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commonwealthoccurences · 3 years ago

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Companions React: Sole Breaks Down

Request: “Could I ask for companions comforting a sole that’s usually an emotional rock, that they hadn’t seen this vulnerable ever? Like they come back from being away and just crumble into a sobbing mess. Pretty please?”

Note: *bangs spoon against pot* come get the hurt/comfort. CW: Mentions of unnamed characters deaths.

The setting:

Upon Preston’s request, Sole took off to a distant settlement to reorganize their resources, set up defenses, and bring them into the trade route. These excursions usually took about a week or two, so Sole could make sure they were fully stable before returning to Sanctuary to attend to their other duties. With this trip, however, they requested their companion stay in Sanctuary; they could handle this on their own, and the companion deserved a break.

Two weeks later, Sole returns, shoulders weighed down by their pack, ladened with goods the settlers had insisted they take with them. It had been a tough week, though that wasn’t really a new thing in Sole’s book, or anyone’s, really. Unfortunately, Sole hadn’t been able to predict the fact that some sort of disease would run through the tiny settlement while they were there, taking several of the members with it as it left.

They scrubbed at their skin in a nearby body of water every morning of those two weeks, rubbed raw and pink as a result of Sole’s quietly hysterical distress. They wanted no trace of settlement on them. There were elements of guilt in their relief to return home, but with returning home came the fact that they were safe enough to reflect on their weeks away from Sanctuary. There seemed to be no hiding from what had happened.

Sole got through the main street of Sanctuary well enough, sending nods to passing settlers, with a brief stop to drop off some of the food they had brought back with them with their local merchant; he would give it away to those that dropped in throughout the day. Once they made it down the road and to the entrance of their home, they felt the dam break. Their hands shook as they pulled the door open and moved inside, doing their best to ignore the tears that began to trickle down their face.

(*Gage’s scenario takes place upon their return to Nuka World’s Fizztop Grille)

Cait:

Cait was waiting just inside, having taken up residence in Sole’s living room with Dogmeat.

She went to make a joke about Sole being late, but when she looked up, she lost the words quite quickly

Sole’s shoulders were shaking, and it was quite obvious that they were trying to hide that they were crying, but it was impossible to not see

She practically tripped over herself to get to Sole, who was acting casual by rearranging the items in their back they had set on the floor

Her desire to comfort and protect Sole overrode her hesitance for physical affection and she found herself hugging Sole far too tightly than she should’ve

But it was partially panic on her end that caused her to grip them so tight

“Christ, what’s a matter?”

The only sound Sole made was a choking whimper and Cait gripped them even tighter

Curie:

She reads the distress in their stance the moment they cross the threshold into their home

Similarly to Cait, she gets up from where she’s sitting immediately, but stops short of Sole

“Oh, goodness. Are you alright?” She reaches out but doesn’t quite touch them, not wanting to intrude

Sole shakes their head, unable to disguise their very obvious distress

“Physical or emotional?”

Sole opens their mouth to say emotional and gets out about half the word before choking on their own breath and curling forward into themself

“Would you like a hug?” Her voice is quieter this time.

Sole nods and she brings them in for a soft hug, rubbing their back

Danse:

Danse is far more emotionally intelligent when it comes to other people’s feelings than people give him credit for

He’s seen it happen before; soldiers compartmentalize their emotions as much as they can, for years even, but everyone has a breaking point

And sometimes it’s over something one might consider small, like breaking a dish, or sometimes it’s loss that brings them to their knees, as it would anyone

Regardless, he’s known all along that one day Sole won’t be able to suppress their emotions anymore

When they come in crying and shaking, looking defeated, he’s unsurprised. Sad in an inevitably knowing sort of way

He gets up and walks over, taking their pack from their hands and helping them shed the heavy jacket that was weighing them down

He requests they sit and takes off their boots before going to get them a glass of water

He doesn’t say much, considering he doesn’t have much to say, but he’d much rather show how he cares via actions rather than words, anyway

Deacon:

He’s somewhat similar to Danse in the fact that he knows Sole’s going to need to break at some point, however it’s in less of a “I’ve seen this before” attitude and more in the fact that he can relate

But Sole has an easier time trusting than he does, so he knows their break is coming at some point, whereas he knows that there’s never going to be a point where he allows someone else to see what Sole is allowing him to witness

So when they stand there, defeated, looking over at him like a lost child, he simply opens his arms

He’s not one for hugs, but he makes exceptions, and it seems this is one of those situations that calls for an exception

When they sob into his shoulder, he pats them on the back and replies with a simple, “I know, Boss. I know.”

Gage:

Gage is chewing at a piece of dried Mirelurk, grimacing at the salty taste.

Sole makes their way across Fizztop Grille, dropping their pack carelessly next to one of the couches.

Similarly, they drop down next to Gage where he’s sitting overlooking the rest of Nuka World, not saying a word.

After a moment, punctuated by a very obvious sigh, Gage looks over at Sole. He chews contemplatively for a moment, “You and me both. Wanna talk about it?”

Sole shakes their head and Gage responds, “Cool.”

He pats them on the back, admittedly, awkwardly and a bit too harsh to be comforting, but it’s Gage

He’s doing his best

Haylen:

Haylen has Dogmeat in her lap chewing at a Radstag bone, her hand running mindlessly over his fur

She doesn’t jump up when Sole comes in, cautious at the idea of spooking them

“Sole,” She calls out, shifting to move her feet flat on the floor

When they don’t respond and instead sniffle, she’s motioning Dogmeat off her lap and stepping towards them

“Everything alright?”

Sole shakes their head and she presses her lips together in worry, “Anything I can help with?” another shake of Sole’s head

She brushes their hair away from their face with a soft, “Oh, Sole.” and brings them into a light side-hug

Hancock:

He really does like to think he keeps his cool easily, but he really doesn’t in this case

Sole’s crying and that’s not something he thought would ever happen

“Whoa, whoa. Talk to me, what’s going on, Sunshine?”

“Bad day.” Sole chokes out

He suppresses nervous laughter, knowing it can’t just be that, but lets it go and instead puts an arm around their shoulders to pull them in for a tight hug, snug and reassuring, with his other arm finding their waist

MacCready:

He’s alert immediately, thoughts jumping to them being hurt, and potentially fatally so

Considering he thinks its an emergency, he’s in front of them and examining them for injuries within seconds

Sole doesn’t protest for the longest time, but eventually they grab ahold of his wrists and shake their head

He stops for a moment and looks them over again before sighing; this is something he doesn’t know what to do about

“Sit. You’re going to collapse if you’re not careful.”

When they’re seated he helps them shrug off their coat and sits nearby, not pressuring, but available if they want to talk

Nick:

Nick’s view is similar to Danse’s, and he isn’t quite surprised when they come in crying

He sets the pen he was writing with down and shifts back in his chair, opening his arms for a hug if they want

When they cross the room he wraps them in a hug and rubs their lower back, trying his best with the awkward angle him sitting provides

“You need to take time for yourself.” He recommends, but other than that, he remains mostly silent

Piper:

The queen of panic, despite her best efforts

She’s used to tears because of her experiences with Nat, but not from Sole of all people

She does something similar to Mac, where she checks them over briefly, before she realizes this isn’t a physical injury that’s hurting them

She’s competing with Cait when it comes to tight hugs, wishing she could protect them from whatever’s bothering them so

A sympathy crier, she has to blink away her own tears

“Let it out, Blue. We can talk about it later, okay? Everything’s gonna be just fine. I swear.”

Preston:

Preston’s not sure how to handle things, considering how used to Sole being a rock he is

He knows it’s not quite right, considering he knows other people view him the same way, and it’s incredibly difficult being the one holding it together all the time, but he’s still genuinely surprised when he sees they’re crying

He knows what to do when he realizes what’s going on, though; exactly what he wishes he could request from someone else

He brings them into a hug and mumbles reassurances; that they don’t have to be the tough one all the time, that their emotions aren’t weakness, and that everything’s going to be okay

X6-88:

A fan of mutual silence, X6 helps them get comfortable and brings them into their room; he’s always viewed quarters as the safest place to be, both in the Institute and when Sole gave him his own quarters afterwards

He helps them into bed, making sure they’re comfortable, before asking if they have any small injuries they need addressed before settling in

If they say yes he cleans and dresses their wounds as gently as possible before settling into bed near them, a respectable distance away, but within reach if they need, and begins reading a book Sole left on their nightstand

He knows it’s hard to be alone when you’re being attacked by emotions, but they don’t seem to want to talk about what’s going through their head quite yet; instead, he rubs their back and encourages them to cry it out

#Fallout 4 #Fo4 #Companions react #headcanons #hcs #hurt comfort #fanfiction #mild angst #Cait #Curie #Deacon #Paladin Danse #Gage #Mayor Hancock #Nick Valentine #RJ MacCready #Preston Garvey #X6-88 #Scribe Haylen

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true-blue-megamind · 4 years ago

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FAN THEORY SUPPOSITION SUNDAY: The Warden

SPOILER WARNING! It’s still a thing, and, if you haven’t yet, you still need to watch Megamind. (If you have seen it already, however, you need to see it again. Because it’s awesome.)

Yes, yes, the post is three days late this time. Real life has to take priority and such. So sue me. (Don’t really do that. LOL!)

For that same reason—or more accurately because this week has exhausted me—I will attempt to make this post shorter than usual. We’ll see how that goes. My money is on “not well.” LOL.

Anyway, today we’re going to look at a subject that often divides the Megamind fandom: the Warden and his relationship with Megamind. There are several fan theories—I mean, suppositions—surrounding this, but I’m going to be focusing on a few of the main ones.

The first of these is that the Warden was actually a father figure to Megamind when he was young, allowing him to be raised in jail not out of cruelty or disinterest, but because it was the only way to keep him safe from shadowy government agencies that otherwise would have performed all sorts of experiments on the blue alien. This both accounts for why a child would be allowed to grow up in what is clearly a high-security prison for dangerous adult criminals—something that, admittedly, needs some sort of explanation—and fits with widely accepted sci-fi and comic book tropes. (From Area 51 to mysterious “Men in Black” type organizations, fiction is full of government agencies created to study extraterrestrial life and technology.) Some even go so far as to suggest that the Warden may have tried to adopt Megamind officially, but was blocked from doing so by these same entities. On top of this, such an idea also offers room to re-imagine the Warden as a much more interesting, complex, and sympathetic character. Indeed, there has been some excellent fan fiction written about this pseudo-parental relationship.

Art: Fathers And Sons Day by tabbydragon

There is some evidence to support this. The first is that, although the Warden behaves harshly toward Megamind in the “jail-break” scene near the beginning of the film, Megamind himself seems to be trying to engage in a playful exchange: pranking the older man, wishing him a good morning, and even teasing him. While some say that this is simply Megamind’s personality as well as his determination to always appear indominable, others suggest that, perhaps, the blue man is trying to recapture a lost amiability between himself and the prison Warden. It is possible that, when he was younger and less villainous, Megamind might have exchanged friendly jokes and greetings with the man in charge of the jail he called home. It has even been suggested that the Warden is so hard on the blue man at the beginning of the film not because he hates Megamind, but because Megamind’s life choices have hurt and alienated his father figure. This idea finds some support in the facts that, when Megamind leaves jail to confront Titan, the Warden wished him good luck, and at the end of the movie, that same man seems genuinely happy as he watches the television broadcast of his one-time prisoner being named Defender of Metro City. Finally, there is some evidence from the comics which, although not truly considered canon, as I’ve mentioned before, do offer some material for fan theories. In the “episode” entitled Bad Minion! Bad! Megamind runs into the Warden in a bar, and the latter offers the former advice. There is certainly a somewhat fatherly feel to the scene.

The second theory is exactly the opposite: that the Warden either did not care for or outright disliked the former supervillain. Unfortunately, as fun as the Warden/Father Figure concept is, this second, darker idea has far stronger evidence to support it in the film itself. (Try not to hate me, everyone.) These clues range from the obvious to the subtle, but there are quite a few of them to be found.

During the first scene in which we see Warden interact with Megamind, he doesn’t behave like an angry, disappointed father—at least not a good one. He isn’t merely surly toward Megamind; he is absolutely nasty. The Warden verbally condemns the alien, telling him that he’ll “always be a villain,” and essentially steals what he believes is a gift for the blue man, even taunting him by saying: “I think I’ll keep it!” This hardly seems like the actions of someone who once felt any sort of affection for the extraterrestrial. That same portion of the movie holds another clue as well: the screens monitoring Megamind’s brain activity. Indeed, in original concept art for the film, the system appears both more invasive and more nightmarish. It seems that, far from protecting Megamind, the Warden may have actually allowed him to be experimented upon.

Next, there is the newspaper article at the beginning of the title sequence, which bears the headline “Hometown Boy Makes Bad.” It’s hard to see what the paper says, of course, even if you bother to really notice it, but luckily for us Liz (Demishock) wrote a wonderfully thorough blog post which, among other things, provides a transcript of the “news story.” In it, the Warden is quoted as referring to young Megamind as a born villain as well as abnormal.

You don't know this kid. I've watched the little criminal since he was in diapers. This kid is just a bad seed. I've got experienced, hardened criminals in here who are afraid of him - I mean, have you seen the size of his head?… It's not like he's a normal kid… I mean, have you gotten a good look at his gigantic blue head? I don't know where you come from, but where I come it's just not right.

Granted, there seems to be some truth to what the Warden is saying, as the article also mentions that Megamind, who can hardly have been more than seven years old at the time, has basically been put into solitary confinement for the safety of other prisoners following an unnamed incident, adding that the other inmates “refused to point fingers for fear of retaliation.” (This fits with the fan theory that young Megamind would have had to both fight and develop a fearsome reputation in order to protect himself. You can read more about that in the post How Strong is Megamind?) However, the Warden seems to dwell a lot on the fact that Megamind looks alien, and he displays an obvious dislike for the young boy.

Finally, there is evidence hidden in the school scene, although it’s easy to miss. In an amazing two-part video series, Megamind: A City of Deception. YouTuber The Theorizer illustrates several hidden clues about Megamind’s early life and how it it led him to embrace villainy. (I will very likely write another post going into more detail about that at a later date.) One thing that The Theorizer discovered is a seemingly innocuous detail in the background during the popcorn scene. Take a moment to examine the images below. Look closely at the blackboard and you’ll see a paper cut out of a school bus. Look even more closely at that and you’ll find something odd: the bus is full of crayon-drawn children except for one figure: an adult male, riding in the back of the bus, who looks suspiciously like the Warden as he appears at the beginning of the film.

In a movie where so much attention is given to small things—I mean, seriously, the animation team actually went through the trouble to write a news story for a paper that was on the screen less than ten seconds—this cannot possibly be a coincidence. (You can learn more about the artists’ amazing dedication to detail in my post What’s Hidden in the Animation?) Although it is vaguely possible that Megamind, painfully aware of how much his appearance was despised, chose to draw the Warden’s face instead of his own, most fans believe there is a darker reason for this oddity.

Think about it: the Li’l Gifted School for Li’l Gifted Kids is built close by a jail with a strangely similar name: Metro City Prison for the Criminally Gifted. It’s clearly a small academy, yet the only two known aliens in the city—who, by the way, have extremely different social backgrounds—both just happen to attend there. And now the prison warden appears to be somehow involved with the elementary school? It’s bizarre. Add to this the fact that the young alien adopted by a privileged family—a boy who possessed super-strength and laser vision—seemed inclined to be a bully, (as is made obvious by the kickball scene,) and a disturbing fan theory emerges. Adults realized that Wayne Smith, the child who would eventually become Metro Man, might prove dangerous if left unchecked, and came up with a plan to turn him into a hero instead. Wayne was showered with praise, conditioning him to seek public approval, but a superhero needs a nemesis. The strange-looking, unwanted blue boy who’d already been labeled a criminal would have seemed like the obvious choice. If this is true, then Megamind was purposefully, albeit covertly, groomed to become a supervillain from a young age, and the Warden played a major role in doing that.

So there you have it. Two competing fan theories concerning the Warden’s connection with Megamind. Both have some evidence supporting them, and there are fans who are firmly dedicated to one or the other. Which is true? Did the Warden care for Megamind like a son but distance himself when the boy turned to villainy? Or did he judge and despise Megamind but come around to liking him when he finally realized what sort of person the blue man was deep down? The fact is that those questions can be argued for hours on end. No matter which of these suppositions you prefer, however, the mere fact that even a minor supporting character is complex enough to offer room for this debate speaks to the impressive amount of work and devotion that went into creating this amazing animated film.

#Megamind #Megamind movie #Megamind fan theory #fan theory #fan theories #fanon #Warden #the Warden #connection #relationship #relationships

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beskarhearts · 4 years ago

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Hey! Maybe a request where the reader is jealous? Because Din is getting very close with another person? I’ll leave the rest to you :)

You’re literally the best writer out there, have a lovly day<3

Jealousy (Din Djarin x reader)

Pairing: Din Djarin x gn!reader

Word Count: 1828

Warnings: cursing, I think that is it

Notes: Ahh, thank you!! That is so kind of you and I hope you have a wonderful day! This is set during Chapter Four, when Din is on Sorgon. I hope you like this! I had a fun time writing this out and being able to have some fun with it.

If you want to sent in a request, go ahead and do so right here!

______________________

You liked Omera.

It seemed impossible to not like her. She was kind and extraordinarily patient, not only with the children and the people in the village but with you, Din, and the child as well. She also seemed to be a natural leader among the farm in Sorgan. And she was surprisingly handy with a blaster, which you and Din were very appreciative of considering the rest of the of the people in the village were less qualified for the tasks to come. Not to mention that on top of all of that, she was beautiful with pretty hair and nice eyes. The kind you imagine would be easy for a man to fall for.

Even a man like Din Djarin.

And there was where your only problem with Omera lied. It was petty and ridiculous and childish, but you couldn’t help but want to scowl whenever you saw the two of them together. You couldn’t even see Din’s face but you could sense the heart eyes he gave her whenever they were with each other. And was it really necessary he stand that close to her when he was working with her on firing a blaster? Not to mention the way they both seemed to just naturally gravitate towards each other, even though they had only met just a mere handful of days ago. It took you what felt like ages to get through Din’s stoic exterior but Omera seemed to be doing that job with ease.

It was silly. You knew that. You had known Din for long enough to consider him your friend, a thought which Din reciprocated. You had somehow been dragged along with him once he rescued the Child, traveling through the galaxy with the two. You guess at this point you were also work partners of sorts. You both took care of the kid and protected him, you knew your way around the ship, and he tried his best to provide safety for the two of you. You both had a rhythm and it worked incredibly well. It was the kind of dynamic you didn’t want to mess up, especially with stupid things like ‘oh, hey Din. Did I mention I am practically head over heels for you?’

So, instead of confessing any deep harbored secrets that you buried within yourself, you just bit your tongue and narrowed your eyes as you continued to watch Din and Omera. Right now, you instead tried to not watch Din and Omera show everybody how to use a blaster, working together like some power couple. Instead you sat with Cara and took a break, both of you sipping away at spotchkas as you avoided the sight of the two training people. And you were content with doing that. You liked Cara and had gotten pretty close with her having spent lots of time with her recently (mostly to avoid Din at all costs but also because she seemed to be a well-adjusted, strong individual.)

“You know, jealously isn’t a good color on you.” Cara teased, breaking you from your train of thought.

You hadn’t even realized you had been staring until she had broken the silence and you whipped your head away from the pair, giving Dune a big scowl which only caused her to chuckle. “I am not jealous.”

“Oh, so you are just giving that nice, lil’ widow that look for fun?” Cara retorted, raising an eyebrow at you knowingly. You had only known this woman for a few days, but she was good at reading people. Too good.

“I like Omera.” you retorted, hoping your voice didn’t sound as strained and foreign to her eyes as they did to yours.

“I believe that. But I don’t think you like that that Mandalorian over there also seems fond of the single hot mom of the farm.”

“Gee, sounds like you are interested.” You were hoping the joke would turn the conversation to her but she just shrugged.

“Not my type.” She paused and gave you a small grin before continuing, “What’s your type?”

“Stop.” You warned, giving her what you hoped to be an intimidating look but you knew she saw your flushed cheeks by the way her grin continued to grow.

“Let me guess. Lot’s of metal, no sense of humor, flair for dramatics, handy with a blaster-”

“Alright, alright. Shut up!” You interrupted and she just let out a bout of laughter. You took a big gulp of spotchka, wanting to bury yourself in a whole. You were so consumed by embarrassment that you hadn’t even noticed Din walking up to you. You didn’t look up until his large frame stood in front of the chair you were sat in.

“What is going on over here?” Din asked, a hint of curiosity in his tone.

“Oh, just boy talk.” Cara gave you a teasing look as her eyes landed on yours. You squinted at her, hoping you were able to properly convey how frustrated you were with her in the moment.

“Boy talk?” Din asked incredulously. He knew you well enough to know you didn’t want to spend your time on conversations like ‘boy talk’.

“Well, I’m not quite so fond of boys. But your girl here is.” Cara gave a quirked smile as she rose from her seat. “Speaking of, I’m going to go say hello to this nice lady over here.” She gestured her head to a woman who was kneeled in the middle of the crop and had continually been giving Cara small smiles throughout the day. The woman walked away, but not before giving you one last smile and a nod of the head.

Din took her spot on the seat, sitting down and looking over at you. You desperately tried to avoid his gaze, looking out into the farm only for your line of sight to land on Omera. Maker, you are pathetic.

“You are avoiding me.”

You couldn’t help the way you froze a little, your hand that held the bottle clutching onto it tighter. You had been avoiding him. But you couldn’t admit that because then he would want to know why and you were pretty sure you had endured enough humiliation from Cara alone. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

Din let out a sigh. He wasn’t dumb. He could tell how you were purposely not looking in his direction. How every time he tried to make his way to talk to you, you would suddenly disappear or be very preoccupied. How whenever he made his way into the hut you both shared, you would somehow always be asleep when he was present. “So you just haven’t been speaking to me because you don’t want to?”

You felt your heart drop at the tone of Din’s voice. He was a strong, tough man who didn’t often show his emotions. But you could sense a bit of hurt in his voice and felt awful. He was one of your only friends and you might of been his oldest friend, and you had been ignoring him because of your stubbornness and selfishness. But even upon this realization, you still had the pit in your stomach that had been persistent for days now and you couldn’t help the next thing that came out of your mouth. “Maybe you’ve just been too busy with Omera.”

You clamped your eyes shut once you realized you had said what you were thinking out loud. You almost hid your face in your hands but you fought back the urge and instead looked at him squarely, trying to show that you weren’t bothered. Din looked back, his visor peering at you with such intense focus that it made you uneasy. “Omera?”

You let out a small grunt. “Yes, Omera. The woman who has practically been stuck on your hip.”

Din’s helmet just tilted slighted. “She has been helpful.”

“Helpful is what we’re calling this?” Din didn’t responded, only tilting his helmet even more to express his confusion. You let out a sigh and rolled your eyes. “C’mon, Mando. She is a pretty, single woman who is strong and competent and keeps giving your damn googly eyes.”

“What are you talking about?” Din asked.

You couldn’t tell if he was acting stupid or if he was just trying to drive you nuts, but he seemed to be doing both with success. “You like her! She likes you. It is so obvious.”

Din started to shake his head and you felt yourself taken aback when a chuckle began to pass his lips. He calmly leaned back into his chair, his relaxed form contrasting greatly with your pinched up body. “Omera is a nice woman. A friend.”

“A friend?” You lamely asked, looking at him with a skeptical expression.

Din looked back at you and leaned forward. “I don’t like Omera.”

“You have a funny way of showing it.” You muttered.

“Why are you bothered by it?” Din asked and you leaned back, narrowing your eyes.

“Bothered by what?”

“By the thought that I could be attracted to Omera.” Din calmly said.

Oh yes, you definitely wanted to disappear now. You fumbled with your words, feeling your face warm up. “I-I don’t care.”

“Really?”

“Really. Omera seems great.” You didn’t even sound convincing to yourself and Din knew you well enough to know when you were lying.

“Cyar’ika.” Din called your nickname like he had so many times before. It was Mando’a but he never told you what it meant, which drove you crazy when he first started. But now he used it often enough that you liked it, made your heart warm up in your chest. You didn’t respond but he rose from his seat, looking down at you. “I don’t like Omera.”

You nodded slowly. “Okay. Not that I would care if you did or anything...”

“You wouldn’t?”

He knew you were lying and now he was teasing you. You were sure of it. You just glared at him and rolled your eyes once again. “Shut up, you stupid tin can.”

Din let out another chuckle. “I like seeing you jealous.”

You didn’t have the chance to say anything before he gave you a small nod and walked off, towards the hut you two shared. You sat frozen in your spot and your brain felt like it had turned off. It took you a moment to readjust before you rose from your seat, walking after him. “I’m not jealous!” you called out.

Din froze where he stood and turned to look at you. You finally stopped in front of him, arms crossed in front of your chest and looking up at him defiantly. “I was hoping you were.”

You stood there stunned, looking up at him dumbly. “What does that mean?”

“You know what that means.” Din said before walking away once again.

Instead of rolling your eyes, you couldn’t help the smile that broke out on your face.

#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin x gn!reader #din djarin blurb #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian season 1 #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian imagine #mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #mandalorian blurb #the mandalorian blurb

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egg-emperor · 3 years ago

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I'm so tired of people expecting me to repeat my thoughts and points on Eggman's IDW portrayal a million times when people try to randomly debate me on my posts out of nowhere but here we go again huh

Once again, someone provided me with a list of why they think I'm wrong and I could literally just flip every single example they gave into actually being evidence in support the points that I'm making. Because just like the writers, they'll overlook Eggman's qualities and how he typically reacts and adapts to a change of plan and learns from past mistakes and only focus on the part where he fucks up and gets a bit too overconfident due to his ego and stuff. I never see them mention how he actually acknowledges and attempts to deal with the issues.

But even within instances where he's fucked up that I see and don't ignore, Eggman still tries to do something about it. He doesn't just sit there, let it all fall apart, and seem so damn unprepared. It's right there to see in the games, if you focus on his qualities instead of just his character flaws. I'll make a post with my thoughts on all the things this person commented on my post, so you can see that I do in fact acknowledge the mistakes he makes but also see how he impressively rolls with the punches and adapts, which is something more people need to do.

I'm not saying that Eggman never makes mistakes. The problem is that his character flaws are being blown up out of proportion while his qualities are being severely overlooked and ignored by writers and fans, making him seem far less competent and intelligent than he really is. Him being an egotist and manchild that sometimes makes mistakes doesn't mean his IQ of 300 doesn't exist and that all the times he's actually planned ahead or adapted well to a sudden change of plans don't exist anymore lol. Why do I have to explain this over and over?

It bothers me that people are pretty much acting like I give Eggman too much credit. No, you're not going to convince me that he's not as good as I think he is and that he doesn't have the qualities that I see and admire. The problem is that IDW isn't giving him enough credit and fans are accepting and insisting it's faithful to the games, ignoring all the proof that his flaws are being overexaggerated. It sucks that his IDW portrayal has made this impact of supporting fan misconceptions. So I realize I need to continue sharing my thoughts on it, because someone's gotta give him the credit he deserves.

#dr eggman #eggman #dr robotnik #dr. eggman #idw sonic #my post #rant

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robinofinashiro · 4 years ago

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- request: “making some of the MY HERO and HAIKYUU boys unintentionally jealous.”

- request status: open

- pairings : Midoriya Izuku, Bakugou Katsuki, Kenma Kozume, x fem! reader

bakugou katsuki ( my hero ):

- bakugou is will not take this lightly. regardless if you were doing it on purpose or not, he sits in his seat, anger radiating off of him as he watched you continue to do it.

- you were standing with Mina, Kirishima, and Kaminari at a food stand. it wasn’t Kirishima who he was jealous of. dumbass Kaminari was the one standing a little too close for his liking.

- he would have you constantly laughing. at some point, you were even holding onto Kaminari’s shoulder, trying to contain your laughter.

- Bakugou came up to the four of you before snatching you away. you gave him a confused look, wondering why he just dragged you away from all of your friends. it wasn’t until the two of you reached a dead part of the mall when he finally stopped and looked at you.

- “what is wrong with you!” you yelled quietly. Bakugou gave you an angry glare before leaning into your ear, “you think your cute? flirting with that idiot in front of me?”

- you were left in dead surprise, “are you implying that I was trying to make you jealous? with Kaminari no less?” you couldn’t help but laugh, making the angry boy even more upset, “jealousy doesn’t look cute on you, babe. and honestly? you have that little faith in me that I would cheat on you with Denki?” Bakugou’s eye twitched at the sound of you using his first name.

- Bakugou grabbed you by the back of the head and gave you a rough kiss before making his way down your neck and biting down on it, hard.

- “fuck Katsuki!” you groaned, immediately rubbing the sport he just bit down on, “that shit is going to leave a mark and I didn’t even bring concealer with me! Mina is never going to let that go.” Katsuki chuckled as he wrapped his arm around your waist.

Kenma Kozume ( haikyuu ):

- you had gone along with Kenma to one of his gaming tournaments. it wasn’t that you wanted too but he asked and being the wonderful girlfriend you were, with a little bribing and evening cuddles, you agreed.

- you had no idea what game Kenma was playing that he even decided to compete in a tournament but all you knew was that as soon as you got into his car earlier that morning, he had given you a sweater for the business he was starting with his last name slapped on the back.

- you sat patiently next to him as you realized the game he was competing for was freaking Mario Kart. you had witnessed him play more advanced games and beat them in HOURS so you wondered why he even bothered to put

- as time passed, you started getting bored and the building you were in had shit reception. you turned to the person next to you and gave the guy a smile. you assumed the two guys next to you were gaming partners as the guy sitting next to him was engrossed in the game.

- “hi, I’m ( your name ),” you introduced yourself. he introduced himself as Tamaki and from there, the two of you continued talking, “is a cutie like yourself competing tonight?” you shook your head no, “that’s disappointing, here I thought I found my soulmate today,” he joked, sticking his tongue out.

- Kenma completely stopped in his tracks after hearing what the guy told you. Kenma knew that you coming with him would cause a bit of a scene. some of these gamers never left their parents basement so the sight of a cute girl like yourself would catch some of their eyes. not only that, you didn’t even stop to the guy. he was flirting with you and it was as if you turned a blind eye to it.

- as a pause in the tournament game, you finally turned over to Kenma and gave him a smile, “do you want me to bring you food or something to drink? I know you won’t have another break for a while and I don’t want you starving,” Kenma sighed, feeling silly that he thought you were flirting with the guy next to you, “sure,” he whispered. you smiled as you started to get up.

- Kenma grabbed your wrist and brought you down for a kiss, a steamier one than you anticipated. as you pulled away, a warm feeling crawled up on your face as you grabbed his wallet to order his snack. Kenma, feeling nothing short of a petty bitch turned to the guy and chuckled as he wiped off the lipstick that stained his lips.

Midoriya Izuku ( my hero ):

- I feel as though Midoriya might not be the kind of person to get jealous unless he’s had a really bad day. those days are rare within themselves so the day you made him unintentionally jealous, he was already on edge and was ready to use OFA to tell the person to fuck off.

- you had just finished training and were sitting down on a patch of grass with Momo. being that you had a buster chest (for those in the itty bitty titty club, y’all beautiful), you and Momo attracted a lot of attention from the males in the class because of the uniform. don’t get him wrong, Midoriya loved your chest, but seeing his classmate staring down your shirt upset him.

- the tank top you slipped on was riding up from the waist as your chest was making the shirt lower itself. “damn, ( y/n ) looks hot, doesn’t she?” Midoriya heard Mineta say, “be quiet, you pervert,” he heard Kirishima reply, “Midoriya is not that far from us and you shouldn’t be speaking about his girlfriend in such a way. also, she’s your classmate so have respect for her.” he heard Mineta scoff as he silently thanked Kirishima for defending you.

- Midoriya took another sip of his juice as he continued watching you and Momo. whatever the two of you were talking about must have excited you as you started squealing, making you chest jump a bit. this time, Midoriya tried to hold his own perverted comments back but hearing Mineta speak up and make a comment of how hot you looked doing that pegged his anger up a bit more.

- “hey, i’ll be back, I need to talk to Izuku about something,” you told Momo as she nodded, “but don’t forget, we have tutoring with Kaminari, Ojiro, and Jirou tomorrow so we can’t be late!” you walked away from Momo to find Midoriya upset and even a bit angry, “babe, is everything okay? you look mad,” you asked.

- Midoriya finally pulled himself back into reality and realized you were talking to him. he muttered a fine before pulling himself up and taking his sweater off. you instantly could feel jealousy radiating off of him but you let him try to cover you, which made you laugh. you dug into your bag and took out the sweater you brought for yourself.

- “here, take your sweater. remember the sweater you gave me for my birthday with your last name, I brought it,” you pulled the hoodie over yourself. it was an All Might hoodie with his name engraved on the right front side and anyone could tell that it was def his, “do you want to get dinner or something?” you asked, hoping to get off the topic.

- as the two of you walked to the main building, you held Midoriya’s hand as you passed Mineta. Midoriya wasn’t naturally a petty person but he just hoped for the day that Aizawa partnered him and Mineta together. plus, the thought that only he got to stare at you the way others did but actually get to do something about it was enough for him to calm down.

Kyoutani Kentarou (haikyuu):

- anyone making Kyoutani jealous really should just sign their death certificate. Kyoutani was already known for his very angry personality and the nickname ‘Mad-Dog’ wasn’t just thrown around for no reason. he was an angry birb.

- you were at one of Seijoh’s games, in the front row, along with the other rally team members. the uniforms the school provided the team with made you feel a bit insecure. the skirt was a bit too short for your liking and the top they gave you with it only covered half your stomach. however; Kyoutani always made sure to compliment you whenever you wore it.

- the thing with your relationship was the fact that no one had known about it. he didn’t really want his personal relationship so out there and you didn’t mind not showing it off either. both of you weren’t too keen on PDA and Kyoutani made sure to makeup for any lack of PDA in private.

- “who’s that girl in the stands?” Oikawa muttered to Iwaizumi, “she’s a cutie,” he said as Kyoutani looked at his captain’s finger trajectory. his anger immediately boiled up realizing that he was talking about you! not only could he not deal with his captain on a day to day basis but now he had to find his girlfriend attractive. Kyoutani, as much as he wouldn’t admit to it, felt a bit insecure about it. a part of him felt that if you found out that Oikawa thought you were cute, you would leave him for Oikawa.

- you were just standing up against the rails of the auditorium, drinking water, and talking to one of your teammates when you felt your phone vibrate. you looked down to see that Kyoutani had called you over. after hearing that Oikawa wanted to see who you were personally after the game ended, he knew he had to do something.

- he had asked for you to bring him water and whenever he asked for it from you, you would always bring your Hydroflask that had your scrunchie on it. you also had his number as a sticker on it and color of the Hydroflask was that of the Seijoh school colors.

- “hey, you didn’t bring a water bottle with you? I thought your managers usually provided that?” you asked Kyoutani. like he predicted, you had given him your Hydroflask and he chugged it down, “I did but I thought drinking from you would give me good luck,” you rolled your eyes as you started to leave.

- you stayed with Kyoutani a bit longer but he could feel his captain staring at the two of you. feeling like he finally one upped Oikawa, he brought you in for a kiss. it wasn’t long, not in the slightest, but like you had said, Kyoutani wasn’t one for PDA so him even kissing you felt odd, “love you. now go cheer for me,” he murmured in your ear, slapping your butt discreetly. you blushed before leaving as Kyoutani laughed. that would show Oikawa that you weren’t available for him to flirt with.

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forsakenoathkeeper · 4 years ago

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I Am Alive (chapter 5/?)

Deviant!Connor[RK800] x (fem!)Reader Rated M(18+) for canon-typical violence and gore, medical procedures, and graphic sexual content

Synopsis: You were a mechanical engineer, now a nurse for androids, who moved back to Detroit after the revolution to offer aid. After reconciling with an old friend, you became rather acquainted with his android partner.

Please support me on AO3 & thanks for reading ♥

Connor wasn't oblivious to what he was doing.

'Rogue' was one word that came to mind; but, that was a bit extreme all things considered. He wasn't acting against the police and he didn't intend to commit any crimes, especially heinous ones.

He was hunting the android alone, without clearance, without jurisdiction.

-not like this was the first time.

He had intel that the human detectives didn't have. A good lot of them didn't respect him, some more obvious than others, and often disregarded his input on things. Of course, they were never hesitant to let him take the lead when dealing with dangerous individuals or gunfire.

Most of the time, it didn’t bother him.

Fowler saw him as a competent detective and needed the manpower, now more than ever. Hank trusted him with his life and stood up for him. That was all the recognition that Connor needed.

Having to work alone wasn’t all that terrible. He was faster, stronger, more capable of discretion... usually. He didn't have to worry about putting someone in danger or being slowed down. It also meant that he could-

-bend the rules in ways that only androids were capable of.

The other detectives were hung up on the possibility that Evelin Wheeler was murdered by someone she had crossed in her days as a lawyer. Connor had found seven cases that ended with death threats. Three of those cases, the plaintiffs or victims, were still alive and living in or near Detroit.

While other detectives were investigating those potential leads, Connor took to the streets to see if he could locate Robert. Maybe it was his programming talking; but, Connor was suspicious of the android.

Clouds were heavy and dark in the sky, the smell of approaching rain thick in the air. Connor was waiting outside of Haven in a nearby alleyway, perched up against a crate where he could duck back into hiding or lean out and see into the street.

He was standing near an abandoned warehouse that seemed to have suffered structural damage at one point, rubble having collapsed into the plot nearby. The towering structure was an eyesore and provided good cover for the detective. It was also across the street from Haven.

Connor fumbled with his coat pocket, fishing out a coin. He rolled it between his fingers as he waited.

You had been texting him, a very welcomed distraction from the monotony. Though, if Connor was being honest, waiting never bothered him. He couldn’t quite tell if it was because his android, a part of his programming, or just the way he was.

"u know u dont have to" was your latest message, popping up in the top right corner of his HUD. You had trouble getting your car started this morning and had taken a taxi to work. When Connor found out, he asked if he could give you a ride home.

"If I'm being honest, it is not just for your sake. I want to see you" he texted back.

It had been a little over week since he last saw you. Work had been hectic for you both, between countless damaged androids and Connor knee deep in multiple cases, one in particular that was rubbing him the wrong way. Even if he only got to sit in a car with you for thirty minutes, that would be good enough.

"i miss u too" your reply came in. Connor smiled at that and briefly pondered how to reply.

When people were 'an item', what did they do? Attending a restaurant together seemed to be the most common answer that came up in his searches; however, considering Connor did not require sustenance, and lacked the components to dispose of them, he couldn't eat.

Surprisingly, ‘drinking’ came up a lot, too. There was no way he was taking you to a sleazy bar. There were always clubs. Did you like that sort of thing? He didn’t want to make assumptions about your lifestyle. There was the added concern that Connor didn’t know if he could dance. He had never tried it before.

'Walks in the park' also came up in his searches; while Connor was not easily perturbed by the weather, you likely would find it far too cold outside. The local movie theatres were closed down temporarily due to the uprising, leaving that option out, as well.

He could invite you over to his apartment; but, what if you took that as an unwanted suggestion? He missed you in that manner, maybe more than he cared to admit; but, he didn't want to give the impression that it was all he cared about.

Connor's LED was blaring yellow as he internally argued with himself. He aggressively shifted his coin from one hand to the other and flung it high into the air with a flick of his thumb.

Humans did this - 'heads or tails' - so he tried it.

When it fell back down, he snatched it from the air, opened his palm and glanced down. The coin had landed on tails. Connor glared at the harmless nickel disk for not giving him the results he wanted.

Okay. Maybe he was thinking too hard.

-maybe he just needed to go for it.

"I want to treat you to something. If you would like that?" Connor messaged you.

Likely caught up in something, you didn’t reply immediately. So, Connor began rotating his coin again, rolling it between his fingers, flicking it back and forth between his palms. He had no idea where this quirk came from: if it was programmed into him or some bizarre string of code that manifested itself. He could do it without much processing power, making it rather relaxing.

"if you wanna? u dont have to do anything like that" your message popped up on his HUD some time later.

"Is it weird that I want to?" Connor messaged you back.

"not at all" you replied. He read it in your soft voice and found himself feeling bashful. He felt weird, like he wanted to do things for you - unnecessary things that you were perfectly capable of doing yourself.

"theres a park i loved as a kid. we can go when it warms up?" you offered.

"I would like that" Connor replied.

A thought came to him, something that he chided himself for: he had hoped for something he could do for you, now, not later.

But, then-

"until then i like ur apartment" immediately came in afterward.

Connor gawked at the message like an idiot for a moment or two before he snapped out of it. Maybe you had read his mind... somehow.

He had no need for a TV because he could get all the news on the interface in his processing unit. He didn't have a need for many dishes for obvious reasons and only bothered to keep the fridge plugged in in case Hank brought something over. His apartment was severely under furnished by human standards.

Suddenly, he wanted to change that.

"You are welcome anytime" he replied. "I'll make sure its warmer this time"

Your reply came fairly quickly; but, Connor didn't see it.

Movement caught his eye.

An android was approaching Haven, not that that was anything new. However, he dressed in a dirty hoodie and torn up pants, ankle-high work boots matching what Connor had seen in Evelin Wheeler's home, the correct height and stature for the model type seen in Louis’ memories.

Connor slid the coin back into his coat pocket and focused his optical sensors on the android. He couldn't get a good enough look from this angle to see into the propped up hood.

The detective waited outside while the other android crossed the threshold into Haven.

Markus wanted to do things the right way. Connor respected that.

It meant that he would inform Robert the police were looking for him and try to encourage him to speak with them. If he was innocent, that meant he had nothing to hide. But Connor knew that Robert would likely attempt to flee, even if he was innocent.

The android was inside the building for eleven minutes and some odd seconds before he stormed out the front and trotted down the street. Connor didn't waste any time taking up pursuit. The android had some haste to his steps, but wasn't running. Still, Connor knew he would lose him if he dawdled for a second.

Rain began to fall, beginning in gentle sprinkles that coated the concrete and asphalt in faint specs. Connor could feel the rain like gentle taps against his outer skin. It was useful: the noise made it harder to properly hear the sounds of their footsteps. That potentially risked the chance that Connor would lose Robert; but, it also meant he was less likely to be detected.

He needed an empty, quiet place where he could interrogate him. But, Connor also was well aware of the fact that he didn't have backup. If the android proved to be more dangerous than he anticipated, he would be alone and at great risk.

-again, this was nothing new.

Connor recognized the route Robert was taking. He was heading for the industrial district's harbor.

It wasn't abandoned. Factory work had resumed, albeit with struggles considering the android workforce had been lost. However, people were trying to return to normal life. They needed to; and so, the ports reopened and shipments starting to flow again.

The detective continued to stalk behind the android for miles, paying no mind to the fact that he was steadily growing farther and farther away from where he had parked his car, nor the fact that he was getting soaked by the rain.

When they arrived at the harbor, Robert took a path through a rundown building that was likely once a communication hub for a business that went under decades ago. It was longer than a direct route, but provided cover, less any of the human workers at the nearby plants spotted him.

In following, Connor realized that abandoned shipping containers were piled up outside. The rust and erosion patterns suggested they had been here a long time.

At the end of the row of containers, another building, a steel hub right at the edge of the water. Normally, these were open, designed to be for receiving and sending shipments, unloading. However, someone had taken the time to board it up.

Robert entered through a hastily cut out hole acting as a doorway.

Connor knew this was the end of the line. He was going to have to face Robert here.

He took one, careful step past the threshold, and realized there was an echo. That alone made it near impossible to continue sneakily. When Connor stepped forward, he felt something scan him. It was harmless, a perimeter censor: the kind of motion detector that could pick up android's serial numbers with a quick scan, and send alerts to the programmed android. It was, essentially, an intruder alert.

The detective turned his head to the adjacent wall. Sure enough, there it was, the size of a quarter, at head level, eyeing him.

He was intrigued that Robert had taken the time to setup defenses here. It wasn't particularly deterring, just a simple alarm that would prevent him from being snuck up on. Connor could hear Robert's shoes loudly squeak on the floor. He was pacing, probably deciding his next move.

Connor continued, turning down the hall and stepping into the main hull.

When Robert spotted him, he took a few steps back, maintaining distance between them. Connor took up a firm stance, feet shoulder length apart, arms crossed in front of him, hands cupped, like a soldier might stand.

"Why are you following me?" Robert called out, sounding more annoyed than anything else. The echo in the room was loud, creating an obnoxious tremor around them.

"I wanted to talk to you - ask you a few things," Connor replied calmly.

Robert was silent for a moment, eyeing Connor suspiciously. "You're the detective android," he said lowly. "I heard stories...” Robert looked him up and down. “You're not as intimidating as I expected."

If that was intended to insult Connor, all it managed to do was make him curious. What kind of images had Robert conjured in his mind of the android detective?

"Why haven't you removed your indicator?" Robert asked in a manner that was almost taunting. "You think we're equal to humans, don't you? Why wear something that sets us apart?"

"It doesn't matter to me if people know I am an android," Connor answered, maintaining his passive tone. It wasn't entirely the truth. Sometimes, he wanted people to know he was an android. He was once frightened by the idea of deviancy; now, it felt like a badge of honor. Maybe, he was prideful: he was the first detective android to join the force, and the last and only of his model.

"You work for the humans - against us," Robert accused. “What makes you think you have any right to stand with us?”

"I don't work against androids. I work against murderers," Connor proclaimed. He could see panic flash behind Robert's eyes. But, the android was quick to compose himself. "-human or android," Connor added on.

Robert opened his mouth; but, Connor, growing tired of this pointless banter, decided to be direct.

"I'm here because I believe you killed Evelin Wheeler."

"Who?" Robert asked, his head tilting to the side. From his lack of concern, Connor couldn't quite identify if he was being sincere, or just didn't care.

"An elderly woman who was being cared for by an android," Connor elaborated robotically.

Robert shrugged. "What makes you think I did that?"

"I saw you harassing the android living with her," Connor answered, tone lowering.

Robert settled a firm glare on Connor. "Harassing? I wanted to help him be free."

Connor kept his stoic expression, eyes unyielding of his emotions, LED strong blue. "I'm glad you remember them," he replied lowly.

The detective could see some stress rise in Robert. He wasn't frightened by Connor. He was growing steadily more and more angered by him.

"Then, surely you-"

"He was delusional," Robert interrupted sharply, clearly insulted. "Called her 'family'. I had to help him. He was being controlled by that human. I set him free."

"He was free,” Connor corrected him. “You hate humans. That's what it is. It has nothing to do with justice.” He maintained his persona: a cold, calculating detective.

The other android didn't seem to like that word. "You still elevate them above us, you hypocrite!" Robert snarled. "Don't talk to me about justice."

"Human or android, you killed an innocent woman in cold blood," the detective said lowly, letting his stare darken slightly.

"Where's your proof?" Robert challenged.

"Your shoes match the impressions at the crime scene," Connor stated bluntly. "You also were seen harassing the family-" Robert twitched at the word. "-a week before the murder. That's enough circumstantial evidence to obtain a warrant for your memories for that night."

"Where's your w-warrant, huh?" Robert challenged, his voice faltering slightly. "Why am I not under arrest, yet? You have nothing!" Robert shouted, his voice echoing around the chamber.

Connor narrowed his eyes slightly. "742-11-904, you are under arrest for trespassing on private property-"

Robert suddenly shifted and charged at Connor. Being a unit designed for industry work, he was bigger than Connor, bulkier with a wider frame and greater weight capacity; but, Connor was agile, flexible, and designed for combat. He avoided his assault with ease, but wasn't able to counter. His back hit the wall and Robert continued down the hallway past him.

Connor took up pursuit, finding that Robert took a different path out. He chased him into the harbor, out in the open, where security lights shined down on them. Workers from a nearby plant were perched on a balcony on the second floor. Connor could hear their surprised murmurs, "what the hell - you see that shit?"

Chain link covered the edge of the dock to act as a barrier to prevent falls. Connor contemplated pulling his gun on Robert; however, trespassing wasn't an offense worthy of firing, and he had yet to obtain the warrant he needed for the murder case. Pulling his gun would have been a one-way ticket to suspension, or likely worse.

Robert wasn't made for this. Connor was going to catch up to him. The android likely knew this. He had to take a path that Connor wouldn’t follow. He climbed the chain link, reaching the top before Connor got to him, and dived over the edge, straight into the harbor. The splash was drowned out by the rain tapping on the metal roofs nearby.

Connor looked over the edge to where the dark waters lapped at the concrete platform. Naturally, he couldn’t see anything through the murky water. He sighed, placing one hand on the chain link to lean against it.

"Well, so much for that," he groaned to himself.

It was unlikely that Robert could stay submerged for long, even less likely that he would surface here. He wasn’t going to return to this hiding place, nor Haven. Connor would have to find him through other means.

The rain started to pick up, sprinkling morphing to heavy droplets. Connor's eyes adjusted to lighting, or lack of, naturally. He was too focused on finding Robert that he failed to realize the sun had set. The time was normally hidden on his HUD as it was intrusive, distracting. He didn't need sleep. He didn't need rest. He could theoretically go days without a break.

When he brought the time temporarily back into view briefly, he realized it was 7:17. Your shift ended at 7 tonight, and he had promised he would be there.

"Shit!" he cursed out loud, swiveling away from the fence.

As he trotted away, shoes making wet sopping noises on the concrete, Connor started a message, "I'm sorry. I'm going to be a little late".

Before he sent it, he realized that he had missed your previous message.

"hold u to eet" you had replied. It was in response to his promise that the apartment would be warmer next time. But, it also struck him as a painful reminder that you had placed trust in his ability to get you home safely, and in a timely manner.

The rain continued to pick up until it was pouring down, like tiny rocks pummeling his body. It didn't hurt, but it was exhausting. He had fucked up, twice. He failed to capture Robert and now he was delaying you.

Instead of sending that message, he decided to call.

It rang once, then twice-

"Oh - shit - are you here already?" you blurted into the phone as soon as you answered.

"N-no, I-" he stammered. "I'm going to be late. I'm sorry."

"Actually - that's fine. I got so caught up in this thirium shipment, I didn't realize what time it was," you explained, sounding out of breath. "I was afraid I was keeping you."

"I wouldn't have minded waiting," Connor replied, feeling some relief at your words.

"No - don't say that," you scolded gently. "Don't take bullshit from anyone, Connor."

"Ugh-" he stammered. Did he take bullshit from people? Maybe he did and he just didn't care most of the time. Was waiting for you bullshit, anyway? He didn’t need to sleep, afterall.

"Working late, too, huh?" you breathed into the phone.

"Field work," Connor replied lowly.

You chuckled into the phone. "You know I can take a taxi if you're-"

"No, I-" he interrupted sharply. "I want to see you. Please."

"Connor," you breathed into the phone.

His phone wasn't a handheld device. It was an interface build into his processor. He could hear you directly in his head. Even through the slight distortion created by radio signals, the sound of your voice still managed to do something to him. Maybe he underestimated how badly he missed you.

In the background, Connor could hear one of your coworkers, "ooooo - who's Connor?" teasing at you in a purposely obnoxious voice.

You laughed quietly. "My boyfriend," you answered.

My boyfriend-

For some reason, something as mundane as you telling people that, made him really happy.

There was some shuffling noises, likely you moving around and trying to balance something in one hand and your phone in the other.

"Is he cute?" a different voice asked this time.

Connor was prepared to eavesdrop on this conversation in full; but, after some loud shuffling, you came back, speaking into the phone properly. "I'm gonna let you go, now - get this finished up - oh shit it's raining - let me know when you're in the parking lot?"

"Understood," he replied automatically, a habit. Plus, if he was being honest, he was disappointed.

"-and don't stress about it, Connor-" you added on hastily.

Fuck that-

-as soon as you hung up, Connor was running to his parked car.

#connor x reader #deviant connor #deviant connor x reader #dbh fanfic #rk800 x reader #rk800 smut #connor smut

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bonnini · 3 years ago

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Well I promised you a post about my bi Geoffrey Martewall headcanons so here it is guys <3

So…as I previously mentioned in a tag under one of @agapantoblu's posts, I've been half-seriously headcanoning Geoffrey Martewall a.k.a. the best character in the Hypervesum series as a clueless bisexual for... well, for some time. Let's say a year and a half. I've never bothered actually sharing these headcanons online because I didn't really have a clear idea for an actual argument in support of this claim of mine, but now I’m finally ready to put the all the reasons why I get extra-strong bisexual vibes from Geoffrey Martewall into words. Beware…it’s a lot of words :’’)

Exhibit A: Geoffrey and women

1.1. Geoffrey’s taste in women is just too good

Listen. LISTEN. Our man’s taste in women is IMPECCABLE: he could, as Brianna said herself, have chosen to take any young noble maiden as his wife, but he decided to go for a woman that 1) is a couple years older than him 2) is not noble at all and, you know, used to be just a poor paesant before coming to Châtel-Argent 3) already has a son who was fathered by a French knight to whom she was never married and that she had to raise as a teen single mom 4) at the time of their first meeting had a crush on his current worst enemy. LISTEN!!!!!!!! Geoffrey’s taste in women is suspiciously good, way too good, in fact, to be that of a medieval straight guy. I mean…Ian, a man who comes from the 21st century, fell for the textbook angelic maiden, while Geoffrey literally did not even bother looking around for some young blushing bride and just decided that the hot milf who threatened him with a pitchfork in book 2 was his first and best choice. What an Absolute Fucking King. This choice of his is, in my opinion, very telling of the kind of view he has of romance and women in general.

Which brings me to the next point, namely:

1.2. Geoffrey appears to have an attitude towards women and a view of womanhood that are significantly more modern than those of an average knight of his time

Is it just me or is Geoffrey actually the one with the most… modern mindset out of all the knights starring in the saga? There are a couple of specific scenes that kind of make me think of him as an outlier among his peers, and although some of those are definitely there for the purpose of showing us that Martewall is indeed a rather peculiar knight, others contribute to creating the picture of a character that is almost… out of place in the 13th century?

Allow me to expand a bit further on the “Geoffrey and women” topic: we saw how chivalrous and respectful Geoffrey was towards an unconscious and injured Brianna. First he made sure her son was comfortable with him warming her up using his own body, and reassured him he meant no disrespect by removing her clothes; then, he proceeded to strip her in the most methodical and detached way possible, which let us know Geoffrey respects a woman’s body and modesty the way any proper, courteous medieval man would. But then there’s another, and in my opinion far more interesting, instance in which Geoffrey is seen interacting with a woman: I’m talking about his brief conversation with Blanche of Castile in book 3. Here we see 1) how Geoffrey treats women he is not attracted to (“not attracted to” as in: women he has no interest in romancing), and 2) to what degree he actually respects female authority.

Our first introduction to Blanche is the scene in which Guillaume, Ian and Henri de Bar are talking about her right before the audience in Paris, during which we learn that the vast majority of noblemen do not take her opinions seriously and do not appreciate seeing her talk during political debates. Even Henri de Bar, although he does not mean to be insolent, raises an eyebrow at the thought of a woman participating in conversations that concern military strategy, while Guillaume seems almost amused at Ian’s heartfelt defence of her speeches. Which is why Geoffrey’s brief interaction with her stands out so much: when she starts talking about the war in England with him, he carefully listens to her as if she were just another male superior officer: he does not appear even slightly surprised by her competence, he does not try to dumb down the topic of discussion, he listens carefully to what she is saying, he offers his opinion only when she asks for it and he answers her questions in the most straightforward way possible. At no point during the conversation does he ever attempt to pull the condescending “with all due respect, madame…” to correct or contradict her statements. He is not in courteous knight mode, he is in soldier mode, and is unfazed by the fact that the one he is discussing logistics and war strategy with is a delicate looking princess. Once again, the author is fleshing out Geoffrey’s character by having the protagonist and point of view character draw a direct comparison between him and other men. Martewall does not simply respect women as in “oh I’m a proper knight and I use my blade to protect defenceless maidens”, he actually, genuinely respects women.

Which in my opinion is such an interesting facet of his values and personality: in the second half of book 2, Ian notices how thoroughly Harald Martewall managed to drill the code of chivalry into his son’s head, and remarks on the fact that the Martewalls are all perfect examples of the True Old School Knights. Both Harald and Geoffrey are the embodiment of the honourable, unyielding, upright warrior trope, and they perfectly fit the image we modern people conjure in our minds when we think of a knight of the Middle Ages. This specific aspect of Geoffrey’s set of values gives his character a strong, let’s say “old-fashioned” connotation, and yet said set of values seems to come from an internal source rather than rely on tradition and external rules. He, for example, got rid of his helm and shield when he saw his adversary in combat was not fully equipped, but he also willingly assisted the Dauphin in taking over England despite having previously sworn an oath of loyalty to John Plantagenet, since his sense of honour compelled him to aid the man who provided him with the help he needed to get his home back. Geoffrey is way more likely to base his choices on what his own moral compass compels him to do rather than resort to convention and tradition to tell right from wrong. This makes Geoffrey a perfect blend of both old and modern qualities, and in the context of his relationship with women he tends to lean quite heavily on his more modern side.

Let’s go back to discussing his first introduction to Brianna for a second: he witnesses Brianna express her unrequited attraction to Ian, flirt with him and even mock-kiss him straight on the lips, and yet not only does that not make Geoffrey respect her any less, it also does not concern him at all later in book 3 when the story hints at the fact that he might have an interest in taking her as his wife. This is a rather unusual attitude! I mean, even the exuberant Etienne de Sancerre, who has shown an overt preference for feisty and confident women, grumbles and protests in jealousy when his wife Donna and Daniel greet each other with a hug while out in public, deeming the gesture to be inappropriate. What I’m trying to say here is that this is a man who is waaaaay ahead of his peers in regards to his view of women and womanhood, and who also appears to be very confident in his masculinity (so confident, in fact, that the thought of having to “put women in their place” never once crosses his mind), hence why I keep sensing the most excellent kind of bisexual vibes coming from him.

Exhibit B: Geoffrey and men

2.1 Jerome and Geoffrey’s friendship makes NO sense

And I mean it. Yes, we do read about Ian wondering how two people with such different sets of core values (ok maybe Jerome lacked core values all together lol) could have ever been friends, which means that yes, readers are in fact meant to notice how misguided Geoffrey is in his commitment to honour this bond of friendship and avenge Jerome’s death, but the more I think about this, the more I convince myself that this whole situation is, in fact…really weird.

Let’s start from the beginning: so, Geoffrey’s anger over Jerome’s death is the main source of conflict between him and Ian, and it puts the plot of book 2 in motion. Now, we never actually saw Geoffrey and Jerome talk to each other in book 1 (because at the time of its drafting the author had not yet planned on writing a sequel for it) so all the available details about their relationship (mind you, there aren’t that many) have to be gleaned from Geoffrey’s recollections present in book 2 and pieced back together in order to get a clearer picture. Another fact that should be noted is that we also never saw Jerome talk about Geoffrey (again, because Geoffrey wasn’t really that relevant to the plot of book 1): Geoffrey’s words are the only source available when it comes to trying to reconstruct what their interactions might have been like, which means that our perspective on their friendship is going to be inevitably, extremely one-sided.

So here we go, book 2, chapter 5: Geoffrey has decided to abduct Ian and Daniel and drag them to his home in England to get some answers and avenge Jerome’s death and he currently has Ian at his mercy, so he immediately starts asking questions. He asks why he currently is not home, he asks why his brother has no knowledge of his whereabouts, he asks if his name really is Jean Marc de Ponthieu, and these are all very dangerous questions: they pose a real threat to Ian’s credibility. But then, when Geoffrey asks why Jerome was so certain he was an imposter, Ian breathes in relief, because that means Geoffrey knows nothing about the ambush in Couronne.

But. Wait a second.

How could Geoffrey possibly not know about Couronne? That’s how Derangale KNEW without a shadow of a doubt that Ian and Jean de Ponthieu were never the same person! Dude was busy forging incriminating letters left and right with Ponthieu’s help??? He was the one who helped Ponthieu and Renaud De Dammartin set Isabeau up to be assaulted by Claude de Dammartin??? Geoffrey explicitly says Jerome was obsessed with Ian, so Derangale must have talked his ear OFF with all his incessant rambling about him being an imposter…and Geoffrey did not bother asking him about the details of this weird doppelganger theory of his ONCE? We know how sharp and observant Geoffrey is. We know he is perceptive, and straightforward in voicing his opinions, and not easy to fool. We know he is the type of guy who likes to ask direct questions and get believable, clear answers in return, so he MUST have asked Jerome why he was so sure about the illegitimacy of Ian’s identity. How did Jerome answer? Did he make up a lie on the spot? Geoffrey is equipped with a very functional built-in anti-nonsense super-sensor (the one that allowed him to immediately spot all the places in which Ian’s deception and intentional gaslighting were coming off at their seams even after Ian had managed to convince Geoffrey’s own father that he was Jean de Ponthieu’s second-born son), so if that was the case – if Jerome had indeed tried to make up some story about why he knew who the real Jean de Ponthieu was – Geoffrey (in theory) would have easily been able to tell that he was being lied to.

Do we then have to assume Jerome simply replied with “I just know”? Well…the text implies that this is the most plausible option: as Ian and Geoffrey’s heated conversation goes on, we realize that the only reason Geoffrey believes Ian to be an imposter is…because Jerome said so. And this, in my opinion, says a lot about both Geoffrey’s relationship with Derangale and his current emotional state. Let’s really think about what this little kidnapping stunt of his must look like from an outside perspective: Geoffrey just decided to abduct a man whose identity has been publicly confirmed by Guillaume de Ponthieu, one of the most powerful men on French soil, who also happens to be a relative of king Philippe Auguste (which means Ian has ties to the royal family as well lol???), who ALSO confirmed that Ian is the youngest Ponthieu brother and PERSONALLY BESTOWED the title of Faucon du Roi upon him. Geoffrey does not (currently) have a shred of proof against Ian: he just chose to believe that Ian is some random foreigner who has been allowed to pretend to be a nobleman and marry Isabeau de Montmayeur by the count of Ponthieu and the king of France because that’s what Jerome believed. Jerome stood alone in front of the entire French court, subjecting himself to ridicule, to denounce Ian as an imposter and Guillaume as a liar (and readers know he is 100% right, but look at this from the perspective of one of the characters who are not involved in this intrigue), which are such far-fetched, absurd, ludicrous accusations, even the closest of Jerome’s friends would have demanded at least some evidence in order to give his version of the story some credit. And yet Geoffrey, who has not been given even one crumb of information on the real Jean de Ponthieu’s actual political alignment, simply decided to stand with him against the rest of the world.

And then, Ian starts answering Geoffrey’s questions by telling him all the vile things Jerome did to him, his family and his friends (while still carefully avoiding the Couronne topic): he tells him of his sadism, villany and criminal actions, and Geoffrey does not believe a single word of what he’s saying. He straight up calls all these accusations lies, and he urges Ian to stop insulting a knight of England his peer and a man of honour deserving of respect. Geoffrey refuses to listen to any negative remark Ian has to make and threatens him with violence when he insists on calling Jerome an unworthy man. “Jerome wasn’t a liar”, he says; “he was my friend, and you killed him”. This is exactly what I meant when I said their friendship strikes me as extremely weird: I mean come on, really? Derangale was a textbook piece of shit. He was violent, vengeful, and arrogant, and yet Geoffrey describes him as a “man of honour”??? It almost seems as if he and Ian are not even talking about the same person??? The sadistic felon Ian met in Cairs is nothing like the friend Geoffrey has such a high opinion of. Which can only mean one thing, namely that when he was with Geoffrey, Jerome was on his best behaviour. And in order to have adapted his behaviour to fit Geoffrey’s expectations of a good and honourable friend, Derangale must have had a very clear picture of the kind of person his “friend” was. Jerome knew Geoffrey would never have allowed all that malicious shit to happen under his watch, so he decided to keep all his plotting a secret from him. Geoffrey never was Jerome’s accomplice in aiding Renaud de Dammartin, Ferrand de Flandre and Jean de Ponthieu steal the Montmayeur fief for king John, and therefore has no reason to believe Ian’s words.

There are two things about this situation that strike me as particularly weird. First of all: Derangale wasn’t just witholding information from Geoffrey, he was also hiding his true nature from him. And Geoffrey…never noticed? Geoffrey, who can usually smell bullshit and deception from a mile away, who has no difficulty in telling a man of honour from a felon, who normally would not bother wasting his time being friends with such an insufferable prick, never managed to guess the true nature of Jerome’s character? Huh??? And secondly: why exactly did Derangale ask for help from a guy he was so sure he would never have been able to turn into one of his accomplices he had to actively keep parts of himself and his plans hidden for months up to the battle in Bouvines? What we know, thanks to Harald Martewall, is that Jerome was the first to reach out to Geoffrey back in book 1: apparently, the two of them used to be friends as young boys, then stopped seeing each other for a couple of years until Derangale decided to pick up the phone and give him a call. Geoffrey was in England, minding his own business, when Jerome contacted him to ask if he was willing to join him in Béarne. He, as sir Harald recalls, “was busy raising a cavalry troop for Ferrand De Flandre, and wanted my last-born as champion in a tournament”. It is not difficult to guess why Derangale asked specifically for Geoffrey to join his faction. Martewall is, simply put, the baddest bitch in the area: he is easily the scariest and most skilled warrior out of all the knights we get to meet in the saga, and an experienced tournament champion is precisely what Jerome needs for the little show he has in plan for Béarne. What I really want to know here is: couldn’t Derangale have called for literally any other English knight to help him win? Why did he risk enrolling a guy he knew would never have approved of his schemes and totally could have kicked his ass if he ever found out about his misconduct? Couldn’t he have called for a couple more champions who would have been overjoyed at the opportunity of beating the shit out of all those French knights? Why did it have to be just him and Geoffrey against the ENTIRETY of Philippe Auguste’s lineup? Why was he so confident in his ability to manipulate Geoffrey? Oh AND. This is an information that is nowhere to be found in the actual books but it is something I asked the author to confirm because I was just too curious: Geoffrey…did not have fun in Béarne, like at all. He did not care for the show Jerome wanted to put on, he did not enjoy participating in that display of strength and superiority, and he was grumpier than usual during the whole ordeal. So our man Jerome basically decided to rely exclusively on Geoffrey’s excellence and made him travel all the way to Béarne instead of putting together a slightly larger faction of fellows who could have maybe shared his immoral cause (like hello?????? it’s literally JUST the two of them against ALL the French nobles competing at the tournament lmfao??? I mean ok girl!!! give us drama! give us spectacle!) despite knowing that 1) he would have had to completely alter his behaviour around him 2) he could never have explained to him why he knew with absolute certainty Ian was an imposter and 3) Geoffrey would have intensely disliked being at the centre of theatrics. Like…I get that Geoffrey is your most skilled friend when it comes to the art of jousting, but… his presence is also a bit too inconvenient in this context? I mean really? You didn’t know any other knights in the area who could have been available as champions? You had to call for Geoffrey? Specifically for him? Haha girl ok! (oh and you also saved some of the custom higher quality blades you had made for your squadron to arm Geoffrey? Ok! Oh and you decided to pick Geoffrey as the other leader of your special squadron? Girl Ok!!! The guy would leave your ass in less than a second if he ever found out about your awful crimes so keeping him at your side is quite the risky move, but you do you I guess).

And another thing is, not only did Geoffrey hate every second of that charade, he (and this is also information that I got directly from the author) was downright shocked at Derangale’s unprompted act of violence against the young count of Grandpré… that was something that caught him completely off guard and that left a bitter taste in his mouth. It makes total sense for Geoffrey to feel this way, that’s very in character for him. What actually, really surprises me is Geoffrey’s reaction at hearing Ian mention this particular incident. You were there, says Ian, you saw Derangale attempt to kill a friend of mine with your own two eyes, and yet you insist on threatening me for calling him a criminal and an assassin. And that’s what finally prompts Geoffrey to lay hands on him. He silences him with a slap so violent it almost makes him fall on the ground. Geoffrey reacted with anger and disbelief when Ian was describing him heinous crimes that he never witnessed and did not believe to be true, but only resorted to physical violence when Ian forced him to acknowledge and condemn an action he actually saw Jerome commit. This brief scene alone is enough for me to confidently conclude that Geoffrey is, there are no other words fit to describe his current emotional state, deep in DENIAL. He hears an uncomfortable truth he has no way of denying, he lets that send him into a violent rage, he acts that violence out and then he ends the whole conversation there. He just. Leaves. And he repeats the same exact pattern of behaviour a second time! Book 2, chapter 12: Martewall starts to interrogate Daniel, who tells him about Derangale’s first attempt at kidnapping Isabeau AND manages to have one of his own men confirm his story. Then Geoffrey becomes visibly agitated, to the point he inadvertently breaks the rod he brought to beat information out of his prisoner in fucking two, CHANGES THE TOPIC OF DISCUSSION ON PURPOSE, and then when Daniel insists on bringing the conversation back to Derangale’s crimes he draws his sword, points it at him in another fit of anger and then! He LEAVES!! AGAIN!!! Bro???????????? You keep saying you “want the truth” and yet when you finally get it you cut the conversation off because you don’t like what you’re hearing? Hello???

“You insist on defending him only because you do not want to admit you have been lied to and manipulated by him”, this is what Daniel says to Martewall’s face, and the most articulate rebuttal he is able to come up with on the spot is “that is not true”. He absolutely did not expect to be confronted with such merciless answers, and he has no idea how to cope with Ian and Daniel ripping into the image of the good and honourable Jerome that only exists in his mind, so he just rejects anything negative they have to say and breaks things like a moody teenager.

His behaviour is extremely erratic. For the entirety of the first half of book 2, Geoffrey is clearly not his usual self. His own father tells him he does not recognize him anymore. And when Sir Harald confronts him and makes an attempt at urging him to release Daniel, Geoffrey reacts with something I would almost describe as a…temper tantrum? Sir Harald’s request for an explanation from his son is more than legit: after all, he just learned from Daniel that Geoffrey decided to kidnap a renowned nobleman on a whim, without any evidence of his supposed crimes, WITHIN THE BORDERS OF HIS FIEF IN FRENCH LANDS. That could get them in SERIOUS trouble with both his brother Guillaume de Ponthieu and Philippe Auguste himself, as Salisbury will later remark on. I mean, this action is not only dishonourable, as Sir Harald will be very quick to point out, but also extremely stupid. And Geoffrey is not stupid. Like, at all. He knows when to shut up, his rage is usually under check, he is not prone to acting out in anger or taking rash decisions. But here, Geoffrey is letting his emotions run rampant. His father is being perfectly reasonable, and he replies quite disrespectfully by stating that he is not a young boy anymore and that he will not allow for any reproach o interference on his part.

It should be noted that Geoffrey’s troubled state of mind is not solely the result of Jerome’s death. In fact, in chapter 12, Geoffrey makes it clear why he is so angry and frustrated. He lays out all of his reasons to his father:

“I’ve always done my duty and I lost my honour because of those to whom I owed my loyalty. I fought loyally until the very end, I paid my defeat with imprisonment, only to discover at my release that my name is associated to those of a friend deemed a felon and a king judged a coward; I return to my homeland and I end up on a list of traitors because of you! I am forced to be subject to the last two accusations, but the first…that one I intend to acquit myself from with any means necessary. At this point, I have already lost my dignity as a knight and you are the last person who can reproach me for it, since you are the one who dealt me the final blow”.

Geoffrey’s words reveal that he is also doing all of this for himself. He is now more desperate than ever to prove Jerome was always in the right, since this seems to be the only means of coping with the loss of his precious honour. The thought of having been friends with a felon of this magnitude is something Geoffrey could never, ever tolerate, because what would this say about him as a person? This explains the state of denial he currently is in: he has done something he would normally see as despicable by kidnapping Ian in his own lands, but he could excuse acting like a vulgar bandit if only he managed to force a confession out of Ian and avenge Jerome’s death (have I already mentioned Geoffrey has NO business being mad about Jerome meeting his demise at Ian’s hands? Dude was killed in fair combat. On a battlefield. Ian did not assassinate him or anything of that sort, there simply are NO good reasons as for why Geoffrey could ever want to “avenge” his friend’s death?? like there’s literally nothing to avenge here??? Lol???). And although Geoffrey is indeed defending Jerome’s honour because he feels that his crimes, if proven true, could reflect badly on himself, Geoffrey’s words still betray real attachment and a genuine feeling of affection for Jerome. Ian himself will later recognize their bond as valid by directly comparing it to the sentiment of friendship he shares with Daniel. At the time of Ian’s abduction, Geoffrey did not yet know that he would eventually be forced to fight yet another war once he’d finally reach his home: at that point in the story, Geoffrey’s motives for taking Ian and Daniel as prisoners had little to do with him wanting to gain back the honour he now feels his father tore from him by ordering him to side with him against their king. The primary motivation for his disreputable conduct in chapters 4 to 10 was, in my opinion, grief.

Another thing that I find extremely interesting and that in a way contradicts what I mentioned above about Geoffrey not being able to tolerate the thought of having been friends with a criminal, is that once he starts to come to terms with the proof of Jerome’s misconduct…he never disavows their friendship. What he says once he finally accepts Ian as his friend and lets go of Jerome’s obsession is: “I did everything in my power to honour our friendship, going even beyond common sense”. He never tries to claim they were never really friends or proclaim he wants to cut all ties with such a man. And towards the end of book 3, when Geoffrey and Ian are discussing what Ian’s exile really implicates and Ian is finally forced to admit he never was Jean de Ponthieu, Geoffrey all of a sudden brings Derangale into their conversation to reflect on how Jerome was right all along and how happy he is to learn that he at least did not lie to him about this one specific thing. Well, maybe I’m reading too much into this, but I was expecting him to focus on the sheer amount of lies he had been fed by…you know, Ian, the friend who happens to be alive and whom he is currently confronting. He does not even seem interested in asking Ian to explain himself, it is Ian who apologises to him, completely unprompted. They were having a conversation about Philippe Auguste and Guillaume de Ponthieu wielding the power to destroy his life, and after several beats of silence and intense consideration, what Geoffrey decided to say out loud was “I’m happy Jerome didn’t lie to me about you”? Ummmmmmm ok??????????? Lying to him certainly was not the worst thing Jerome has ever done? What about the many crimes he committed against Ian, his friends and his family? What I’m trying to say here is that Daniel’s argument about Geoffrey having been manipulated by Jerome must have cut deep, since here he is, bringing this up again. Derangale died more than two years ago, and Geoffrey already gave up on trying to redeem his honour and reputation, but he appears to be still in the middle of the process of learning to truly let him go. Dealing with the idea of having been deceived in such a cold way by a close friend to whom he though he owed unwavering loyalty is proving to be challenging. I might be delusional but I can only make sense of the fact Geoffrey brought Jerome into their conversation about Ian only to briefly touch on a strictly personal matter that concerned his own feelings and his private relationship with Ian’s old archenemy if I assume Geoffrey was, at this point in time, still dealing with some very intense and complicated feelings (….furthermore…………it doesn’t…really…make sense…for Geoffrey to be happy about Jerome telling him that Ian’s identity was a hoax…since the whole point of telling him that…was getting his help in destroying Ian and not really “being honest” with him…like…Geoffrey, love, why are you so desperately hanging on to these miniscule scraps of “““honest and genuine interactions”””, why do you still treasure this literal MICROSCOPIC CRUMB of “““sincerity””” on Jerome’s part…hello…………………???). Sorry but this whole Jerome/Geoffrey mess just exudes one-sided, unfulfilled and unacknowledged tenderness in copious amounts once you really start to read into it. My personal interpretation of the situation is that Geoffrey is having such a hard time trying to make sense of the extent of Derangale’s manipulation and condemning him as someone who was always undeserving of his friendship and devotion because he completely lacks the tools to properly analyse and interpret his own feelings on the matter.

2.2 Geoffrey and Ian vs Geoffrey and Jerome

I’m touching briefly on Ian and Geoffrey’s friendship dynamics in book 3 mainly because I think that their relationship will provide me with some good clues and parallels that could be of help in determining what Geoffrey was like when he was in Jerome’s company, since the third instalment in the series gives us such a wonderful and complete picture of the kind of friend Geoffrey is. Remember how Geoffrey immediately sided with Ian against Gant without asking for evidence against him and came to Ian’s rescue twice despite having very important businesses to attend to? Geoffrey has repeatedly shown that he has a tendency to be aggressively protective of his closest friends, to the point he has no problem resorting to extreme violence to ensure their safety (Ian, bleeding on the floor, gripping Geoffrey’s arm: “please tell me you took at least one of my assailants alive I’m going to need a witness???????” Geoffrey: “…” Ian: “…” The pile of corpses right behind them: “…” Geoffrey: “…sorry lol I kinda dealt with them in a bit of a heavy handed way” Ian: whimpers and collapses in his arms). Geoffrey’s attitude in regards to Ian’s enemies perfectly explains why he never had any qualms siding with Jerome against Ian despite the fact Derangale wasn’t telling him shit about the supposed evidence behind his outlandish claims. This is actually part of his regular pattern of behaviour: Geoffrey has consistently shown a thorough commitment towards undying trust and unconditional support through direct action. He might seem cold and aloof since he is never seen behave in an overtly friendly or approachable way when he is out in public (he also does not smile ONCE throughout the whole trilogy), but this right here is, in my opinion, a very affectionate man who is capable of forming true and intimate bonds with a handful of hand-picked men whose company he deeply treasures. Let’s talk about how Geoffrey U-turned at the speed of light to go back and help Ian corner Gant even though he was in the middle of carrying out an extremely important mission for Blanche of Castile. Let’s talk about how Derangale did not even have the time to fall to the ground after Ian delivered him the finishing blow, because Geoffrey literally teleported behind him to catch him, hoist him on his horse and take him to safety (let’s also talk about how Ian later found Derangale’s corpse among those of all the abandoned fallen soldiers the imperial army was not able to retrieve, and saw that his dead body had been laid on a shield with care, which means Geoffrey probably was the one responsible for preserving his dignity in death since we know for a fact he was there to hear Derangale’s last words and witness him die – I am literally about to start screaming please send help :)))))))). Do not let his grumpiness and harsh words fool you, Geoffrey is the most dedicated best friend another knight could ever ask for.

HOWEVER, the main difference between the two relationships I am comparing is that Geoffrey’s support of Ian is always unconditional, but never irrational in the same way his pursuit of revenge on Jerome’s behalf was, and at no point in the story does Geoffrey fail in evaluating Ian’s character or intentions. Furthermore, Ian’s gaslighting game was ON POINT in book 2, he was warping reality around Geoffrey like a damn magician, but Geoffrey never fully bought into his carefully crafted lies. And yet I am expected to believe that Derangale was such a skilled master manipulator he was able to conceal his true nature and agenda from Geoffrey for months? Hello??? PLEASE! Make it make sense!!! The ease with which Derangale was able to withold crucial information from him is extremely suspicious. Really? You mean to tell me Jerome Derangale had one of the least gullible people in the saga wrapped around his finger for years and never once slipped and misbehaved in front of him? Sorry I know at this point I must sound extremely redundant but Geoffrey’s selective blindness towards anything that concerns Derangale really is the weirdest thing ever, like, uh oh! Are you sure you didn’t catch any overly soft feelings for your bestie? So…I’m gonna say it: my theory on why Geoffrey’s behaviour was all over the place in the first chapters of book 2 is that he has always been completely unaware of the true nature and extent of his emotional attachment to Derangale, and this cluelessness of his contributed to worsening his already frustrated state. Furthermore, I also think Derangale must have noticed something was going on with Geoffrey and decided to use it to his advantage. Dude was a bit too confident, suspiciously confident in his ability to keep Geoffrey at his side without having to disclose any kind of compromising information.

In conclusion:

What I’m trying to say here is that I’m pretty convinced Geoffrey Martewall is not one of the straights. To sum all of this up, he:

-drinks astronomical amounts of his own extra strong brew of respect women juice on a daily basis

-has a tendency to get very attached to a few selected male friends who he then proceeds to protect with everything he has

-never noticed his old friend (👀) was lying to him, acted in a very out of character and erratic way for a while after his old friend’s (👀👀) death and was ready to commit actual crimes in an attempt to honour his old friend’s (👀👀👀) memory.

So. Yeah. The bi vibes are there. I would rather die than give up my Clueless Bisexual King Geoffrey Martewall headcanons! Sorry but a straight Geoffrey would make zero sense to me. Your honour can’t you see!!! this guy is WAY too cool not to be bi!!!

I rest my case.

P.S. I cannot BELIEVE I’m actually posting this monster on the day of the anniversary of the battle of Bouvines??? I swear I didn’t do it on purpose, at first I was really annoyed at the fact that putting this together was taking me weeks but then yesterday while I was editing I realized I would eventually be able to publish this on the very day Derangale died and Geoffrey was taken prisoner :’’) Perfect timing am I right?

#I love....Geoffrey Martewall...so fucking much i literallyhschbcbg !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#He!!!!!!! HNGGGGG #also this is probably full of mistakes and typos and whatnot but i don't care at this point i just want to get my point across #and my point is that Geoffrey has to be bi and i am . right #haha ooops my Jerome/Geoffrey agenda is finally out in the open for everyone to see haha ooooooopppppp #anyway i've never posted anything this long before #Geoffrey was worth every single word I spent talking abt him tho #hyperversum #I'm tired I'm going to bed now byeeeeee #Geoffrey Martewall #Jerome Derangale #Ian Maayrkas

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heauxplesslydevoted · 5 years ago

Text

Under My Skin (Ethan x MC)

Warning: 18+, NSFW

Summary: Set in the middle of chapter 6, Ethan and Naomi have it out over the current state of the diagnostics team.

Tags: @colourmeshy @virtualrain202 @fanmantrashcan @writinghereandthere @ao719 @x-kyne-x @paulfwesley @ramseyandrys @a-i-n-a-a-s-h @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @akacalliope @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramsey @the-soot-sprite @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @miyakokurono @trappedinfandoms @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune ~v~

Naomi stares at the textbook in front of her, eyes tired and blurry. She checks the time on her cell phone and 3:22 AM stares back in bold, white letters. Craning her head slightly, she spots Ethan standing at his kitchen island, looking at something on his laptop.

She never thought she’d be back in his apartment, but he invited the entire diagnostics team over so they could get some research done on Leland Bloom’s case. Ethan wants it to be solved as quickly as possible, and he wants to be rid of the tech billionaire, so after work they all congregated in his apartment, eating Chinese food, drinking wine, passing around textbooks and throwing out theories.

They’ve been at it for almost 6 hours now.

The energy in the room is off. Ethan’s been pissed ever since the board told him they’d need to be for-profit and start accepting wealthy clients and potential donors, and everyone feels it. June, Baz, and Naomi have been walking on eggshells around him, but aside from occasional snark from Naomi, they’ve been extremely curt.

Jenner likes her though. The golden retriever took a shine to her the moment she crossed the threshold to Ethan’s condo, sniffing at her feet and attaching himself to her hip. He’s now lounging with her, head in her lap and she pours over this book, and she’s glad. The friendly dog provides an excellent distraction and Naomi is thankful, because his owner currently sucks.

Naomi has dealt with a lot of Ethan’s moods before: upset, defeated, angry, happy, the works. But she’s never had his ire directed at her before. They’re in this mess because of her, and it’s a tricky space to occupy. It’s not fun.

“As much as I love reading, if I look at another word, I think my brain might melt,” June says, breaking the tense silence. She stifles a yawn.

“I’ve tapped out for the night as well,” Baz adds. “I’ve looked up every possible kidney and bladder disease and disorder known to mankind. I’m on sensory overload. I think it’s time I go home.”

Ethan looks up from his laptop. He knows his team is probably exhausted. He can’t believe they’ve actually stayed over this long. “Well, thank you for staying. Go home, get some rest, I’ll see you at the hospital.”

June and Baz gather their belongings and all of the study material they brought along with them, returning Ethan’s living room to its original tidy state. Muttering goodbyes, the two of them exit the apartment.

And then there were two. Naomi ignores the tension, ignoring the fact that they haven’t been alone together in over a week. Instead, she buries her face in her book, trying to focus on the words.

Ethan doesn’t bother sparing Naomi another glance before asking, “You didn’t want to leave with them?”

“Why, are you about to go to bed?”

“No.”

“Then, no.” She’s not going to stop now, and give him the satisfaction of thinking she’s given up for the night. Her stubbornness won’t allow it. “I don’t want to disrupt the process. I want this guy diagnosed and treated as badly as you do.”

Ethan scoffs. “I doubt it.”

Naomi has been giving as good as she gets when it comes to the passive aggressive snark, but it’s just exhausting at this point. She refuses to be his emotional punching bag any longer. She whips around in her seat. “God, is being a petulant little crybaby a second full-time job for you?”

That manages to get Ethan’s full attention. He levels a cool glare at the young resident, eyebrow raised in challenge. “You’ve gotten real comfortable calling me out of my name recently. Care to repeat that, Valentine?”

“You heard me loud and clear, Ramsey. You’re being a petulant little crybaby. You’ve been trying to pick a fight with me for the past 2 weeks. Look, I apologized, multiple times, for going behind your back or over your head, but I will not apologize for doing what I believe is right, not just for the team, but the hospital.”

“And you’re an insubordinate know-it-all!” Ethan shoots back. “You’re the type to touch the hot stove despite being repeatedly told not to because you think you’re a special snowflake who’s above getting burned. You lack foresight and analytical thought and self-preservation.”

Naomi recoils, having not expected Ethan to snap at her like that. “Excuse me?”

Jenner recognizes the change in tone between both adults. Not wanting to be caught in the crossfire, he moves from his spot on the couch and trots out of the living room, disappearing into the hallway.

“You thought this was going to be easy, that patients would just come flocking to us, but look at us, and everything would be perfect. We’re part of some social media...something or another’s video diary, we’re competing with a subpar hospital for patients despite being better than them, wasting time and resources because he wants to treat this like a reality show contest, and who knows what’s next, because you’ve opened Pandora’s box. We’re whoring ourselves out to the highest bidder, and the integrity and core foundation of this team has been compromised. So please spare me the martyr act, Naomi, and while you’re at it, please remember that I’m still your boss the next time you want to spout off at the mouth.”

Naomi’s hands are shaking, and she can practically feel the anger boiling in her blood. The nerve of this man. She stands up, ignoring the heavy book that fall out of her lap and onto the floor as she does so. She charges over to him, and sizes him up. Ethan’s almost a foot taller than her, but Naomi doesn’t care about the height disparity. She tilts her head back so she can look him in the eye.

“I’m not a martyr, but you’re a self righteous hypocrite. You’ve been pouting and waxing poetic about Naveen’s mission when you were the first one to mess with his legacy.”

Ethan’s nostrils flare at the accusation. “Excuse me?”

“Last year, you got into bed with Declan Nash and big pharma, compromising your own shaky moral code in order to save the life of one person. I’m trying to keep the team around in order to save a lot more people than just Naveen!”

“That was different!” Ethan argues. It doesn’t even feel right coming out of his mouth, but they’re far too deep in the argument for him to do anything besides dig his toes in.

“The only difference is you were the one in control then. But because it is my idea, you’re rejecting it. You’re being completely unreasonable here, Ethan. We’re standing in the middle of a sinking ship. Edenbrook is in trouble. My friends and I didn’t get our new salaries upon becoming residents, there’s talk of them shutting down the free clinic, and they’ll be coming after our team next. Who knows, maybe they’ll decide that mental health isn’t important and the entire psychiatric department should go. And then the nurses. And then they’ll start ordering less and less supplies, just to stay above water. And maybe you don’t care, because you’re Ethan Ramsey, you’re so wealthy that you only get a one dollar salary from the hospital, you’re established, your livelihood isn’t on the line, and I’m sure any hospital in the world would kill to employ you, but the rest of us? The little guys? We don’t have that option, so again, if you’re looking for me to kiss your ass and grovel because I made an executive decision, you’re going to be looking for a mighty long time.”

Ethan studies her, his gaze coolly fixated on her as she rants because he’s waiting for the second she stops talking, so he can jump back into his own argument. He realizes that it’s not an effective way to debate, and he falters slightly.

“What’s wrong?” Naomi goads, her voice taking on a singsong tone. She’s embroiled in the fight now. “Cat got your tongue?”

In his 37 years of living, Ethan can confidently say Naomi Valentine is the most infuriating woman he’s ever met. A stubborn, impulsive, hot-head with a smart mouth.

And fuck, he’s made a mistake.

Her mouth. Now his gaze is fixated on it, her full lips that she’s repeatedly bitten down on during this argument, the tackiness of her lip gloss, the way her tongue darts in and out.

Their argument is now the furthest thing from his mind, and he’s actually annoyed by it. What is it about this…woman that completely bewitches him? He wants to argue, not be transfixed on how pretty she is. She doesn’t even have to do anything and he’s under her spell again.

A sharp jab in the middle of his chest pulls Ethan back to reality. He looks down and realizes that Naomi poked him in the chest, out of anger or to get his attention, he’s not sure.

“Hey!” The fact that he’s ignoring her only makes her more incensed. He started this fight, he doesn’t get the right to dissociate and shut down in the middle of it. “Have you listened to a word I just said?”

“No,” Ethan answers honestly. Naomi’s eyes darken at the response. He didn’t say that to piss her off further, but he won’t lie and say he doesn’t enjoy the sight.

He can tell she’s going to launch into another tirade, one that’s completely separate from their original issue, because that’s just how things are between them; they spiral before either of them knows what’s happening.

Before she can even fix her mouth to call him another name, his hand cups her jaw, tilting her head back, and he slants his mouth over hers, kissing her fiercely.

She gasps. This is the first time he’s ever caught her off guard and initiated a kiss. She’s usually the one to be in control.

All too quickly, Ethan pulls back, locking eyes with the young woman in front of him. She’s dazed, chest heaving and eyes glazed over.

“Did you do that to get me to stop talking?”

“No, I kissed you because I wanted to. But the fact that it got you to stop running your mouth is a personal bonus.”

Naomi huffs, but doesn’t say anything else. God, he could be such an asshole at times.

“I want to do it again,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. His blue eyes pierce into her own, and it suddenly becomes hard to focus on anything other than him. “Can I?”

She doesn’t know why it’s so sexy, him asking for permission, but she feels the butterflies in her stomach rumble at the question. She’s barely able to nod her head before Ethan launches himself at her, sending her flying back into the kitchen counter.

It’s so different from any other kisses they’ve shared. This one she can feel all the way down in her toes. His tongue darts out, gliding against her bottom lip and demanding access to her mouth, which she eagerly grants him.

Everything about him invades her senses: the feel of his calloused hands touching her jaw, the scratch of his beard against her face, the smell of his cologne (something by Gucci that she’s been yet to narrow down), his taste (she can still taste the wine on him, even though he drank it earlier), his sounds (the little groans that only she’s privy to, always gravelly and smooth, that make her knees buckle). It all culminates into this one man that is so all-consuming, it makes her lose her mind.

The kisses become shorter, more teasing, allowing Naomi the opportunity to actually breathe. He leaves kisses along her jaw and neck, making her whimper.

Ethan wraps an arm around Naomi’s waist and spins them, pushing her against the wall. She winces upon contact. “Warn a girl next time.”

“You want to know what’s been on my mind recently?” Ethan asks, nipping at Naomi’s earlobe.

“W-What?”

His hands find purchase underneath the grey Henley she’s wearing and he lifts it up. Her stomach clenches under his touch and it’s maddening just how responsive she is to him. “I haven’t been able to get the sight of you out of my mind since I came to pick you up from your apartment the other day.” With trembling fingers, Naomi helps him remove the shirt, and it’s tossed somewhere behind them.

She’s not wearing the grey bra he saw the other day, this one is a soft pink, and he groans at how it contrasts against her skin. There isn’t a color that doesn’t look good on her. “I stood there…” he only pauses to place opened mouthed kisses on her collarbone. “...like a floundering idiot…” this time he kisses slightly lower, earning a sharp inhale from Naomi. The noise does nothing to soothe the erection straining in his jeans. “...while you decided to tease me.”

“You’re the one who decided to stay,” Naomi shoots back with a shrug. “So I had to put on a little show.” He hums in agreement. His tongue darts out, flattening over her lace covered nipple. “Fuck, just take it off!”

“You still have no patience,” Ethan observes. He yanks at the material, until he hears a loud tear.

“That’s La Perla!”

Ethan blinks, struggling to find the significance in that statement. Was it supposed to mean something to him? “Okay?”

“It was expensive, you jerk!”

“I’ll buy you 10 more,” he replies with a shrug before resuming his previous activity, pulling one of her nipples between his lips, sucking lightly. Naomi’s breath comes out in quick bursts, and it’s becoming harder for her to stay grounded to reality. She reaches out, wanting to touch him, but he intercepts, catching her wrist. “Hands to yourself, Valentine.”

Ethan’s fingers make work of the button holding her jeans together, and he drags down the zipper. He yanks at her jeans with the same care he afforded her shirt and bra, tugging them down until they pool at her feet. Naomi does the rest of the work, hopping around until the pants are fully off.

“You and the thin scraps you call underwear, have been driving me insane all week,” Ethan confesses. “The other day when I came to pick you up, part of me was so mad at you because of your blatant defiance, but the other part of me wanted to push you onto that bed, and do very, very inappropriate things to you.”

The wetness that floods her panties is overwhelming. She clenches her thighs together in hopes of alleviating some of the tension, but it doesn’t help. Figuring out a new strategy, she wraps a leg around his waist, pulling him flush to her. She rolls her hips, grinding into him. The growl that escapes his lips only fuels her and strokes her ego. “You should’ve.”

Ethan kisses her again, reveling in the needy way Naomi claws at him. Her fingers are desperate, fingering into his t-shirt, twisting at the fabric. He’s unsure if she wants to take it off, or if she’s impatient enough to say ‘fuck it,’ and just rip it.

Whatever the case, he doesn’t let her continue. Grabbing both of her hands, he forces them on either side of her. “You really do have a problem with listening. No. Touching.”

The gruffness in his voice sends a shiver down her spine, but whatever rebellious side of her that wants to challenge the command is squelched with one look into his eyes. She can tell he means business and now isn’t the time to challenge his authority.

With restraint she didn’t know she had, Naomi places her palms on the hall behind her, and she stays as still as she can.

“Good girl.” Ethan smirks and drops her hands. He untangles himself from her and steps back an inch to admire his work. “You followed directions for once.”

Whatever smart aleck reply that was about to fly from her mouth is stifled by Ethan pulling her soaked underwear down and slipping two digits past her folds. The noise she lets out is a mixture of a high pitched yelp and a strangled moan, something that threatens to choke her.

The pace he sets is random and uneven, never giving Naomi a chance to settle into a rhythm, and she wonders if this is his way of punishing her, keeping her keyed up and writhing on him for what feels like eternity, trapped in her own form of purgatory.

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, and bucks her hips wildly into his hand, trying to keep pace with him.

“Stop doing that,” Ethan demands, using his free hand to pull her lip out of her mouth. “I want to hear you, Rookie.”

Something about the use of her former nickname makes her moan, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Ethan.

“You like the nickname,” he states. “It’s funny, you know. You take every opportunity to defy me, argue with me, and push my buttons, yet you get off on me controlling you.”

She can’t focus. He’s too close, it feels too good, and her brain can’t function properly under these conditions. He presses forward, the heel of his palm pressing into her clit, earning a hiss.

“Admit it.”

At this point Naomi would admit to committing armed robbery if it meant he’d keep doing this. She nods frantically. “Yes, Doctor.” He groans at the use of his title, and he pumps harder, curling his fingers inside of her.

Naomi stands on tiptoes and desperately claws at the wall behind her. “Fuck Ethan, please!”

“Please, what? What do you want?” His lips find her neck again, and he sucks on her pulse point, only making things more hazy. “Use your words, Rookie.”

She wants a lot of things. She wants to cry out, she wants to dig her nails into his back until she draws blood, she wants him to keep talking her through this, his gruff voice in her ear as she shatters around him.

Unfortunately, Naomi cannot form a coherent sentence to save her life. She just rolls her hips, shamelessly grinding herself into his hand. “I...I…” The pleasure mounts, building in the pit of her stomach, spreading out. She’s so close, she can almost taste it.

“Do you want to cum for me?”

“Yes! Yes, yes, please, I want–” Ethan rewards her for her honesty and his thumb drags into her clit and he rubs the sensitive nub in tight, quick circles. That’s all it takes, and she orgasms with a strangled cry and she’s thankful Ethan is right here because he holds her upright as her legs momentarily give out.

When Naomi regains the ability to stand on her own, Ethan lets go and slowly removes his fingers. Moving fast, Naomi grabs his hand, and without breaking eye contact with him, she slides the two digits into her mouth, licking them clean.

Ethan’s next breath is a shaky gasp that leaves his lung far too quickly. “Fuck, Rookie.”

“Why don’t we move this to the bedroom?” Naomi suggests, releasing his fingers with a loud pop.

Ethan shakes his head. “No.”

He registers the confusion on her face, but Ethan doesn’t give her a chance to respond. He grabs her by the waist and kisses her again, walking them towards the living room. He only breaks the kiss to pull his t-shirt over his head, and it joins the growing pile of discarded clothing scattered around. Naomi helps him speed the process along, getting rid of his belt and popping the button on his jeans. Her fingers hook into the belt loops of the pants and she pulls them down.

Before she can do anything else, Ethan stops her wandering hands. “Wait, wait.”

“Wait for what?”

Ethan knocks his forehead against hers and he sighs deeply. “Naomi, if you don’t want to do this, please stop me now.”

She thinks it’s cute that he’s giving her an out, but she doesn’t need it. Her fingers slip past the waistband of his soft cotton boxers, a warm dainty hand wrapping around him.

Ethan shudders as a warmth spreads through him at the touch of her hand, and he mentally curses himself. He pushes her hand away.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“I’m not cumming into your hand.” Ethan spins Naomi around and bends her over the arm of his couch.

While it’s not the desk in his office, Naomi won’t complain. She feels one of his calloused hands trace the length of her spine and her eyes flutter shut in anticipation.

No patience left, Ethan tugs down his underwear, letting the material pool at his ankles. Without another word, he lines herself up at Naomi’s entrance and thrusts into her all at once. He groans at the sensation.

Naomi has never been more thankful for couch cushions, as they muffle the scream that escapes her.

“Fuck, Naomi.” He digs his fingers into her hips before pulling out and slamming back into her. He doesn’t give her any time to adjust, but she doesn’t mind. They both know patience isn’t her forte. “You’re...so...tight.” His words are punctuated by sharp thrusts that threaten to steal the air straight from her lungs.

He leans forward slacking against her, but Naomi welcomes the weight. His beard scrapes against her shoulder blade, his breath warm against her ear, his fingers which are no doubt going to leave a bruise, all of it makes her dizzy, and god, this isn’t going to last much longer.

His thrusts become sloppier, more frenzied as the pleasure mounts, his blood boiling in his veins like molten lava. The only thing he can hear is the sound of the skin slapping, and his ragged breaths.

“Are you close?” He asks. But Naomi can’t think, let alone actually speak words, even if something monosyllabic would suffice. Why does he keep trying to make her speak? Her head drops with a thud and she mumbles something incoherent.

“For someone who had so much shit to talk earlier, you’re mighty silent.” Letting go of her hip, Ethan tangles a hand in her hair, yanking it back so she can’t hide her face in the cushions anymore. His other hand reaches around and he rolls her clit with his middle finger. Still way too sensitive from her last orgasm, she thrusts back, clawing at the couch with her nails, but he holds her in place, refusing to let her move.

“Ethan, fuck, don’t stop!” The words fly out all at once, shaky, fast and jumbled, but it’s all Ethan needs.

With a burst of energy he didn't know he possessed, he drives into her, plunging deeper. “Cum for me, Rookie.”

Naomi screams. Loudly, and she’s sure his neighbors might be very annoyed, but she doesn’t care. Everything goes white behind her eyes as he all but pushes her over the edge. She clenches around him and Ethan hisses as she’s holding him in a vice-like grip. A few quick thrusts later, and he’s joining her in ecstasy, spilling inside of her. The hand holding her hair tightens for a second, then relaxes.

She’s pretty sure she blacked out for some period of time because when Naomi is finally able to focus, they’re no longer obscenely bent over the arm of Ethan’s couch. They’re on the floor, in the cramped space between the couch and the coffee table.

She’s hot and sticky and absolutely exhausted. She places her hand over her heart, willing it to stop beating so erratically. Stealing a glance, Naomi peers up and looks at Ethan. He looks as disheveled as she feels, his hair tousled, lips swollen, chest and neck flushed red.

Her voice is horse and completely shot to hell when she finally speaks, “If that’s how our fights are going to play out from now on, I’ll let you pick more fights with you. And I’m a Cancer, we’re stubborn people.”

“I think we can find a happy medium somewhere.”

Naomi rolls over, until she’s nestled into his side and her head is on his chest. She can feel his heart beating rhythmically under her cheek. “Are we still fighting?”

“No.”

“Are you still mad at me?” He doesn’t answer the question right away, and a sense of dread fills her.

“I was never really mad at you,” Ethan admits after a long bout of silence. “I’m just mad at the entire situation. I’m mad at the budget cuts, I’m mad at our country’s healthcare system, I’m annoyed with your inability to listen to me. I’m mad at Leland Bloom’s obscene wealth and the fact that he gets to dangle his money in our faces like we’re horses waiting for carrots.”

“You made the right call, Naomi,” he continues. “But it’s a call you shouldn’t have been forced to make in the first place. I’m sorry for making you carry the brunt of my misplaced anger.”

“Apology accepted. And since we’re apologizing, I’m sorry for calling you a petulant little crybaby.”

Ethan chuckles. “Do you apologize for calling me a goddamn diva, as well? Don’t forget ‘entitled jackass’ and ‘spoiled child’.”

“You co-signed ‘spoiled child’ so I am not apologizing for it.”

“Fair point,” Ethan concedes.

Blindly searching with an outstretched hand, Naomi finds her cell phone and checks the time. She has to be at work in 2 hours, though she’d much rather get into Ethan’s bed and go to sleep.

“That happy medium that you mentioned? I think I have it figured out.”

Ethan raises an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “Oh, yeah?”

“First and foremost, I promise to never go over your head again, if you agree to do a trial run on whatever ideas I may come up with. You can’t shoot me down immediately.”

“I’m...willing to agree to that.”

“And once this all settles down and the hospital isn’t on the verge of complete financial collapse, maybe we can convince the board to only take on one or two billable patients a quarter.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea.”

“Yeah, I tend to have those every once in a while,” Naomi teases.

Ethan stares at Naomi as she laughs at her own poor joke. Everything about her is an anomaly to him. She blew into his life a little over a year ago and here he is, willing to adapt his entire ethical code for her. And here they are, entangled together as if he didn’t spend 2 months on a different continent in order to get her out of his head. What is it about her that he can’t shake?

He gently cups her jaw and kisses her as if she’s a precious gem, like he didn’t just try to devour her. “What are you doing to me?”

Naomi smirks, recalling that it’s the same question he asked her in Miami. “Hopefully something good.”

He kisses her again. “Better than good actually.”

Realization washes over her that once she leaves this apartment, things are going to go back to being the way they were. He’ll go back to pushing her away. “So does this mean you want to have another reset?”

The question throws him off, but he soon understands what she means. “No.”

“No?”

“No,” Ethan repeats. If there’s a happy medium to be found between his team and the board, maybe there’s one for him and Naomi.

She doesn’t allow herself to get swept up by his words, but instead she braces herself for the chance that he pulls the rug from under her feet. “Well, what does that mean?”

“It means you and I are going to take a shower together, go to work, and we deal with our obnoxious patient. And after work, you’re going to put on something fancy because I’m taking you out to dinner. How does that sound, Dr. Valentine?”

Naomi can’t stop an annoying grin from spreading across her face. “I think it sounds pretty damn good, Dr. Ramsey.”

#playchoices #open heart #dr ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ns*fw

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jaceyneedsabetterusername · 4 years ago

Text

Insecurities

Pairing: Sokka x Gender Neutral! Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: Being a non-bender in the gaang isn’t always easy but your best friend Sokka always has ways of cheering you up.

Word Count: 2017

A/N: This is my first A:TLA fic! I hope Sokka isn’t OOC but please let me know if he is so I can write him better in the future!

__________________________________

No matter much you insisted to yourself and everyone around you that being a non-bender didn't bother you, it was a bold faced lie. You hated it.

Back home, it hadn't been an issue. In the little earth kingdom village you hailed from, bending was forbidden because the fire nation had soldiers there that would imprison any earth benders. Even those who had the gift didn't tell anyone so you never felt different or less than.

But now that you were with Team Avatar, as Sokka liked to call it, there were constant reminders about your lack of powers.

You sat on a rock on the bank of the river you'd all camped next to, staring at the point where the string of your fishing pole entered the water. It was your job to provide food tonight and after much begging from Sokka for “real food”, as he called it, you found yourself trying to fish instead of forage. The sun was beginning to set, still in the pale blue stage of descent. In a little creek that split off, Katara moved smoothly, guiding water into the air with ease as she practiced a new move she'd been working on.

Toph was just lying against a rock pillow that she'd willed up into just the right, perfectly comfortable (for a rock) form, shade being cast down on her from another sheet of rock she'd bent into a half tent form. Having secretly been a standing champion in an earth bending fighting ring, beating full grown men five times her size at the age of twelve, she seldom felt the need to practice.

Zuko was being Zuko. He stood off away from everyone in a clearing of dirt at the edge of the woods, practicing perfectly posed movements as he tried to force more and more power into the fire leaving his palms.

It wasn't until Aang swooshed past you on a ball of air, sending your hair and the fabric of your clothing blowing in the wake of his pure youthful laughter, that the weight of your insecurities really hit you.

You sighed, setting your makeshift fishing rod down and wedging it between two rocks. You scrunched your knees up and rested your chin on them, imagining what your life would be like if you had been born with such power. "Hey, you okay?" Sokka appeared from seemingly nowhere, coming up from behind to sit beside you.

You perked up and tried to shake off the painful thoughts and shrugged, "Yeah, I'm good." You lied with a smile.

"Please tell me you caught something. I am dying for some meat. We've been eating nothing but berries for days and I think I might die." Sokka begged, plucking at the string coming from the rod.

You smacked his hand away and reprimanded him, "You're gonna scare the fish, idiot!"

Yours and Sokka's relationship had always been full of sarcasm and insults but always from a place of love. As the only non-benders, you often found yourselves paired up for everything which gave you a lot of time to develop a pretty solid friendship. But your idiot, meat obsessed best friend should have known better than to disrupt your fishing.

Sokka put his hands up in defense, "I'm sorry! I'm just hungry, okay?!" He whined, plopping his face into his hands in

As he sulked about the hunger you all shared, you looked over, your attention drawn by Zuko's groan of frustration. A tree he was facing was slightly charred but it was clear that he had intended to cause much more damage. He was distracted and frustrated but those seemed to be fairly frequent emotions for him.

Sokka noticed the unusual silence between the two of you and glanced over, chin still on his palm, and noticed you looking sadly at Zuko. He knew very well though that the look wasn't longing for Zuko himself but rather his powers. It was a feeling Sokka was well familiar with himself, "I know how you feel." He began simply, knowing you were reading each other's minds.

You knew exactly what he meant. It was an unspoken bond of frustration that was only ever brought up verbally when someone underestimated your competence as fighters but it was there. "Do you ever wish you could bend?" You asked, looking over at him.

Sokka leaned back, his usual air of casual cockiness fading into a more sincere version of himself that didn’t shine through as often, "Not so much anymore. I mean, when we were younger, Katara was the only bender in our village so I guess I was jealous that she had this amazing power and I didn't. But I think now I've come to accept my place in the group. Katara and you are the brains. Zuko, Toph, and Aang are the brawn. And I'm the beauty." He put his hand under his chin like a child trying to pose cutely and he pulled his "cutest" face (although you weren't sure if that's what you'd call it - more like cheesy).

You chuckled a little bit, your tone becoming a slightly lighter, "Well, if you could bend, what kind of bender would want to be?"

Sokka chewed his lip and thought for a moment, "I think I'd stick with my roots and be a water bender. What about you?"

Your brows furrowed, "I don't know… I mean I know I'm from the earth kingdom so I should say earth bender but I just… I don't know! My whole life would just be rocks. I mean, don't get me wrong, the powers are amazing and definitely one of the most powerful as far as I'm concerned but it's just rocks. Everything is rock."

"I know exactly how that feels! My whole life has been ice! Everything is freaking ice! I lived in an igloo made of ice!" Sokka spoke animatedly, flailing his arms around to further his point.

Normally, you might have giggled or rolled your eyes at his dramaticness but instead you became more enthusiastic about your words as well. "Exactly! I mean I lived in a wooden hut but we used to take trips to Omashu and everything is just rock! At least the air kingdom and fire kingdom don't just have air and fire for everything."

"You know what?" Sokka asked, putting his hand on your shoulder, "They may have superpowers but you know what they don't have?"

You raised your eyebrows, waiting for him to continue his sentiment. "A kick ass boomerang or a freaking awesome bow staff!" He finished, whipping out his boomerang and using it to point to your bow staff that was leaned against the rocks beside you, your main weapon of choice.

"Aang kind of has a staff." You interjected, rolling your eyes to look over at your friend.

"No, Aang has a magical flying stick." Sokka was clearly unamused by your attempt to fault his logic, “Just accept the fact that you’re cool too!”

His compliments made your cheeks turn red and you laughed, “Yeah, I s’pose you’re right. I am pretty awesome.”

Sokka’s arms went out in triumph when you finally admitted your true value, “Exactly! Besides, we’re better at hand to hand combat than them too.”

Your head wavered side to side as an expression of unsureness swept over your face, “Eh, I don’t know about that. Have you seen Zuko with his swords?”

“Shut up!” He whined, exasperated, “If you’re going to keep being like this, I’m going to stop trying to make you feel important.”

Your mouth fell open a little bit at his last comment, “Are you saying I’m not important?!” Obviously, you knew that wasn’t what he meant. He’d been your best friend since you joined the group so you knew that Sokka valued you just as much as you did him. But still, as such an easy target, he was so much fun to pick on sometimes.

Your best friend quickly backtracked, “Not that you’re not important! Just- agh! You know what I mean!” His face fell dramatically and his arms dropped to his side, finally stilling from their usual expressive flailing.

You reached over and grabbed his arm in reassurance, laughing at his flusteredness, “I know what you mean, Sokka! I’m just kidding Gosh, you’re so easy to pick on.” Sokka groaned as you pulled him in close, giving him a side hug. “Thank you for trying to help me feel better. I know that we’re a vital part of the team and that we have specialties that others don’t. I just can’t help but feel insecure sometimes when everyone else can bend the elements to their will and we can’t.”

Sokka leaned into your touch, awkwardly side hugging you back while you held onto his arm, “Yeah, I know. Me too sometimes. But then I just remember how awesome I am and then I feel better. You should try it sometime” He let you go and pulled his boomerang out from behind him, inspecting the sharp blade with a cocky smirk you knew was just there to mask his insecurities.

“Maybe I should.” You pondered his words as you leaned back against the rock you’d used as a back rest while you fished and looked out at the setting sun’s reflection on the water. Mentally, you took notes of all the things you were good at. Sure, Katara could move water, Toph could fling rocks, Zuko could conjure fire, and Aang… well Aang was the avatar. But you were a master fighter, capable of taking down ten men with your bowstaff alone. Not only that but you were highly skilled in hand to hand combat. Since your father had been a high commanding officer in the vigilante brigade in your village against the fire nation before he was arrested, he’d instilled a lot of knowledge crucial to survival, on and off the battlefield. Things like scavenging and foraging, making shelter and weapons from next to nothing, battle strategy, natural healing remedies, and keeping a good head in combat were all things that came naturally to you. The bender’s didn’t have that.

Yes, they were amazingly gifted and talented people but they relied on their abilities for all things. You were able to do almost just as much, if not more, without the powers. Sokka was right: you two were total badasses.

When you looked back at him, he was sharpening his blade on the rocks and then held it up to the light to inspect it, repeating the process a few times. An idea popped into your head and you looked over at him coyly, “Y’know, Sokka, we are total non-bending badasses. But we don’t know who’s the best non-bending badass.”

Sokka side eyed you suspiciously, “Is that a challenge?”

You sighed and leaned back, stretching your body out to show how little you were afraid of him, “Yeah, I think it is. Unless, you’re scared you’ll lose.” You taunted, knowing the rise you were getting out of your best friend.

Sokka was well aware of what you were doing but he couldn’t resist the temptation of a little friendly battle. “I’m not scared!” His voice cracked, making his comment harder to take seriously, “Just be warned. There’s only gonna be two hits. Me hitting you and you hitting the ground.” He stood up, cracking his knuckles and back as he spoke.

“Oh, is that so? Why don’t you put your money where your mouth is Water Boy?” You stood up too, grabbing your bowstaff and stamping it firmly onto the earth beside you.

He grabbed his boomerang and gripped it tightly. He stepped closer, his nose almost touching yours as he locked you into a glare-off, a twinkle of friendly competition in his vibrant blue eyes. You knew that friendly competition was sure to come with a “friendly” amount of scuffs and bruises to both the loser and the victor, though you were positive you’d be the latter of those two.

Sokka nearly growled as he spoke, raising his eyebrow in challenge, “It’s on.”

#sokka #sokka x reader #atla #avatar the last airbender #atla fics #atla fanfics #sokka imagine #sokka blurb #platonic #gender neutral

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daughterofhel · 3 years ago

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My icon died last night.

The little black and white cat, Auk (or-ick). A silly name from a badly remembered name from my childhood.

He was pretty much deaf; car got him.

I haven’t seen him since I left Texas, as I moved for a year to VA before finally moving to be with my wife in Vento. One of my guy friends family took him in on their ranch.

It was fitting; I did get Auk from a ranch. He was used to it, loved it even. And this was without the competition of an unhealthy amount of breeding stays like the ones I grabbed him and Ivy up from. I could only take two, my friend the same.

Funny. I had originally gone there to see the birth of a colt only to leave with a cat. Return the next day and get one more, a friend for my tiny runt of a thing.

And who should but all demand it be him to leave with me but Auk? The friendliest of cats that I’ve ever had the pleasure to be around. He also thwarted my attempts at having two girl cats. He was insistent to leave with me and you don’t argue when you’re chosen you know?

I won’t detail the tears following or the rough road and chaos that went on, but many double shifts back to back to back endlessly, a medicated clumsy grandmother with rapidly failing health, and complex roommate situations, I just wasn’t able to provide the needed time and care for my cats.

I cried the entire 45 minute drive to my buddys property when he said he could take them in. I had to pull over twice. They also cried the entire time, being afraid of the car, which made it harder. My buddy, He was the same guy who rescued a big pup clearly abandoned some years back. I had helped train him to not jump on people and other stuff. His folks also owned a longhorn ranch, lots and lots of space.

Those cats deserved better and this was a familiar element, now neutered, vaccinated, and with no stray competition and the dog was so careful. But god. I never wanted to say goodbye to my cats. It didn’t matter though, what I wanted; they needed care and time I wasn’t able to keep providing.

So I dropped them off. As expected, Ivy kept close but never got too close to the family. She simply doesn’t trust; I’ve no idea why such a little thing bonded instantly with me and remained quite the fixed cuddle bug. But she had. I felt worse about it with her than Auk if I’m to be honest.

Auk loved attention. Loved fetch. Belly rubs. This cat was a classic dog and a huge whore for attention. XD He essentially made himself at home and lavished any and all attention, to which my buddies mother instantly fell for this fuzzy dorks charms. He has been well cared for.

I know younger me could’ve and should’ve done better when I got these cats. Mind you, I’ve been gone for over 10 years now, so it has been quite some time. I’m doing what I wish I could have done for my cats then with the two rescues we got last year here.

I was young and working so many hours for nearly no profit after stuff was paid, even living at home and with roommates. I couldn’t afford the extra vet fees I needed or the fanciest of foods or any of that. I loved them, and I felt them being with me instead of the half starving state they were in from constantly competing with so many other cats, was still a better option for them. I still was at least able to do some of the important visits for them.

I cleared their fleas and earmites. I never did get rid of Ivys worms, though I desperately tried. I tried so many ways to get this pill into that cat. Even crushed into wet food. Friends helping to wrap and hold her to make her swallow. All the tricks we found, failed. She just. She wouldn’t take it. And I didn’t have the cash to go every single day and time she needed a dose to a pet clinic. I had checked more than once. It was so much money.

Older, better situated now.. I’ve been able to do right by the cats, Nyx and Tivali, that I have now.

We even saved Nyx’s eye. We have a system to give her her seizure medicine every 12 hours. They’re both fully up to date with their shots and are fixed. Ears totally clean. Monthly newly added anti flea tick collars.

The best food we can reasonably find at the local pet shop; their pelts are beautiful, soft, shiny, and they never smell.

We’ve even found a biodegradable corn based litter we can flush which has been the greatest find.

We get semi regular check ups on our girls and they’re doing just fine now. I’m still proud about saving Nyx’s eye. It was a tedious ordeal. 3-4 times a day we had to clean and medicate a cats eye. We got good at it even if she wasn’t fond of it. Thankfully the vitamins they required were like treats. Even the antibiotics from the colds they had from the shelter.

I miss Auk. And Ivy. And I wish I could’ve not only given them the life I’ve given my current cats now, (I’ve constructed basket beds, hammocks, a whole canopy jungle gym and rope bridge to boot for them with my wife!), but I wish I could have been the one to have them in my life still. I know it was not possible. It wouldn’t have been possible.

But I think of them. A lot. And I knew it was inevitable. Auk would’ve been well over 13 or so years by now. A little old but could’ve lived longer yet for sure. My buddy didn’t mention he has gone deaf. Of course he rarely goes home himself; I don’t blame him. Life’s complicated.

I have mourned these two cats multiple times now. So I’m not thrown into tears upon this news, I’ve cried plenty over the years already. But I’m still sad to hear that fuzzy delight has passed on. I won’t ask, but I hope, and believe, the accident was a quick end for such a friendly guy.

I’ll mourn him eventually in full. I know I will. But considering this is the fourth major bad news I’ve gotten in less than a month and most of it a week, I thought to write about it. If only to keep sane.

May I not receive the same news of my grandmother or my sister who both remain in the hospital.

And god. May my mother stop forcing me to recall and talk about our shared trauma under my father and just keep me up to date on my families health. I don’t want to be crushed under this suffocating vice on my neck that makes me hesitate to call and see my family. I know she needs to vent. And god. I try to let her. I do. I try to be kind; she needs it.

But it isn’t the time and place when I’m trying to figure out if my grandmother is dying or getting better. I shouldn’t have to receive that confirmation, be granted a brief video called hello and check in, with the price of an hour long dredge through a past I personally have gone to two different types of therapy through to try and cope with. Which, only to some degree, have helped.

One of the last longer calls we had she all but said she hoped her theories on my father possible molesting me were true, so, you know, that would be one more trauma we had in common. She went on and on, even trying to provide loose evidence to her theory. Troubling sentences I would say in my rare visits. Etc. She just. Wouldn’t. Stop. And that was after an hour of recalling how terrible her life was with my father and the abuse, the screaming, the terror, the hiding, the injuries, all of it. As if I wasn’t left to live my life with this very man she said her three years with ruined her more than all her past shit combined.

She assured me she was a good mother who tried. And honestly. No. But I do believe she tried. But she was already weak emotionally and mentally and my father wrecked what was left. She left me sometimes for a couple days lock in that house when I was in diapers. You don’t forget that shit. I’m still scared of the dark. I can’t reason with myself on it. But being mad about all of it doesn’t change anything and would hurt a woman already broken. Why would I do that.

Still. It bothers me. So fucking much. But she’s such a fragile person in a fragile emotional state with everything else on top. She’s been heavily depressed for many many years and it’s a bunch of other stuff that spirals and honestly, at this point, she’s toxic even to herself. I’ve tried working on it with her but it matters not if she’s not willing to work on it too. I don’t know my mother besides her many traumas. We’ve been separated and estranged for most of my life. Unless I was physically able to actually be there and provide a use.

But that’s par for the course; no one will have you around if you’re unable to provide something for it. My wife’s the first person who genuinely seems to enjoy having me around just because and wants nothing more. I do stuff of course; but with her I am not afraid a slip up could mean everything it taken away and lost. I can forget the dishes once or had a bad mental health day and stay in bed without it having catastrophic consequences. She’s such a wonderful kind woman; I cannot help stressing over how to repay her.

I try and I’ve expressed my distraught on the topic and though she always seems baffled and confused about my insistence that I should be doing far more, that lass doesn’t agree at all. It’s her parents home so I am not able to freely run the house as I would on our own, as I’m able and have in many places, so I’m often less useful with the restrictions. She’s also use to the flow and swing of things and has things half done before it’s being asked.

Our own place will make life smoother and calmer for both of us; most importantly her. I’ve watched this family, sweet, but absolutely tone deaf to how many and often their demands are tossed to her. All the other kids moved out with partners. Hell, the oldest s child basically lives here. Our own hurdle with raising a kid who we don’t have the final say on any single thing. His grandparents are enablers cuz they don’t want to hear any loud noises, no matter what. And that causes strain when the kid can and does get anything and everything as long as he kicks up a fit. And he sure as hell does. There are days it’s so bad my wife’s in tears. And that pisses me off. The kids a good person, but the fact no one will actually parent and draw definite lines and be firm with No’s can also make him horrible too.

I’ve to deal with the chess match that is my father. I often call him my own personal Devil. He kind of is. But one I’m familiar enough with at this point in my life. I know where and when to cut my losses, where to step around, when I need to swallow my pride or the easily seen through lies, and nod my head. If he was all terrible, I could have cut him from my life. But no one ever really is. And I do know I owe it to the man; he has helped tremendously in my life as much as he’s been a big problem of it. I know his biggest fear is to be alone and forgotten. I wouldn’t do that, not even to the devil.

I need some bland news. Not thrilling. Not depressing. Just some ‘hey that happened’ ‘oh cool.’ Kind of news. Just a small reprieve.

Im. Scared. Of what’s next.

I. Know that things are teetering dangerously into a very very tragic terrible story on my mothers end. I know her husbands already super suicidal. My half brothers severely autistic, non verbal, among a few other things and will require his whole life to have someone be there for him. He’s not stupid, and I hate when people treat him as so, but he is absolutely unable to care for himself. He doesn’t have the right motorskills even, though we’ve gone to many different places to try and help him find ways to do actions in his own way that still get the same result. I admire how he’s such a positive little man, generally not just happy, but delighted. I aspire to look at the world like he does. He reminds me to try. I do love that about him.

He is, however, a Big boy, 15 now, and growing. He’s also very strong now. My mother is getting to an age where his, as well call em happy slaps, are really hurting her. He is generally good about slapping your hands and not your back if you provide them. But when he is upset he is a shover; one bad fall could really cause a lot of chaos for my mother with her health. The husband spends most of his time locked in his room.

My half sister is epileptic. They have done tests for years and can’t figure out all her triggers or the whys. They just sometimes stop for a long time then suddenly happen. She’s 16, turning 17 soon. And I don’t even know if she’s going to be, since my mother won’t let me know. And there are large gaps from my sister being on tech due to concerns of what triggered her seizure this time so she’s often removed from electronic devices for a time.

When I had turned 21, my mother and her husband tried to have me sign a paper to become legal guardian of my half siblings, should something happen to them, so the kids didn’t get separated.

At that time, I was still taking care of my fathers mother along with working at a shit job, and had a house full of temporary roommates who I had offered rooms to as a sort of safe house for them. I have a knack for finding people from broken homes, what can I say? With the house my father and I built, we had space, so I used it. I was able to help the girls get out of toxic places, get on their feet, and move on. Not all of them always. But it did generally work out. One has a boyfriend who was growing worse to her on top of getting more and more into hard drugs while also she dealing with an abusive aunt who got worse once her mother died of cancer. So she was stuck with the terrible boyfriend. I had her stay with me as soon as I heard.

Another was complicated, but generally revolved around the alcoholic mother and the many, shady, men in and out of the house. The dangers of that alone were.. problematic without the friend also being suicidal and not taken seriously. I’ve stayed many times with her to just hang out, clean, cook, or even read a book cuz she just wanted to hear someone talking and such. You know? Until eventually I had her move in with me too.

Another’s mothers died of a cancer and dad an alcoholic; not abusive, he just became childlike and super forgetful. To a hurtful degree in his totally dependent state, whenever he was home. Plus their whole little trailer smelled of piss. And her boyfriend (they’re married with kids and happy now) was in jail. He had a bad past but had cleaned up his act quite well, but. Well that’s complicated. We all know that the police don’t squint at details of any issue if the accused has a problematic past.

I had two different girls with trouble at home who were being used by their family to constantly work, clean, and pay for everything.

I had an ex and her girlfriend with problematic homophobic parents who were terrible and semi violent so I had them stay with us so they could be together somewhere safer.

I did not. At all. Have the assured means to also be a parent of ten children with very different needs nor any medical benefits to help out with.

I also knew, that, with how my mothers husband was, if he had some guarantees for his children’s safety, he would likely end his life if he could. He’s been so close so many times. If signed this paper, he would have the last big most important concern that’s kept him from.. I just. I didn’t want him to do it. I selfishly didn’t want to be responsible for my siblings that would take away any bit of time I had for myself away. If anything happened, I would not abandon and forget my siblings. That’s absurd. But my mother implied heavily she wanted to be sure of that. And thus this paper.

I was struggling to find aid for college so I could go to school (never got to, by the way. Minus two classes in total. Aced them both, but it doesn’t matter. Credits in the wind). I was already dealing with my grandmother. The girls I chose to help. My shit job. My fathers temper and his horrible horrible ‘on again off again’ girlfriend. The chaos that alone committed.

I was busy providing a safe space in my home and making sure it stayed that way for the rare times trouble makers made the mistake of stepping up to my door to try and harass my girls.

I often worked 10 days in a row before a day off. Many of those days often had double shifts which were 16 hours. Sometimes I got an hour nap on the double shifts.

I just couldn’t do it.

And now. I remember something that came to mind back then that comes back to mind now. My moms husband adores my grandma. She’s been better to him than his own mother. She’s dying. He’s not taking it well and his mental health has always been pretty low and in the last couple years, already dangerously rock bottom. I’ll admit, same.

His daughter is now in the hospital. My brother is smart but there are some things we can’t really explain for him to get. He understands something is wrong but not sure what and it upsets him. He doesn’t like change and gets super fussy for it. Which can be taxing and hours and days and weeks of it. Grandmas been in the hospital for a couple more or more now. She coded a few days ago but they got her back.

If grandma dies. If something happens to my sister…

God. I don’t see that man sticking around.

And with my mom isolated. A lot of it her doing with her own family but also a good part of it being dumb petty bs of other folks that have no reason to behave like that (a whole drama I don’t have the energy to keep up with..). I just.

I see it as a domino effect of terrible terrible events I don’t want to write.

My mothers side im not very close to. I don’t blame my cousins, we were kids ajd our meetings were brief as they were. But the adults kept their distance with me. No one expected me to survive and decided it was easier to not get attached. To not get involved with me, and by extension, the devil himself, my father. So I never got the chance to know that family. Even when I tried.

So the only family I do have some ties to ajd know, is in a hospital bed, or on my dads side, and they’re dying to. And I get it… that at a certain age in life, many of the people around you start to. It’s just life. Ajd it sucks. And I miss having a best friend. I miss having friends who just seem to like to have me around. Want to have me around.

And I wonder if the friends I thought I made with my roommates were just because I provided something for them. Sure we laughed a lot, we cried over shared traumas, celebrated holidays together so as to not be alone.

But not a one speaks to me now. And hey. That’s also life. But it makes me feel pretty shitty; every where I look in the past, I can’t see any relationship, family, partner, friendship, that ever had me around unless I was providing services they wanted and needed. And I don’t mean the natural give and take.

I’m aware that I’m not the friend folks have around. I’m a fun distraction at best and have been told and reminded as such. I feel like shit cuz my wife’s wonderful and the best person in my life, and yet I still mourn having close friends to hang with. I miss gaming together the most. Or the bullshitting. Sharing food.

I’m not a nice person. I’m working on it. I am. I’ve also, for years, been working on my own personal problems so as to not bring them into even conversations. I don’t know what I am doing wrong but I just.. can’t seem to keep anyone around. And frankly.

I find myself crying about it a lot with no idea what to do.

And. I’m burnt out.

I don’t want to make friends anymore. And yet I still crave it. Which sucks. I can’t stop seeming to want that. And I keep trying. And trying.

I’m trying to accept and be happy with any bit of time I get from the few friends who talk to me. I try to take my chances where I can to hang out (online, as they’re all distance by now), cuz I know it’s a short window and I’ll be lucky to get a next time in the near future.

Online is harder to provide a use, and once the ‘honeymoon phase’ of the friendship winds down, some drop off the map entirely. A few abruptly. And I just. That’s fucked me ho a ton. I can’t even express how many hours I stay sitting. Thinking. Unable to understand what I am not doing or what I am.

It’s a pity party. I know. But it’s fine. I’m still the only one at it and though I’m quite forward even with nerves eating away at me, I still just don’t know how to keep anyone in my life.

It’s taken almost 6 years for me to relax enough to believe my wife will, in fact, stick around.

But at this point in time, I’ve realized, on a note I just keep getting really sad over, that the bits of friendship I’ll get to experience with people, will be brief, snippets, and frankly, only if I am providing something they’re not getting.

I’m essentially the magazine next to the toilet when you have a bad bad stomach bug and your phones dead.

Man’s that’s.. probably my own doing. I know I’m a lot of woe is me in here. And it’s a post talking to me, so I’m indulging in it. I absolutely can’t out loud or in life. I’m working on just.. trying to feel instead of ignoring it. Per my therapists suggestions. So I feel fucking overwhelmed, sad, and alone. Isolated. Heavily.

Ignorance is bliss for real. I wish I wasn’t so aware that I was the friend you go to when all options are down and you’re bored. When you are in a bind and need a safe spot (I don’t mind that one but it does suck that it’s the only time some folks pop back in or up). That if I’m not working then no one even has a small little want to just say hi. I wish I had people who just wanted to say hi because they just.. missed me? I gues?

I wish I knew how to be better as a person and a friend. I thought I was making strides on that. I really had. And yet.

Here I am. Just.

Bitching to the void. Becuase my wife doesn’t need me to add more to her life with her father (finally back from the hospital after surgery) and his health concerned along with everyone else’s and the own sets of ordeals here. I don’t need her to fret over me.

She’s needed distraction and I’ve left her alone for a couple weeks now to her drawing. Probably one of the best things I did do for her was clean up a space for a literal drawing room for her. She’s happier for it. People compliment her art and she rather enjoys the well deserved attention.

I personally would love to have her around more. But I’m having a lot of bad shit days. Weeks at this point. And I’m using my energy to be useful in setting the table or doing the dishes, the cats, playing with the nephew, etc.

All I want to do is sleep.

Frankly. I’m tired of waking up.

But for her. I will.

#void screaming #ignore

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fatalism-and-villainy · 4 years ago

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complaining about iddy fanfic tropes, with self-reflection. some (hopefully self-aware) negativity about m/dzs-the-novel, if you’d like to avoid that.

There’s this scenario I’ve run into in various fanfics semi-recently - we’re talking w/angxian here, for transparency, but let’s talk about it in generic terms for rhetorical purposes -

Character A is sort of sad and self-loathing on the inside; Character B shows up in his life and is super beautiful and competent and perfect, etc; there are various misunderstanding shenanigans, Character A is certain he isn’t worthy of B or that B’s feelings towards him can’t possibly be as strong as his feelings towards B, you know the drill; misunderstandings are resolved and it turns out Character B actually is in love with Character A and they live happily ever after (in vaguely squicky codependent ways, but that’s expected and par the course for this sort of thing).

It’s pretty textbook in its formula, but what drives me absolutely insane about the specific examples of that I’m thinking of is that I do not feel that it is remotely being justified to me why Character B is in love with Character A. There’s some bonding between them, usually, but there’s very little of Character A doing anything to actually impress Character B, support them, stick their neck out for them, or generally do anything that would help Character B see them more for who they are. I always get the sense that Character B returning Character A’s feelings is much more about their narrative role as The Love Interest Who Exists to Validate Character A’s Insecurities than it is about them being an actual person within this constructed world who has their own internality and emotional responses to situations. Yes, it’s a fantasy; no, characters are not real, and their behaviour is always going to be required by narrative convention to be a little to the left of realism. But when I’m reading, I do want to have some sort of verisimilitude in play, where I can at least imagine that these are real people with believable feelings within their constructed world, even if it happens to follow a wish-fulfillment route on a meta level.

(And honestly, I feel like this falls flat even on a wish-fulfillment level? What’s the point of a character’s insecurities proven wrong by having them Romantically Loved if the love interest doesn’t provide anything specific about their view of that person, and how that view is distinct from how that character sees themself? Admittedly a lot of this probably stems from fanfic’s role as derivative - the reader already knows the POV character is lovable, because they’re read about them/seen them on screen already, so there’s less need to justify it. But as a story on its own, it’s never satisfactory for me.)

Honestly this gets at a lot of what I find unsatisfying about MDZS as a story - I still don’t know what LWJ even saw in WWX in the first place?? There’s the big reveal that LWJ has been in love with him this whole time, but why? What did WWX do to make him feel this way, when he was kind of a callous asshole during his teenage years? I can understand raw physical attraction, but on a deeper level, that would inspire so many years of devotion, it’s not credible to me. Funnily enough, however, this doesn’t actually bother me as much as the fanfic examples, because I do think it makes thematic sense for there not to be a clear reason for LWJ loving WWX - the point is that WWX doesn’t “earn” love through being good, and that his being saved at Nightless City is a serendipitous occurrence, rather than something he “deserved” due to being morally upright. It’s an act of grace, not a repaid debt. It still doesn’t work on me, because I think betraying your family is something that needs a little more justification, but I do understand what MXTX was going for, even if I don’t like it.

I’ll say this is also why the romance in TGCF actually lands the most for me, because I think that novel does justify Hua Cheng’s obsession with Xie Lian - it makes sense that a traumatized kid would latch onto the first and only person to make him feel like he has worth and that his mistreatment isn’t his fault.

SVSSS is a kind of special case because it actually justifies for me why the love interest falls in love, but (imo) fails to justify the feelings of the actual protagonist and POV character.

#aro traitor life #fandom natterings #grey sensibilities #of the ambivalent kind #untaming

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ofieugogyshz · 4 years ago

Text

Drabble; Time Trials

Title: Time Trials

Word count: 2100

Summary: The time trials were announced on Pasio! Sarah debates participating, when eir husband Lance and his cousin Clair find em staring up at the leaderboards, unsure of eir decision.

Notes/Content warnings: No cw comes to mind. This isn’t a serious piece, mostly an experiment/practice to work on writing with ey/em pronouns, and to show what the relationship between me and Clair is like. No limited-pov narrator. Not yet proofread, so as to avoid fleshing it out into something more. Potential consistency issues.

--------------------

Sarah was standing outside the building that the time trial events were taking place. The scores were being shown on electric screens outside, as well as the best times on another set of screens. Some of the current and previous timed battles were being displayed on the rest of the screens, as though to entice trainers to try their hands at it.

Ey watched the screens, glancing over every so often at the ones for times and the other for scores. Leon, the Champion from Galar, was listed as the top score; right below him was Raihan, a Gym Leader from the same region as well. Below that were a mix of names ey did and didn't recognize; trainers and gym leaders and champions from other regions.

It looked like some trainers were going in groups of up to three people. The screen with the best times would change to show the best times among the single, double, and triples. Very few of the group times ranked above the best singles, and it wasn't hard to guess why. More opponents was harder to take down. More opponents meant there was a higher chance of an offense-defense pairing, and or a pure defense team, and the more of those you ran into, the lower your times would be.

Although...

Ey looked up at the screens again. It didn't list the sync pair's Pokemon that were used in the best times, so unless you were familiar with them, or knew who their signature Pokemon was, you couldn't plan around them.

Sarah's Pikachu was getting bored with her trainer standing there. She knew ey was trying to decide on if ey wanted to join in or not, but the decision process was taking longer than usual—longer than it used to. If ey saw an event of any kind, ey would normally jump at the chance to try it. But now, here on Pasio, ey was hardly interested in participating in a lot of things. It was frustrating for Pika, because the more she saw the humans and Pokemon battle on screen, the more she was itching to jump in. Pasio was a place full of battles, and it was reigniting a spark in both trainer and Pokemon-- it just seemed to be taking longer for her trainer's spark to kindle.

“Hmm...” Ey had eir arms crossed, fingers tapping at an elbow, trying to decide. It would be a good way to get back into the swing of things, ey thought. But ey knew there was no way ey could get anywhere close to the best times, much less the top 100, with how many trainers Pasio had. There wasn't much point in competing if ey wasn't going to get close. But there was that tiny, determined voice that was always eager to try, even if it knew it was impossible. But then again... I'm not even interested in trying for the tournament. I'm just here because I wanted to see my husband.

As though on cue, Lance was walking with his cousin Clair towards the building that Sarah stood in front of. Ey hadn't noticed him; but his cousin had noticed eir, for he could feel her disposition change. A disgruntled noise, followed by a scoff under her breath. He knew about his cousin's dislike for his wife, but why that animosity was still there, even if mild, was beyond him. Still... An idea struck him.

“Sarah?”

Ey turned around to see Lance and his cousin. “Oh! Hi honey. And Clair.” Ey nodded towards eir in-law, who only made the barest acknowledgment of the greeting. Eir Pikachu perked up and waved towards the two dragon-type masters.

“Were you thinking about participating in the time trials?”

“Ah...” Ey glanced back up to look at the electronic leader boards. “...I don't know. Maybe? You know I'm not that competitive anymore,” ey said, trying to wave off eir discomfort. “I was curious to see what the times were like, 'cuz I heard that Leon's time was insane, and... well...” ey gestured to the board, where Leon's name was followed by the time of a minute and a half. “That definitely seems like a crazy impossible time. I don't think I've had battles that quick since I was traveling.”

Clair's eyes glanced up at the electronic boards. When she saw the time, she felt something in the pit of her stomach drop, but she scoffed and feigned confidence.

“A minute and a half? Please. I've beaten trainers in less than half a minute!” It was a boast, something that left a frown on her cousin's face, and an uncertain expression on his wife's. She quickly tried to smooth it over. “O-of course, those were all challengers that weren't ready for my gym! It's not something I'm particularly proud of, beating those people so easily!” she grumped, turning away so she didn't have to see their faces.

“Be that as it may,” Lance began, turning his attention back to his wife. “Would you like to join us? I'd be more than happy to have you on our team.”

“E-eh?” His wife faltered, unsure if ey should accept.

“WHAT?!” Clair quickly turned back to the conversation, all her frustration on display. She tried to quickly pick back up a proper disposition, but all she could do was huff her disagreement.

Lance turned towards Clair, a stern expression on his face.

“Is there a problem?” It was a challenge, daring his cousin to say anything unwell about his wife.

Clair finally recovered herself, and crossed her arms, breaking eye contact with Lance after a moment, deflecting the glare her reaction had earned her.

“Tch, I don't have a problem with adding a third person to our team. But it's a time trial. Shouldn't we pick someone who's still actively doing Pokemon battles? I don't want em to slow us down!”

Clair peeked a glance at her cousin and in-law to gauge their reactions from her words. She knew she couldn't get Lance to change his mind when it came to em, but she was hoping that her words might convince Sarah to not join them. Not that it would have been hard; her in-law and her had come to avoid interacting with each other whenever they could. And whenever Lance had asked Clair for a favor that involved her helping Sarah, the two in-laws tried to minimize the time spent around each other as much as possible.

Besides, she was trying to show her cousin how much she had improved. How could she do that if his wife was hanging around?

Alas, her words seemed to have only agitated her cousin more; he scowled at her, angry with her. Why was it so difficult to get the two of them to get along, he often wondered. At least it was no longer like the two of them clashing; Sarah had grown out of that when it came to his cousin, accepting that there was no changing her mind. And while Clair had accepted that Sarah was going to be part of the family tree, she still disliked em. The raging jealously over eir getting approval much easier than she ever did had waned to only a simmering dislike, but she couldn't fault em too much. Her cousin had spoken to her about it before the two married, and begrudgingly accepted the reasons for the differences. But that still didn't mean that she like em for it. It was unfair to her. Maybe if they had met before ey had met Lance, they could have been friends, or at least on a little better terms.

Still... the answer Clair had been a poor one, earning the wrath of her cousin; something that she could feel emanating off of him. He took a step towards his cousin, who carefully took a step back, trying not to show weakness but caution and past experience taught her otherwise.

“Sarah is more than capable of proving emselves in battle.” His voice was level, but Clair could pick up on the anger it held in check. “Ey is a quick thinker, and I believe ey will be able to keep up. If you think that might be a problem, then I suggest you to find a new team.”

Clair gulped.

Sarah grabbed eir husband's arm, embarrassed. “Sweetheart, please, it's fine. I can cheer you and Clair on. It's not a big deal--”

“It is a big deal,” he interrupted, looking back at em, his expression softening at eir. “It matters to me when someone talks ill of my wife. And I will not allow it.”

Ey stopped, eir face flushing softly as eir memory flashed back to eir youth. Terrible things ey said about emself, hurt and crying and frustrated. And how he wouldn't let em talk about eirself like that. Sarah's eyes watered now, the memory briefly awakened by his words. Ey fell silent, eir hand slowly falling until it rested next to his. Ey looked down at the ground, but a soft smile was on eir face. Ey nodded; there wasn't anything ey could say in response.

Right. That sickeningly sweet romance between them was part of why Clair didn't like em, but she kept that eww to herself. Even as a woman in her early thirties, that sort of weak spirit that came from getting too soft when one's partner was around had bothered her. And maybe that was why she hadn't kept one around for too long.

That thought was all but a flash reminder to her of her dislike and jealously towards Sarah, as Lance addressed her again.

“Well, Clair? Is it going to be an issue?”

Clair looked away, the pressure from his glare feeling as intense as any dragon's. It was more than enough to make her question herself—only for her to catch those thoughts and stop them. She shook her head to get rid of them; and it provided her answer too. She took a calming breath to give Lance a verbal answer.

“...No, it shouldn't be an issue,” she said. Resentment started to build, and she kept her cool this time, pushing it down... for now. “I'd be happy to have your wife on our team.”

“You don't have to lie about it,” Sarah muttered.

“Fine, sorry,” Clair grumbled.

Lance looked down at Sarah, then at Clair. Ey was right, but addressing the animosity Clair had never left a good taste in his mouth. He'd rather get this done and over with, so the three of them could work together and train for the time trials. It had been a long time since all three of them had trained together; he and Sarah were still dating at the time. Clair had said some harsh things, and Sarah had stormed off, angry and hurt. He didn't want a repeat of that; and hoped that they could behave themselves so as to avoid that.

Lance sighed. The tension he held slowly went away, and he addressed his cousin again.

“Are you really going to be cooperative on a team with my wife?”

“Tch, I can handle being around em for a few hours! It's not like you're asking us to be best friends.”

“Are you sure you're okay with that?” Sarah asked, looking at eir cousin-in-law. “I'd rather not get involved if you two were going at this seriously.”

Clair gave Sarah a hard stare. How could her cousin marry someone so weak-willed? Or, she didn't remember em being so weak-willed.

It annoyed her.

“Well, pick or choose if you're going to join us or not! We're going all in, so if you're not interested in that, then I suggest you back out now.”

“Clair!” Lance snapped.

Sarah could feel Lance squeeze eir hand. Ey knew how important it was to him, to both cousins, that one make a decision and commit to it. It didn't seem like he wanted em to leave, at least not because of his cousin's words. Sarah looked up at the electronic boards again, watching it scroll down the best times for a three-person group. Somehow, the times listed now seemed too slow. Battling alongside the two of them, and eir desire to do eir best, stirred up that little voice from earlier, that told em it could be possible. To give it a chance. Maybe ey might surprise emself, if ey tried.

“...You know what? Sure, I'll give it a try. It might be fun to battle like that.”

“'A try'?” Clair repeated. “I'm not interested in trying, I'm interested in winning!”

“Well, good thing I like to win, too. Let's do this!”

Lance found himself thinking that it would go better this time.

#writing #i'm not tagging official tags cuz it's just a dinky little drabble to experiment with #i haven't even read it back so there are probably errors #pasio au #my champion #tsundere cousin #fun fact: this is my 8001 post

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arcticdementor · 3 years ago

Link

I was talking to Sarah yesterday and I had a revelation I think is worth sharing.

Let’s begin at the beginning. About a month ago, Instapundit posted this.

Now, I’ve been thinking of the rise and fall of civilizations lately. I can’t think why it’s been on my mind. It’s a tale as old as time—a civilization emerges, establishes a new worthwhile order, the good things brought forth by said order soften up the people maintaining it, the softening turns to decadence, and the decadence gives way to the barbarians, who clean the slate. Where would you say things are lately?

…

In short—the federal government of the United States of America has become impotent at almost all good things.

Expanded out—There is no start to its talents. It cannot maintain its borders. Since the “election” it doesn’t even try. No surprise there. It cannot maintain friendly relationships with allies—as our recent screwing of Britain on our way out of Afghanistan shows. The “leader” of the “free world” could not be bothered to pick up the phone for our closest ally. Speaking of Afghanistan, it can’t win a war. It can’t even lose gracefully. In fact it fucked up leaving so badly some people are entertaining that it intended to fuck it up, because how the fuck does somebody above the age of six not notice that pulling the military out first and the civilians out second is not even a remotely workable strategy? Resulting in leaving millions of dollars of equipment—and—excuse me, what? Millions of dollars of dollars in the desert? Fantastic.

It makes self sabotaging and idiotic choices to stymie its own domestic oil industry, while accepting a pipeline not from Canada, but one that’s a joint Russian-German venture instead. Which means the problem, contrary to any environmentalist whining, isn’t the pipeline—it’s the pipeline with a friendly country. Big surprise— its only true interest in the environment lies in international agreements that hamstring us while doing nothing to China, the world’s largest polluter. It either can’t be trusted on energy production and the environment, or is trying to get it wrong.

It can’t manage its economy. What could have been a “V” shaped recovery has been turned into an “L” shaped one. What could be contributing? Paying people to do nothing? Rampant inflation? Meanwhile all the dumbasses running the country can think of is spending several billion more dollars that don’t exist. The country has infrastructure problems for a fact, but they’ll only acknowledge that to the extent of cynically plastering the word on an “infrastructure” bill which is in fact just a far Left wishlist that largely ignores actual infrastructure, in the hopes people will be dumb enough to support it because it has the right label.

And on.

What aptitudes does it have besides taking money, trampling civil liberties, and ignoring constitutional laws at gunpoint? News flash, dummies: We don’t need peaceful protestors incarcerated without a trial. We don’t need the weight of the federal government turned to the problem of violating states rights because Texas passed a law Biden doesn’t like. We need military egresses that look like they weren’t planned by Bozo the clown and an economic plan better than something China would design for us as an attempt to permanently sink the country. Is there anyone at all in DC who can provide that? If not, is there anything useful they can do? I’ll wait.

…

This is what decadence looks like. When the government stops even attempting competence because nothing and nobody that currently exists can replace or displace them so who cares about results? When comfort and plenty have become so common, been taken for granted for so long, that the question of utility or even basic sanity isn’t even distantly considered. When it’s assumed that self-harming policies that will obviously damage the country won’t really matter because nobody has ever known a world without America and fundamentally has no idea how the present day came to be. When the country’s most educated start chasing bizarre and unimaginably stupid ideas on economics that boil down to “inflation won’t happen if you double the monetary supply by printing money, if only you just believe hard enough”. In fact, when education stops being a means to greater insight, more useful abilities, and a better life, and becomes a cult devoted to the kind of idiocy that can survive only with strenuous censorship, the tenets of the cult being treated by the indoctrinated as a collection of sacred mysteries and deeply-thought paradoxes— while to those not similarly trained it is self-obviously a collection of contradictory and self-serving lies.

Verily, decadence is here. We can infer that what comes next is the barbarians. And we have options. Mexican illegals? A heady mixture of poverty-stricken Marxists who have never known a system that wasn’t corrupt, functionally lawless, and devoted to the tenets of voting oneself rich; and outright criminals with lives like “a demon’s resumé”? Perhaps radical Muslims? By sheer numbers worldwide they’re the most likely option. The Taliban just got a huge infusion of cash and a big boost in morale. In a few short days we’ll know whether they’ve arranged a thank you gift for Zho Bi-Xen and his kleptocrat marching band to commemorate his intended pull-out date. But even if, and God I hope, they have not, we can expect an uptick in terrorism and quite shortly. Or perhaps China? The Middle Kingdom would laugh at being called barbarians, but I call genocidal communists like I see them. Mao was morally three steps below a pig and Xi has enough power to aspire to greater depths. As is I wouldn’t dream of feeding a pig Mu Shu Xi due to the great risk of poisoning the pig.

But there is a barbarian group not considered. Us.

Hang on. Before you balk, listen. Look again at what these idiots are selling as the fruits of civilization. Defenses of pedophilia and urinals as art. And more, too—sterilization and disfigurement of teenagers in the form of sex changes. Black supremacy as a panacea to made up threats of white supremacy. Books nobody reads, movies nobody watches, paintings that exist only to launder money—even the ones not made by Hunter Biden.

What good person would not be proud to be considered a barbarian by these miserable, over-decorated Faberge people? I’d be mortified if they agreed with me! So they think I’m a sexist or a racist or whatever. Fine. They do not use these words to mean the same things I mean, so it’s a pointless argument, and they are now officially beneath my explaining myself to them. When the people who are calling me names are so morally opaque that the Taliban can make devastating critiques of them just by referencing the foundational works of their own gender studies programs, I’m done caring about the names. Fine. I’m what you think is a racist. I’m what you think is a sexist. But you think a lot of very stupid things, and as the curtain continues to draw back on the carnival of madness that’s been behind the scenes the entire time it’s occurring to me that what you think and reality overlap so seldom that the only time not to ignore you is when I can ridicule you. If that is your civilization, someone hand me a pointy horned helmet.

…

Yes, this is a moment of peril, but also opportunity. See in your country what every hostile group listed above sees in it—the makings of great civilization, along other, less stupid lines. All of it guarded by weak, fat, stupid people with no will and no self-belief. Take that mindset and go forth.

Get involved in your local systems. There is an old prayer for God to make ones enemies ridiculous. Congratulations to whomever was still praying it. Your prayers have been answered. Will you tell me that you cannot defeat these people? People who lose casual debates to terrorists not on principle but on basic facts?

…

You can’t reason with them so don’t bother. Recent events have made it clear you may as well try to talk sense into a three-day-old mackerel. Just confront them with their own stupidity so that people who see the inevitable video understand what this is about, and don’t feel that you are too good to shout them out of the room. You’re the barbarian, remember? Not like the nice civilized people with their gender-queer Tik-Tokers pushing vaccine propaganda. That means you’re excused from conversations with morons. Don’t bother trying to find common ground. Look at where they’re standing! Do you want to try to find the midpoint between that and reality? Silly. Pointless. Send them back to their walled online gardens to whine to their equally stupid friends about the barbarians.

Can we take it back from the ground up? I don’t know. But hey, it’s got to be worth a shot. Join the fun! Find some friends and locate a low-hanging political event to raid. When was the last time you went to a town hall for your town? Isn’t just a part of you curious to know whether your local county commissioner starts by declaring her pronouns? Wouldn’t it be wonderful to see someone like that made very uncomfortable? You can make that happen. You can probably do it within the next month. Bring a few friends! Or a few dozen. Some of the people reading this probably were afraid to do that kind of thing for fear of losing their job. The Biden economy might have freed up some of your time. What have you got to lose now? More importantly, the way things are going, are you going to lose it anyway if things continue as they are? Think on it.

#thomas kendall #sarah a hoyt

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