#not a fair comparison in many ways but the idea that youre a fan without liking anything about her is the true

[theparadiseproject]

Truly hate modern fan artist take on Diana because they don't fight any social injustice they try to put forward, are not based in realism like they say they are, and are just thinly veiled jabs at the character they won't admit they don't like. The worst part is that they don't even say they want to change her appearance. They act as though its the actual way she's supposed to look as if her creator was mistaken when he made her look the way he did and they somehow have some retroactive claim to the legitimate interpretation of the character instead of just wanting her to look different because they don't like that she is a normal sized white woman with typical features of the time for comic book characters and she apparently is the only comic book character of her caliber to get this treatment. If someone would even suggest that Bruce Wayne be another ethnicity or look different it would not fly by the fandom but Diana's fandom won't say anything at all.

It's not even the most offensive part of the general audience response to the character but another example of the lack of gatekeeping and the lack of respect the character has gotten in a cultural climate that is intensely christian with strong feminist pull that she'd be disparage and just be a playground for politics instead of just a fiction character.

You don't like her themes, imagery, origin, supporting casts, love interest, love life, mission, mythology, secret id,appearance, costume, villains, etc. and yet you are a fan and if someone points out how you aren't an actual fan then they are being rude and an example of how the fanbase is toxic even thought its rarely pointed out and the majority of the fanbase actively derides everything about the character and only likes specific depictions of her that go against the character written by authors that also do not like her and only want to push an agenda.

[mothgodofchaos]

Puzzles

Someone introduce this android to Wordle and you will never hear the end of it.

Googliplier x GN!Reader, TW: none Words: 702

Out on the coffee table, you see a large puzzle being pieced together with Google sitting on the floor, pondering where to put his next piece. You sit on the couch near him, holding a hot drink in your hands as you get comfortable.

“What’s the picture supposed to be of?”

“It is supposed to be a large garden filled with a variety of flowers. I found it intriguing as I walked past it in the shop.”

You pick up a piece, rotating it in your hand before spotting the place for it and slotting it in. Google looks up at you, a little surprised.

“Would you like to do this puzzle with me?”

“Why not? If we both end up liking it, maybe we can make a regular date night out of picking out a puzzle and putting it together. I’ll get some snacks.”

Google looks touched that you want to spend time doing this with him, his fans whirring a little harder as his cheeks turn a little blue. His little “G” indicator light flashing pink. You disappear into the kitchen, returning with appropriate snacks and beverages for the two of you. On the television you turn on some sort of fireplace jazz stream, having the crackling of the fire and chill music to create the atmosphere. And, to top it off, you light a candle and put it on a nearby table so it won’t be knocked over.

“Hold on, if you don’t put a pillow behind your back, your back is gonna bend and I’m gonna have to oil it up to get it back in shape.”

You slip a pillow behind him, leaned against the foot of the couch, and he grabs your hand to kiss it as thanks before you completely pull it away.

“What would I do without you, spark?”

“Probably be a lot more rusty.” “Fair enough.”

He resumes the puzzle, working again on the outer edge to figure out the dimensions he has to work with. You focus on sorting out all the edge pieces, putting them into the puzzle box while you start sorting the middle pieces on the couch cushions and floor into color groups. Google pulls the pieces out of the set you created for him, and when it’s empty, you fill it with one of your piles.

“Do you always do puzzles like this?”

“Not always, but since you have enough repeating colors, it may help narrow down which pieces we’re looking through at a time to speed things up.”

“I wasn’t aware the purpose of puzzles was to complete them as quickly as possible?”

“It isn’t, but it can get frustrating looking through all the pieces for one last piece for a section when some preliminary sorting can help with the frustrations.”

“Ah. Narrowing the field of possibilities by completing sets to then be algorithmically categorized by pattern.”

“...sure.”

You both laugh, and he blushes again as he realizes he pulled out all the big fancy words again. Not that you particularly mind, you are dating an android after all. Especially with his model being already preset with an expansive dictionary to pull from, some of the fancier words tend to slip into his vocabulary a little easier than others. He just doesn’t struggle with finding the exact word he needs for a sentence. Lucky bastard. 

“Spark? The pink ones please?”

You’re snapped out of your train of thought, scooping up the sorted pieces and placing them into the box.

“You want the red ones too?”

“No thank you, these will suffice for the short while it takes for me to get through them. There’s not that many in comparison to the other piles anyways.”

“That’s why I asked if you wanted the red too.”

“And ruin all your hard work that you spent sorting them out for me? That would be blasphemous at best.”

His words make you laugh, and he looks rather proud of himself. You instead start picking through the reds, working on your own little sections as he makes his way through the pinks. You have no idea if you’ll finish the puzzle tonight, but you’ll definitely have to make a habit of this.

[hiyyihrts]

Just as many of us are thrilled to see rep in s3, many, many women were thrilled at the idea of representation for themselves in s2. It isn’t unreasonable for them to notice the discrepancy in how one actress was treated in comparison to the s1 and s3 white female leads, and it takes nothing away from your love of Nicola / Polin to allow them to express their feelings about that without trying to gaslight them.

It wasn’t the pandemic that made Netflix not do a couple’s poster, or one for Simone alone, or deny requests for joint Johnny and Simone interviews. It wasn’t the pandemic that had Netflix do that and give the EW article to other characters, rather than Simone, Simone and Johnny, or heck, Simone, Johnny, and Charithra. No, y’all essentially got a Polin shoot for s2. Which, yay for you, but think how you’d feel if this season it was all Benedict or Francesca promo instead of Penelope. Wouldn’t you think Netflix was wrong? That it was fatphobic? I would. I therefore think what they did for s2 reeks of racism.

It wasn’t the pandemic that had the writers compare the Sharma sisters to horses, literally, horses in a horse race in s2, and pit them against each other for a white man.

I could go on, people post receipts of this all the time, and you don’t need to take it as personally as many have, but don’t gaslight fans who saw it. Don’t encourage white fans to dismiss the people who are deeply hurt by it. No one is saying not to celebrate what y’all are getting, but there is a discrepancy and pointing it out and demanding better is a good thing that in no way detracts from the fact that Nicola / Polin / s3 is getting everything and more than y’all could ever ask. It’s gross to tell woc to shut the fuck up and be grateful when they got so much less than what the selling point of the show (diversity) promised.

I normally don’t get involved in this kind of stuff but your post was in the Kanthony tag, so I felt it merited a response, knowing how much it would hurt people. People who have already been deeply hurt by Bridgerton and the fandom. This isn’t some kind of shipping war, it’s so much more important, and I’m dismayed at how callous the fandom is being about all this.

I haven’t and will never say that people can’t be upset by the blatant differences in how the seasons have been promoted. Nor have I said anyone shouldn’t talk about it or to be quiet about it. I see now that it was wrong to say the pandemic influenced what went on, bc people have sent me things since indicating that there very much is a lot of racial differences and unfair treatment for both of the leads the last season. It’s true Simone and Johnny both were paid dust, and to have the sister’s stories altered and changed is not something I agree with. I’m not trying to encourage anyone to do anything. The only thing I don’t agree with and I’ve said before is making it seem like any of these actors chose things that production did. I wish Simone and Johnny were featured more in this season and got more than what they did in the last! It’s Netflix and Shonda that are the ones pushing these things and deciding what does or doesn’t happen. Blaming the actors for it doesn’t do anything because they don’t have a say in what is or isn’t done, that’s all Netflix and Shonda. I don’t understand throwing vitriol over couples and actors who don’t decide things. I don’t agree with anyone doing that. And I’ll make it clear now that I don’t agree with Netflix or Shonda or condone anything they’ve done that has hindered Johnny and Simone in any way, shape, or form, or has caused fans to come after them for starring in a show and playing characters that people connect with and love dearly. I wish there would’ve been better representation than what we were given, and I hope the future seasons have even better representation and they take the criticism over racist descriptions and lack of promotion to their heads and it actually clicks that what they did wasn’t fair or right.

[castlebyersafterdark]

I have a bit of a meta-question! you seem chill and thoughtful so i would love to hear your thoughts and i hope you feel happy to speak for yourself if not other bylers in this case. its hard to convey my interest without causing accidental offense on this site so i really hope my genuine tone comes across! :)

i just saw your positive reblog of wisehearts post about top mike/service mike, and i also saw your post about byler wrestling that you then tagged as as a projection of a teenage fantasy. seeing as you seem to understand/support the concept of gleaning sexual pleasure from a beloved's pleasure alone, i wonder if you can comment on the tendency in spicy byler fanspaces for people to project on to mike and will rather than try to follow what the show has laid down only? obviously sometimes these things blend, which is why people related to them in the first place, and ofc you can take from real life to enrich characters in your own work. but i see a lot of people saying 'maybe i'm just projecting' or even sort of defensively demanding that their fav character is the same as them just because (this happens a lot in the bi mike debate).

this is an interesting phenomenon in and of itself, but mostly i'm curious about the fans who project on to mike and will AND who seem to enjoy the above-described service kink in byler sex, where one character gleans pleasure solely from the other's. perhaps that is ALSO a projected kink that reflects them irl, and which they would love to see for their fav character... but doesn't the act of projecting - i.e. seeking self-validation through a fictional character - then negate the concept of being in service to another's pleasure (in this case, letting mike and will be who they are in canon even if/when it does not reflect the fan themself)?

i hope this makes sense!

This kind of makes sense, though I'm not one hundred percent sure what you're getting at, so I'll try my best. I guess I'll focus on the idea you present with: "the tendency in spicy byler fanspaces for people to project on to mike and will rather than try to follow what the show has laid down only?" because the big thing I feel, is that as much as we can watch and rewatch and discuss and theorize and analyze - there are big gaps where we as fans are going to have to fill in a lot via our own bias and imagination. Because in all honesty, we're not going to get a very in-depth look detailing these character's sexual relationship. Or, actual non-sexual relationship as well, to be frank. There's not enough time. It's not that type of show. I hope they do a good job and I think the writers will - but it'll always be limited in comparison to fan wishes. I think people can have fun and make conjectures and even if far off base, keep it light with little head canons or scenarios, doing our best to imagine these characters in whatever situation we want to play with them in ways we think can be interpreted true to the characters. Especially in the spicy side. It's almost entirely imagination based.

So, there is a fair bit of projection. I know there is for me. What personally appeals to me about them is a projection of what I wished I could have had as a teenager. That's what hit me watching the show in later seasons and really sitting with it after all was said and done. I've said before, I don't like to share tooooo much of myself online, but I've always used fandom to escape and play around and let my imagination run, by means of characters I've gotten attached to. Something about these boys just scratched that itch for me, it's wish fulfillment to a degree? So it's intriguing to explore what a fulfilling relationship looks like between these two friends who are really, really perfect for each other as best friends AND romantic partners. I think I and many other have latched onto the idea of a character being a "service" type of person in the bedroom sometimes, and out, maybe a little echo-chambery way (but it's not a bad thing so what's the issue lol), because it is kind of nice to imagine a partner who truly cares and loves the other and really enjoys making sure they have pleasure and get off and feel worshiped and loved. I think it's a little bit of a heightened fantasy, more almost caricatured than the average relationship irl (even tho this is a legitimate thing in irl relationships, too). But in fandom through fic and headcanons, we can perfect thinking about it however we want.

We're playing with dolls, really, and we like when the dolls really care about each other, in this instance. I don't think there's one "you have to do it this way" depiction of these characters, even if there are tropes that seem popular to different fandom spaces. Also because since the show, while I think is really rich with characterizations, can never fully flesh out who these characters are, if we envision them as fully realized people in our brains. There's too many gaps. So there are infinite interpretations of small aspects that are all equally valid.

[a-friendly-fangirl]

My thoughts on Sex Education, season 3.

⚠️⚠️⚠️SPOILERS⚠️⚠️⚠️

First of all, please try to remember that this is just my opinion. I'm nobody to judge whether the season was good or bad and I don't mean to hurt anyone.

With that being said, I'd like to begin by admitting that I liked these 8 episodes overall... but there were so many things that felt wrong to me.

I loved Jean's journey during her pregnancy and the way she tried to take care of everyone at the same time (although I kind of disliked Jakob for some things he said).

I loved Aimee and her desire to heal after the assault. The way she really wants to make her voice be heard was heartwarming and inspiring to me. Plus, her friendship with Maeve is one of the most beautiful I've ever watched (about this, I'll say something later on).

I loved Viv and her ambition that slowly became less important than her peers and their rights. She really wanted them to be happy in the end. I think that she didn't really understand how bad things with Hope were until the trip to France. And she redeemed herself in a great way.

I loved Lily and her journey towards acceptance of herself, even when others thought she was weird and silly. It was empowering seeing her so confident in the end.

I loved Adam's growth. It taught that even the most simple of passions can turn into something meaningful and that, no matter how bad you are, you can change.

Above all, I loved Maeve finally getting the chance to do something amazing for herself for once.

All of these things were wonderful, truly. But so many others I didn't like and I couldn't really understand as narrative choices.

Let me begin with the one I found the most annoying: Isaac's fake redemption arc. I know what you might say: "Of course you hate it! You ship Maeve and Otis!". Well, yes, I do. But it's not all about that. I might be exaggerating... but Isaac deleting Otis' message was beyond disrespectful to me. If you remember, at the beginning of the second season, Isaac was really mean to Maeve... but he had the opportunity to redeem himself. He had the chance to say he was sorry and to be a better person to her, even though he had been around for so little time. However, when it came to Otis to have the same opportunity, he decided that he wasn't worth it. Isaac, who didn't really know Otis, took away from him the chance to at least say that he was truly sorry for being such an ass to Maeve. But, what feels even worse to me is that he took away even Maeve's possibility to decide. We don't know how it would have gone, if Maeve had listen to what Otis had to say. Maybe she would have forgiven him. Maybe she would have still chosen Isaac, because Otis hurt her too much. Who knows what might have been? No one. And why? Because Isaac decided for everyone. And I don't care if he thought he was protecting Maeve or if he was angry. It. Was. Not. His. Choice. To. Make.

Also, I didn't really understand why Maeve wasn't as mad as I was with him. Sure, she stopped talking to him for a couple of days. But the moment she started to speak with him again, they hooked up. Too fast, too soon, in my opinion. He apologised? Sure. But so did Otis. And he didn't get to be so easily forgiven.

But let's move to the another point I have a lot to say about: Otis and Ruby. I really liked them together. I found them cute and funny. But still... Ruby struggled for real to accept Otis for who he is. And Otis acted the way she wanted to keep her close. For example, he shaved off his moustache for her. Now, most of the fandom hated that moustache... but again, Otis seemed to care a great deal for it. He kept repeating that he spent months growing it. But Ruby didn't like it. And he sacrificed something he was proud of for her. But okay, a lot of people would do something like that for their loved ones. But then he had to dress like her friends to fit in. To be fair, Ruby gave up that idea pretty soon... but she just reacted to Otis refusing to do it. If I had to make a comparison between her and another love interest (not Maeve, 'cause I'd be biased), I'd choose Ola, of course. She was putting pressure on him in other ways, but she never wanted him to be any different than who he was. Love, after all, means acceptance. And perhaps Ruby loved Otis for he saw the hardest part of her life, without judging her. I wish it could have been the same for him.

About this, I've noticed many people being disappointed in Otis not saying he loved her too, because it means that he was just using her. Well... no? I mean, he was the first one to admit that, if she was willing to give him more time, he might have learned to love her. Should he have made it clear to her earlier in the relationship? Sure! Can we condemn him for not feeling the same? Absolutely not! Feelings can't be forced. And I'm also sure that he thought he was done for good with Maeve. He suffocated the love he had for her so much that the clinic made him sick and that he admitted his feelings only when pressured by Maeve herself.

In conclusion, I think that Otis and Ruby might have had a wonderful friendship, if they were only given the chance. They have that kind of chemistry.

Talking about people who are better off as friends: in my opinion, that's all Maeve and Aimee will ever be. I honestly can't see anything romantic in them. The purity of their friendship means so much to me and it's, at least for me, so different from the "Friends who are more than friends" energy. We're so lucky to have such wonderful actresses to play these characters... and what I see in their gestures and glances tells me of a great friendship. They're so different from Emily and Sue in Dickinson (they're supposed to be just friends, but they're clearly not) or even Judy and Jen in Dead To Me (another pair of friends that can be ambiguous with each other).

Moving to another couple, whose development I didn't understand: Adam and Eric. I'm not a great fan of their relationship. I like them both as individuals. But the bully-victim dynamic they used to have wasn't the best one to start a relationship with. I could see the appeal though. So much that, I was truly happy for them, when they said their first I love you's. And every step Adam made in the right direction made me smile, since that it took him a long time to grow up. Eric seemed happy with him too. Until he went to Nigeria. I sincerely loved the whole trip... but something felt wrong in him founding what he truly wanted there, where he couldn't even tell his family he had a boyfriend. The scene in the taxi gave me chills. I felt the risk he was taking by going with a stranger to a gay club. A stranger that he kissed almost out of nowhere (whether it was the heat of the moment or Adam not replying to him, I'm not sure). It's the second time he cheats on his boyfriend. And I think Eric deserves far better as a character.

My question about this whole drama is: "How come Eric found out that he wanted to be free in Nigeria and not in England?". If it's true that going to the club made him realise he wanted to be among people like him, it makes the whole situation even more absurd. Because there are plenty of gay bars and clubs in England. Why not go to one of them? My theory is that they wanted to build a good romance with Adam, then build tension between them and in us and end the whole thing with their breakup (probably to make Adam fall in love with Rahim).

I swear I'm almost done. I want to discuss one last topic with you all.

Maeve going to America like that felt so rushed. It's probably another strategy to make us want to see more of the show. And it surely worked. But still, it has, at least for how they developed it, nothing to do with Maeve maturing. The idea itself was amazing. I loved her getting the opportunity of a lifetime. But she literally decides to go the evening before (which is not even realistic. In real life, you have a deadline until which you can pay to go wherever you want. If you don't, your place is given to someone else), after getting the money from her mother. Now, where does that money come from? She might as well have stolen it, since she didn't have it before. In my opinion, this part of the story could have gone differently with little effort and the same outcome. How? Well, since that basically everyone thought she deserved to go to America, why couldn't have her classmates and teachers organised a fundraiser? Even in secret, so that she couldn't get angry for their "charity". It would have been so much better and so wholesome to see everyone in that school give a little sum for her, even to thank her for the help they got from the clinic.

Anyway, I'm so sorry for talking so much, but this season didn't go as expected and I truly needed to vent :P.

Thank you for listening❤

[kodzukenscorner]

Oikawa, Iwaizumi, Ushijima, and Atsumu react to your curly hair

anon asked: Hi! I just saw request are open, I’m so excited!!! If your comfortable can you do a couple boys (Oikawa, Iwa, Ushijima, and Atsumu) with a girl with big curly hair? Maybe she’s a foreign student, so they’re not ised to seeing that hair type in japan at all?

wc: 1,590

✶   ✶   ✶   ✶   ✶

Oikawa

He is so enamored the first time he sees your hair

Let’s be real, we’ve seen Oikawa’s hair, there’s no way he doesn’t style it or take care of it in some way

So he’s very appreciative of when people have well kept and unique hair

But the first time he sees your hair he is in love with it

He wants to ask so many questions about it and you but he knows you’re new and he doesn’t want to overwhelm you

When he notices that he’s not the only one who has taken a liking to you that idea about not overwhelming you is completely thrown out the window

The second he sees you alone he approaches you with his sickeningly sweet smile

Of course you know who he is, every girl in the school can’t stop gushing about their cute volleyball team captain 

Even if he has no shame, he’s not just out right going to start talking to you about your hair because that’s weird

So instead he gets your name and has some small talk with you

You’re honestly pleasantly surprised that he seems fairly normal and not like the playboy you were anticipating

He even invited you to his volleyball practice which you happily accepted, excited to make some new friends

During the practice you couldn’t help but keep your eyes glued to Oikawa as he unleashed his monster serves 

Not only were you impressed with his skills but the way he looked during his run-up definitely made you feel some type of way 

And not to mention the way his hair bounced back into place as he landed

It looked so cute and soft you just wanted to run your hands through it

After practice he approached you and asked what you thought and you didn’t hold back on your compliments 

“Your serves were incredible and the way your hair bounced was really cute!” 

He was honestly so surprised at how forward you were but jumped on his opportunity when he saw it 

“Wanna touch it?” He offered, leaning his head down for you

You giddily ran your fingers through his locks and just as you suspected, it was as soft and silky as you had hoped 

When you pulled your hand away with a shy smile he reached his hand towards your head

“Can I?” He asked

You nodded and let him grasp a few of your curls and the look in his eyes was like watching a kid open presents on their birthday 

He kept twirling his fingers around your hair like he was in a trance and even got surprised when he seemed to get stuck

Normally you were a bit wary about letting people touch your hair like this

But if it was Oikawa, you weren’t going to complain

Iwaizumi

Honestly, Iwa doesn’t pay much attention to you or your hair at first

He does take notice of you and knows who you are but he’s not someone to just walk up to another person and introduce himself

And trust me, your hair is one of the last things he’s thinking about

But you, on the other hand, cannot stop thinking about his hair

Is it spiky? Is it soft? Does he use product in it?

You often find yourself just staring at him as he runs a hand through his hair

It seems to glide through without any issues so you assume it must be soft and product free, otherwise he wouldn’t be messing with it

All you want is to run your fingers through it yourself and know for certain

You’re usually just staring at him at his volleyball practice, twirling your own hair between your fingers 

Sometimes you forget that he can also see you so when he makes eye contact with you it is slightly mortifying

He can definitely tell that you’ve been staring at him but he has no idea why

Either way, you’re extremely embarrassed and cannot bring yourself to even look in his direction again

Little do you know that Iwa is equally sheepish that someone like you found him attractive or at the very least interesting

Your staring is actually what encourages him to go talk to you instead of just acknowledging your presence like he usually does

He finally approaches you after his practice, ruffling up his hair a bit and you can’t help but stare at him as he does so

This time, now that he’s only a few feet away, he finally realizes what you’ve been staring at and before he can even greet you he acknowledges his dark locks

“It’s naturally like this, so it’s not crunchy or hard or anything...” He trails off, rubbing his neck while avoiding eye contact 

“Oh! I’ve just been wondering what it felt like, sorry for staring so much”

He smiles ever so slightly and shakes his head “Nah, I’m sure you get plenty of people who ask about your hair too”

You both chuckle and laugh with each other for a bit while you properly introduce yourselves 

It was the first time you’d seen him genuinely smile and you decided you liked it a lot

You were going to see him smile more

Ushijima

A king of not really caring about physical appearances in general

But to be completely honest, he sees you and he is immediately wondering about you

Like he thinks you look so interesting and he has so many questions swirling in his head about you

But on the outside he is completely straight faced, not showing what he’s thinking at all

He only ever glances at you every now and again so you honestly don’t think too much about it

But of course you know who he is since he’s basically a celebrity in your school and he seems nice enough

Every time you’ve ever talked to him he’s always been kind and one of the only people who didn’t ogle you for your hair

Although to be fair, if you knew he was thinking about how much he wanted to touch your hair you probably wouldn’t be thinking that

One day he took you completely by surprise, simply walking up to you and asking you about your hair

“Your hair is very interesting, is it naturally like that?” He stood over you with his usual intimidating aura but he seemed genuinely curious

Most people would just whisper about your hair and stare in awe

Some especially rude people would try to touch it without your permission 

Ushijima was the first person to simply walk up to you and start up a conversation 

So you smiled and told him it was just naturally like that 

He took your sweet response as an invitation to sit next to you and continue the conversation

It turned out that the very intimidating volleyball player was actually a very sweet guy

And he’s an incredible listener, he listened to all your struggles and anxieties being at a new foreign school and even reassured you that you’d do fine

He truly felt like the first kind and respectful person you’d met in a long time

From then on you suddenly became the biggest fan of volleyball seemingly overnight

But Ushijima was not complaining and neither were you

Atsumu

The least subtle of them all

He immediately took notice of you and all your quirks

He nudged Osamu and pointed you out to him, commenting on how cool your hair looked 

It definitely made his hair look less cool in comparison and he just had to know your secrets

He approached you day one, asking how you got your hair to be so big and curly and how you had the time to do it in the morning

You were definitely taken aback because he hadn’t even introduced himself to you before asking all the questions

Before you could answer, Osamu was yelling at him from across the room, telling him to at least introduce himself first 

Atsumu actually got a bit red and fumbled around a bit with his introduction while also pointing out his twin brother on the other end of the room who gave a small wave to you

It was actually kind of cute of him so you couldn’t help it when you chuckled and introduced yourself in return

“And to answer your question, my hair is just naturally like this and I don’t use much product”

His jaw actually dropped when you said that, he just couldn’t believe you didn’t even have to try to have such an amazing hairstyle

While he had to dye his just to be different from Osamu

“No way! Can I touch it? Is it soft?” 

You smiled some more at his surprisingly cute antics and nodded your head

He gently placed a hand into your curls and marveled at how they kept their shape no matter how much he played with them

Before he realized it he was playing with your hair for a solid five minutes 

But you seemed rather content so he didn’t particularly feel like stopping

“Huh...it’s so bouncy” He mumbled to himself even though you could hear every word 

It was an odd first encounter but since that day the two of you took turns playing with each other’s hair 

You even curled his once to be like yours and he was laughing the whole time at how ridiculous it looked

“Awww no fair, it looks gorgeous on yer head” 

He was definitely going to be the death of you

[lover-of-queens]

Farah Dowling is Alive Part 2

The follow up to Part 1 or as I like to call it: look mom, I told you this degree would have uses in the real world! 

If you haven’t had a chance to read it yet, you can find Part 1: Here 

You know the drill, under the cut cause this is probably going to get long!

Episode 4: Some Wrecked Angel

Episode opens with our favourite trio. If you’ve read the first part then you’ll be familiar with my argument that it could be possible the writers are leaving Farah x Saul threads to pick up at a later date. I think this scene has some interesting ones. There’s a lot of effort in this scene to set Farah and Saul up as parallels - in a way that also makes them stand apart from Ben. We have them saying his name together, but also, when they discover Callum’s body, both Farah and Saul are in sync as they move into a kneeling position. 

I don’t necessarily know if this could be considered an argument for them bringing Farah back, however, in the scene with Farah, Stella and Luna, Stella brings up an interesting point about Farah’s pedagogy. We’re told that Farah chooses care and time over “solely results” when it comes to teaching. In the next episode we learn Rosalind’s own teaching style involves putting her students “through hell”. I don’t necessarily know when the change will happen but given this, I don’t see any way Rosalind can remain Headmistress, especially when they’re taking pains to show Farah as better suited for the role.

Also important in this scene is Farah and Luna’s last exchange. We know what appearances Luna has helped Farah maintain - the barrier/illusion that stops Aster Dell from being seen. So, what’s interesting is Farah’s next line:

Farah: “Yes, we’ve both done a great deal to preserve Solaria’s reputation.” 

This does not get addressed during the remaining episodes. Personally, this line and the amount of tension between Farah and Luna also strikes me as a potential thread that could be picked up later. I’m going to wager that I’m not alone in wanting to know what exactly they did to “preserve” Solaria’s rep. And my guess is, because Brian has mentioned that they’re going to expand on the winx world, we’re going to be finding out more about Solaria in S2. Theoretically, I suppose whatever event that is being referenced here could be dealt with without Farah on screen, but then we’d miss out on all the fun tension! Also, as of right now, fan response to Luna is nothing compared to Farah (at least from what I’ve seen). 

Tattoo theory, several people have already spoken on this and I don’t want to speak over them. I’m still sorting out my own thoughts on whether it’s Farah’s or Eve’s but I will say that Farah is always wearing rings so it seems to me that if they wanted it covered they could easily do it with a ring (or makeup). If the tattoo is purposely put there then I’m going to assume its for a reason that the writers may want to deal with at a later date (hint, hint: bring back Farah). 

Episode 5: Wither Into the Truth

I may do another post on this at some point if I can find enough to say to warrant it but Farah’s eye colour when she does magic. Up until now every time Farah’s done magic her eyes have glowed blue and yet in the scene where she questions Beatrix they glow light orange. Now I’d always assumed that the colour of the glow = element, which was why I didn’t know why Farah’s glowed blue to begin with; she’s a mind fairy so I would have expected the purple that Musa has. And actually the confirmation of her being a mind fairy comes from Fate’s IG page shown below, I don’t know if it’s ever explicitly stated in the show? Further, to my knowledge, Farah is the only fairy we’ve seen whose eyes glow different colours. So, a thread to pick up in season 2, perhaps? 

Also I’m very interested in the use of the word “Once”. In this instance I would almost take it to mean ‘no longer is’ but the tense is present perfect (I think?) which can suggest the continuance of an action. But now I’m being overly nitpicky and technical. Also I don’t know how ‘principle’ made it through what I’m assuming are several stages before making it onto IG, but it gave me a laugh!

“Incredibly powerful” yet loses to Rosalind without a fight? Not buying it. Additionally, the use of “other forms of magic” is interesting and I figure could be taken to mean other elements. But I wonder if there’s more to it than just that. Farah shows knowledge of archaic Fairy Magic with the Nettle Amalgam, so maybe there’s more archaic knowledge out there that she knows ... that could prove helpful. 

Now, back to the episode. When Farah and Hologram Luna are talking, the fact that there are two burned ones travelling together is cause for concern. 

Farah: “There are two of them travelling together. That hasn’t happened since … In a long time.” 

Once again we are left with a thread of something that has happened. In the same IG post as above, in the section for Saul, it mentions that he and Farah became confidants “after experiencing the Black Woods Massacre”. I wonder if that could be what Farah’s referring to here? I know the massacre has come up once or twice in conversation and correct me if I’m wrong but I don’t believe it’s ever been properly explained? To me, it looks like a great bit of backstory to get into at a later date. It may not confirm Farah being alive necessarily, but you could take it as a sign that we might see Eve again. 

Lastly, for this episode, is the scene between Farah and Bloom. Specifically this part: 

Farah: “I will help you get the answers you need. I give you my word.” 

You can probably guess what I’m going to say at this point, a thread that can be picked up in season 2! You could counterargue that Rosalind could help Bloom with answers (as she offers in the next episode) but in my humble opinion, I don’t think it would offer narrative satisfaction. First, because we’ve been shown what a terrible mentor Rosalind is. Second, they’ve spent the first season showing how Farah and Bloom’s mentor-student relationship has developed (bloomed?) so it seems a waste to go through all of that development for nothing. 

Episode 6: A Fanatic Heart

Rosalind has her little prison break. Personally, I still think there’s a lot of unanswered questions about what happened after Aster Dell, how they imprisoned Rosalind, etc. And I do hope that we get some answers in Season 2 - again these answers may not necessarily involve Farah on the screen but as every writer gets told the age old advice of “show, don’t tell”, I think there’s potential for that. 

Farah immediately tries to disprove my points about her intelligence by wandering alone in the woods at night. But she’s pretty, so I’ll allow it. 

Rosalind gives Bloom some answers but not all, so I do think that my point above about Farah helping Bloom find more answers still stands. Further, I find the Farah is Bloom’s mother theory to be unlikely for several reasons (this is not the post for them) but I do want to draw our attention to several lines of dialogue here. 

Bloom: “You hid me from Miss Dowling.” ….

Rosalind: “The guidance you needed was love. Farah couldn’t give that to you. Vanessa and Michael could.” 

There are SO many reasons why this exchange is fascinating. I’m interested in why Bloom brings up Farah to begin with - her other points could stand alone to the same affect. I’m also really interested in the direct comparison between Farah and Bloom’s adoptive parents -- if Bloom hadn’t gone to them, she would have gone to Farah? It almost seems as though the direct comparison implies that. Also, considering Bloom’s relationship with her adoptive parents, I really doubt the validity of the statement. Plus, I wouldn’t trust Rosalind’s idea of love in general. 

Also, Rosalind is just so certain that Farah couldn’t love Bloom … can’t love in general? There’s just so much of Farah and Rosalind’s relationship that hasn’t been explored that I think really needs to be. 

Now, the scene that always makes me cry! Farah and Bloom have had a difficult time this season and it’s all lead up to this moment of trust and vulnerability - on both sides. If you ask me, this season has been setting Farah up to be the mentor figure that Rosalind was not - Rosalind’s opposite. And they’ve worked hard at it, even when they were trying to convince us Farah might be the evil one which like lmao. I find it hard to believe that they would go through all of that work just to discard it by leaving Farah dead. Especially because what Farah admits to Bloom in this sequence feels like a changing moment for her - she recognizes things she wishes she would have done differently (being less of a figurehead, being more open) and I think its only fair that Fate allows her to follow through on those things. 

And onto the scene that I really don’t want to rewatch but I’m going to do it for y’all. I’ve touched on Farah x Saul moments so it’s only fair that I touch on Farah x Rosalind ones. There is tension here (looking at each other’s lips, Rosalind getting closer to Farah, Farah grabbing her), I mean the cast has joked about shipping them. But there are several different ways to read this and you are more than welcome to your pick! It doesn’t really change my point, which is … thread to pick up in season 2? Have you started taking a shot every time I’ve said that (please don’t <3). 

Farah who has shown herself to be incredibly intelligent and cautious when it comes to Rosalind turns her back on her. And we get what is probably the most important piece of evidence: the eye glow. It can mean absolutely anything, but I’d wager one of the reasons its there is to have people do exactly what I’m doing here. Theorizing about whether Farah could still be alive. I’m going to take that as a sign there’s hope (mainly because I think it would be cruel to suggest a ‘could she come back narrative’ and then … not have her come back). Also, in the Fate novel, it describes Farah’s death as “too easy”. I absolutely refuse to believe that it could be easy to kill Farah when she’s proved time and time again how powerful she is. 

That finishes my episode by episode analysis. It totals well over 2500 words. If you can believe me, I still have more to say on this topic (discussing general counterarguments and possible logistics of Eve’s filming), so stay tuned for a Part 3?

[jesswritesthat]

Bokuto Kōtarō: Love Languages

Fandom: Haikyuu!! — [ Masterlist ]

Summary: Fluff

• In which your group of friends is attempting to decipher the famous Spiker of the Black Jackals’ love language but you get an unexpected personal insight into the answer.

Warnings: Scheming antics of friends, one swear word.

>>>>—————————>

Upcoming Outside Hitter of the MSBY Black Jackals, a famous athlete by all means and potential model if he so wished - or rather, Bokuto Kōtarō as he was known by name.

An increasingly popular topic amongst your female friends as of late...

He's handsome - yes you'd heard it.

So charismatic and friendly - god you knew it.

And that athletic physique, those arms especially - eh, you'd seen him shirtless, his abs were nothing to scoff at either.

For you, it was understandable why people would see him this way in comparison to his teammates. Meian Shūgo had his fair share of fans too which you'd narrowed down to 'Captain Rights' - like in all the movies, who doesn't want to date the Captain y'know? The Jackals found amusement in the analogy nonetheless, even if Meian lightly punched your shoulder in mock offence.

But it was common knowledge that Spikers held more recognition simply because their role was more showy, Bokuto and Sakusa were popular with Black Jackal fans albeit the latters’ attitude sent many warming more to Kōtarō. Hinata was too cute be considered hot, and Atsumus flirty behaviour resonated with those drifting toward the idea of a fling rather than valued relationships - hence their preference to Bokuto.

It stumped you as to how he was viewed more fitting for that role considering they were both as immature as each other. Dumbasses.

"What do you think his love language would be though? Quality time maybe or—" Kotori giggled, the brunette growing overly excited with the idea much like your other two friends as you tuned in momentarily.

"It's Physical Touch."

You'd filtered into the conversation so confidently, not a hint of uncertainty within your lacklustre answer as the trio of girls stared at your distracted figure with stunned expressions.

It wasn't that you were being antisocial, you'd just heard each Kotori, Yuki and Hanami gush over Bokuto too many times and now allowed yourself to zone out or type away on your phone as they rambled on. However, their extended silence caused you to meet their expectant gazes with a sceptical brow.

"What?"

"You can't just say that without reasoning (Y/n), especially with that clear-cut tone of yours. Why do you think it's Physical Touch?" Yuki cheerfully smiled at you, beckoning her hand for you to elaborate.

Did they forget that you worked with MSBY Black Jackal teams as their private medical professional on a daily basis? Apparently so.

"Ughhh, alright..." It was a pained groan of defeat, one that elicited invigorated smiles from your group as you uncrossed your legs and leaned on the café table with a contemplative pout prior to elaborating.

"Bokuto responds best to Words of Affirmation, the man is a sucker for compliments really but expresses his own feelings via Physical Touch. I mean he's pretty decent with Acts of Service too but it's a lot less in comparison - he always claps his team on the back when they make a good shot, or tackles them usually for fun. Plus that idiot is a hugger so I'm pretty confident in my assumption."

"They're teammates though, I mean a romantic partner." Kotori clarified with an understanding nod, processing your casual information with a satisfied sigh.

"Teammates love each other, it'd likely be similar but I guess hand holding and more intimate embraces would be involved. I don't know guys, I've never seen him with a lover or even know if he has one." You playfully shrugged amidst your gentle laughter, turning to Yuki who held a rolled up magazine in her hands and waved it as evidence.

"I've read the gossip magazines, they say he's currently single~"

"What wonderful news for you guys, maybe one of you will meet him, fall in love, invite us to your wedding, and be all the journalists can talk about for the next week." Though your sarcasm was evident, the group immediately joined in with the banter - Hanami over-dramatically flicking her hair over her shoulder to accompany her next humorous statement.

"Exactly (Y/n). You can all be my bridesmaids when he marries me!"

With a bemused shake you of your head at their antics, you collected a majority of the tables waste and stood to dispose of it in the nearest bin before heading back - brushing off your hands until you were abruptly taken off course much to the awe of your onlooking trio.

"Hey hey hey!"

If not for the strength of the individual, you'd likely would've been sent flying with the amount of encompassing force they'd tackled you with, his arms withdrawing to your waist to hold you in place as you pulled away from the embrace enough to face the blinding smile of none other than Bokuto Kōtarō - who tilted his head once noting the close proximity, sheer joy morphing to that of subtle admiration as he took in your quizzical features.

"You're so pretty (N/n)~" It was an honest and unfiltered observation on his part, the weight of it going unnoticed with his softer tone and stereotypically oblivious nature.

Meanwhile you snapped from your analytic reverie, deflecting the compliment with a casual facade hoping the heat on your skin was dismissed.

"Tch don't call me that, what do you want anyway? You look exhausted."

Bokuto only released a tired sigh with his cheery attitude faltering slightly and bored pout emerging, releasing you from his hold to explain himself with a sheepish hand running through his hair.

"Extra practice was painful and I know your shift starts soon so I was wondering if you'd check me over before I have to start again."

"Kou, tackling me wasn’t very persuasive."

The Spiker cunningly smirked at your justification, holding his index finger up as if to delay your final decision whilst he grabbed a paper bag from the side (that he'd temporarily displaced prior to startling you) and offered it you.

"That's why I brought you a treat from the coffee shop too, perfect way to start the shift right?"

Your gaze flicked between him and the food parchment before ultimately sighing in defeat and taking the item from him to put it in your bag.

"Fine, that was clever. You win Kōtarō."

Gesturing for one second, you walked back to your table a metre or so away to bid farewell to your friends and discreetly finalise your statement from earlier to the rather enigmatic trio of girls - each withholding their presumptuous thoughts with overly gleeful smiles.

"See, Physical Touch."

"All I'm seeing is romantic gestures~" Yuki broke the silence first, the others agreeing and chuckling at the playful glare settling on your features.

"Shut up, it's not like he's holding my hand or kissing me. Try flirting with him since you're so in love with—"

Still radiating accomplishment from his earlier achievement, your defence was ironically cut short by Bokuto easily lacing his digits around your wrist like he’d done it thousands of times before, and carefully tugged toward the exit to indicate his intention.

"C'mon (Y/n), Meian will kill me if I'm late and Atsumu, ugh, he'll give me a break if I say I was with you."

There was a momentary lapse in comeback, yourself too caught up in his happy-go-lucky wink to finish your proclamation - "Sorry (L/n), you were saying...?" - but Kotoris’ mischievous tone certainly reminded you.

"Oh right, you wanna stay? I forget you're not at our beck and call sometimes, you're just always there when I need you I guess - but you should relax if you want to." Bokuto thoughtfully added before you could answer, taking a step toward you and diverting his gaze to the side, embarrassingly rubbing the back of his neck due to his apparent intrusion.

"No worries Kōtarō, I'd be leaving in a few minutes for work anyway." With a soft sigh of - was it gratitude? Adoration? God you hoped not - you opened the door to leave and waved a ‘later’ your friends.

However, the echoing shout following after the two of left you hauntingly vengeful in the most kindest of ways.

"You better invite us to your wedding (Y/n)-chan~"

"Shut. Up." Came your hushed return, the trio breaking into fits of giggles upon hearing the emphasised irritation in it.

The sudden panic in the Spikers tone prevented you from going back in and demanding they buy you an apology coffee. Bokuto practically jumped away from you like you’d caught the plague, now wearing a contrastingly apologetic and shocked expression.

"You're getting married?! Sorry (N/n)-chan I didn't realise you had a fiancé else I would've stopped flirting with you ages ago."

"There's no wedding, I'm singl- wait - you what?" At first you rolled your eyes and brushed it off with a wave of your hand as you continued towards your shared work place until his admittance truly resignated and you stammered rather ungraciously.

"That’s a relief and yeah, Tsum Tsum suggested finding your love language so that's what I've been trying to figure out." Bokuto seemed more relaxed, an overly enthused sigh of relief escaping him as he rested his hands behind his head whilst walking - meanwhile you'd come to a precipitated stop, staring at him in utter bewilderment.

"Oh shit..."

Kōtarō turned around when noting your lack of presence by his side, pausing in place and tilting his head in curiosity upon hearing your confounded whisper - still wearing a puzzled but lopsided smile.

"...you like me." You concluded (more a fact than question), gazing over to him in complete awe and expecting - hoping for him to deny it wholeheartedly.

Instead his smile only widened, eyes closing briefly with a toothy grin sparkling under the sun and a firm nod of confirmation making your insides plummet.

"I do, hadn’t you noticed?"

<——————————<<<<

[ Masterlist ]

[maxwell-grant]

Given your love for the character, have you read Arkham Asylum: Penguin? I think it's one of those great stories, that has done more harm than good to the character in the long run.

Hmm, yeah, definitely got thoughts on that one.

It's not a stretch to say that Joker's Asylum: Penguin has been the one Penguin story that's most heavily shaped every other story told with him since, for better or worse and, sadly, for the worse. It's the one with the really famous moment where it describes how he ruined a chef's life so throughly that he commited suicide just because the chef happened to laugh within earshot ruining a romantic moment for Penguin, and it's this moment that really got kicked around as some kind of revelation, to people who went "oh shit, Penguin is scary, I can finally take him seriously now".

It's also something that showed up prominently in Penguin: Pain and Prejudice, which is a comic I have really mixed feelings on and tend to like a little less with time, and it's also led to some really, really ugly scenes in other stories. Nowadays, "completely ruining people's lives over incredibly minor slights" is Penguin's "thing", the thing that usually allows him to see any serious usage as a villain at all. I hate it, obviously, I hate how unimaginative it is that, despite everything he's always had going for him as a character, this is the only thing that writers can think of to make him "serious", along with making him a diet Kingpin. Throwing their hands up and giving up on making him work as a supervillain so he's just going to be a crimelord who dresses fancy and occasionally does really horrible things, really no different from a Rupert Thorne or Sal Maroni or any of Batman's regular gangster villains who only exist to showcase how superior the supervillains are by comparison.

The two things I hate the most about this story are not that though, because for what it's worth I do think this story had the right idea in showcasing not just how petty this is (to the point Penguin keeps a detailed journal of all the lives he's ruined) but also how it ruins his chance at building a relationship when she finds out. Unlike other stories that just use it for shock value or even as just "wow scary" moments, in Joker's Asylum it was a substantial part of the story so I'll grand it that.

No, the two things I hate most are, respectively, the scene where we learn Oswald as a kid murdered all his birds with a baseball bat, which is completely fucking stupid and painfully out of character and thankfully it's never been brought up again, and the end, where it's revealed that Penguin ended up selling the trafficked girl he was trying to date back into sexual slavery, caging her right where he rescued her, which isn't really ill-fitting for the story's central idea (that Oswald is a vile monster no better than anyone who's ever tormented him, who will always ruin the things he tries to love), but it's just, such an disgustingly vile thing that it kinda just ruins the character's likeability (not that the story affords him any) without offering anything truly substantial in return other than I guess a slap in the face for you expecting an evil man to be anything better? Is that really it? I get that this kind of thing has it's place but I grow so weary of fiction that tries to tack on realism and "real" evil and ends up just tiresomely reminding us of the misery of reality, that treats the act of showing you how it really is like it's something impressive and profound and not just an exercise in futility.

It's just a big example of a trend in comics where villains who are silly or otherwise have reputations for being silly are forced to pivot into sadistic baby-murderers. Not that I mind Oswald being horrible and vicious to contrast his goofy appearence, but again, balance. Penguin in particular's suffered from this in the 70s when he and Riddler sort of became the sacrificial lambs to appease Batman fans insecurity towards the Adam West show, and every now and then it crops up again.

I actually think it could be better if Penguin was a rare example of a supervillain who actively avoids killing. Not because he's morally opposed to it or afraid, not in the slightest, but because it's ill-befitting a gentleman, and he's got so, so many clever ways to mess with people and ruin their lives or manipulate them into doing what he wants, that he ultimately doesn't need to kill, and it makes it that much harder for Batman to pin anything on him, because Oswald knows how to get away with everything he does legally. Not resorting to murder becomes one of the ways in which he strives to prove himself superior, and if it fails, oh well, he played it fair as long as he could, time to get the murder-brellas ready.

[harcourtholmesii]

Letters of Thanks

Fandoms: MCU / Avengers

Pairings: Slight / Referenced Thor X Bruce

Warnings: - References to Violence

Words: 2954

Please don’t expect this to be perfect writing. I tried, but as much as I do love the MCU, I am not great at writing their characters.

Enjoy!

Fan mail.

 Care packages.

 Letters of gratitude.

 The penthouse floors of Stark Tower were overrun with them. After the Battle for New York, everyone and their uncle seemed keen to say their piece and write something special to the Avengers.

 Since Bruce, Thor and Steve had nowhere else to go, the general populace had come to the correct conclusion that they could send their letters to Tony Stark’s letterbox. Since his address was public knowledge and since the defeat of the Chitauri, his home had been flooded with paper and cardboard boxes.

 Sorting through it all had been a hassle.

 With Thor off-world, the secret agents off on their respective missions and Rogers having left for his tour of America, it was left up to Tony and Bruce to sort through it all. It was a momentous task, but it was a welcome distraction.

 Over time, the piles continued to grow.

 Seven piles in total.

 Tony had, by far, the largest amount of letters written to him. They created an unsteady mountain range across his personal study, threatening to topple and fall if it weren’t for Tony’s effort to read them all.

 As quickly as they grew, they shrank. Tony read through his mail quickly and with fervour. Some nights, Bruce, Pepper and Happy had been unable to convince him to sleep. Some nights, he would spend researching the person behind the letter, and send care packages of his own to those who had written him.

 Unlike the majority of the other Avengers, Tony managed himself well. Even though most of it was kind or complimentary, there were those that expressed their disdain or their upset. When it got particularly bad, Bruce could see how it all weighed down on the man. He would wave away Pepper’s worry, and Bruce’s own concerns, with his usual snarky attitude, but it was obvious to all of them that he was most affected by those he couldn’t help.

 Steve’s pile was mostly complimentary. The younger authors tended to keep their letters short, with questions about him and where he had been. How was he alive after so long? Did he know about the moon landing? Had he seen Blade Runner? Most of the letters went from serious to curious in the span of a paragraph, but Steve had been no less flattered.

 Some letters were from older veterans or soldiers who cited him as their inspiration for joining the military. There were those that mentioned how their parents or grandparents had met him those seventy years ago, and how it was a piece of family history they loved to share.

 Steve handled them well for the most part, but he rarely went out of his way to answer them all. With his new career path at SHIELD, Steve only narrowed down his responses to those he felt were ‘genuine’. Specifically, those that asked less questions about what he did or did not know about the future, and those that seemed to take the Battle for New York as a serious, potential threat.

 Much like Tony, Thor’s pile was one of the larger ones, and it grew at a rapid pace from the start. A lot of the mail he received were care packages, cardboard boxes filled with everything from chocolates to alcohol, and other tokens of affection. Thor had been astounded when he first returned to Earth; his room, as large and royal as Tony could make it, housed a mountain of parcels and parchment awaiting his notice.

 He had spent overnight opening as many as possible and reading as much as he could. Some of the language and plenty of the references used caused him a great deal of confusion, and he would seek out Bruce for help. Too many of the letters, though very sweet and thankful, contained phone numbers or an Instagram link. Bruce had caught on quickly; a good portion of these were men, women and others of all types, were hopeless romantics, seeking the God of Thunder’s attention.

 No matter the intention or the person who had written the letter, Thor tasked himself with responding to each and every one. However, at the rate the pile was growing, and with Thor’s admittance that he wasn’t much a scholar, Bruce and Tony were roped into helping him in his quest. He wrote back, and had Tony show him how Facebook, Twitter and Instagram worked so he could publish quick responses online.

 Bruce helped him with those that didn’t leave behind online addresses or phone numbers, and wrote back what Thor asked him to write. Though, before each parchment was shipped off, Thor would be sure to sign it himself.

 The fourth and fifth piles were small by comparison; the both of them for Clint and Natasha. Without any idea where else to send them, the majority of these letters were quick and to the point. Short and simple. The writers would express their gratitude, perhaps explain their reasons for sending the letter, and then end the short paragraph.

 To Clint and Natasha, these were perfect. They couldn’t easily respond to them, as much as they wished to, so they kept them close instead. Natasha filed hers away in her room at Stark Tower, and Clint had sent his away. He didn’t mention where, just that they would be safe.

 It was fair that the master assassin wanted to keep it secret.

 Then, there was the general pile for all of the Avengers team. Most of these were sent by families and young children, from crayon sketches to some baked goods. The team, especially Thor and Clint were ecstatic with these ones in particular.

 They came together to read them, as difficult as that was. They would read out a single letter to the rest; they might have a slight chuckle and smiles would light up all their faces as they heard the praise. None of the mail addressed to the Avengers was negative, as it seemed any criticism was left to the specific ‘hero’.

 The smallest pile by far, belonged to Bruce Banner. Only a few letters had been delivered that were addressed specifically to him, and unlike the others, Bruce had avoided opening them. When Natasha asked him about his letters, he would say he would ‘get around to it’, and she would leave it alone for a while, disbelieving his statement.

 Thor asked him about it the most, always curious and always keen to hear what people had to say about the ‘second strongest’ Avenger. Bruce would just smile, already a little bashful under the other’s excitable gaze and warm touches.

 ‘I haven’t read them yet.’

 ‘You should!’ Large hands would take hold of Bruce’s own and he would be spun around so the other could look at him face-to-face. ‘There is much they have to say to you, and I am sure much of it is kind.’

 Bruce would just shrug his words away, very aware that the other would only try to see the best in him. He hadn’t been around when Hulk had first destroyed New York, and what the God had witnessed on the helicarrier had been next to nothing in the amount of damage the Hulk had caused. They had been lucky.

 Unlike the rest, Tony, though encouraging, didn’t pressure him to read the letters. He knew of Bruce’s fear, and though he found a way to bring it up subtly in conversation, he never demanded the meek scientist open his mail.

 Finally, they came up with an idea.

 ‘Big mean and green.’ Where Bruce had been hovering over the coffee pot, he clicked his jaw in annoyance, and turned his tired eyes over to the lounge. His teammates were all sat on the half-circle sofa, with a small pile of recognisable letters in the middle. He swallowed thickly around the nervous lump in his throat, and tried to laugh away his worry.

 ‘What is this? An intervention?’

 ‘Sort of.’ Clint said, offering him a polite smile. It seemed Clint and Steve, in particular, were both nervous about this. Then why participate?

 ‘We just wanna help try and release some tension here.’ Tony stated, gesturing to the pile. ‘It is no surprise to us, Bruce, you can’t stand to look at this. But you don’t have the heart to throw it all away.’

 Bruce’s eyes fell to the coffee he now nursed in his hands.

 ‘We don’t want to make you uncomfortable.’ Steve chimed in. ‘But… Well, we don’t want you to run yourself into the ground because you’re scared of what people have to say.’

 ‘I’m not scared. I just know what I would see, and I do not need more confirmation that I am a monster.’

 ‘No!’ Thor’s voice bellowed, and he was standing in an instant. He was by Bruce’s side in a mere moment and gently nudging him (as gentle as Thor could manage) towards the lounge. ‘You do not understand, Banner! We believe that these are all letters of gratitude towards you, and rather than you think the worst, we want to disprove your claim.’

 ‘Yes… Well…’ Bruce’s eyes landed on the pile in front of him. He didn’t find SHIELD as frightening as he had expected when he had first met Natasha. He had not been as overcome with fear when he had first seen the Chitauri. But this small, seemingly trivial pile of notes… The words of an everyday person that he had hurt scared him more than anything.

 ‘If you don’t mind it, we came up with a simple system. Nothing too bad, we hope, but just so we might ease your fears a little.’ Tony said, reaching and digging around in the pile for a moment.

 After a bit of shuffling about, he pulled out a small, pastel pink card, showing it to Bruce.

 ‘We just want you to know that you don’t have to be worried about this. We came up with this plan-’

 ‘Tony came up with a plan.’ Natasha interrupted.

 ‘- That we will each read out one letter to you. One random letter. And we’ll all be here in case you want to take a break or if you need to just…’

 ‘Talk.’ Steve finished.

 And just like that, Clint, Steve, Natasha and Thor reached into the pile.

 Clint pulled one, exceptionally thick, envelope from the top; perfectly pristine, well-kept, with ‘Bruce Banner’ written in fine, royal blue cursive.

 Natasha dug her hand deep into the pile until she pulled her hand away with a large, but thin, green folder. On the front, it read Bruce’s name in a collage of cut-out, magazine letters.

 Steve removed a small parcel from the pile, wrapped in dirty brown paper with a green ribbon around it. There was the sound of something gently rattling against the inside as Steve moved.

 Thor pulled one letter from the pile which had a large, child’s drawing on the back. Evidently, it was of a large, green figure holding what looked like a yellow car in his hands and roaring. Bruce did not look too keen.

 It was Clint that opened his letter first and had begun to read.

 “Dear Doctor Banner,

 You may not recall me well, but my name is Lucille Davidson. We studied together for a period in college, and I would like to consider us friends, or at the very least, acquaintances.

 You’re work in nuclear physics is astounding, and I have, for years now, have wanted to address your papers and reports of your studies.  I have never had the chance, as I had thought you dead after your disappearance.

 Imagine my surprise and delight when I saw you on the news. Well, not you exactly, but to then have it confirmed to be you in the interview following the events, I was not only relieved but I was over the moon. Hearing you would be staying with Mister Stark for the time being, I wrote to you immediately, and I do hope this has found its way.

 I wanted to just say how I am not only inspired by your work, but I wish that we could sit together for coffee and go over our theories on anti-electron collisions…”

 By this point, Clint started to look a little lost. He raised his eyes from the paper, with an apologetic expression and a half smile.

 ‘Sorry, but I can’t understand this kind of science jargon. I am not an expert on thermonuclear… anything… Whatever this person is attempting to say, it seems…’ He turned the paper over, and glanced at the other papers. ‘Yeah… They appear to have sent you a full thesis on whatever this is…’

 He passed it across to Bruce, who seemed shocked still. The coffee cup was retrieved from his hands by Tony, in case he should drop it, and placed on the coffee table. Bruce took the papers with shaking hands and read over that first part again and again, almost in disbelief. The worry in his face had lessened slightly, as he placed the essay down and looked up when Steve cleared his throat.

 ‘There isn’t, uh… There’s only a small card here, apart from the parcel. And it reads ‘to Bruce Banner and to Hulk. Thank you!” He passed the card and parcel over, so Bruce could open it.

 He did so slowly, hesitantly, with the movements of a man disarming a bomb. Once the ribbon was undone and the tape removed, the brown paper fell apart in his hands, revealing a plastic container. Through the clear plastic there was a small pile of about eight cookies, all of them, though a little smudged, decorated to look like the Hulk’s face.

 There was a chortle from Tony, and a guffaw from Thor as the God landed a hard smack to Bruce’s back. It hurt, but Bruce just smiled down at the strange but lovely gift. There was no return address or signature, which seemed a little disappointing.

 “To Mister Banner.” Tony started, a sly, cattish grin on his face. Bruce could already feel his own face going red. He raised his hands to his face in a terrible attempt to hide his embarrassment as Tony continued to read with some level of theatrical exaggeration.

 “I will admit, I’m a little embarrassed to write this, but I just needed to get my feelings down onto paper. I was working during the Battle for New York and we met very briefly. Well, you were Hulk at the time, but still… You saved my life. I was about to be killed by one of those weird, alien creatures when you crushed them beneath your fists. And I couldn’t help but salivate…” There was a muttered, embarrassed groan from Bruce as he snatched the letter out of Tony’s hand. The billionaire and the others shared a laugh as Bruce continued to read the letter.

 Indeed, it was just a little scandalous, and as flattering as it was… He quietly tucked it away in his pants pocket, not willing to discuss it at this time. That was fair, and none of the other’s held that against him.

 Natasha opened her own folder, her face brighter than Bruce had ever seen it. She showed it off like she was doing a presentation, opening the folder wide and reading it out. There were only two pages to it, the first with an image of a small building with a mural on one of its walls.

 The mural showcased the Hulk with his hands raised as if holding up the roof of the building. Beneath him, as if a shadow that stood before him, was a silhouette of Bruce doing the same pose. Beneath it, written in bright lettering with all kinds of little pictures, was the message:

 ‘To Doctor Banner and the Hulk, the heroes that saved our daycare and the children therein.’ The second page was a collage of parents and staff thanking him and the Hulk alike, with little signatures and drawings from the children.

 Natasha passed it over to him, and Bruce clutched it close, feeling himself near brought to tears.

 Thor didn’t read out the letter he had plucked out of the pile, but passed it to Bruce all the same. It was difficult to read, as it was a scribble of a child’s writing. Only the address was clearly stamped out, presumably by a parent.

 ‘Thank you Mister Hulk. You saved mommy and daddy from the monsters. I want to be a hero like you when I’m grown up. Could you teach me to be strong like you? From Markus’

 Turning the paper over to look over the image again, Bruce could now make out the scratchy faces of two people in the yellow car. At first, he thought they were screaming, but when he was able to make out the black line of a speech bubble amongst the dark blue crayon, he could read they were yelling ‘YAY!’

 ‘How cute.’ Natasha hummed.

 ‘That ought to go onto the fridge.’ Tony agreed.

 Bruce shifted in his seat, wiping beneath his glasses with his sleeve. A hand on his shoulder, warm and comforting, brought his eyes up to look at the Thor.

 ‘Would Banner like some time alone? To read and look through his gifts?’

 Despite what he had read, Bruce did not ask them to leave. In fact, he snuggled deeper into the lounge as he plucked one letter from the pile. The others didn’t mind being asked to stay. In fact, to them, it was a relief to see the doctor express anything other than worry or discomfort, and a joy to watch his face break into a smile.

[writingblock101]

Till Kingdom Come (Jason Todd x Reader)

Part 1

Thank you so much to everyone who left a nice comment for me! They made my day and I’m so happy you guys like this fic as much as I do! Without further ado, here is part 2 to For the Kingdom! 

Warnings: Various spoilers for Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, To Kill a Mockingbird, and The Outsiders

Word Count: 5,000

Tags: @idkmanicantenglish @jaybirdxarsenal @palefiregiver @because-icanhide @nakedszn

Jason didn’t talk to you like he told Dick he would. He was scared to face you after causing so much pain during something that is supposed to bring pleasure. Why would you want to see him? Besides, Jason would end up saying something stupid and making you cry.

As he walks by the library, Jason pauses, backtracking and staring into the huge room. When he first tried giving gifts, he tried guessing what you were interested in and failed. So, instead of trying to guess what you might like, what if Jason shows you things about him and hopefully gives you a reason to not be scared of him?

. . . 

The next morning, you receive another gift from Jason. You open the box, expecting to find clothing or jewelry, but instead, you find a book with a note: I’m sorry about last night. I don’t want our marriage to be built on fear. I’m willing to try and make this work if you are. 

You smile sadly at the note then look down at the book: Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.

. . . 

It takes two days to finish the book. It was absolutely fantastic and bizarre, and now you want to talk about the book, but you’re not sure who to speak to. Jason doesn’t strike you as the reading type… Maybe Alfred suggested it.

You wander the castle in search of Alfred until you find him in the kitchen. 

“Mrs. Y/N,” He greets, finishing cooking lunch. “I see you received Master Jason’s gift, did you enjoy it?” 

“Yes,” You smile, sitting down at the island in the kitchen. “Giving a book was a great idea.” 

Alfred smiles. 

“Yes, Master Jason is quite fond of his books. He’ll be thrilled to hear you enjoyed it.” 

You blink. 

“So… Jason likes reading?” 

Alfred chuckles. 

“Very much. Why else would he give you a book?” 

“I don’t know,” You say quietly. “I thought he was trying to find something to relate with I guess… I never took him for the reading type.” 

“You have a lot to learn about your husband, Mrs. Y/N,” Alfred turns, placing two sandwiches and a bowl of fruit on a tray then holds the tray out to you. “Master Jason is in his office and I’m sure looking for a distraction. Would you care to bring him lunch?” 

You stare at the tray, doubt racing through your mind. 

“What if he doesn’t want to talk to me?” 

“I assure you, Mrs. Y/N, Master Jason has been desperately trying to come up with ways to talk to you. He will be delighted to have lunch with you.” 

He’s been desperately trying to come up with a way to talk to you? Really? The look on Alfred’s face shows that he won’t take ‘no’ for an answer so you hesitantly take the tray from him and walk to Jason’s office. 

The door is shut and the sandwiches are getting warm the longer you stare at it. Just knock, that’s all. This is your husband. You’ve seen him naked. You can knock on the door. 

Master Jason has been desperately trying to come up with ways to talk to you. He will be delighted to have lunch with you. 

Alfred wouldn’t lie to you. Just knock on the door. You reach out a hand and knock hesitantly. 

“What?” Jason calls from the other side of the door. 

Your heart rate speeds up. He sounds irritated. This is a bad idea.

“I um… I have lunch from Alfred, but if you’re not hungry, that’s okay. I can just leave,” You ramble then the door opens, revealing a surprised Jason. 

“Y/N,” He greets then blinks. “Um… hi.” 

“Hi,” You respond, then neither of you speak for a moment. 

“Uh… You said you had lunch?” Jason asks.

“Yes! Right, the whole reason I came here!” You hold up the tray, giggling nervously. 

“Would… You care to join me for lunch?” Jason asks hesitantly.

You smile. 

“That would be nice.” 

He takes the tray from you and brings you into his office, you sitting on one side while he opts to sit behind his desk then you both begin silently eating. You’re about halfway through your sandwich when Jason speaks.

“How’s your day been?” 

“It’s been good,” You nod. “How’s your day been?” 

Jason shrugs. 

“It’s been a lot of meetings.” 

“Oh?” You ask. 

Jason recalls you mentioning the lack of independence given to you by your mother. 

“Yeah,” He nods. “We’ve been tracking Dent for months now. We hired Frank Castle to keep him from entering Murdock’s territory, but now Dent is forming an alliance with Bane’s kingdom and it’s a nightmare,” Jason sighs. 

“Sounds like it,” You sympathize. 

Honestly, you had no idea who Jason was talking about since you were never allowed information about your parents’ kingdom affairs, but you appreciate him telling you. 

“I finished Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy,” You tell him randomly. 

“Yeah?” Jason asks. “What did you think?” 

“It was...good,” You admit, looking a little puzzled. 

“You don’t seem confident in that answer.” 

Your eyes widen and you rush to rephrase your answer, worried that Jason will think you’re ungrateful for the gift. 

“No! No, I liked it! I really did! I just...” 

“It’s bizarre?” Jason offers. 

“Yeah...” You agree. “Bizare is a good word for it.” 

He grins. 

“Yeah, it’s a weird book. But I want to hear what you really thought.” 

You pause, studying Jason’s earnest expression. You should be able to share freely with your husband. He hasn’t given you any reason to feel as though you were in danger. He’s encouraging you to speak your mind. You take a breath. 

“It was good and I liked it, but I think a lot of it may have gone over my head.”

Jason chuckles. 

“Yeah, I think it was supposed to. Honestly, when I finished it, my first thought was “what the fuck?”.” 

You laugh. 

“That’s how I felt! Then, of course, I started thinking about if mice actually ran the world and if we were really their lab rats.” 

“That part messed with my head so much,” Jason admits. “As humans, we think we’re the dominant species or whatever and we’ve seen other humans manipulate us, but we really don’t know what capacity other animals have to manipulate us. Especially if they are smart enough to hide their intelligence from us.” 

“That whole idea kind of reminds me of Toy Story where the toys secretly came to life without any human ever knowing. I always wonder what goes on that we don’t know about… Is there some secret universe within our world that we just don’t get to know about?” 

“You know, given how many haunted doll movies exist, I’d prefer if that secret universe doesn’t consist of inanimate objects coming to life.” 

You laugh, feeling yourself relax. 

“Not a fan of Chucky?” 

“Not really. I don’t mess with demons or ghosts or whatever possesses them,” Jason admits. 

“Fair,” You nod then your mind follows a new train of thought. “I like that it started with something that was definitely a problem-- I mean, the guy’s house was about to be demolished-- but that problem becomes so small in comparison to all the crazy stuff that was about to happen.” 

“Right?” Jason nods along. “It makes you wonder about the big picture and how much of it we can’t see.” 

“There are so many possibilities in the universe,” You elaborate. “There are so many things out there that exist and we don’t even know about them. It makes you feel... small.” 

“Yeah… It really makes you think about what you see as a problem,” Jason looks over at the map of various wars. “I know I’m going after people that are evil and hurting others, but sometimes I wonder about the bigger picture, you know? Am I actually making a difference or am I just part of the problem?” 

You stare at the map for a long time, your eyes tracing where Dent retreated into Bane’s kingdom, mulling over Jason’s words. No one ever truly knows their impact. They hope they can understand it, but at the end of the day, individual lives are complex. Who knows if they are making a difference? 

For the first time, you see Jason’s true intentions with running the kingdom. He wants the best for others and his kingdom. He doesn’t go to war for the thrill of violence, he goes to war to protect his kingdom and to help others. Despite the stories, they aren’t showing a true version of Jason. He is ruthless because he wants to protect his people and he’s afraid he isn’t protecting his people. Jason is... caring. 

“I guess that’s what life is…” You say slowly. “We try to make a difference and hope we aren’t contributing to the problem. I don’t think we will ever know, but we’re trying our best…”

Jason nods along, still staring solemnly at the map. This is something that seems to haunt Jason, but it shouldn’t. He isn’t adding to the problem and you feel confident in that, but clearly, he is doubtful. Before his brain can further torture him, you smile and break the silence: 

 “Oh, and of course, 42.” 

Jason laughs, tossing his head back at your joke. You feel your face heating up with a blush and a small flicker of pride for making him laugh. 

“How could I forget?” He grins then glances down at the empty tray. “Thanks for eating lunch with me. I wasn’t sure you’d want to talk to me.” 

You shrug, avoid his gaze. Embarrassment burns on your face from that night.

“It wasn’t your fault,” You say, even though your nervousness did originate with Jason’s presence. He still did everything he could to help you relax. “You did your best, and you’re trying, so I think it’s time I gave the same effort. I want to make this work too,” You smile then stand and collect the tray. “I’ll see you later.” 

Once outside of Jason’s office, you smile softly to yourself. Maybe Jason isn’t so bad... 

. . . 

The next book he gives you is To Kill a Mockingbird. 

You shyly hang around the kitchen, wanting to talk to Jason about the book. While you know he would probably be more than willing to talk to you--he did give you the book-- something is holding you back. Finally, Alfred hands you a tray with a knowing smile. 

“I believe you have someone waiting for you.” 

You smile back and take the tray to Jason’s office. 

Like last time, Jason updates you on the war against Dent then the conversation turns to the book.

“That was just…” You shake your head. “Wow.” 

“Yeah,” Jason nods. “It’s intense.” 

“I can’t believe they actually convicted Tom Robinson,” You admit. “I was kind of hoping it was going to have a happy ending where they beat the odds but…” 

“But instead it’s a smack from reality,” Jason finishes. 

“It’s mind-boggling that people used to be like that,” You pause. “Okay, maybe not, it makes sense because racism still exists but to that extent? I mean, I’m sure it still unfortunately happens, but…” 

“It really makes you wonder about people.” 

“Yeah, it does. I actually really like reading about trials. Government is kind of… Stupid, but the judicial system is interesting.” 

“I agree that government is stupid. Too many damn politics.” 

“Good thing you’re running a kingdom,” You laugh. 

Jason sighs, shaking his head. 

“It’s so unnecessarily complicated. Yes, people are complicated in general and someone is always going to be unhappy and whatever, but I hate how much of this is based on who you know and how you know them and have you pissed them off recently.” 

“It’s a people-pleasing game.” 

“Yeah, and I hate it. Who cares if I pissed off some advisor for the Stark kingdom? It’s not my kingdom, it shouldn’t be my concern.” 

“Stark kingdom?” You ask. 

“Yeah, you know, the big flashy one out west?” Jason prompts. 

You hesitate, tempted to say that you knew exactly who Jason was talking about, but changed your mind and opted to be truthful. 

“No, I honestly have never heard of that kingdom… Or really, any of the other kingdoms you’ve mentioned.” 

“Really?” Jason asks. “But you were royalty, how did you not know about other kingdoms?” 

You shrug, shyly picking at a loose thread. 

“My mother had a very specific idea about how I should be raised. She basically raised me to be a wife,” You roll your eyes. “So I never got to know about politics in the kingdom, places outside the kingdom, how to fight, hell, it’s a miracle I can even read--” 

“Wait,” Jason interrupts. “Fighting? You don’t even know how to defend yourself?” 

“No, she just wanted me to be some helpless little princess and marry some strong rich prince,” You remark bitterly. 

Jason looks down at his desk for a moment, looking a little ashamed. Fuck, why did I run my mouth?

“I don’t mean you! I know it sounded like I did, but I promise I don’t--” 

He shrugs, waving you off. 

“I get it, that basically is what happened,” Jason admits. “But that’s bullshit. Some of the best fighters I have are women. I’m going to--” He paused, remembering how much of your life you lived against your will and rephrased himself. “Would you like to learn how to fight?” 

Your face lit up and Jason kicked himself for not offering earlier. Seeing you excited made his heart skip a beat. 

“Really?” 

“Of course,” Jason grins. “I want my wife to kick ass like the badass that she is.” 

. . . 

“Okay, so we’ll start with the basics,” Jason says, the two of you in the castle's extensive training room. “Do you know how to form a proper fist?” 

“Thumb not tucked it,” You say as you form a proper fist, one of the few pieces of information you managed to sneak from your kingdom’s general. 

“Exactly,” Jason agrees. “You’ll break your thumb if you try to tuck it. For standing, you want your dominant foot behind you, slight bend in your knees,” He demonstrates. “Your hands are up by your face, protecting you.” 

You copy his stance, protecting your face. 

“Good,” Jason praises. “This is your fighter’s guard. You always stay in this. When I say reset, you go back to your fighter’s guard. Whenever you are punching or kicking, there is always at least one hand protecting your face.”

You nod along, still holding your fighter’s guard and listening intently.  

“We’ll start with a simple jab. This punch doesn’t have a lot of power, but it’s fast and can catch your enemy off guard. Something important to know is that the power in your punches doesn’t come from your arm, it comes from your hips,” He does the punch slowly, emphasizing how his shoulders and hips move into the punch. “Why don’t you try it?” 

You punch the air, moving your shoulders and hips the same way Jason did. 

“Good, when you’re punching, don’t aim any higher than your shoulder height or you’re going to hurt yourself. Okay, so the next punch is one for power, it’s your cross,” He stands in his fighter’s guard then with his back arm, punches forward, twisting his body and pivoting his back foot. “See how I pivoted?” Jason asks, twisting his foot. “That’s where the power comes from because by pivoting, you’re twisting your hips and using your body weight as opposed to brute force. Try it.” 

You frown, trying to move your body like Jason’s, but you focus too much on the pivot that your shoulders don’t move. 

“Close, but remember to let your shoulders naturally move with your body so your torso is facing me.” 

You try again, but instead of focusing on your hips, you focus on your shoulders, causing your hips to remain stationary. 

“You’re thinking about them as two separate movements, but it’s all just one movement,” Jason steps behind you and puts his hands on your hips but feels you tense at the contact. “Is this… okay?” He asks, realizing he may have overstepped despite the fact that you two have had sex.

“No, it’s okay,” You say back, feeling tingles where he’s holding you.

“Okay, throw your cross,” As you turn your shoulders, Jason turns your hips, forcing your foot to pivot. 

“You feel that?” He mutters to you, shivers shooting down your spine at the feeling of his breath on the back of your neck. 

“Yeah,” You answer breathlessly. 

“Do it again.” 

You throw the punch again, his hands moving your hips again then  Jason moves out from behind you. You feel a little cold now that his presence behind you is gone. 

“Now do it when I’m not moving your hips.” 

You throw the cross again, your shoulders and hips moving perfectly. 

“Atta girl,” He grins. 

You can’t help but grin back. 

Jason knows you’re still not completely comfortable around him, but you’re trying. With each day, Jason can see your walls wearing down. He hopes one day you’ll fall in love with him because he thinks he may be falling for you.

. . . 

Jason walks into his office and notices a box sitting on his desk, which is odd since Alfred didn’t mention any deliveries. The packaging is plain, with no indicators of where it came from or who sent it. Jason frowns but opens the box. Inside are two books and a note: Beowulf and Grendel. 

I figured it was my turn to give you a book. Read Beowulf first then Grendel. It’s my favorite. 

Jason grins to himself, flipping open the first page of Beowulf.

. . .

You and Jason fall into a routine. Every other day, he teaches you to fight and about twice a week, you join him for lunch and discuss the latest book you sent each other. Now, you don’t hesitate to waltz into his office and have lunch with him. 

“You’re terrible!” You insist, bursting into Jason’s office with lunch. 

He looks up from the documents on his desk with a smirk. 

“So, you finished the book?” 

“‘So, you finished the book’,” You mock. “Yeah, I finished the book and it made me cry. It’s paper! It’s not allowed to do that!” 

Jason laughs, sitting back in his chair. 

“Which part?”

“Oh, I don’t know: When Ponyboy is reunited with Darry and Sodapop, when Johnny died, when Dally died, when Ponyboy almost died.” 

Jason nods along. 

“Yeah, it’s pretty brutal.” 

“But it was so good,” You grin, setting the tray down on Jason’s desk, but frown at his tied face. “You okay?” You ask. 

Jason waves you off. 

“I’ll be fine, I’m just tired.” 

You frown, rounding the desk. 

“You didn’t come to bed last night.” 

“Yeah,” Jason admits, scrubbing his face. “It was a long night. I didn’t want to wake you.” 

You feel your heart swell with affection and reach forward, running your fingers through Jason’s hair. He closes his eyes, leaning into the touch. Ever since Jason broke the invisible wall around you when it came to physical contact, you’ve started showing Jason more physical affection.

“What’s going on?” You ask. 

Jason sighs, forcing his eyes open. 

“Dent’s gone underground. We can’t find him or Bane. Rumors are flying around that they are trying to make a super-soldier army. Bane has dabbled in that in the past so the likelihood they can pull it off is alarmingly high.” 

“You’ll find him,” You reassure. “There’s only so many places he can hide.” 

“Yeah,” Jason nods in agreement. “It’s just frustrating. I hate not being able to do anything.” 

“You are doing something,” You insist, knowing how much he hates the politics surrounding his kingdom. “You’ll find Dent,” Your hand moves to rest on his cheek. 

He lifts his hand to cover yours, leaning into your touch. 

“Thank you,” He says softly, then the door opens, unannounced. 

A young man you haven’t seen before waltzed in followed closely by one of Jason’s advisors. 

“I apologize, sir,” The advisor begins. “I was unaware you had company.” 

“As I usually do during lunch,” Jason growls, standing up. 

You walk over to stand next to Jason. 

“And what lovely company you do have,” The man grins, shaking your hand then pressing a kiss to the top of it. “Billy Russo,” He introduces with a charming smile. 

“Y/N,” You smile, shyly taking your hand back from Billy. 

He winks at you. 

“Russo,” Jason greets tightly. “I see you’ve met my wife,” Jason wraps a protective arm around your waist, leveling Billy out with a deadly glare. 

“Wife?” Billy asks in surprise. “My apologies. I was unaware you were married.”

You notice Jason’s jaw is still clenched, so you lean against him, wrapping your own arm around his back and squeezing him lightly. He glares at Billy for a moment, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

Billy watches with interest, quirking an eyebrow then tucks his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels. 

"I was informed you have a proposition for me?” 

Jason sighs, turning to you. 

“Sorry to cut lunch short--”

“Nope, go run your kingdom,” You insist then lean up and kiss him on the cheek. 

Jason looks shocked for a moment, but grins and easily kisses your head fondly. 

“Rain check?” 

“Damn right,” You grin, then walk out of the room, leaving your husband to run his kingdom, your cheeks burning with excitement. Seeing him get a little jealous and protective when Billy came in? You liked that. 

. . . 

You stretch your arm across your chest, waiting for Jason to join you on the mats. This week, you’ve been working on kicks, your favorites being the roundhouses. They’re powerful, fast, and they make you feel badass. 

Living with Jason has been...nice. At first, you were angry, reluctant, and scared, but things have been getting better. Jason admitted that he’s never really dated before and now he’s married so it’s been one hell of a learning curve. 

Between your unofficial book club and fighting lessons, you’re learning a lot about your husband, mainly that he is a gigantic dork. More importantly, you’re learning that Jason is more than the stories you’ve heard about him-- he’s caring, patient, charming, and fiercely protective. He’s incredibly smart, stubborn, and snarky. Jason sees you as an individual, as his equal and treats you as such. You’re extremely grateful for him and the independence he has effortlessly given you. 

It feels weird to have a crush on your husband, but you can feel yourself falling hard. A smile stretches across your face as you think about the lovely flowers Jason left on the dresser for you this morning. While the kingdom has kept him busy and usually gone before you’re awake, Jason still finds ways to leave things for you. You do the same for him, usually through the form of a note on his desk, or bringing him lunch on days when he’s busy with meetings. 

Your marriage is odd and developing, but you’re both making it work. 

As you’re thinking about Jason, the door opens and your husband walks in, looking exhausted. You frown at his tired face. 

“Hey,” He greets through a yawn, stretching tall. 

“Hey,” You frown. “You okay?” 

Jason pauses, rubbing his eyes for a moment. 

“Yeah, I’m good. I’m just tired.” 

“Maybe we shouldn’t do our fighting lesson today,” You suggest. 

“No,” Jason shakes his head. “I’m okay, really.” 

“Jason, you look dead on your feet.” 

“I’m fine,” Jason snaps, causing you to recoil, but he sighs, collecting himself. “Sorry, I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.” 

You frown, taking a step closer, running your fingers through his hair. He leans into you, closing his eyes for a moment. 

“What’s going on?” You ask. 

Jason sighs again, his shoulders slumping.

“Dent’s armies wiped out two villages last night. There weren’t any survivors.” 

You feel your heartache for those families. While Jason was a fairly ruthless general, he always prioritized keeping innocent casualties to an absolute minimum. He’s protective of his people and innocent bystanders. 

“I’m sorry,” You whisper to him, knowing the frustration building up inside him. 

“Yeah, me too,” He admits. 

“You’re doing everything you can,” You insist. 

“But it’s not enough,” Jason’s jaw clenches. “So many people died because I’m not moving fast enough. We keep trying to play this defensive strategy game instead of just hitting him where it hurts.” 

“This isn’t all on you, Jason,” You cradle his face. “Unfortunately, it’s not just your choice and you’re doing what you can.” 

“But it should be!” Jason explodes, pulling away from you to angrily pace. “People’s lives are on the line. Who the hell cares about politics?!” 

You say nothing, letting him rant. 

“This shouldn’t be a people-pleasing game! We found Dent! So now, we need to take him down! We shouldn’t be waiting!” 

“So, why are you?” You ask.

Jason’s jaw clenches. 

“We’re working with the Russo kingdom now and they’re afraid Dent actually made super soldiers so their gathering intel before making a move.”  

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing…” You point out hesitantly. 

“It is when people who had absolutely nothing to do with this are getting slaughtered!” Jason snaps. “Nobody in either of those villages were associated with this kingdom or Russo’s. They didn’t leave any survivors, not even kids,” His voice went quiet. “Between those two villages, fifty-three kids died.” 

You step toward him, grabbing Jason’s hands. 

“Those deaths are not on you,” You tell him. “You’re doing what you can. I know it’s frustrating to watch people die when you have the power to do something, but Russo is right. If Dent and Bane are working together to make super soldiers, you have to know what you and your men are walking into so you don’t have more casualties.” 

Jason sighs, looking down and playing with your fingers. He’s frustrated and feels helpless. People are dying and Jason has the resources and ability to stop it, but instead, he is restricted by politics. You know nothing you say to him will truly help, but you offer support anyways.

“I know…” He finally admits. “I know Russo is right… It’s just… Frustrating.” 

“I know it is,” You frown, pulling Jason into a hug. 

He slumps into you, pulling you close, his head on your shoulder. 

“You need to sleep, Jase.” 

“I did sleep.” 

“You didn’t get an actual good night’s sleep,” You pull away from him, forcing him to look at you. “It’s the third time this week you didn’t come to bed.” 

“There’s just...” He sighs. “A lot going on.” 

“I understand that, but you need to take care of yourself,” You cup his face with one hand, pushing a few loose strands of hair off his face. 

Jason smiles softly at you, placing his hand on top of yours. 

“How did I get lucky enough to have you as my wife?” 

You grin and shrug. 

“Looks like the odds were in your favor.”

Jason rolls his eyes but smiles and pulls you into another hug, kissing the top of your head. 

"Come on,” You say, pulling him away from the hug and toward the door. “We’re going to go take a nap.” 

“We?” Jason asks, looking a little hopeful. 

“How else am I supposed to make sure you actually sleep?” You tease, excitement building in your stomach. 

Jason grins then you two head to your bedroom and change into something comfortable. You climb into bed, then face Jason and hesitantly open your arms to him, hoping you’re not overstepping. Jason smiles then climbs into bed with you, laying against your chest. You run your fingers through his hair and down his back, feeling him relax under your touch. 

“Thank you,” Jason mutters, tightening his arms around you. 

“Of course,” You murmur back, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. 

. . . 

Jason lunges forward but you catch his arm, bend your knees and force him to roll over your shoulder, letting gravity do the work. He hits the ground with a hard ‘oof’ and you jump on him instantly, trapping his arms under your feet. 

“That was good,” He praises. 

You shrug with a sheepish grin. 

“I have a pretty good teacher.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Jason raises his eyebrows. “Well, he can’t be that good.” 

You furrow your eyebrows. 

“What?” 

Then before you can react, Jason is hooking his arms under your legs and quickly flipping you to the ground, pinning you to the floor. 

“Because he clearly hasn’t taught you the importance of keeping your guard up,” He mutters, his chest pressed against yours. 

“Well, I guess I was a little distracted,” You respond, breathlessly, looking at Jason with a coy grin. 

When you first saw Jason, you registered him as attractive, but fear kept you from appreciating how handsome he is. Now, as you stare up at your husband, dark hair, blue eyes, flushed cheeks, and muscular shoulders, you know he’s hot. 

“Distracted you say?” Jason hums. “We can’t have that, now can we?” He asks, his eyes flickering to your lips. 

You stare at him for a moment, your chests heaving as you both catch your breath. His eyes flicker down again and he slowly begins leaning down, giving you time to pull away from him. 

Instead, you surge up, tangling one hand in his hair, pulling him down to you and connect your lips. You haven’t kissed him since you had sex with him. You were nervous and apprehensive, but now? You trust Jason completely, even with his body weight pinning you to the ground. He would never intentionally hurt you and cares deeply for you. 

You weren’t ready the first time, but now, you have never felt more confident in your life. 

Jason melts into the kiss, bracing his arms on either side of your head. Your free hand grips his shirt, pulling him even closer to you, but Jason pulls away and sits up, dragging you into his lap. 

You kiss him again, cradling his face in your hands while his hands trace up your sides. You open your mouth into the kiss, allowing Jason to slip his tongue inside, his hands running under your shirt. Breaking away, you toss your shirt over your head with a giggle while he does the same then pulls you in for another kiss. 

“God, you’re gorgeous,” He breathes, his thumbs stroking your sides. 

You blush at the compliment, running your hands down his strong arms. Jason leans in again, kissing you slowly and dragging your hips against his. You grin into the kiss, pushing your hips down equally as hard. 

Jason breaks away again. 

“You sure about this?” He asks breathlessly. 

A few months ago, you would’ve been fearful of Jason hurting you, but you know the man in front of you would never lay a hand on you and will protect you at all costs. He’s stubborn and a bit of an ass sometimes, but he’s also loving and passionate. You feel your heart swell with affection for the man in front of you-- your husband. 

“I love you,” You say simply. 

Jason’s face goes blank with shock. 

“What did you say?” He whispers. 

“I love you,” You repeat without an ounce of hesitation. 

Jason stares at you for a long moment, then surges forward, kissing you deeply. One of his hands tangles in your hair, pulling you closer to him while the other wraps around your waist, your body flush against his.

“I never thought I would hear you say that,” He admits, pressing his forehead to yours. “I never thought I would hear anyone say that to me.” 

You grin, cradling his face with your hands. 

“I’m in love with you, Jason,” You repeat. 

Jason pushes your back to the ground, kissing you again. Your legs wrap around his waist as he conveys as much passion into the kiss as possible before finally breaking away and resting his forehead against yours. 

“I’m in love with you too, Y/N,” He grins. 

You pull him down for a soft kiss then Jason starts trailing kisses down your neck. You tilt your head back and impatiently pull on his shorts. 

“Are we really about to do this here?” He chuckles into your neck. 

“Hell yeah,” You grin. 

Jason grins back and kisses you again, helping you pull your sports bra over your head. 

. . . 

One round of sex eventually turned to two then three then you finally made your way upstairs only to have sex again in bed. You trace your fingers across Jason’s chest as he cards his fingers through your hair. 

The first time you had sex, it was painful and scary. You felt pressured by the kingdom and were still scared of Jason, but the second time? Well, you don’t ride horses, but damn you love to ride your husband. 

Jason wraps his arm around you and presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“So, what next Mrs. Todd?” He asks. 

“Hm… I’m kind of hungry,” You admit. 

“Yeah?” Jason asks. “Me too. Sandwiches?” He offers. 

“Yeah,” You nod. “But not the cucumber ones Alfred makes. I want a ham sandwich.” 

“I’m sure we can arrange that,” Jason agrees. 

You toss back the covers and pull on a pair of shorts then steal one of Jason’s shirts. He grins at the sight of you in his shirt and pulls on a pair of sweatpants before walking over to you. 

“I like when you wear my clothes,” He whispers, pulling you in for another long kiss and slipping his hands under the shirt.  

You grin into the kiss then Jason tosses you over his shoulder. 

“Jason!” You exclaim. 

“Yeah, doll?” He asks, opening the door. 

“What are you doing?!” 

“You said you wanted a sandwich!” He starts walking down the hall. “So we’re going to the kitchen.” 

“Put me down!” You demand through laughs. 

“No can do, sweetheart.” 

You two were going to be just fine.

Thank you for reading and for everyone who left a reply! If you have any requests, let me know and I’ll see what I can do! Until then, catch me writing random inspiration that comes to mind! 

Part 3

[scarfdyedshadow]

On the Decline of Mage Characterization in Ancillary Type-Moon Works (or On Magi Getting Flanderized Into One-Dimensional Evil Arrogant Sods) Part 1: The Matter of Magi Themselves

Yes, I am dumb enough and obsessed enough to basically write an entire essay on this. Yes, the title is pretentious as all hell.

A disclaimer before we start though, this is not directed at or meant to condemn or call out or mock or invalidate the many a Tumblr shitpost on evil arrogant magi getting owned by Guda or various other characters. It may not be humor personally up my alley, but I understand the appeal, and it’s not like there isn’t some grain of truth to them. Likewise this isn’t meant to in any way condone anything Nasuverse magi. A fair amount of them are evil regardless of mitigating circumstances, a lot of the ones that aren’t outright evil have capacity to be evil because of ethos and mindset, and the acts they commit are certainly evil. I am not condoning them, or dismissing them as not evil. I simply urge a more nuanced rather than simplistic analysis of that evil. This also unfortunately omits Mahoyo, which probably has quite a bit of insight, because I haven’t gotten around to reading it yet, thus rendering me a fake fan you should not listen to. Thank you for your consideration. Also, spoilers.

This first part is primarily concerned with the inhumanity of magi and misconceptions about magi and their ethos as a whole, while the next part will actually go into the history of magus villains in Type-Moon works and what I feel is their decline, and build upon and further points of this part. There may be a potential third part on the Crypters, Gordolf, and Olga, the modern faces of Nasuverse magi and the greatest illustration that magi are far more nuanced, complex, pitiful and yet admirable, than they aren’t, and Nasu’s thesis statement on the power of love and life.

(Note: Okay my theme is actually pretty eyesearing to the point I recommend you read this on dash, I’ll go get it fixed)

"Do you know what it is that magi are aiming for?"

After a moment of blankness, Gray replied with a difficult expression.

"Umm...I heard about it in class. What was it...the Spiral of Origin?"

"Right. The Spiral of Origin, or more simply the Root. Sometimes it's referred to as「 」, the thing for which there can be no reference. It is the source of everything, the 'zero' from which all matter and phenomena flow. Ah, but now that I'm trying to put it into words, I'm realizing that's not a good idea. After all, even the idea of 'zero' has baggage that makes it unsuitable as a comparison."

"Regardless, the goal of magi is to eventually reach that place. Of course, there are also those who simply derive pleasure from touching the supernatural, or from being superhuman. Because we are weak, we fall to that diversion. But in the end, that's not our ultimate goal."

For modern magi, most understood that reaching the root was something that just wasn't possible for them. After all, even though magecraft itself had been in a state of continuing decline since the Age of Gods, there were no reports of anyone facing that past and trying to return to it. Likely, the appearance in the Far East of the fifth - and often called the last - Magician was the same as the gate to the Root being all but closed to everyone else.

Even so, we didn't give up.

Anyone who would give up in a situation like this would never have become a magus to begin with.

Ironically enough, despite opening up with a quote from Lord El-Melloi II Case Files, which I’ll have some critique for, the crux of my thesis is this. As originally presented in Kara no Kyoukai, and generally only kept up to a meaningful degree in other Nasu written works like Stay Night, Clock Tower 2015, and Grand Order, magi were the piteous, tragic, inhuman not as in inhumane but as in a broken machine product of an impossible ideal and a broken system. They were the villains, yes, unambiguously so, but at the same time they were sympathetic and nuanced to an extent that would decline down the road.

You see, Araya. A mage always lives hurriedly. What for? If it was for themselves alone they wouldn't bother with the outside world. So why do they intrude upon the rest of the world? Why do they rely upon it? What will they achieve with that power? What will they save with the Ars Magna (Ars Magna: Meaning 'great secret technique', it stands not for a technique that is not learnt through study but for a mystery that is secretly passed down)? If that was the case it would have been better for them to become a king instead of a mage.

You think people live foully, but you yourself would not be able to live like that. You would not be able to live while accepting the fact that you know that everything is worthless and base. You would not be able to live without the pride of knowing that you alone are special, and that you alone can save this crumbling world. Of course, I was like that too. But that sort of thing has no meaning. --- Accept it, Araya. We chose the path of transcendence called magecraft because we are weaker than everybody else.

Magi were presented as absurd, as farcical, as maddeningly helpless and hopeless compared to those living normal lives. This will come up in Part 2, especially as pertains to Touko and Gordolf and the like, but normal everyday life, not superior thematic superpowers or an army of Servants, is what is truly far more powerful than any magi.

"... I'll just ask one thing. What do you mean when you say that secrets are kept even within that Association?"

Unexpectedly, I hear something from the sofa.

Over there is Shiki, who has been sitting there since before without a word. She's the type of person who doesn't get involved in a conversation that she's not interested in, so until now she had been staring at the scenery outside the window.

"--- There is that. A mage won't reveal the results of his experiments even within the Association. What the person next to them is researching, what their goals are, and what they have obtained are all a mystery. The only time a mage will reveal the results of their work is when they are passing it on to their descendants just before they die."

"Studying for their benefit alone, yet not using that power for their own sake? What purpose is there in a life like that, Touko? Is it that the goal is to learn, and the process is to learn too? If the only things you have are the beginning and the end, that's the same as having a zero."

Their pursuit for the truth is maddening. It is greedy yet at once devoid of greed. It is selfish yet at once devoid of selfishness. Their ethos and methodology are not fundamentally inhumane, but inhuman. Magi are an odd sort of creature indeed, and it isn’t the case that they’re all evil in their absurd quest. Indeed, virtually all early Nasuverse ancillary material, and this is still said today despite the opposite being true in practice, is that the vast majority of magi are shut ins who stay inside researching as opposed to eating babies.

The everyday life of a magus is mostly spent conducting research. Magi who use magic outside of a research capacity, such as those who use magi to work and profit for themselves, are few in number. People who treat magic as a tool, such as assassins, are called “spellcasters”, and are looked down upon with disdain by the magical establishment.

Furthermore, it is precisely because they are magi that few magi use magic in their daily lives.

Practically speaking, for every mage you see committing mass murder or fighting the mass murdering mage with superpowers, there are ten who we certainly can’t call conventionally moral, who we certainly can’t call normal humans, obsessively striving towards a seemingly impossible goal inhumanly but not inhumanely. Because Type-Moon does action series this has never been tenable to properly depict besides the minority, but it is the truth regardless. This is from a later work I actually have some measure of criticism for, but Strange Fake actually illustrates that point perfectly.

"A mage's mage," he muttered disgustedly to himself, eyes narrowed, "is no different from a hard-working corrupt politician." What about me? He wondered as soon as the words were out of his mouth. As long as corruption stayed hidden, it was difficult for the public to tell the difference between a corrupt politician and an honest one. In which case, mages, who never entered the public eye to begin with, probably ought to be lumped in with them. There were exceptions, but from the standpoint of the general public, mages were generally evil.

Other Nasu written works like Stay Night and Clock Tower 2015 also touch upon it.

Magic is just what it sounds like… magic. I don't care if you get ideas like abracadabra or whatever. You can just think of us as people who do strange things by casting spells. Oh, though it's not like we fly around on brooms or make stars appear with a wave of a wand. …Well, we could do that, but we don't bother as it's kind of meaningless. We're basically heretics who hide ourselves from the world. We're prohibited from standing out and even if we weren't, we would rather be at home studying magic.

Clock Tower 2015 especially hits it up by depicting what might be called the ideal magus, the point of being a magus that is often distorted by human concerns but that all of them are to some extent, not an inhumane monster but an inhuman man who has dedicated his life to magecraft.

"Ahhh, the life of a magus is so brief. It would have been great if I were born with just the brain and nothing else." Like what you just saw, Leiv was a pure academic magus. All his efforts were poured solely into his theory and magecraft. He cared naught of any other responsibilities, the application of his magecraft, his lineage, or building his faction. From Leiv's perspective, those magi were the same as the plebians that were "normal people". If one were to decipher the mystical, then he must sacrifice his humanity. A magus was a creature with nothing but magecraft on his mind. There was no room for burdens such as "life".

So to begin with, what we call magi are far from all arrogant murderous sods, and if anything arrogant murderous sods are the minority. They come in all manner of varieties, united simply by the pursuit of the impossible, by the desire to reach the truth, by the desire to transcend. Even more so than just that, they do have their values and ethics. They are often cruelly distorted, to the extent “magi parents” is a phrase that might as well be an oxymoron, but I would opine that as a product more of recent years than anything.

"Keep those for me. They are some awful cigarettes from Taiwan but I only have those now. Of course there isn't any company that made them, it's a famous item that some eccentric master made only one box of. Yeah, out of all my possessions that is the second most valuable thing I have." Leaving behind some strange words, she turned around and walked out. ... Perhaps her most valuable possession is herself, that kind of thought popped into my mind so I asked her, but she only turned back her head and answered. "That's rather rude. I know it's me but even I don't treat people like possessions." Like herself when she has her glasses on, she pouts as if she's sulking. And then, returning to her usual cool expression Touko-san continued talking. "Kokuto. Those people called mages, with an apprentice or other people they are close to they feel like parents. Since they are something like their offspring, they often fight desperately to protect them as well. ... Well, it's like that so relax and wait here. I'll bring Shiki back tonight." Thock thock, the sound of her walking away. Unable to say anything to her back, I let the brown-coated magician go.

That magi value their children, their apprentices, their legacies, even if only as a next step on the path to the Root, is also a truth echoed at the same time that it’s often contradicted. But then, magi are in of themselves contradictory creatures. After all, despite pursuing an inhuman ideal, despite throwing away their humanity, they themselves are still human. That contradiction between reality and ideals, best exemplified by Fate/Stay Night, is one of the themes at the heart of Nasu’s work.

So, to repeat it once more, magi as a whole, magi society as a whole, is not fundamentally inhumane but inhuman. That inhumanity often lends itself to the inhumane, but not necessarily, and indeed I opine that should be considered on a deeper level. That inhuman society is by no means a good thing, but to simply call it evil and magi evil and call it a day is to do a disservice to its nuance. There are arrogant murderous magi as well, sure, but they too are products of a tenacious ideal, they are the long shadow cast by lineages stretching for thousands of years.

In reality, what really forged the magus of the modern day was not a supernatural power or transcendent conscience, but a tenacity built and reinforced over generations. Clinging to a shadowed, intense ideology for hundreds, or in some cases even thousands of years, developed its own sort of extreme power. Even if science were to exceed magecraft in all other respects, as long as that ideal survived, magecraft itself would be ineradicable.

But what then of Souren Araya? What of that bastard Zouken and worst dad of the year Tokiomi and that arrogant asshole Kayneth? Rest well assured that I will cover them in exacting detail in the next part of whatever the hell this is, and everything I say about them will build upon this. That may seem contradictory, since this part is mostly devoted to showing that magi are far more than just evil sods, but believe it or not Kayneth is going to be mightily relevant to how pitifully weak magi in truth are, and Tokiomi is going to be relevant to how magi value their children in ways that don’t have to be inhumane, but can be inhuman. Until next time, all I can ask is to consider that while magi are indeed monsters, monsters really can be quite interesting creatures.

Things in this world were all like that.

It wasn’t limited to magecraft. It wasn’t limited to those beyond humans (monsters). In a world of common sense (the obvious), it was something everyone understood.

If you said that misunderstandings, miscommunications, disagreements, and false understandings are what connected them, then...

“We are misrecognition. Our world itself is misunderstanding. We can experience a multitude of truths, not just one single reality. No matter how wise you are, or how much time you are given, you will never reach something like a single truth. Magi may just be those who continually reject that fact.”

Speaking as if in self-deprecation, my master had pursed his lips at that.

He had finally realized that his words and the objective that all Magi pursued, known as the “Spiral of Origin,” were in contradiction.

Sources: Lord El-Melloi Case Files (TL by TwilightsCall), Kara no Kyoukai (TL on baka-tsuki), Fate/Stay Night (TL Mirror Moon), Clock Tower 2015 (TL by food), Fate/Strange Fake (TL by OtherSideOfSky)

[kim-bobbae]

12. “Take my jacket, it’s cold outside.”

Where you’re a dancer/choreographer cum YouTuber pulling the ‘I want a baby now’ hidden camera prank on him, inspired by some of the Korean couple YouTube channels that I’ve watched where the boyfriend goes ‘wtf’ most of the time hahaha. Hope y’all enjoy it! :-)

“For the first verse, why don’t we have Jay and Ji Eun do a little duet choreography?” Wassup suggested much to everyone else’s agreement.

“That’ll work,” Honey J nodded. “The next verse would look fuller with a group choreography, so the first verse would be the best fit.” 

 You took a quick glance at Jay through the reflection in the mirror who simply shrugged in response, face void of any expression whatsoever and upon seeing that he wasn’t responding, the rest of them turned their attention towards you to which you nervously cleared your throat, “Sure, let’s go with that.” 

You were at the AOMG dance studio with Jay’s dancers from Alter Ego and Holy Bang for a practice session in preparation for the upcoming filming of his ‘All the Way Up’ music video. The excitement of finally collaborating with Jay after years of dating sure as hell got you feeling excited all week…if it weren’t for the little argument that you guys had gotten into this morning due to a hidden camera prank gone wrong which had him leaving the house without you. 

“A baby? All of sudden? Where is this even coming from?” He asked, utterly confused. 

There he was on the couch replying to some emails when you had simply gone up to him and said ‘let’s have a baby’ out of literally nowhere which had him absolutely dumbfounded, to say the least. 

“Well we’ve been dating for a few years, and I’m not getting any younger,” You started. “We’re in our freaking 30s…!” 

“So…?” He asked, furrowing his brows at you as he put his laptop aside and tapped on his lap, signaling for you to come over. 

“I love you enough to want to have a family with you, and I don’t want to get pregnant when I’m 40,” You explained, your acting skills put to the test as you tried your hardest to hold back a laughter watching how serious he had gotten. 

“Babe…didn’t we agree on getting married first before thinking about starting a family?” 

“But that’s what you’ve been saying for the past two years, and…” You said, successfully pulling off a sulk as you raised your left hand in front of his face, pointing to your ring finger. “I ain’t got no ring on it.” 

“Okay hold up,” He said, hands on your lap. “So it’s about marriage now? What on earth are you trying to get at?” 

“I just want to have a baby with you.” 

“…what?” 

He was gawking at you by now, bewildered by your sudden marriage-and-baby talk. Of course, the both of you had spoken about this before where he had made it clear that he had every intention of marrying you – just not now. From his two labels to his several businesses, he just had too much on his plate to think about settling down. He didn’t want to get married nor start a family without being able to fully commit his time to you as he felt that it just wouldn’t be fair to you and you knew that – he had made sure you did. 

While how seriously he was taking this conversation did have you feeling a little flustered, the all too familiar beep that penetrated the momentary silence only made things worse as your entire body tensed up in panic, Jay shooting his head up as his eyes scanned the room. Having helped you with the filming of some of your YouTube content, he knew exactly what that beep meant – it was your camera running out of battery. 

His face hardened as he spotted the red blinking light from your camera that you had hid behind stacks of magazines in the dark corner of a shelf across the room and he shifted in his seat, gesturing for you to get off his lap before he walked over to retrieve it. 

“What’s going on?” He asked, looking at the camera in his hand and then back at you. He was not amused and you definitely weren’t expecting things to pan out this way. 

“It was a hidden camera prank,” You explained with a sheepish smile. 

“You got to be kidding me.” 

“It was the most highly requested video for the longest time!” You said, trying to defend yourself. 

On top of the choreographies that made up the bulk of your YouTube content, you tended to vlog from time to time, showing little snippets of your daily life varying from simply hanging out with your friends or the creative process for the collaborations that you did with other artists. However, ever since your relationship with Jay had gone public last year, the majority of your new subscribers have been his fans with many leaving comments on your videos requesting for you to include more of Jay in your videos. 

It started off simple with you filming some of your dates and backstage moments with his artists but every now and then, you’d respond to some of their hidden camera prank suggestions to which Jay had reacted to very sportingly. After all, it was entertaining for everyone and more than anything, he was glad that you and his fans were starting to get along despite the initial backlash that you received when news of your relationship first broke out. 

“There is a time and place for everything and the conversation we had really isn’t something meant for anyone else to listen to,” He stated. 

Yes, he was a fairly private person, especially when it came to his relationship with you. He had always made it a point to ensure that his appearances on your videos were never too intrusive, too. 

“What were you expecting to get out of this? If I had gone along with it we’d be filming porn by now,” He said, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “You really had to interrupt me while I was working for this? C’mon…” 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t kno- I mean, I didn’t mean it and- …I’m sorry,” You whispered. 

For a while he simply stared at you, at a loss for words before he let out a sigh of resignation, “I need to cool off. Call Dukhwa if you need a ride to the office later.” 

Without any opportunity to iron things out with Jay prior to the dance practice as he kept himself busy in his office right up to the minute prior (you weren’t going to risk aggravating things by knocking on his door and interrupting his work again after all), you were left without a choice but to attend practice putting on a professional front, the both of you trying your best to put the incident behind as you guys worked on the duet choreography together. 

“What do you think of simplifying the shuffle to a side step? I think it’ll look cleaner,” You said. 

“Yeah okay.” 

“Should we do a wave for this part?”

“Yeah, whatever you want.” 

Despite most of the practice progressing rather smoothly, the awkward air between the two of you did get a little obvious with how stiff you guys were at any physical contact. His chic responses in comparison to how he’d enthusiastically contribute ideas when he was speaking with the rest of the dancers was also a dead giveaway. Nevertheless, you powered through the five-hour practice and you couldn’t be more relieved the moment it ended, although it didn’t last for long as everyone packed up quickly and shot each other knowing glances to leave the studio to give you and Jay some time alone. 

The silence was thick as you packed up your belongings, Jay sitting with his back against the mirror while he watched you in silence.

“About this afternoon,” You finally spoke, picking up your bag before turning around to look at him. “I’m really sorry. I just want you to know that I would’ve made sure you knew about the footage after I was done filming, and that I’d only use it if you were comfortable sharing it with the public.” 

“It’s not that I’ll be uncomfortable with it,” He explained. “It’s just that the internet would have a whole bunch of opinions about our relationship, marriage and family planning.” 

You nodded, your gaze falling to look at his feet instead. 

“As for me, I don’t really care about what they’ll have to say and you know that. I’m just worried that you’ll be affected and the last thing I want is for all the success that you’ve built from your dancing and career to be overshadowed by something as silly as this.” 

He then stood up, taking your bag off your shoulders and setting it on the floor before he murmured a soft ‘come here’, pulling you in for a hug and kissing the side of your face. 

“I’m sorry,” You told him, relaxing into his touches. 

You were just glad to have gotten the tension out of the way after working around it for the whole day. Fights with Jay weren’t common and you were just not used to him being angry or upset despite how long you guys have been together. He was never too proud to apologize nor forgive and if you had to choose one thing you loved most about him, that’d be it. 

“I’ll put a ring on it and have babies with you,” He chuckled. “Just be a bit more patient, I’m working on it I swear.” 

“I know,” You laughed, then buried your face in his chest in embarrassment. 

He pulled back just enough to look at you, cupping your cheek with one hand while the other maintained its hold around your waist, “Heading home?” 

“Yeah, you?” 

“I’m meeting Pumpkin in a bit for a meeting. I’ll see you at home after, and we can think of something else to film for your video this week.” 

You smiled, giving him a peck on his lips before you wriggled out of his grip. “I shouldn’t hold you up any longer then.” 

“Shall I get someone to drive you home?” 

“No it’s fine, don’t worry about me,” You said, picking up your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. 

“Well then,” He said, grabbing his jacket from the bench and handing it to you. “Take my jacket, it’s cold outside.” 

“What about you?” 

“I have another one in my office,” He said with a smile, then waved you off.

“Alright,” You giggled. “I’ll see you later then, don’t keep me waiting too long.”

[theangryjikooker]

Hi!

I'm the Anon who asked if I needed to be army to be a jikooker. Thank you, I liked the way you answered by not being toxic. I don't consider myself an army because I don't contribute into BTS stuff like many do. Also, army sometimes scare me. So without the label I feel more comfortable.

Alright so to your questions towards the end, I knew BTS but never explored them. Bwl was on my playlist because of Halsey, I never cared to know their names. But then purple hair JK started dancing on my Instagram reels, I wanted to discover them. I tried but still couldn't connect with them. A compilation video of BTS skinship popped up. Hobi kissing JK neck, pink hair JM kissing JK neck, rest I don't remember. So I wanted to watch on what context they were all kissing each other 😂😂

Saw few interviews, episodes from run/bon voyage/its/etc. This is how I learned about almost everything in BTS. Started loving JM JK flirty interactions, saw jikook analysis and anti analysis videos and the comedy compilation also. I say I don't have a bias but I can't neglect jimins charms anymore.

Anyway the point is BTS music is groovy, I like it. Jikook, I like the idea/theory of their love story that circulates in the fandom. I look forward to jikook vlives and ot7 vlives (because jikook will be there). Rest members I don't really look forward to but have no hate for them. They exist so BTS exist and so jikook exist in here. Respect to all of them. It's like I love my Mom but that doesn't mean I don't like my aunt/grandmother/sister/dad(?).

Don't know if I am making sense but I believe, to be an Army you need to explore all members even though you have bias? I don't and I can't put the efforts because of my laziness. I consider myself just a fan of BTS and not army.

Hi, anon, thank you for following up! ╰(*°▽°*)╯

I hope you haven't been getting criticized liking Jikook but not being an ARMY, that's pretty shitty of people to say that. I get where you stand, too: I really have a hard time connecting with other K-pop bands, but a member or two might stand out to me, and I end up keeping some kind of track of them (but lazily and inconsistently). No shipping, though, I'm stopping it at Jikook. 😂

LMFAO @ the comparison with the love for your mom but not your extended relatives. But yeah, I get what you mean. Not being interested in the other members doesn't mean anything more than not being interested in them, and that's fair. I appreciate you coming back and letting me (and anyone else reading this) know that shippers aren't cut from the same cloth. I would argue that non-ARMY shippers have more interesting things to say because they're technically "outsiders," and it can be further evidence that Jikook might have a little something-something going on, or at the very least have enough sparkling chemistry that can attract viewers even outside of ARMY. I find that cool.

I think the belief amongst ARMY (and I would assume other fanbases of other K-pop acts) is that to be an ARMY, you have to respect all the boys. That is first and foremost what ARMY prioritizes. Some ARMY even frown on shipping and think the practice itself is disrespectful, but to each their own. Liking a group's music is part and parcel of what it means to be a part of their fanbase, but no one is stopping you (nor should they) from looking into members that you're intrigued by. You're not claiming to be an ARMY, so that shouldn't be offensive to anyone (it shouldn't be offensive to anyone, but I can only speak for myself).

If you ever have any other thoughts on Jikook jikooking, you're always welcome to share them here! 💜

[doctors-star]

cowboys? cowboy content?? our sweet sweet traumatised cowfolks? pray tell what you have dreamt up for them

yeehaw

She sits very still and perspires gently, hands folded neatly in her lap. The clock ticks methodically on the mantelpiece, polished to a houseproud shine and sitting alone on a doily like a butte in the desert; in the visions she and her brother had shared, there had been more indulgences in her home than just the one brass carriage clock, the good kid gloves and the polished Windsor chairs, but that could all wait. Her husband, she had found, was not the type of man to make a great many purchases, and whilst he is unwell she can hardly go about spending money on anything but food and medicine for her poor darling.

There is a cough in the other room, harsh and bloody, and she shifts slightly on her chair. There will be time for that later, anyhow.

For now, she is restricted to sitting here in the front room with her knees together and hair neatly pinned away at the base of her skull as she waits in the oppressive, dusty heat. The wind is blowing from the southwest, carrying desert sands up with it towards the prairie, so there’s no chance of opening a window today to shift the air; in between the resolute, monotonous ticking, she can hear sand tapping at the glass and at the boards like a thousand ghostly fingertips, scratching to get in. But her house is one of neatness and cleanliness and pristine, precise pride, so there shall be no entrance for any ghosts or spirits here.

Noelle salts and burns her choices, careful lest they rise. Danser Town will be no different.

The door behind her opens with cautious, quiet motions - she has become used to the sound over the long weeks of her husband’s terrible illness as she sweeps from room to room without disrupting the patient. She turns and stands in one quick, nervous motion, but she has been sat still too long: it is less pretence than she would like that she sways dizzily, vision spotting for a moment. There is a careful hand under her elbow, but no more, and when she leans into it a little another hand catches her other shoulder to hold her steadily at arm’s length. Noelle recovers herself, eyelashes fluttering, and reaches up a hand to fan at her face. “My, this heat! I do apologise.”

“Indeed,” Williams says tightly, hands lingering about her arms disinterestedly to ensure she keeps her feet. “Will you sit? Or may I fetch you some water?”

“Please,” she says, gesturing through to the kitchen. Williams, politely, waits for her to enter first, to seat herself at the table in one of the good Windsor chairs, to direct him in the pouring of a glass of sharp, flavourful lemonade. He declines to take one himself. “But you must tell me,” she says, sipping her cool drink and watching him through her lashes, “how does my dear Tobias?”

Williams shifts his weight, resting his hands on the back of the seat he also declined to take. “Ma’am, you know I am not a doctor,” he prefaces carefully.

She does know. She would not have let this man cross her threshold otherwise.

He drums his fingers on the wooden hoop and she braces to respond to bad news. “Your husband is getting worse,” he says firmly, eyes fixed on his own hands, “and there is nothing I can do - ah, nothing I can give him that will make him better.”

Her little gasp echoes in the quiet. Noelle pats at her cheeks with a handkerchief; Williams, politely, looks away. “Is there really nothing you can do?” she presses, playing the dutiful, caring wife almost by rote, now. “You are sure - there is no medicine, no-”

Williams’ gaze snaps to her. It is not so much the spitting fury in his glare that makes her recoil, fingers floating defensively to her sternum, as surprise at it coming from this corner. Will Williams has always been small and polite and harmless, prone to tipping his hat politely at people, and listening to old folks gripe about aches and pains, and crouching on rocks in the river for hours to look at plants and fish and things nobody else cares for. She sees him most often swept up in the dust cloud which follows Holden, Morin and McPherson as they roll all unruly about the town, and maybe it’s only in comparison to them that Williams looks so deeply unthreatening - but the man lets little children push him around, so. She does not think it unreasonable that she had not expected his ire.

“I can advise him to take some morphine for the pain,” Williams says, very slow and measured in a voice like banked coals, “and to watch what he eats and drinks. More than that, for either of you, I will not do.”

Noelle feels abruptly very cold. There is no sound but the distant ticking, an occasional violent cough from the back room, and the sand tapping at the glass like so many revenant ghosts.

Dying does not make a universal sound for all folks. You can’t listen out for it, no matter what some preachers might say; ain’t no choirs of angels, no whispering ghosts, no knocking at your chamber door. People die in so many ways, see, and it takes them all different. Sometimes death sounds like gunshots and screaming, sometimes like long, drawn-out silence and rattling, bloody coughs.

And sometimes, death sounds like watch what he eats and drinks. More than that I will not do.

Noelle sits frozen, her fate hanging from threads in this strange, nervous man’s thin fingers. Williams glances at the window, and sighs deeply. He steps around and folds himself into the chair, looking much smaller now he no longer looms over her like some great spindly crow. “Tommy reckoned I never should have come out to attend Mr Lloyd,” he says conversationally, turning in his seat to pour himself a glass of lemonade which he places on the table but does not drink. “He doesn’t like your husband awful much. Some daughter of a friend of an aunt, or something, used to char here before you married, fixing meals and scrubbing the boards and such. Mr Lloyd, he - well. I understand that her sweetheart was the doting type, see, so it shook out in the end, only they had to get her out to his place in the city awful fast and they married in an embarrassing hurry. People’ll always whisper that that baby doesn’t look like his pa, though.” Will pushes his glasses up his nose and leans back in his chair to fold his arms and watch her carefully, trying to work out if she had known that. If that, or something like it, was what excused the little labelless bottle behind the tin of tea. Noelle schools her features and attempts to look more unsurprised than she is. She would have expected something poor of Tobias, but nothing quite like this. She had known no specifics. Williams raises an eyebrow briefly at whatever he finds in her face. “Tommy only let me come see Mr Lloyd because I said I’d look in on you and make sure he wasn’t knocking you about any.”

Noelle raises an eyebrow in challenge, sipping her drink. “Do you worry about that, Mr Williams?”

He doesn’t cower or dodge her gaze, which she doesn’t quite expect. “I worry about plenty, Mrs Lloyd,” he says calmly, “but I don’t worry so much about you getting into a situation you couldn’t get out of on your own. Incidentally, Tommy’s gonna swing by and pick me up in-” he leans the chair back on two legs to peer at the carriage clock in the other room “-well, any time from now, since he’s late.”

Noelle hides a smirk in her lemonade. She must admit to quite liking this side of the town’s nervous naturalist; Holden would likely skin poor Williams if he knew what Will knew, and what Will was doing anyway. It was smart of him to bring a buddy, but it meant that he had known even before today what she was doing, and he had come anyway. “You’ve awful confidence in me,” she says, batting her eyelashes to see what he’d do, “for a little lady on her own. Why, as my husband is ill, I haven’t even got a strong man to take care of me.”

Will’s brow furrows slightly in apparent confusion in response to her slight flirtation. “No, you don’t,” he says, as though unsure what that should have to do with anything.

The surprise of it makes her laugh despite herself, though that does seem to worry Williams a little. He keeps turning the lemonade, undrunk, between his fingertips, making it rattle slightly on the table, and his eyes frequently dart to the clock on the mantelpiece to note how late his friend is. It loosens her tongue somewhat; Noelle is so frequently entirely honest with people, and it is oddly refreshing to stop talking in double meanings and half truths. She wants him to stay longer in this oddly honest space, where she had never really imagined herself being, and tell him so.

It reminds her of talking to Jonah, a bit, even though a man more unlike Jonah than Will Williams there never has been. Everything seems to remind her of Jonah, now that he’s gone.

“I had thought, once,” she says, watching his face but keeping her tone light, “that when a widow I might marry you.”

As expected, Williams looks poleaxed - quite blindsided by the idea. “I - don’t think you would have,” he says stiltedly.

She waves a hand. “Oh, not now, obviously.” She couldn’t possibly marry a man who has something to hold over her. Noelle could rule Will well enough, but - there was that flash of rage at being made her alibi, her dupe, and he could always ruin her.

“No, I mean - I wouldn’t have-” Will winces and tilts his head, uncomfortable. “I’m not - the marrying type, I think.”

Oh. Noelle shrugs; she could have made that work, too, but it would have been a terrible effort to drag him to the altar, and likely not worth it. “And your Tommy Morin - is he the marryin’ type?” she says, laying the implication on thick. “Or is it Finn Holden? McPherson, now, he’d be disappointing an awful lot of ladies, but…”

The blush spreads from his cheeks at speed, turning his fair northern complexion blotchy and red. “All my friends are morons,” he tells her flatly. “Would you marry ‘em?”

Noelle tilts her head to concede the point. “Naw, you always were the best prospect of the bunch.” Will goes, if possible, yet redder. He looks so like a kid, then, that she cannot help it; he reminds her, again, of Jonah when they were younger and running cons smaller than this one just to eat and even though they were the same age they had ever tried to protect one another. She wants to protect Will, now. “I won’t tell anybody,” she says seriously, and his eyes flick to her and squint, examining her face for sincerity. “You can - whatever you do about Mr Lloyd’s...condition. I won’t tell anybody.”

He tilts his head slightly, like he’s listening for something. “Why not?” he says cautiously.

Noelle turns her gaze on the table and her neatly folded hands there. Sometimes she tries so hard to look respectable she worries that it’s sinking in, making her really into those women who sit diminished and demure at their husband’s pleasure.

Tobias would shoot Will himself, probably, without even troubling the sheriff.

“Because I reckon a person ought to be punished for what they’ve done, not what they are,” she says eventually. “That seems...fair.”

Will nods sharply. “Suits me,” he says, a little too quickly. “But I’m not going to tell anybody about your husband, either.” Now it is her turn to cock her head at him, mirroring like a sharp-faced eagle competing for prey. Will shifts his glass again. “I don’t figure that many people are going to miss him awful much,” he says thoughtfully. “As, as long as no-one else falls ill like him, then, I suppose that’s all right. And - sometimes - people do bad things to bad people. Maybe, maybe he dies, and another aunt’s friend’s daughter has only the kids she wants to have with the man she wants to marry. Maybe you live unbruised. Maybe - maybe you pay your bills at the general store quicker than he did and German can afford credit for a starving family whose kids survive the winter.” Will throws up his hands. “I don’t know.”

Noelle looks at him for a long moment. “But you want to believe it.”

He sighs massively and leans forward to prop his elbows on the table and bury his face in his hands. “God,” Will says, the word muffled and cracking down the middle, “yes, I want to believe that. Of course I want to believe that.”

Noelle reaches out carefully and places her fingers on his forearm lightly. “Will, I think - whatever you’ve done, I-”

He leans back, her fingers falling away as he scrubs at his face. “I haven’t done anything,” he says sharply. “That was - that was someone else, and long ago, and - nothing.”

She doesn’t believe him. She doesn’t even get the sense that he believes himself; rather, that this is something he is attempting to persuade himself is true. But over the sound of the sand on the glass there comes the sound of boots and spurs, and Tommy Morin hollering for Will to come out quicksmart, for something’s gone terribly wrong and his expertise is required, so she never gets to ask. She supposes he wouldn’t tell her anyhow.

Will scrambles to his feet, collecting up his leather bag with a sigh of worried resignation. “Well, ma’am, that’s me,” he says, abruptly all polite once more, and Noelle almost - misses him. The other him, who had been honest and angry and not the moral stickler he had been pretending to be. “I don’t suppose you’ll need me out here much longer.”

“I suppose not,” she agrees, and passes him his hat. What she’ll do then, well… But certainly, Tobias Lloyd does not have long left to keep troubling Will Williams.

He turns to the door, but the wind suddenly picks up; the whole house is briefly sandblasted, the shingles drumming with the vicious, sharp stones, and Tommy quits his yelling to cough and spit. Williams makes a face which he cannot quite help, and Noelle must take pity.

“Here,” she says, passing him the glass of lemonade he had abandoned on the table. “Seems you might want it out there.”

He glances between her face and the glass and back again. And then, carefully, reaches out to accept it. Will drinks quickly, watching her face, and passes the glass back. “Thank you,” he says softly, and for a long moment Noelle wants to thank him too - for listening, and for believing that she might have the right of it, and for drinking her lemonade.

But then he pulls his neckerchief up over his nose and mouth and departs into the sandstorm, Tommy sparing only a moment to tip his hat at her before grabbing Will’s elbow and continuing to yell through the wind about something having happened to Finn’s wrist during undisclosed activities and now needing bandaging. Will twists over one shoulder to offer her an amused, exhausted look and a brief wave as he is hauled away into the dust, and Noelle stays standing in the doorway to watch them go with sand swirling around her ankles and encroaching into her pristine, proper home.

She leaves the door open a while. She’s never really wanted to be upstanding.

[vermilionskiinmorning]

A/N: This is a one-shot for right now, but I may add to it later. The idea has been bugging me for weeks now and I had to write it! Hope ya’ll enjoy this even though I’m like 5 years too late to the party on Black Sails lol

Story Summary:  A year ago, Olivia was ship wrecked in Nassau by a late season hurricane on her way to the New World. As one of the few survivors of the wreck she's had to make her own way. Starting with no money and no prospects on a pirate controlled island can be hard, but there is much to be learned.

Words:3241

The sun had set hours earlier, but still, the salty Nassau air was thick and humid in an echo of the day's heat. It caused sweat to bead at the nape of Olivia's neck as she went around emptying mugs discarded on tables into her pitcher. Heat was one of the first things she'd had to get used to since arriving in Nassau against her will. Sure they had some warm days back in Scotland, but those were nothing in comparison. Often as she sat fanning herself, Olivia would lament the complaints she'd had about the weather in her homeland. Her former life there almost seemed to belong to someone else after a year here.

Sighing to herself, Olivia put the thoughts out of her mind as she went about her work. Most patrons had stumbled off some time ago, leaving her with her final duty of the evening. It didn't take long, and Olivia did her best not to dwell further on her unfortunate circumstances as she completed the chore.

There was, after all, not much to be done about it now. The hurricane that forever changed her life had been a surprise so late in the season. Once the ship had become caught in those tumultuous waters, there had only been so much the crew could do. In the end, they'd lost the battle against the vicious waves and torrential rain. The ship had bashed against a crop of rocks near the edge of the bay, leaving the few survivors stranded. It had not taken long to learn where exactly it was they'd landed -Nassau being rather notorious after all.

Placing the pitcher down on the bartop, Olivia looked for the bartender Mr. Le Goff to inform him she had finished, but he was nowhere to be seen. Frowning slightly, she hesitated. Usually, she would bid him good night before making the short trek to her small home. Tapping her fingers idly against the bar, Olivia glanced around for him again, her eyes eventually drifting toward the second floor. She could hear voices coming from the direction of Ms. Guthrie's office. Interrupting whatever the two might be discussing was certainly not something she had any desire to do, nor did she particularly wish to wait for them to emerge. Ms. Guthrie had been in a sour mood as of late. Nearly every time Olivia saw her, the blonde's features were tight, and she knew why. All the business with the whore from across the way and the pirates had become messy in recent weeks. 

Pirates , Olivia sighed.

When she'd realized where she was, Olivia had vowed not to become entangled with them, to keep her head down, and get out as soon as possible. It was difficult, though, when the main clientele at her workplace was precisely that sort. However, Ms. Guthrie's close association with the island's Captains certainly didn't help matters either. Before long, Olivia had realized pirates, while often more vulgar and violent at times than normal men, were just that -men. 

The footsteps startled her slightly, and Olivia spun in the direction of the disturbance. Emerging from the kitchen was a lanky bare-faced boy of about fourteen called Kit, who worked alongside the cook. Realizing he'd startled her, Kit smiled sheepishly.

"Sorry, Ma'm."

"Oh, it's quite alright," Olivia replied gently.

Kit was the quiet sort which was a surprise in a place like this, but he was a kind soul by her measure. Olivia had wondered a time or two how he had ended up there, but she'd never felt it proper to pry. He mainly kept to himself and was an excellent aid to the cook, so he often went unnoticed.

"Mr. Le Goff said to let you know it's fine to pop off once you've finished up."

Olivia arched her eyebrow slightly at the boy. "Did he?"

Kit nodded. "He left a short while ago -was muttering something to himself about his son when he left." With a soft 'huh' of understanding, she nodded. Unbidden, her eyes drifted back to the door of Ms. Guthrie's office curiously. If it wasn't Mr. Le Goff, then who was with her?

"It's probably that Captain Flint fellow," said Kit lowly.

For fourteen, he was awfully observant, but with how quiet he was, that should've been no surprise. Still, occasionally the boy made her feel like he'd read her mind. Or perhaps she was simply that easy to read; however, she would prefer to assume the latter.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Olivia nodded. "Well, I'd better get going. Are you alright on your own?"

Kit shrugged. Frowning, Olivia realized she didn't even know where the boy lived.

"Good night then."

"Good night Ms. Adair."

Out in the street, Olivia paused, glancing up at the sky. Twinkling stars looked back at her, mocking in their familiarity. Not being one for astronomy but still loving the stars, it was easy to convince herself she was looking at the same ones as were over her home, which of course they weren't. Scoffing at her own foolishness, Olivia focused back on the path before her. It wasn't far, but becoming too comfortable in a town infested with pirates would be an altogether different level of foolhardiness. So, she kept her hand poised to draw the short blade hidden in the folds of her skirts as she walked. 

The blade had been gifted to her by one of Ms. Guthrie's guards after an incident the second week of her employment at the tavern. Olivia had gone out back to use the outhouse when a drunken man had caught up with her. He'd unceremoniously grabbed her and started kissing her neck, but Benjamin had pulled the man off before it could go further than that. After knocking the man out, Benjamin had turned to her, taken a blade from his belt, and pressed it into her palm.

" Don't ever walk alone unarmed. " He'd warned.

And Olivia had taken that very much to heart.

At this time of night, the bustling town had quieted aside from the odd drunk struggling to find their bed. So, when Olivia heard the distinct sound of retching coming from an alley as she passed, it was no great surprise. Initially, she didn't even break stride; drunks were nothing if not messy and unpredictable, and outside of her job Olivia didn't much care for dealing with them. She was perhaps ten paces past the alley when scuffling and a loud grunt drew her attention, giving her pause. As she stood listening for any further movement, Olivia could hear a vaguely familiar voice grumbling to themself. Turning slightly to look back, she could see the form of a stocky man leaning heavily against the wall, looking very much like he was about to slide down it. It was difficult to see his face well in the dim light, but something about his outline was as familiar as his voice. Not that that was much of a surprise, Olivia'd gotten to know many of the locals since coming to Nassau. 

Against her better judgment, she stalled there in the street a few moments hoping, if nothing else, then to alleviate her curiosity. It wasn't long before the man exhaled a deep breath and turned his face toward the sky, allowing his profile to become illuminated by a lantern. Without even realizing it, Olivia let out a soft gasp. The noise, however, was enough to draw the man's attention, and he turned in her direction.

Olivia couldn't convince her body to move as the piercing gaze of Charles Vane fell on her. He held it for what felt like hours. It felt like he was staring into her soul until quite suddenly, he doubled over and began retching again. Without thought, Olivia rushed to his side, placing a hand on his shoulder and holding hair away from his face as he vomited onto the ground. When he finished, Charles wiped his mouth with his sleeve and wrenched himself away from her scowling. He said nothing as he turned his back on her and started shuffling down the street as if nothing had happened.

Scoffing at the absurdity of the situation, Olivia watched him go. It was the first she'd seen of the famed Captain in weeks -since Eleanor had, according to the gossip, swindled his ship and crew out from under him. To say she was a bit shocked was an understatement though Charles Vane was among the most feared and respected on the island. Seeing him so low bothered Olivia in a way she did not expect.

The first time she had seen the man was almost a year ago on the beach. New as she'd been to the sweltering Caribbean heat, a moment of weakness led her there in search of a place to swim. As Olivia made her way along the beach, a skiff landed a short distance from her, carrying Captain Vane and several others. Immediately Vane stood out, and even without knowledge of who he was, his commanding presence had struck her. As more of the Ranger's crew came ashore, Olivia'd thought it prudent to abandon her idea of a swim and head back into town, but the man on the boat stuck with her. Later that evening, he'd appeared at the tavern, and Olivia was unable to help asking Benjamin about him.

That man from her memory was so unlike the one she'd just encountered, and before truly deciding to do so, she was following Captain Vane towards the beach. Staying a fair distance behind, Olivia watched him and wondered. Could it be the loss of a ship and crew that brought such a man to this? Sure, she did not know him well. In fact, she hardly knew him at all aside from having served him at the tavern, but she could never have imagined seeing him like this. 

When they reached the beach, Charles made directly for his tent disappearing inside without delay leaving Olivia alone in the dark. A few dying fires still burned in some places along the shore, but the only light came from the stars for the most part, and she suddenly felt rather senseless at having followed him. Charles Vane, ship or not, was a pirate Captain, and she just a merchant's daughter. What on God's green Earth was she doing following him? Intoxicated or not, the man could easily kill her or worse. And she was what? Ensuring he made it unharmed to his bed?

Her self-berating was interrupted then by a soft groaning from inside the tent. Olivia bit her lip. Glancing between the tent flap and the path, she felt torn despite herself.  So much for staying clear of pirates,  Olivia thought spitefully at herself. Even with all the reasons she'd just thought of not to, Olivia reached out to open the tent flap.

Inside she found Charles lying spread-eagled on his back, staring unseeingly at the ceiling. He didn't so much as acknowledge her presence, and by his expression she imagined he was fighting the urge to empty his stomach once more. Looking around the tent, Olivia noticed several empty bottles lying on their sides, an opium pipe, as well as various other articles strewn about. In all, it was a mess, but she did notice a bowl with water and a rag lying beside it. Someone had been taking care of him somewhat recently, but tonight they were nowhere to be seen. 

Accepting she'd already gone all-in on this predicament she'd gotten herself into, Olivia knelt beside him. Despite her closeness, Charles's gaze remained fixed on the canopy. Either he was that focused or truly unaware, but she had a feeling it was a latter after the small gasp she'd made in the street grabbed his attention. So, Olivia proceeded with caution as she reached for the rag and dipped it into the waiting bowl. It wasn't until the cloth was about to brush his forehead that a hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, causing Olivia to stifle a yelp.

"What are you doing here?" His voice was deep and quite irritated as he questioned her.

A sudden boldness struck her at the rudeness of his tone. "Ensuring you don't drown in your vomit."

Turning to fix his gaze on her, he furrowed his brow in confusion. Up close, she could see just how glassy his eyes were. For a moment, she was unable to attempt pulling her wrist away or moving at all under his stare. Then he grunted and dropped his grip, breaking the spell.

She waited a moment before tentatively dabbing his forehead with the rag. When he didn't respond, she continued wiping the beads of sweat from his tanned skin. Exhaling a heavy sigh through his nose, Charles seemed to relax some. His eyes slipped closed, and when she pulled away to refresh the rag, he frowned.

"Why?" he murmured, barely above a whisper.

Olivia had a distinct feeling; he wasn't asking why she was there but felt compelled to answer anyway.

"Truly, I do not know." She paused, wringing out the rag slightly before returning it to his forehead. "I'm reckless, I suppose."

That was a true enough statement, she had chosen to stay on at the tavern even after learning of the more respectable -and markedly safer- employment possibilities further inland. 

He said nothing. Olivia was beginning to think he'd passed out when he reached out blindly to brush his fingers along her arm. She halted at his touch.

"Mmm, your skin, it's so soft," he breathed. "Missed it."

Her tongue felt stuck in her throat at his words, but she couldn't manage to pull away. Now Olivia was confident; he was not speaking to her, at least not in his mind. His fingers trailed along her arm tenderly a moment or two more before his hand dropped onto his chest.

There was only one person she could think of that Charles Vane might speak with such softness towards, and it made her stomach sick. When Olivia had first arrived in Nassau, Eleanor was in the midst of her affair with the Captain though it ended not a few months after. She'd thought it to be an ill-fated fling with how unconcerned either party seemed about its end, but now? Well, men didn't speak that way to whores, did they? Olivia didn't think so, which left only Eleanor. 

After that, Charles did not stir again aside from a few unintelligibly mumbled words, and eventually, she felt her eyes beginning to grow heavy. It had grown very late or early, depending upon perspective, in the time Olivia had spent tending the Captain. Having finished dabbing his face, she moved to his neck and exposed chest and did what little she could to clean the sick which had gotten on his shirt.

Blinking a few times, Olivia sighed. He didn't look all that much better than when she'd first seen him, but he'd been asleep a while with no sign of waking. Feeling as though there was little else she could do, Olivia got to her feet and went to exit the tent.

As she stepped out, Olivia had a strong feeling of being watched that made her hesitate to look back over her shoulder, but Captain Vane was still sleeping like a rock. Guardedly she peered about for the source of the feeling, initially finding nothing. Until she let the flap fall behind her, someone close by cleared their throat, making Olivia immediately draw her dagger. Spinning to face the source of the sound, she found a man with dark windswept hair holding up his hands in a sign of peace.

"Ah, don't be alarmed."

Olivia scowled, hissing as she lowered her dagger marginally. "And why shouldn't I? A man sneaking up on me in the dark, fairly alarming if you ask me."

The man cleared his throat and took a tentative step towards her which Olivia responded to by raising the dagger once more. He looked rather put out at her actions and sighed audibly.

"You're in the camp of Captain Charles Vane, don't you think if I were going to harm you, I'd have done so by now?" Reasoned the man.

Pursing her lips in irritation, Olivia had to admit he had a point, but it still wasn't enough to convince her to lower the dagger.

"I'm only curious, you see," he began again when she didn't respond.  "You've been in there for several hours-"

Olivia scrunched up her nose. "I'm no whore."

"No, I didn't think so, dear lady," he said. "I only mean, you've been taking care of the Captain, yes?"

"The way I've heard it, he's not exactly a Captain anymore." She paused. "And who're you?"

"Jack, Jack Rackham quartermaster of the Ranger," he said, straightening slightly with his words.

Olivia arched an eyebrow at him condescendingly.

"Well, formerly, but that's not the point." A beat of silence passed, only filled by the distant lull of the waves on the beach. "I saw you seeing the Captain to his tent. It left me wondering why a barmaid in Eleanor Guthrie's tavern would do such a thing."

Oliva frowned. It was the question she'd been asking herself. Having it posed aloud left her feeling uncomfortable, and she shifted slightly. She also found herself annoyed at being referred to in such a way. Yes, she worked in the Guthrie tavern, but it wasn't as if they owned her. Just because Eleanor had spurned, Captain Vane didn't make it forbidden for her to speak to him -not that they'd really spoken.  

"I am in no way accusing you, Miss," Jack said assuringly.

"You know," Olivia finally began. "That's not the first time someone's asked me that tonight."

Technically, Vane asking her why clearly hadn't been in regards to why she was there, but she'd asked herself enough times. And if she was honest, she knew the answer even if it didn't necessarily make complete sense.

"Truthfully," she breathed before raising her voice slightly. "I suppose I just couldn't stand to see a man like that so low."

As she spoke, her face twisted with confusion at her own words. Saying them out loud still didn't explain why she felt that way, but the truth in them was evident. Jack even nodded in a seemingly understanding manner at the explanation.

"Perhaps-"

But before he could say more, Olivia had turned her back and was striding away, still wielding her knife. Wisely, Jack chose not to follow, but he did watch her until she was out of sight -wondering.

In the days that followed, Olivia heard of the disappearance of Captain Vane and the acquisition of the local brothel by Mr. Rackham. She couldn't help feeling a sliver of spite towards Ms. Guthrie for the state of the Captain. Nor could she stop herself feeling mildly irritated at Mr. Rackham for possibly allowing some misfortune to befall the man. Outwardly Olivia carried on as normal, but in a quiet moment or two, she allowed herself to wonder if the Captain was alive. 

Eventually, she decided it was respect that had driven her actions that night. For all the things pirates were -thieves, murderers, or in some cases worse- there was something about Vane that Olivia respected. And with his disappearance, she may never know what that was.

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