (possible smut in later chapters), aged-up Fushiguro (as well as other characters), 18+ only PLEASE.

WC ~ 1.3k

This is my first fic here. Please take it easy on me, but I would love to receive constructive criticism to improve my writing; you guys can always leave messages in my inbox or comment below once again thank you for reading, and enjoy.

*( I will be posting every Sunday night for a new chapter)*

Part 2: 👇🏻

Megumi’s POV

I pondered on my own thoughts, trying to figure out a game plan. Was I going to try and confront this man? Or sit back letting this unfold steadily and strategically? I’d prefer seeing this man try to bypass y/n. She was his next target, and yet he thought I would be on board with his scheming plan of being able to drug her and believe he could take her home.

“Please tell me that you’ve seen that too, Itadori?” Rubbing the temples of my forehead annoyedly.

“Yeah, looks like we’ve gotta stay vigilant on this guy.” Tilting his head towards me.

I scoffed in annoyance, the one night out that we decide to unwind we already have trouble coming from our first stop. Y/n needs to have her moment on that stage with Kugisaki, the last thing she needs is some punk ass trying to take advantage of that all because of his greedy little ego; Too bad I’m going to ruin his night a tad bit early.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n exuded such a presence on that stage and wowed the entire bar, that even after she was finished everyone applauded with Kugisaki alongside her. Itadori and Megumi both joined in with the rest of the crowd, excited to see the girls having a blast their guards down knowing that they could just be themselves even if it was just for a moment.

Y/n ran up to Itadori excitedly, “How did I do up there?!”

“You did so good!… look behind. You’ve got an entire crowd of people here that thought your performance was badass! Same goes for you too, Kugisaki.” Letting out a minuscule laugh. Both girls thanked Itadori for such a warm compliment, after all he was your guy's best friend and an honest person; If something wasn’t all that great you both would know.

Y/n was gradually making her way over to Megumi before she could take her final steps towards him, an unknown body figure appeared and it was most certainly not Megumi’s.

“Wow, you looked gorgeously phenomenal up there. Did my order of sake shots help a bit with calming your nerves?” The man lustfully smiled, gazing his eyes towards y/n.

“Umm.. yeah it did, I really do appreciate the drinks, it really eased the tension up for me to feel more comfortable.” Uncomfortably smiling.

“Oh my god, where are my manners? I never formally introduced myself. My name is Hayato.” Extending his hand towards y/n.

Laughing a bit awkwardly, reaching to his hand. Instead of having a soft handshake he slowly pulled her hand upward to his lips placing a small kiss. “Uhm… the name is y/n, nice to meet you.”

Finally releasing her hand from his, it was visible she was uncomfortable. “I thought you might like this drink, it was one of the special cocktails of the night that the bar advertised.” He insisted, showcasing the drink in his hand.

Megumi horizened his gaze over Hayato’s shoulder, taking notice that the drink looked awfully different; coincidentally there had been a weird fizzing reaction occurring in the drink and not to mention there was faint white substance slowly sinking into the liquid. Megumi had only recognized it due to Hayato accidentally dropping the small zip bag of the substance much earlier. Y/n nervously smiled grasping ahold of the glass he offered her, suddenly another man’s arm interjected between the two.

“It’s alright man I think she’s had enough to drink for the night. But she appreciates the offer.” Megumi let out a stern smile, offering cash to substitute his cocktail order for her.

“And who are you?” Hayato laughed cunningly, pushing Fushiguros forearm away between the two of them.

“That’s really none of your concern, other than my friend and I are accompanying the girls here.” He hovered over Hayato, vigorously standing between y/n and him now. Proceeding to grab the drink out of his hand pouring it beside him onto the tile floor, his other hand stuffing cash into the pocket of his button up shirt.

Megumi leaned into his ear, “It’s best that you go Hayato, once again thanks for the drink she won’t be needing anything more from you.” As he patted his chest with a small grin plastered on his face.

“You bastard.” He snarled, grabbing ahold of Megumi's perfectly creased collar. Yuji quickly pressed himself against Hayato, “It’s alright Yuji I got it.” Megumi insisted.

“I’m telling you right now man, you really don’t want to do this here.” Fushiguro huffed.

Hayato firmly let go of his collar, gazing over at y/n. “I didn’t really give a shit what your name was, in all honesty I just wanted you to come home with me to have someone accompany me in my bed for the night sweetheart.”

Megumi quickly grasped his throat, tight enough for him to still breathe and speak. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, speaking to a woman like that? You really think that me standing here is going to be the only thing I’m going to do to you for disrespecting her like that? Huh?!” His eyes widening, the color of them darkening with every word he spoke.

Hayato immediately withdrew his way out of Megumi’s hold, “Look man I didn’t mean any harm, I promise!” As he lifted both arms in the air initiating a truce.

“Next time I see you around, I’m not letting you off this easy now get out.” Glaring at the man. Hayato quickly found his way out the bar feeling flustered and was never to be seen afterwards.

“Megumi, what was that all about? All he was trying to do was hand me a drink.” Questioned y/n

“Trust me you’re better off not having it.” He stammered, a hardened look on his face.

Kugisaki looked over at Itadori for an answer, “What was that guy's problem? The one that Fushiguro almost murdered?” Chuckling.

“Well for one, that guy isn’t all sweet like he intended to be when he first greeted y/n. Fushiguro and I were waiting in our section when we noticed an altercation with him and his buddy. As soon as his friend stormed out, Hayato accidentally dropped a bag with white powder inside of it…and well we knew what exactly his plan was afterwards.”

“Okay he’s totally a creep for that, I know for a fact if I had known he was such a weirdo, I would have kicked his ass right in this exact moment.” Kugisaki exclaimed.

“Trust me Kugisaki, Fushiguro and I would have taken care of it. We came with you both. It's kinda our job to be the protectors here.” Itadori insisted.

Megumi and y/n were engaged in their separate conversation from itadori and kugisaki addressing the situation that had occurred. Megumi planted his hand above her head as he lightly patted it, “Y/n I’m just looking out for you, Itadori and I noticed he wasn’t a guy with good intentions just some scum bag looking for a good time, he planned on drugging you; I saw his bag laid out on the floor before he picked it up. And that drink he offered… he was trying to have you out unconscious.” A saddened look appeared on his face.

Guiding his hand to her mid back to ease the tension from this situation, y/n nervously felt his soft hand graze the back of her dress she knew he was only trying to comfort her; but oddly enough she just couldn’t seem to grasp this butterfly feeling in her stomach. He caught a glimpse of y/n, her cheeks bright red. He couldn’t discern whether that was the alcohol flush or just the nervousness displayed by his gentle touch.

“Let’s get going, we still have another place to scope out.” Itadori exclaimed. Nobara, Y/n, and Megumi followed his lead leaving the bar.

“Didn’t you mention that one badass nightclub? It’s got those crazy lights inside with an insane smoke machine?” Nobara responded excitedly.

“Yup! That’s where we’re headed to!” Itadori announced.

The entire group yet again, explored their way into the streets of Shibuya; finding the extravagant nightclub that was greatly talked about throughout the town and its well known locals.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TAGLIST: @mariapierce789 @afatalheat

#jujutsu kaisen #megumi fushiguro #gojo satoru #yuji itadori #toji fushiguro #nanami kento #nobara kugisaki #choso kamo #geto suguru #jjk fic #EntwinedShadowsFic #jjk angst #jjk megumi #megumi x reader #megumi fluff #megumi smut #jujutsu kaisen megumi

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alaffy · 1 year ago

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The Gilded Age - Head to Head (Spoilers)

We’re in episode three, why do I feel as though they’re still setting up for the season? I mean, there are some stories that are on track; but it feels like other stories have had very little progression. And there’s a least one story….

Let’s be honest, do we really care about the Vallet and his daughter? Maybe if we had gotten to know that character better, but…

Marion’s story is progressing just like I thought. Agnes’ nephew is interested in Marion and has let Agnes know. Marion just thinks the nephew is being friendly. Agnes approves of the match, but needs to figure out a way to manipulate (let’s be honest about what it is) Marion into a marriage.

Ada finally has a first, uh, outing with the Rector. Agnes will not be happy.

The Widow is clearly using Larry for a good time. I mean, I know Larry’s young; but, damn, she couldn’t drop any more signs that he’s just a fling.

Oscar seems to be getting along with his new (money) interest.

Peggy has convinced the newspaper editor to allow her to go with him to visit Tuskegee, Alabama for a story on Booker T. Washington. Peggy goes back home to get more summer clothes and lets Dorothy know about where she is going. Dorothy, understandably, does not want Peggy to go. And, well…look, we all know Peggy is neither stupid nor ignorant; she knows that things are going to be bad in the South. But there’s a difference between knowing about something and living through it. I don’t think Peggy is fully prepared for what she’s about to experience.

But going on to the main story/stories tonight. The episode starts with Bertha giving a party in hopes to get people to take boxes as The Met. She’s invited several of the Old Guard that she thinks she might be able to convince that it would be possible to take a box at both venues. Of course, this includes her former Lady’s maid; Turner now Winterton. And, of course, the servants find out that Turner has married into the Upper Class; which leads to gossip.

Winterton, however, is not interested in taking a box at the Met. She just wanted to rub Bertha’s face in the fact that she’s now part of the Upper Class, that she knows the Duke of Buckingham, and George has kept something from Bertha. Basically, a bitchy information dump.

Oh, and there’s this funny little scene where McAllister, who was at Bertha’s party, has to sneak over to Agnes’ where Ms. Astor is holding a meeting on what to do about The Met. And boy does he have information (although he doesn’t let them know he was at Bertha’s party or heard it from Bertha herself). Apparently, the opening day for the first season of the Met will be the same day as the opening for the next season of The Music Hall. Scandal! Ms. Astor asks Agnes to write to the members of the Old Guard saying that she (Agnes) heard a rumor that if someone takes a box at The Met, they’ll loose their box at The Music Hall (Ms. Astor can’t be the one to tell everyone this because that would mean Ms. Astor is making it a policy and right now Ms. Astor is only trying to scare people).

Anyway, I have a feeling that Ms. Astor is soon to learn about the whole Turner/Winterton thing as one of the Servants in the Russell house told one of the Servants in the Van Rijn house and we all know where this will lead.

Going back to Bertha. Bertha confronts George and he tells her about how Winterton did slip into his bed one night and that nothing happened. And…I don’t know…I feel like Bertha’s reaction was more for the drama. Don’t get me wrong, I fully believe the character of Bertha would be pissed at George. But I feel she would have been more, you should have told me not just because I’m your wife and I deserved to know; but because this was a staff member who reported directly to me and because, if Winterton had so chosen, could have caused us/or could cause us great harm. Like she would have been hurt, yes, but she also would have known where exactly to put the blame (on Winterton for trying to sleep with her husband and for Gorge not to tell her about the incident).

So, this causes a big riff between them and Bertha almost doesn’t show up for the luncheon, that George has planned with the Union Rep, like she promised. Shocking! But she does show and George has a talk with the man. It doesn’t go George’s way. He thinks he has the upper hand, but he doesn’t know his workers are about to Strike.

At the end of the episode, Bertha finds George and lets him know the Duke of Buckingham is coming to America (I think this would be the future King Edward VII). She wants George to find out when he’s arriving and where he’s staying because she wants to get in his good graces and rub Winterton’s nose in it. If George does this for her, than maybe he’ll be back in her good graces.

#the gilded age #the gilded age spoilers #marion brooks #ada brook #agnes van rhijn #bertha russel #george russell #peggy scott #oscar van rhijn #larry russell #gladys russell

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about-faces · 2 years ago

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What do you think of a Harley/Harvey romance? Or do you think they won't just fit and better left as friends or antagonists? Do you think Harvey would be a good fit as the 'token dude' among the Gotham Sirens (Harley, Ivy , Selina)?

Honestly, I don’t know what kind of dynamic Harley and Harvey should have. You’d think they’d have some common ground to build on, between their names and their taste in split fashion! But beyond that, they’re a pair of characters I can never quite figure out when it comes to them being together as anything but antagonists, which is boring to me.

(Note: when I speak about Harley, I’m taking about my own personal understanding of her, as I prefer the character. She’s been so inconsistent ever since she became the Sexy Elmo of the DCU, to the point that she’s more a vague merchandise concept than a character. For all intents and purposes of this, I’m thinking of her as Arleen Sorkin’s Harley from BTAS for the most part)

The big fundamental difference is that Harley is all about fun, while Harvey is all about pain. The guy literally wears his agony on his face, and is a big wet blanket for any irreverent antics Harley might want to commit. It's not even a Bert-and-Ernie situation where there's a wacky character and a stoic, straight-laced character, because Harvey is just TOO serious and TOO tormented to be any fun for Harley. There's little room for give-and-take between them. There's just Harley trying to be wacky while Harvey stares at her like someone who has entirely forgotten the concept of fun.

Now, that's not to say that Two-Face can't be a fun, wacky, flamboyant character for Harley to play with! But we'd have to go back to his late Golden Age characterization, where he was entirely focused on outlandish crimes based around the number two. I could possibly imagine a Harley who encourages Harvey to be that kind of Two-Face again, doing something like... oh, let's say, robbing a circus while riding on two horses at the same time. Harley might have a great time with THAT Two-Face!

Now, one might thinking about going the opposite direction. That, instead of encouraging his worst criminal instincts, there's some potential for Dr. Harleen Quinzel to actually be a healing influence on Harvey Dent. Unfortunately, I can't stop thinking about that comic where Mark Russell had Harley "cure" Harvey of needing to listen to his coin, which not only overlooks the core reasons why the coin is so important to him (Russell just kinda treated it as an obsessive quirk and no deeper), but it also shows how Harley's professional care only resulted in making for a more deadly, unpredictable Two-Face:

(Sidenote: brilliant as Russel is as a writer, you can tell he doesn't understand Two-Face because Batman doesn't refer to him as "Harvey.")

I'd love to see Harley as someone who truly empathizes with Harvey Dent, someone who actually understands his trauma from abuse and his internal divide, but it seems impossible to consider how both characters are usually written. It would require a Harley Quinn who actually does fundamentally care about helping people and a Harvey Dent who is written as both a good man and a victim.

Which is where Stjepan Šejić's Harleen was so fascinating and frustrating alike. Harvey is a major character there, and he's miswritten as a hardline dickbag who is all about being Hard On Crime, just for the sake of clashing with the tragically-empathic Dr. Quinzel.

This Harvey Dent is not sympathetic. He's a moralizing prick who straight-up advocates for a fascist police state, including releasing Arkham inmates to show Gotham in order to unleash martial law. It's a perversion of the subplot from the 1989 comic strips, where Harvey wants to resign for unwittingly almost aiding a plot to do exactly what he tries to do in Harleen. To top it off, this Two-Face is willing to re-flip his coin to get a desired result, which is just Bad Two-Face 101.

And yet, despite ALL that, Šejić makes an impressive stab at showing how his compassionate take on Harleen is two-of-a-kind with even this jerkass Harvey Dent.

Even now, I don't know what to make of this, nor do I know what it could possibly mean for either characters. But I remain intrigued by the potential implications of two tragic characters who both lost everything and became "monsters" all in the name of trying to help others. Two irreconcilable people, bound by fate and ideals and "Ha Ha."

So no, I don't know what kind of relationship these two could ever have. I'm even more doubtful there could ever be romance between them. But in other circumstances... who can say? Maybe in some AU, there's a tormented, scarred crime boss driven by revenge and punishing the Haves (Halves?) on behalf of the Have-Nots, and he surprises even himself by bonding with a whimsical, colorful, tortured, and tragically unstable mischief-maker in pigtails.

Maybe. Just maybe that'd work.

#and while I'd love to see Harvey as the token dude in a girl gang #I think Riddler was already the perfect choice there #I have my own ideas for the dream team for Harvey to lead though #harvey dent #harleen quinzel #harley quinn #twoface #two face #batman

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isfjmel-phleg · 2 years ago

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I've talked before about how Superboy #91 brings jarring first-person narration to a series that previously had almost no narration, but that's not the first time that we get such a glimpse into Kon's thoughts. The first time he narrates is in #75, and it is also devastating, but in a different way.

Story time!

It's right after the Sins of Youth storyline. Kon has (after a lot of complications) been aged up into an adult only to watch his former girlfriend get killed in front of him, and then has been restored to his proper age--at the expense of his powers. And all this has happened after a series of misadventures in hypertime where he gets to witness the death of multiple alternate versions of himself and has since been questioning whether he returned to his original reality. And that happened after he had to move back to and work for the cloning lab that created him because his previous living arrangement fell apart after he got drugged and enslaved by humanoid animals for like two months after he ran away following a PR disaster resulting from his manager's setting him up to fail publicly, which comes right after... etc. etc. you get the idea. This kid's been through a lot in a short time, without a moment to process any of it.

And then it gets so bad that even this plot finally comes to a screeching halt for a mental breakdown interlude.

As the issue opens on Guardian heading up a mission for Cadmus, Kon narrates. He's not joining in this mission. We see him watching from a distance, wearing civilian clothes (not typical!), and it's clear he's not okay.

This is weird—the weirdest thing I’ve ever felt…like it’s all on TV…or I’m watchin’ from a real long distance…but I’m right here. It’s unreal. Like—this can’t be happening to me…none of this!

The issue then alternates between flashbacks to conversations he's had recently and his aimlessly wandering around town in the present.

Cadmus's director has taken him off active duty and tells him that although they're bringing in a doctor to look into trying to restore his powers, he needs to think about what to do if that doesn't work out. Kon protests that he can't leave! Cadmus is his home! But of course they could never replace him, could they?

They can. They've hired a new field agent.

So where does he fit in now?

The doctor whom Cadmus brings in to examine him has taken his suit for analysis and says it might be a while before he gets it back. So he doesn't even have his usual clothes anymore.

An acquaintance from a recent adventure has been critical of how he's been handling his recent losses.

It's not so simple, though.

…But nothin’ makes sense right now. My head’s spinnin’...my stomach’s in knots…I could really go for some fries. Yeah—kick back. Veg out. Forget all about…recent events…

Possibly some depressive symptoms? This isn't something he can just get over.

He has tried to beg Guardian to train him in techniques to substitute for his lack of powers. Guardian won't do it. "I know what's really eating at you, son," he says. "But you don't have to prove anything. There might even be a silver lining to all this..."

But this is Kon's only frame of reference. He has no concept of "a real life." That's never been an option for him.

Serling Roquette is very upset when she hears he might be leaving. He assures her it's just for a while, until he can figure things out. She says she can't imagine the place without him.

“Superboy is dead.” Guess that’s true—for part of me, anyway. The part that died when my old girlfriend was killed right in front of me. Why couldn’t I save her? Why couldn’t I save the first person I ever loved?

Kon's relationship with Tana was objectively not good. She groomed and exploited him. It should never have happened. But he doesn't realize that (and tragically never does), and he did have real feelings for her, however undeserved. She was the first person he became attached to, the first to show him any kind of affection (...through an abrupt embrace that he wasn't comfortable with). His devastation is understandable.

But her family blames him for her death, so he can't have the closure of accompanying her body back to Hawaii or attending the funeral. That task goes to Dubbilex (in psychic disguise lest his D.N.Alien appearance alarm anyone), who claims a close friendship with Tana that previous issues never once showed us and blames himself for her death. Kon reassures him that it wasn't his fault. If Dubbilex can telepathically sense Kon's own guilt, he doesn't mention it. But he does say...

Kon's only reply is, "That's the trouble with you mind-readers...you read minds!" He removes his leather jacket and requests that it be buried with...with...

Why can’t I say her name? It’s almost like, if I say her name, she’ll really be gone. It’s all I’ve got to hold on to. I don’t want to let go…don’t want to lose her.

The Wild Men, the humanoid animals, also blame themselves for Tana's death, and once again Kon has to offer reassurance. But when he tries to address his own feelings, they're too distracted to listen.

They invite him to continue adventuring with them, and he doesn't want to give up that kind of life, even if he doesn't have powers anymore, but...

...did it really bother Tana that he "didn't do other stuff"? She scolded him pretty frequently, but it was usually about things like trusting people she didn't like, or attracting other women (always his fault), or not being on time, or not being mature enough. She was always more than happy to show up to both his heroics and everyday doings with a camera crew. But it hurts less to remember her as someone who had his best interests as a human being in mind. Perhaps this is how he has chosen to interpret the angry conversation they had before she broke up with him, in which she complained that he was too immature--so maturity must equal the "boring" "other stuff"?

He admits to the Wild Men that although he knows how to be a hero and a celebrity, "when it comes to everyday stuff, I totally flail! It's, like, unknown territory! Might as well be a...a lost civilization."

So, once alone, he concludes:

...and in the next scene he's back in the suit (...does this happen earlier or later?), insisting he's fine, "never better," and eagerly making plans for tricking out his Legion flight ring.

All attempts to talk things over with the adults in his life have failed. He has to figure this out alone, without the level of self-awareness that he will develop by #91, and the best he can do is idealize Tana and try to push aside the feelings. The narrative doesn't directly return to this problem again, but its effects will nonetheless linger.

Cadmus should consider hiring a therapist.

#comicsposting again #KE: all I got is who I am

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