#so much of his writing is self-serving and edited after the fact

[eccebitch]

another day thinking about cicero against my will

[cooliestghouliest]

PUTTY, chapter one

(chapter one), (chapter two), (chapter three)

PAIRING: virgin!Eddie/former cheerleader!Reader

SUMMARY: Eddie has a little brother. Eddie’s little brother has a babysitter.

SERIES TAGS and C/W’s: mutual pining, experienced!Reader, inexperienced!Eddie but he’s eager to learn, mostly sub!Eddie, insecurities and self doubt, narcissistic and/or absent parents, jealousy, mean basketball players, hurt/comfort, they smoke weed, eventual smut (18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI), uniform kink, dirty talk, foot jobs, hand jobs, oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), public sex, sex toys, unprotected PiV. more to be added as this progresses!!!

WORD COUNT: 3.7k+

A/N: hi, my friends!!! this is a rewrite/repost and has been edited for a (hopefully) smoother, more enjoyable read. fun fact that this was one of the first Stranger Things fanfics i ever wrote. it was originally titled She Was Straight From Hell, But You Could Never Tell, and featured Eddie alongside an OC. i’ve changed it to be reader-insert, because that seems to be more in my writing wheelhouse nowadays. this fic will be multiple parts — it begins with backstory, but will eventually branch off into a universe of little smutty ficlets where Reader will corrupt virgin!Eddie as much as humanely possible.

—

Eddie hadn't known about the existence of his little brother until two months ago, when Al Munson showed up in the middle of the night with a small child in tow. Eddie didn't even know his dad was out of prison again, and yet here he was, in the flesh, a little boy with a mop of black curls resembling Eddie's own cradled in his leather jacket-clad arms.

Al was lucky Wayne was working or else this family reunion would have gone south fast.

While Wayne wasn't Al's biggest fan, Al was Eddie's dad, and Eddie would always hold onto as many moments with his father as he could get, no matter how sparse, and no matter how much of a self-serving piece of shit asshole Al Munson truly was.

But Eddie didn’t see it like that. Eddie saw it like this: His dad lived a hard life. His dad struggled with addictions. His dad lost a wife, just as Eddie had lost a mother. His dad tried his best with what he had.

Deep down, Eddie knew these were all just sorry excuses, but he kept that truth tucked away, not wanting to deal with the reality that Al truly only cared about himself.

He already had one dead parent. If he cut his dad out of his life, he’d basically have two.

"When'd you get out?" Eddie asked, stepping aside so Al could enter. His eyes followed the child, brows furrowed. The trailer was always Al's first stop on his freedom tour and the older man had always brought some sort of baggage along with him -- never a little kid, though. What the hell kind of trouble had his dad gotten into this time?

"Few days ago," Al replied, heading for the living room. He placed the sleeping child down on the worn sofa, then straightened and faced Eddie. "Listen, son, you gotta do me a favor. I'm not out long this time. I might've robbed an ATM or two last night. I'm kinda on the lam."

Al didn’t even have the decency to look sheepish at his wrongdoing.

Eddie was used to this. Even when Al was a free man, he was never a free man for long. He didn't think his dad knew how to coexist among non-inmate citizens. Eddie didn't think his dad even wanted to. Prison was a creature comfort for the elder Munson. Eddie wasn't necessarily mad at that fact. He was happy when Al was locked up, because then at least he knew where his dad was. Otherwise, Eddie worried his father would eventually get himself into a situation he wouldn't be able to get out of, and Eddie would really never see him again.

Eddie was also used to Al showing up after months and months, sometimes even years and years, such as now, always asking for favors.

"Who is that?" Eddie asked, pointing towards the couch, not being able to ignore the other human in the room any longer.

"Yeah, that's kinda what I need your help with.” Al rubbed at the back of his neck. "Well, no way to do this other than to just say it. That there's your little brother, Eddie. His name's Oliver. And I need you and Wayne to look after him while I'm gone."

"My... what..." Eddie stammered, face scrunching up. He expected Al to burst out laughing and admit he was just fucking around, and that this tiny sleeping stranger was actually just the kid of a fellow convict buddy. Maybe it was said convict buddy’s turn to rob ATMs tonight, leaving Al the babysitter. Irresponsible. Unlikely. And, turns out, untrue.

With Al's silence, Eddie knew his dad’s admission wasn't a joke.

Eddie was beyond confused now.

"Dad, how... you've been in prison for six years!"

"Conjugal visits," Al answered with a bit of a smug shrug.

Eddie shook his head in disbelief. "What the fuck? Wayne can't afford another kid that's not even his... and I'm in school still, I can't watch him... this isn't... I don't know how..."

But Al was already making his way to the door.

"I know you'll figure it out. I can always count on you, my boy," Al prided, tone cheery as if the favor he'd just asked of Eddie was to give him a quick ride somewhere or find an old family recipe.

Al wasn't acting like he was ditching another Munson offspring off on his older brother. He was treating this like an issue of minor importance, just a little speed bump on an otherwise flat road.

Al Munson was not an upstanding person. Never had been, never would be. Because of this, Eddie shouldn't have been surprised or appalled, but here he was, standing with his mouth agape. Surprised. Appalled.

His dad was out the door with a lighthearted, "See ya 'round, son," and Eddie was left speechless in the middle of the living room.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Wayne got over the new addition to the Munson household fairly quickly.

While he'd been livid at first, calling up all of Al's old friends he'd still had the numbers of to try and find out where his dumb shit of a younger brother was, Wayne eventually became resigned to the idea that he now had another little boy to rear and mold.

What else could he do?

Wayne took care of his kin, especially if they were innocent bystanders and had no say in being born in the first place. He'd raised Eddie, and although he knew the boy had his struggles, he didn't think he'd done too bad of a job.

Eddie never went hungry, always had clothes to wear, a bed to sleep in, and Wayne was the one who haggled Eddie's van down to a reasonable price so the boy could pay for it with his lunch box salary.

Wayne knew about the weed and the pills, but so long as Eddie stayed smart about where he was selling and who he was selling to, he didn't much mind Eddie's unconventional line of work. It helped his nephew stay somewhat social, and Wayne knew how important that would be for Eddie's future. If the boy was nothing but a lone recluse his whole life, he'd probably end up just like Al. Nobody wanted that.

Eddie was just about grown now. Sure, he was rearing twenty and still in his senior year of high school, but Wayne had an inkling that '86 would be Eddie's year.

Wayne had always thought about selling the trailer and buying an RV with retirement money once Eddie was out on his own. He wanted to travel the country for the remainder of his life.

The idea that he'd have to raise up another wild Munson for the next fifteen or so years caused a knot to form in his stomach.

Would Wayne even be around for that much longer? He may have been relatively healthy, and he was only in his mid 60's, but Wayne wasn't an idiot. He knew anything could happen at any time.

Wayne knew he needed help this time around. He figured he could count on Eddie here and there, but Eddie needed to focus on school this year if he planned on finally walking the stage. Because of this, Wayne decided to enlist the help of someone on the outside. Someone with experience.

So, he posted an ad in the Hawkins Post, looking for a full-time nanny for a five-year-old boy to start as soon as possible, and waited for a response.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Wayne didn't have to wait long.

Two mornings following the job post, shortly after he'd returned home from work, he heard a knock on the trailer door.

When he answered, he saw a pretty young thing standing on the front stoop.

"Hi!" you greeted, then immediately began to ramble. "Are you Mr. Munson? I hope it's okay I just showed up... there wasn't a number listed, only an address, and I didn't know if you wanted me to write a response and mail it, but the ad seemed maybe a little urgent, so I thought, hey, what's the harm in just... showing... up..."

You trailed off, feeling silly for word vomiting during your first impression. He was watching you with a small smile, eyes flickering with what looked like amusement, especially as your cheeks began to color to the soft red of embarrassment.

Listing no number on the ad was intentional. He hadn't owned a rotary phone in about ten years, after having tried to cut back on bills, and he knew not just anyone would make the trek to Forest Hills for a potential job offer. He’d figured only committed applicants that wouldn't waste his time would follow through.

"I have a lot of experience," you continued on at his silence, almost as if you couldn't help it, compelled to divulge all the information you could in the first three minutes of meeting. Wayne found it endearing. "I used to babysit for three different families when I was in high school. And I have two little sisters. My mom and dad worked a lot growing up, so I spent a lot of time with them. Didn't get paid, but... I made sure they didn't die or anything..."

From their brief interaction thus far, Wayne knew he succeeded in his method of weeding out flakes. You were obviously serious about the position. He felt he was a decent judge of character, and he'd learned in life that sometimes over-explaining was synonymous with caring.

"Sorry," you said, forcing out a little laugh. "I guess I could have just introduced myself. You didn't really need to know all that." You shot your hand out, giving your name. "I'm here about the nannying gig. Um, obviously. That is, if I didn't already scare you off."

Wayne took your hand in both of his own, shaking it. He placated you with a grin. "It's a lot harder than that to scare off a Munson, sweetheart. Let's go inside and meet Olly."

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Although Oliver Munson was only five, he had a spectacular vocabulary and a limitless imagination. Wayne knew the boy was a little charmer, quite like how Eddie was when he allowed himself to be, when the teenager wasn't drowning himself in existential teenage angst and nonsense.

You fell under Olly's spell almost instantly.

And it seemed the little boy had fallen under yours as well.

Oliver didn't stop talking to you while you were there, and didn't stop talking about you after you’d left, asking when you’d be back and if next time you could take him to the trailer park's playground and maybe you two could watch G.I. Joe or He-Man together afterward.

Wayne had taken your number down before you’d left and had told you he'd be in touch soon.

Later that evening, after Eddie had gotten back from his club meeting at school, Wayne took the trip into downtown Hawkins to use the payphone and ask you if you wouldn't mind starting as early as tomorrow.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

You were far from struggling for money.

Your father was a sought-after criminal prosecutor for the entirety of Indiana. Your mother was a real estate agent for high profile clientele who came from old family money; her father was CEO of a day trading business, and his father before him had been the same.

Although you likely would have never had to work a day in your life and could live a comfortable existence off of inheritance alone, handouts and the humdrum of an All-Play-and-No-Work lifestyle was never a dream of yours. That sounded so cookie cutter, so monotonous, so boring.

You liked to feel a sense of accomplishment. You liked setting goals and reaching them. You didn't want to freeload off of money that was gained from the capitalistic professions your parents were a part of. You wanted to be in control of your own finances and be the author of your own future, not have it already be etched into stone simply by being just another rich kid from Hawkins, à la the likes of the Carver's or the Cunningham's or the Harrington's.

You were ecstatic when you got the call from Wayne, asking you if you’d be willing to start the following day. He left for work at 2PM, so you’d have to be there before then, and would need to plan on staying until Wayne's nephew got home around six.

If you were to be completely honest with yourself, you felt a bit nervous, but the job itself wasn't the reason why that writhing feeling accompanied your excitement.

You had more than ten years of babysitting experience under your belt, and you were eager to get back into a job you actually enjoyed as opposed to trying out different careers to see what stuck and what didn't. Having graduated the spring before, you’d been taking an off year to save up money by working odd jobs around Hawkins to be able to buy your own apartment.

You’d worked as a florist for a few weeks, but it turned out your thumb was pitch black instead of green.

You worked as the personal assistant for a group of lawyers from a local law firm, but it turned out they just needed office eye candy and not someone to actually get any sort of work done.

You worked as a veterinary assistant, but it turned out the job was much more than just petting cats and dogs. You couldn't handle it when a sick animal would come in and there would be nothing anyone could do. Your heart broke more at that clinic than it had your entire life.

You were in between jobs when you’d decided to peruse the classified section of the Hawkins post. There, in the shortest blurb on the page, was a listing for a needed nanny, a full-time position offering negotiable pay.

The next bit was where the excitement wavered.

The listing was published by a Wayne Munson of the Forest Hills trailer park.

That had to be Eddie Munson's uncle. There was no way there were two separate Munson families living in the only trailer park in Kerley County.

You couldn't believe that you’d stumbled across this ad, that the geeky metalhead you’d crushed on since your freshman year of high school had a little brother you could be the potential nanny of.

You were two years younger than Eddie, but that hadn't stopped you from losing periods of time to daydreams about the way the wind ruffled his wild mess of curls on breezy days or the way his band tee sleeves always clung perfectly to the soft muscles of his biceps or the way his cheeks dimpled when he teased the other boys he sat with at lunch.

You’d always wanted to introduce yourself, but you didn't run in the same crowds -- you being on the cheer team and Eddie blasting Black Sabbath in the parking lot after his Hellfire meetings. You could never muster the courage. He seemed so carefree, so full of life, so effortlessly funny. Chrissy Cunningham, your best friend, had spoken to him once or twice and had told you how different he was than what other people said about him. He wasn't scary or mean or threatening, and instead was warm and silly and genuine.

But you knew how the people you spent your time around treated people like him. You knew your group of "friends" referred to him as a freak, a Satan worshipper, and did everything in their power to try to bully him into becoming a shell of himself. Thankfully, he never did -- it was almost as if Eddie absorbed the hatefulness and spent it tenfold by mocking the hilarity of the jock hierarchy that ruled the school, as well as using it to strengthen his own ability to embrace every misfit that walked the halls of Hawkins High.

You never introduced yourself because you were afraid he’d think you had an ulterior motive, that you’d be trying to talk to him as a joke or a prank. You knew the company you kept. You were sure Jason Carver had once or twice suggested you do just that, lead Eddie on and make a fool of him in front of the whole school.

You figured it'd be best to just stay away.

But now, you thought finding this ad was possibly a sign from the universe.

Maybe you were getting a second chance.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Eddie was running late.

He was supposed to be back home half an hour ago to relieve whoever Olly's new babysitter was of her duties, but the campaign had taken a shocking turn and Hellfire couldn't disband until it had commenced.

The night finally ended with Will's character decapitating Dustin's, and Eddie had to thwart an actual attack when Dustin leapt across the game table at Will in a bout of rage. Dustin was small but mighty, and Eddie had to physically wrestle the boy off of Will's neck, threatening to banish Dustin from the next few campaigns if he didn’t chill out. Henderson had huffed and puffed but had admitted defeat and apologized to Will for the attempted murder.

By the time Eddie arrived back to the trailer park, the sun had almost set. He pulled his van into his parking spot to the right of the trailer and shut it off. Stepping out, he swung his backpack over his shoulder, but came to a halt when he heard Olly's scream sound from behind the trailer.

Dropping his bag and beginning to run toward the noise, Eddie's heart fell to his stomach. Horrible images of what could possibly be pulling that sound from his little brother pervaded Eddie's mind. He had an overactive imagination to begin with, and something like this verbal cue only egged it on. "Olly!" he shouted, panic raising his voice. "Olly, are you okay?! What’s going on, where are --"

Eddie came to a halt when he found the boy in the backyard with a huge smile spread across his small, sweaty face. Olly had a fake crown on, one made of twigs and leaves, and he was carrying one of the biggest sticks Eddie had ever seen. He had a blanket tucked into the back of his shirt, the cloth a makeshift cape. A thin piece of metal, probably from one of the cars Wayne and Eddie sometimes worked on, was wrapped around his center, acting as armor.

Olly had just been playing.

Letting out a heavy breath of relief, Eddie noticed your frame just off to the side. His eyes started from the ground up, noting the shiny red Docs donning your feet, moving up bare legs that were covered mid-thigh by a short black skater dress, one that hugged your curves in a way that had Eddie’s mouth going dry.

By the time he reached your face, your eyes were wide with amusement.

You’d been watching as he slowly drank you in. He didn't mean to ogle. He had to shake his head a few times to clear it, and when he did so, the face before him started looking more and more familiar.

"Wait," he started, head tilting. He spoke your name, tone riddled with confusion. "From high school?"

You were about to answer when Oliver cleared his throat, obviously not wanting to be ignored or to have his playtime interrupted any longer. You looked down at the boy, who pointed up to his head at his crown. You got the gist -- Olly wanted the game to continue. You could indulge him. You’d been doing it all day, and honestly you’d been having the most fun you’d had in a while.

You turned your attention back to Eddie, fixing your posture and jutting your chin out slightly. "I don't know who that is," you began, voice lilting. "I am Princess Guinevere of Kerley County and this here,” you brought your gaze back down to Oliver, “is my most loyal servant, Sir Olly of Castle Munson."

Eddie couldn't help the grin that broke out over his face at your announcement. He then took a moment to fully take in the rest of your appearance. You, too, had on a makeshift crown, this one made up of cherry blossoms and daisies. You had a flowing blanket tucked into the back of your dress, cascading down your back like a veil.

No fucking way were you, last year's cheerleading captain and prom queen, standing in his backyard playing fucking knights and princesses with his little brother. No fucking way.

Olly broke the silence by shouting out, "Hey, Eddie! Who are you gonna be?"

Eddie tore his eyes from you to focus on his brother. He pursed his lips to one side in thought, trying to come up with a character. He was usually quick on his feet when it came to creative play, but he had just spent the last three hours DM'ing a month-long DnD campaign. His brain felt shot. He was pulled from his introspective reverie by your soft, suggestive voice — no, sorry — the soft, suggestive voice of Princess Guinevere.

"Wanna be my dragon, Eddie?" you asked.

Eddie wasn't exactly sure why that made his breath catch in his throat.

He nodded dumbly, silent, then forced himself to speak because he didn't want to look totally lame in front of a Princess. "Okay. Yeah, I'll be your dragon."

You graced him with a smile before Oliver's tiny but booming voice cut through the air of the darkening night. "HEY! Dragons don't talk!" the boy stomped his foot and hit his stick against the muddy ground in annoyance.

A laugh bubbled from your throat and Eddie grinned, jumping into a wide-legged stance before outstretching his arms, tilting his head back, and roaring.

[writingquestionsanswered]

What's "Filler" vs What's Relevant

Anonymous asked: How do you know when something is “filler” that needs to be deleted, or if it can be kept? I often see advice saying "your characters should talk about nothing but the plot... no frivolous banter or silly arguments, because it's useless, self-indulgent, filler-fluff." But then I watch or see things and it's like, hm... there sure are a lot of things happening here that aren't plot relevant, yet the audience adores it. For example, in a popular episode of Avatar: The Last Airbender, called "The Tales of Ba Sing Se," nothing relevant to the main plot (stopping Fire Lord Ozai) happens. Instead, characters shop and go to a spa, rebuild a zoo, and go on a date. Part of the episode is even dedicated to one character's running off after having a nightmare. Nothing that we learn or that happens in the episode is ever relevant again as far as I recall, yet 19 years later, people still talk about how much they love that episode. So, I’m really confused as to what counts as useless filler/fluff vs what's important information. How do you tell the difference?

[Ask edited for length...]

First, it's important to note that a Nickelodeon cartoon from twenty years ago is not a great measuring stick for how to write fiction in 2024. ATLA, from what I've heard, is an amazing TV show, full of heart and top-notch character development. But it was also a cartoon created for and written to be enjoyed by children as young as age seven (the low end of Nickelodeon's demographic at the time), so it was following different guidelines from what you'd be following if you're trying to write a short story, novella, or book.

Case in point, the ATLA episode "The Tales of Ba Sing Se" is what's known in television as a "vignette," which uses short, self-contained stories unified by concept and theme to explore character relationships, growth, world-building, and to expand on themes that are important to the overall story. So, while the episode may not have contained plot-relevant elements, as get a glimpse into the minutiae of the characters' daily lives in Ba Sing Se, the characters and their relationships are still pushed forward, even if in only the tiniest ways.

And, again, this is a TV show with 61 episodes, not a short story, novel, or book, all of which are structured differently than a TV show.

On the Subject of "Fluff"

I want to be clear about the fact that if you're writing fan-fiction, fluff is just fine. And even if you're writing original fiction, you can get away with a little bit of fluff... you just need to be clever about it...

Filler, Fluff, or Relevant?

If something is absolutely necessary to move the story forward or understand it, it's plot relevant.

If something doesn't move the story forward and isn't critical to the reader's understanding of the story, but it helps them understand the characters or world in a way they didn't before, it's probably fluff that's been dressed up in a plot relevant costume. (That's the "you need to be clever about it" bit from above, which we'll get to in a second...)

If something isn't necessary to move the story forward or understand it, and it doesn't add anything to the reader's understanding of the characters or world, it's filler. It's just words on a page that serve no purpose, and it should be cut.

On the Subject of "Moving the Story Forward"

To clarify, in case anyone is wondering, "moving the story forward" means advancing the plot from one scene to the next scene. In other words, to use The Hunger Games as an example, Prim's name being drawn in the Reaping moves the story forward, because it forces Katniss to volunteer in her place. It moves the story from Katniss being a bystander at the Reaping to being a tribute. Another example, using Twilight, when Tyler's van skids into the parking lot and almost smashed into Bella, it forces Edward to use his otherworldly vampire strength to save her, which confirms in her mind that he's not human. It moves the story from Bella being curious about this weird boy at school to realizing he is something else and wanting to know more.

Dressing Up Fluff to Make it Relevant

Let's say you're writing a story about a young woman who stayed in her small town and went to community college while her high school besties went off to a college she couldn't afford, and now they've returned and she's trying to maintain these important friendships while struggling with feelings of resentment, jealousy, and feeling left behind.

Now, let's also say you have an idea for a really cute scene where your protagonist and one of these friends goes to a museum together for an afternoon. And as it stands, nothing plot relevant happens in this scene and it doesn't add anything to the reader's understanding of the characters or world. It's just something silly and fun you think would be cute in your story. How can you turn it from fluff to relevant?

To start with, look at your character's internal conflict... wanting to maintain the friendship while struggling with jealousy and feeling left behind. What could happen in the museum that could play on that? Maybe they stop in front of a reproduction of the Venus de Milo and the friend starts talking about the semester abroad she and the other friends did in Paris. This is a perfect place to explore the protagonist's feelings of jealousy and being left behind. If the character talks about her thoughts and feelings in that moment, either inside her head or with the friend, it gives you a chance to expand upon these feelings, explore why they're happening, and even to add further conflict. Maybe she confronts the friend and it doesn't go over well. Or, maybe she lies about something to feel better about herself, and that creates problems later.

Another option would be to look at the next plot point that needs to happen. Is there some way this scene can be used as a stepping stone between two existing scenes? Could something be added to this scene that raises the stakes or or makes the next scene more interesting?

While I'm sure there are some scenes you just can't make relevant no matter how hard you try, usually you can find a way if you just take the time to brainstorm and try out different ideas.

One Last Note...

On the rare occasion you end up with a fluff scene that has no relevance and can't be made to have relevance no matter how hard you try, write it anyway. Then, take it out, save it someplace safe, and hang onto it. These kinds of stories make GREAT incentives for things like newsletter sign-ups, subscription perks, web site bonuses, etc.

I hope that helps! ♥

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I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[gaypirate420]

Curiosity here: {Discussion}

If you could re-write Jasper but keep 2 things about him, what would you keep? Besides appearance and gift! How would you explore this new version of Jasper?

For me, I'd keep his army past and Alice. But I'd explore how he changes over time and comes to realize how bad being on the Confederate side & being racist is. (I think you get it I'm trying to keep this short.)

Such as what makes him change and how he copes with his new understanding, and y'know the whole process of that.

Ofc, she comes into play too, maybe she's the catalyst that gets him to thinkin' about the topic at the surface, but it eventually goes deeper as she overtime explains things to him, and he thinks further on his own. IDK BRO I'm just thinking and wanted to read what you'd do. {Have a discussion.}

I'd change him shacking up w/ the Cullens though...or maybe their relationships with each other. I'd love to explore everything basically around canon while still being divergent to an extent. (Canon Related?)

He'd be the main character, but I think you already knew that if you read or at least skimmed this. But I have a terrible fear of people misunderstanding me. (⊙﹏⊙)

But yeah, I was just curious! I know a lot of people have done all sorts of things with him in Fics regarding his past and such, but I do always enjoy reading your responses to things.

This is just a purely hypothetical discussion. {If this was ever made that would be ambitious as hell cause like mf is like... 150 years old!}

I don't even want to think about all that time, and they never sleep either so like holy hell. So many moments of introspection and guilt and etc. to write I'd have a mental collapse. {But that's me when I write anything but also editing sucks ass.}

But not to mention ofc the huge amounts of research everything would take, and I am a huge perfectionist.

-Sincerely a mutual who tried to ask a few questions then freaked out over my own questions.

I'm making this anon now because I fear this ask now.

I think we have the same idea dear mutual!

(this is so fucking long omg I went off the rails, let me know what y'all think.)

I wouldn't rewrite anything, I'll just play it differently, I'll give it a nice depth.

I've always been on the side that just rewrite or ignore Jasper's confederate past is- not ideal. Yeah it's okay for a silly little comfort fic with your favorite vampire but not when talking about his actual canon characterization.

I would keep him serving for the Confederate army. I know a lot of people don't like that about him, but, I think it's a huge part of his character but there was something lacking there.

And what was missing is guilt.

Jasper, as to how he is written, and how we see the scenes of his past are played on both the book and the movie makes him look like he wasn't ashamed of his racist past or that he was even still prideful for it.

And it's so weird for me, how could this man who spent a century long depression, a self described "monster" a "nightmare" that just floods with self loathing couldn't feel guilty for not only taking someone's life but their freedom?

How could he feel guilty over killing the newborns but not black people? It doesn't make sense and it makes it worse, it makes you think that he, in modern times, it's still a confederate and also because vampires are "mentally frozen." He's not changed that much really then.

(I think Jasper lacking guilt and remorse about these fact about him is because of SM and her own views she not so subtlety spread all over her books though.)

So yes, I am keeping him as an ex-confederate soldier. Jasper was 17 so we are just to assume he was ignorant, and that's okay, we can live with an ignorant white boy for now. I cannot stress enough about how there is no need to make mental flips and splits to justify this choice of thinking in a 17 y/o southern boy from the 1840's. But, he gets to change, he, after the first years of him killing the newborns reflects about this, he might not be completely educated but he has the spirit.

Now let's talk about Alice.

I love her, but, if we are really analysing this then her and therefore the rest of the Cullens (because they welcome her and Jasper on their family) are okay with Jasper serving for the confederacy and I don't like that.

Why did Alice make him feel hope and all this shit and get him to change and learn a new life but didn't make him reflect on that maybe, perhaps, fighting for the enslavement of an entire race wasn't a good thing to do.

She says "you'll never be that again." referring to him being a vampire killing machine, not a racist, may I remind y'all.

So, I think the change would be about Alice teaching him things, Jasper spent so much time with Maria and then he was seriously depressed, I get the idea he wasn't interested on- going outside besides to feed from humans.

I think there are two types of vampires, those who love seeing humanity grow and change and come up with all these little inventions and then the ones who just see humans as prey.

Alice being the first and Jasper the second, but not for long after he meets her.

I think Alice could update him about the modern world that was the 50's, she would educate her that yes, Jasper's gentlemanly ways are charming and make her blush and giggle but there are some comments that aren't okay, just because in "his time" it was "okay", "funny" or "right", to say these things doesn't make them less offensive, dismissive and hurtful.

Alice would ask Jasper what did he felt while serving? And why? Was he even fully aware of what he was fighting for? Did the years of him seeing countless human's fight and go to wars that got bloodier and more destructive made him stop and think about the damage of his own army career?

Make the man reflect. Make him think for days and days about these questions he asked himself but never truly took the time to answer them. I need Jasper to have a slight mental breakdown before he gets to know the more peaceful life with the Cullens and Alice.

Alice asked these questions in her endless curiosity, not in innocence, but rather to know Jasper, really know him and understand him.

I want him to feel disgusted about having to feed from humans now that he realizes how much harm he did, and that's were the Cullens come in, Alice knows about her new family of course and it's more than excited to know her mate wants this life too, not because oh he's so in love with her he'll do anything (he is) but because he wants to change.

Carlisle let's him stay because he knows this, he understands in a way and he can't help but sympathize with him and Alice wanting to change herself and help her partner.

But Jasper can't fully because his body is asking him to kill constantly. He doesn't want to keep harming people, but his body can't forget, not only his body it's scarred as a reminder, but there's this annoying bloodlust that doesn't want to go away just yet.

But he has Alice, holding his hand and make him feel like everything will be alright.

Jasper is struggling but he is changing, he is getting more and more mental peace, finally, after a century and a half. It's slow, it's painful but it's there, self forgiveness and change.

One of the things that I love, a concept, Jasper being into philosophy, history and just literature, him loving to learn.

I love that in Breaking Dawn Jasper wanted to help Bella with her thirst. And of course I love him being hurt when she's way more successful than he is after so many years.

Seeing someone who you share the same experiences is so amazing, it helps you, but seeing them overcome this challenges that you also endure it brings you down on such a horrible way, it hurts you, but it makes you think of who you were before and how much you have accomplished. How much you've changed and that's my take on Jasper Hale.

I am not normal about him.

Also, I think I would change vampires not being able to sleep or cry, I think Jasper deserves both, as a treat :). I love him.

[multifandoms27-blog]

Yu-Gi-Oh dub continuity please. (You can smoosh DSoD dub into the timeline if you want to. I usually do.) Aro ace female reader, neurotypical but weird anyway. (I may be an introvert who spends hours alone by choice and doesn’t have a huge social circle, but I was born to be a ridiculous anime character who dresses flamboyantly, has a sense of the dramatic, and wants to impress people. It’s certainly how I try to live in Real Life.) Reader quickly lets go of past irritations, and is more interested in honesty than not getting her feelings hurt. Smart, and self-teaches herself whatever skills seem interesting or useful to her. Rather childish in a lot of ways even though she is an adult, with a real sense of wonder. Rarely responds to sarcasm with more sarcasm. Reader is also a decent duelist, but not at Kaiba’s level. Physically she’s three inches taller than Yugi, with a very slight build, no makeup, long straight hair past her waist, boyish posture and movement, and a great sense of balance and understanding of moving her own body. Not a lot of physical strength though, she can probably only do about 10 push-ups.

Reader always calls Kaiba by his last name. Kaiba calls Reader by her first name.

Set after the run of the show. Reader and Kaiba have become friends. (Mokuba and Yugi secretly worked a lot behind the scenes for years doing friend-matchmaking in order for the friendship to materialize. 😋) They have similar interests, figured out how to communicate well (although perhaps more brusquely than most,) trust one another, and each believes the other to also be uninterested in romance/sex (which is highly reassuring when you suspect all your friends and relations will one day fall in love and accidentally push you out of their life.)

I’d love some writing with excitement, adventure, trouble, or danger! (If you want to throw in some angst that would be fine as well.) Perhaps the reader and Kaiba end up in a bad situation which is quickly flying out of their control. One of the fun things about Yu-Gi-Oh is the fact this could stem from any number of absolutely bonkers reasons! Maybe they were abducted by aliens to be sold to other aliens as “important Earthlings you can enslave to show off or feel more important.” Or maybe a rival company decided to get quite cutthroat and try to take over Kaiba Corp with literal force. Did they get accidentally transported to a fantasy dimension where they drew the ire of an evil leader? Or maybe an eviler Gozaburo shows up from another dimension and tries to force Kaiba to join him in a multi-dimensional conquest, with the explicit threat that if he doesn’t help, then Kaiba and those he cares about can spend their lives firmly under Gozaburo’s thumb, serving him in much less enjoyable capacities. You can use any scenario that seems fun to write! (You can also include other characters like Yugi, Joey, Mokuba, etc. if it feels like the story needs it. I would love to be friends with any of the good guy Yu-Gi-Oh characters.)

Uh, silly thing, but I don’t like profanity, so it would be great if you could not use any when writing this particular request. (It’s definitely possible to write scary, threatening, creepy dialogue without it, so I hope it doesn’t inconvenience you too much.) Sorry!

And please don’t write the two main characters as having any interest in romance/sex.

Some violence is okay though. Even the dub has a lot of implied violence and brutality. Just, don’t go overboard into R rated territory.

Hope the formatting isn’t too bad.

If you have any questions, or would prefer I send in a different request, or would like me to send in this request again with different formatting, or would like to tell me you are refusing my request, feel free to DM me.

P.S. Do you have a Ko-fi or something similar?

Hiya Dei! No, I don't have anything like that. Maybe I should set up one though?

So sorry this took so long to write, but its finally here! I really do hope you enjoy it!

Edit: Fixed some POV errors and added the opposing companies' name.

Content: Platonic! Seto Kaiba x fem!Reader

Warnings: Kidnapping

Notes: I really enjoyed writing this!! It was like writing an episode of Yugioh and I've always wanted to do that :3 This turned out to be 13 pages long, so yippe!! I had a little funny joke at the end here lol

• ───────────────── •

After graduating Domino high, it’s like everybody hit the ground running with their dreams. Tea moved to America to pursue dancing, Joey and Yugi started working at Solomon’s shop, Bakura left Japan with his father to travel, Tristan began working at his fathers company, Duke left Domino City to spread Dungeon Dice Monsters around…and then that left you and Kaiba.

Kaiba needed someone who could watch Mokuba, but someone he could trust, and someone he could keep close. Joey and Tristan and Tea were out of the question, Duke definitely no, he would be caught dead before letting Mokuba around Bakura, and Yugi can’t keep anybody safe.

So he decided to hire you. A week after graduation, Kaiba approached you with the job position. You were thinking about your future anyway, figuring out whether or not you wanted to go to college, or go straight into the workforce, or do both. When Kaiba laid out the job position for you, you practically jumped on the idea.

“If you can’t handle this job position now, then back out of it while you still can.” Kaiba teased, though to a bystander, he was just insulting you due to his lack of a smile.

“I can handle it, don’t go doubting me just yet, Kaiba.” You jabbed back, also without a smile.

Finally, Kaiba allowed a small smirk to form. “That’s what I like to hear. Come with me, we’ll start the paperwork ASAP, and you start tomorrow.”

It was hardly much work compared to the pay you got from Kaiba. Your job was just to keep close to Mokuba and make sure any shady characters got dealt with. The rest of your time could be spent with Kaiba in his office, or doing something with Mokuba. It truly was a dream - you got to be near your best friend and get closer to the younger Kaiba brother.

So far, no shady characters have gotten past your watchful eye. But about six months after taking the job position, everything flipped upside down.

• ───────────────── •

A new ride and section of the arcade was built into Kaibaland, and Mokuba practically begged you to take him. You agreed, and now you were trapped in the heat with Mokuba and a few other security guards. The guards did a good job at keeping bystanders away from grabbing you or Mokuba, or just getting too close in general. You had to get used to paparazzi, but after the last three years with Yugi and your old friend group, that wasn’t a hard transition.

Mokuba stopped your train of thought by tugging your arm. “(Y/n), (Y/n) look! There’s the new rollercoaster! Can we go on it?!”

The heat was making you nauseous and dizzy. While you wanted nothing more than to go on with him, you knew you had to pass it up so you wouldn’t completely ruin his day. “Sorry, Moki. I need some water, I’m not feeling too good. But I’m sure one of the guards would be happy to go on with you.”

Mokuba pouted, but nodded. “Okay. But can we play games together in the arcade?”

“Absolutely.” You grin, patting the boy's head.

One of the guards, Bishop, volunteered to get on the ride with him. You approved it, knowing you could trust Bishop. He had been with Kaiba for a couple years now, and has always carried out his orders flawlessly. Another guard, Keith, went to grab you a bottle of water. You sat down on a nearby bench and watched as Mokuba got on the ride with Bishop, waved to him, then he was off. Leaning back on the bench, you felt like you were able to relax for the next few minutes. You closed your eyes, knowing the guards will help protect you while Mokuba was on the ride.

More than a few minutes passed, and the sounds of screaming from the roller coaster had stopped. Opening your eyes, you looked up to see if Mokuba had gotten off. To your horror, the ride wasn’t moving. Nobody was getting off or on. Part of the ride was going through tunnels, and since the ride itself couldn’t be seen, you guessed it was in one of those tunnels. Scrambling to get up and run towards the ride, you approached the fear-stricken teen girl trying to operate said ride.

“What happened? Why is the ride stuck?”

“A-ah! Miss (Y/n)! I-I don’t know, the wheels stopped and I can’t get it to work!” The poor girl was shaking, she was afraid she was going to lose her job.

Looking up at the broken up tunnels on the tracks, you had no idea which one the ride was in. Instead, you turned to the girl. “Which tunnel did the coaster go in before it stopped?”

“That one…” The girl pointed to the highest one, before her voice trailed off.

You looked up and saw a helicopter approaching the ride, one that didn’t look like a Kaiba Corp one. You immediately grew anxious. “Keith, Cole, Sam! Code: Mocha!”

“Yes ma’am!” The three men yelled in unison before swiftly taking out walkie talkies to inform other guards of the situation both on and off Kaibaland.

However, it was too late. Two men dropped from the helicopter and - presumably - cut a hole into the tunnel. Your heart rate picked up, and you foolishly tried to mess with the controls one more time, hoping and praying that it would work and you could get Mokuba back safe.

The teen girl next to you gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. You snapped your head back up to see the two men - now with an additional third man - rising back into the helicopter holding a struggling Mokuba.

“Mokuba!!” You screamed, banging your fists against the control panel.

There was nothing you could do. The three men got Mokuba into the helicopter and flew off, then suddenly the coaster began to move, the screams of the other passengers picking back up. Tears pricked your eyes and your head hung low. “Mokuba…”

• ───────────────── •

You sat in Seto’s office, eyes downcast as you informed him of what happened to Mokuba. He didn’t say anything for a moment, and you were afraid he was going to have an angry outburst. He had every right to of course, you just didn’t want something to hit you. Seto took a deep breath before standing.

“You were at the bottom of the coaster?” He asked.

“Yes.”

“And Mokuba was with Bishop?” Seto asked.

“Yeah.”

“I have an idea of what happened then. Come with me, (Y/n).” He grabbed his suitcase, closed his laptop and shoved it in before moving briskly past you.

You got up and quickly followed. You didn’t know if Kaiba was mad, but you decided it would be better to follow than ask questions. Kaiba stopped at Lisa’s desk - his secretary - and informed her to cancel any afternoon plans he had, and have his chopper ready, before continuing his strut throughout the building. They headed for the elevator, and once Kaiba pushed the highest button, you finally began to ask questions.

“Who do you think took Mokuba?”

“Bishop’s old company - Knightly Rook, a rival of Kaiba Corp in the business world for a little while now. But I never thought the company would stoop to this. Bishop was pretty loyal to them, and I had wondered why he quit. Now I know he never really quit.” Kaiba glared at the wall.

“No way…you really think Bishop was in on the kidnapping do you?” (Y/n) asked in disbelief, eyes wide and mouth almost gaping.

Although, it made sense. There had been a third man to join them after Mokuba was caught. Bishop hadn’t come off the ride. Your eyes fell to the ground and you turned your head away. “I’m so stupid…I’m so sorry, Kaiba. I thought he would be safe…”

“This isn’t your fault. It’s mine for not looking into him more.” Kaiba spoke, with an air of irritation in his voice. “We’re going to fix this, one way or another.”

You look up at him. “You mean…?”

Kaiba looks down at you and nods. “We’re going to duel them for Mokuba.”

“Wait, I don’t have my deck-” You objected before Kaiba placed a hand on your shoulder, and the other hand offered you your deck. “Oh.”

“You keep leaving it in my office. Your cards will get bent if you don’t put them in a case.” Kaiba made a mental note to get you one. Maybe he’d get you one with designs of your favorite card on there.

“Are we going to do a double team?” You asked.

“Most likely. The CEO and his assistant are close, and are almost never seen apart.” Kaiba explained. “Of course, I trust you’ll keep up with me during this duel.”

“Yes, Kaiba.” You nod, putting your deck away securely.

The elevator doors opened and they both stepped out into the gleaming sun. It had been an hour since Mokuba was kidnapped, but it felt like it was even hotter outside than before. Or maybe it was your body trying to get used to the fast shift between the heavily air conditioned Kaiba Corp building, and the scorching heat outside. The blades of Seto’s chopper were just beginning to start up, and he continued to stride towards it. After you both sat down and secured yourselves in your seats, Kaiba placed his briefcase on his lap and opened it.

“Can you hold this for me?” Seto asked.

“Sure.” You nodded, grabbing his computer.

He then lifted the bottom of his briefcase to reveal all of his cards. “I’ll allow you to pick ten to boost yourself in this fight. I can’t have you lagging behind.”

You gave him a pointed look. “I can handle myself with my deck.”

“Fine. Five cards, take it or leave it.” Seto moved the briefcase for you to get a better look at the cards.

Grumbling under your breath, you looked over some monster, trap and magic cards before choosing five you figured would benefit you. “Thank you, Kaiba.”

He only hummed, and began assembling his own deck. You saw him slip the three Blue Eyes into the deck of 40 cards, and you cracked a smile, but didn’t say anything, and the smile faded as soon as it showed up. You were nervous. For Mokuba’s safety and wellbeing, for your job, for your friendship with Kaiba. Were you done at Kaiba Corp for this? You hoped not.

Once Seto was done assembling his deck, he turned towards you and noticed your nervous look. He was nervous too, for Mokuba’s safety. But you seemed like you were worrying about a lot more. “...something on your mind?”

“Oh nothing, just going to gamble a child’s life over a children’s card game, what else is new.” You spoke sarcastically.

Kaiba understood. It was a lot for you to take in - before, either he would get Mokuba back himself or you had Yugi and his friends there to help you. Now, you’re Kaiba’s only backup. “I suppose you could put it that way.”

“How long until we get to this company?”

“A few hours. It’s on the other end of Japan. They’ll get there before we do.” Seto explained, looking out his own window.

“What do they want with Mokuba?” You asked.

“Probably something to do with me ignoring their requests for a meeting.” Kaiba spoke dismissively. “I doubt they’d purposely harm Mokuba if they ever want a shot at being in my good graces. Though now, that ship has already sailed.”

You looked back at him. “Kaiba, what happens if we lose?”

Kaiba glanced at you and huffed. “I don’t lose. And just because you’re some second rate duelist doesn’t mean you can go doubting yourself now too.”

Second rate? You thought to yourself. It was a step up from Joey, you supposed. “Thanks, Kaiba.”

“Whatever.” Kaiba shrugged and turned away.

As much as Kaiba acted mean and teased you, you knew by now that it was good fun. He wouldn’t keep you around if he actually hated you, much less let you use some of his cards and duel side by side with him. Kaiba had slowly become an older brother to you, and Mokuba had become a younger brother. You had hoped you’d become a sister to them, if not then a close friend. You watched the world go by as the helicopter flew to the Knightly Rook building. You closed your eyes and decided to rest for a moment before you’d have to hit the ground running.

• ───────────────── •

The helicopter landed and Kaiba shook you awake. The doors opened and once you both stepped out, you were met by a glammed up couple surrounded by guards. The man wore a mahogany suit, looked older (about his 50’s), had a cane that was likely for show, and had a dark grin on his face. Next to him was a woman who looked younger (about her 30’s) with a matching mahogany dress and a white fur shawl that went around her shoulders and down her left arm. On her left hand was a big shiny diamond. The woman laughed.

“Darling, you think they’re here to pick up dear Moki?”

“Don’t call him that!” You yelled, Seto put a hand on your shoulder to stop you.

“Where is he?” He asked.

The man spoke. “Follow us, and you shall see.”

“And if we want to stay up here?” You asked.

“Then I guess Moki will cease to be~” The woman giggled, causing your eyebrow to twitch.

“We’ll follow you.” Seto glared at the couple.

“Excellent!” The man exclaimed, clapping his hands twice.

The guards formed a group around you and Kaiba, forcing you two closer to the couple. The man stuck his hand out to shake with Kaiba's. "Reginald O'Malley, nice to finally meet you, Seto Kaiba."

"Can't say the same." Kaiba reluctantly shook his hand, causing Reginald to laugh.

The woman stuck her hand out to you, and you swore her ring almost blinded you. You hesitantly shook it.

"I'm Sasha O'Malley." The glammed out woman grinned.

"(Y/n) (L/n)." You responded, not wanting to touch her any more than you already had to.

Reginald led you and Kaiba inside. The building didn't look like a company building at all. The walls were a golden yellow, with redwood flooring. The windows gave you a nice view over the city. Wasn't this supposed to be the corporate building of this company? Where were the workers? And come to think of it, where was the pilot of your ride here?

Reginald led you over to the sizable fireplace. "Now friends, I'm sure you're wondering why I've gathered you all here."

"Not really." Seto narrowed his eyes at him. "Just get to it, Reginald. I don't have all day."

The man chuckled before pulling a picture frame to the left, and the fireplace began to turn. It revealed stairs leading down. Was that where he was keeping Mokuba? Was that where his workers were?

"Come my friends, for a duel." Reginald grinned and led them down the stairs.

You clenched your jaw in irritation, but took a deep breath and cooperated, following the couple down the stairs. Seto was behind you. At the bottom of the stairs, there was a gigantic arena fitted with four seats. So this was going to be a double team duel.

"Big brother! Big sister!" Mokuba yelled from his cage, dangling in the air.

"Mokuba!" You and Kaiba yelled in unison.

"Beat us in a duel, and we give the boy back. But if we win, we take Kaiba Corp. Deal?" Reginald grinned, holding his hand out.

Seto growled before taking his hand into a bone crushing grip. "Deal."

• ───────────────── •

The duel was seemingly nearing an end. Sasha was the lowest count with 500 life points left, though that was to be expected. You only had monsters in your deck. Reginald was a little harder to beat, and was at 2300 life points. You and Seto were doing good, Seto with 3700 life points and you with 3000.

It was your turn, so you draw. Mirror force.

"I play this card face down, and my Luster Dragon attacks Sasha head on!"

Sasha didn't have any monsters on the field, with Kaiba destroying the last one last turn with his Battle Ox. Luster Dragon has 1900 attack points, so Sasha's points drop to zero. She whines to her husband from across the arena.

"Darling, I lost! Please win for me, I want that company!"

"Of course dear." Reginald nods and draws a card. "I summon Blackeyes, the Plunder Patrol Seaguide in attack mode! Now, I sacrifice him to summon Wattaildragon in attack mode!"

You knew that card. Wattaildragon had 2500 attack points. So while it couldn't hurt Seto, it could still hurt you. And Reginald knew that. "Wattaildragon! Attack (Y/n)'s Luster Dragon!"

The dragon let out a roar before preparing to attack. You acted surprised for a moment before you smirked, catching Reginald off guard. "You forgot about my face down card. You activated my trap - mirror force!"

The card lifted face up to show mirror force, which made the Wattaildragon's attack bounce off and hit it, destroying it completely. Reginald had no more monsters on the field.

"Darling that is not what I wanted you to do!" Sasha yelled but Reginald ignored her.

"Kaiba!" You called.

"Right. Blue eyes! Attack Reginald head on, and finish this duel once and forever!" Kaiba yelled.

The Blue Eyes let out a roar before firing a beam straight at Reginald. His life points had dropped to zero. You and Seto shared an accomplished look and a thumbs up. Then Seto's phone rang.

"Well it's as I expected. Reginald here isn't a rich man. In fact, he's been committing thirty years worth of financial fraud." Seto gave the glammed out couple a dark grin. "You're both going away for a long time."

• ───────────────── •

It turns out that the pilot doubled as an infiltrator. Seto had planned to duel the couple as a distraction either way. He had managed to get all of Reginald's statements and aliases and fraudulent checks. Police surrounded the building, and both Reginald and Sasha were taken away in cuffs, with an added charge of kidnapping. Their guards, along with Bishop, got taken away too.

Mokuba ran up to Seto and (Y/n), hugging them both. "I knew you guys would come for me! That was an awesome duel!"

"Thanks, Moki." You smiled, ruffling his hair causing him to laugh. "We're just glad you're alright."

Seto nodded in agreement. Mokuba grinned up at them. "Well...for being kidnapped and all, you know how you guys can make it up to me?"

"Therapy?" Seto and you spoke together.

"No silly, ice cream and duel monsters!" Mokuba threw his hands up excitedly.

You and Seto looked at each other before laughing. "Sure Mokuba, sure."

• ───────────────── •

Here is my Masterlist in case you want to request, or look for more of your favorite character!

[pluckyredhead]

Editing The Lost Titans

I get asks about writing advice/craft/tips occasionally, and I always feel a little inadequate when I answer them. While I try to be very disciplined and methodical about my original writing, when it comes to fic, it's something I do for fun and for free, so my method is mainly slapping my hands on the keyboard like a seal until self-indulgence comes out. It's rare that I outline fic or make significant edits, so it's hard for me to point to specific examples.

However! While I was writing The Lost TItans, I did a bunch of major edits - throwing away entire scenes, revising large chunks, adding an entire chapter after the first draft was done. More importantly, all of those edits had really clear reasons they needed to be made, rather than me going "Eh...it's just not right," which means I can actually explain my thought process without just waving a hand vaguely in the direction of the vibes. So I thought I'd write about what edits I made and why, in case it's interesting or useful to anyone. (And if not, who doesn't like navel gazing?)

The original opening scene was entirely different. It served the same purpose - it was still a dream showing the Titans Red world - but instead of all the Titans fighting the HIVE, it was Jason having lunch on the Star City University campus with Toni and Grant. Then, just as in the finished fic, Jason wakes up at Roy's house and talks about the dream over breakfast.

Now don't get me wrong, I loved writing that original opening scene. I love Toni and Grant, I was already invested in this alternate timeline, so getting to play with these characters interacting was super fun for me.

But it wouldn't have been fun for anyone else. Most of my readers wouldn't know who Toni and Grant were, and literally no one would be invested in their relationships with Jason, because I was inventing those out of whole cloth. Also, because the other four members of the team weren't there, it was just tons of exposition of who these characters were, what their team history was, etc. etc. Rose's joke about Roy being like a cool camp counselor was originally from this scene, but because Rose isn't in the scene, it's a joke being exposited rather than told. There was nothing to engage a reader who wasn't me, and also a lot of what was being shown in the scene - that these characters attended the same college - wasn't necessary information (as you can tell by the fact that in the final fic, that isn't even true).

So I cut the scene entirely and replaced it with the opening fight scene. (And obviously made the necessary edits to the subsequent conversation with Roy.) It's much more high energy, and more importantly: it gets the whole team on the page, it shows that they are a team rather than just telling you, and hopefully the banter gets you invested in their dynamic. They're pals being goofy together! I sure hope these are real relationships and not Hank Hall's weird manipulative RPF!

2. The third scene, dinner at Ollie's, originally opened with Roy, Lian, and Jason arriving at Ollie's and all the different Arrowfamily members getting little bits of dialogue or whatever before it was supposed to cut to the flashback of Jason butting heads with Bruce in Gotham. I was actually in the middle of this scene and stalled out for a while before I realized I needed to a) scrap the opening scene like I mentioned above and b) scrap this one, too. Often when I find I'm just stuck and not going anywhere, it's for reasons like this - the scene I'm writing isn't the right one.

In this case, it was similar to the Grant and Toni scene above - I was having a great time writing the Arrowfam, but the scene wasn't actually contributing anything to the fic. The point of this entire sequence was to show Jason's fraught relationship with his own family, and hint that Connor was experiencing the same dreams as Jason. Random banter with Mia or whoever was just getting in the way of the crucial information. I cleared all of the Arrowfamily stuff out of the beginning of this sequence, jumped straight to Gotham, and then used the birthday cake scene to contrast Jason's relationship with the Bats to his relationship with the Arrows, as well as drop that Connor hint.

I want to be really clear here, because I feel like people get defensive about the idea of cutting scenes that "aren't doing anything" or "don't move the plot forward." I didn't cut these scenes because they were quiet or character-driven. Jason and Roy having breakfast is quiet and character-driven. The whole fic is character-driven. I cut the scenes that I cut because they literally served zero purpose except having various characters go "Hello, I exist and I have a relationship to Jason." I replaced them with scenes that did that, and also moved the plot forward, and also made you care about those relationships, and also were fun to read. Please don't feel bad for those scenes because they got cut; they are a collection of words and don't have feelings.

3. The scene where Rose rescues Jason and Connor from Sudden Death got I would say a medium level of revision, in that the beats are all the same but they weren't originally fighting Sudden Death. Initially I just had them dealing with two members from opposite sides of a gang war, and the scene was pretty terrible but it got me where I needed to be, so I left it and finished the first draft of the whole fic.

When I went back in revisions, I realized that in using the gang war hook, I was once again spending time on something - in this case, the intricacies of crime in Star City - that had nothing to do with the fic. This is an easy trap to fall into: I needed to introduce Rose in a fun, badass way, while Jason and Connor were already hanging out, so having her save them while they were on patrol was perfect. It didn't matter who they were fighting, so I put in some generic goons.

But then I had to justify why said goons required three superheroes (four, if you count Roy) to defeat them, and also set up why they were there in the first place, and it just became a long derailment from the story I was trying to tell, with nothing inherently entertaining about it to justify it.

Swapping the goons for Sudden Death meant I could significantly streamline the "why" of the scene: he's a supervillain doing supervillain shit, case closed (although there's still a nod to him working with Brick, a Star City crime lord, to explain why he's in town). His dumb surfer shtick is more entertaining to read than generic goon dialogue. And he's a Hawk and Dove villain, which meant the scene served three purposes now: giving Rose a grand entrance, humor, and foreshadowing. Boom.

4. The scene where Jason and Roy kiss got a pretty thorough second pass. This one is the least helpful one to talk about, I think, because it really was just honing the vibes. I wanted to increase the tension between them, that slow pull drawing them closer, so I put in more about their respective positioning in the room, the way the room looks and feels, little physical details of Roy. If I make the setting more palpable, I make the tension more palpable - or at least, that's the theory I'm working with here.

5. The climax got a MAJOR overhaul. Initially, Hank returned Roy and took him away again, Jason had the team attack him, and there was a whole thing with the team fruitlessly fighting against all these hypertime variants of Hank. Only then did Koryak suggest they stay in the Titans Red universe.

I'd written it that way because...well, it was a superhero fic, it felt like it needed some kind of physical confrontation at the end. But this version of Hank is so powerful that there wasn't actually anything the Titans could do, which made the fight not particularly engaging. It also didn't really make sense for him to be attacked by Koryak, Grant, and Eddie, who were kind of on his side, or Jason, who was torn.

Instead, I nixed the physical fight, and made the actual conflict between the team members, which is the conflict that really matters. I also made that fight much more painful. The argument was already there in the first draft, but the truly cruel lines - Koryak's comment about Rose's mom, what Grant says to Toni - came in the second pass. Because the stakes here aren't really whether they can beat Hank; it's their friendship, and the balance between what they give up by going home, and what they give up by staying in the dream. I needed that decision to hurt, and failing to punch Hank Hall in the face wouldn't accomplish that.

6. I essentially added an entire chapter in revisions. Originally the fic went: Eddie sacrifices himself -> quick paragraph sending everyone home -> Jason and Roy get together -> team reassembles to rescue Eddie. It felt rushed and completely unsatisfying. I had been focused on resolving the plot points directly involving Jason, because he's the POV character, but I'd spent so long on all of the various team relationships that I had to at least give each character a proper send-off.

So I added the scene at the JSA brownstone. I let Grant and Toni make up, gave Grant his happy ending, and hinted at Toni's. I gave Koryak and Rose exit lines, and hinted that Jason thinks of Connor as family and part of what "home" means. I added the Tim scene because I needed to balance the beginning of the fic, and because if Jason was making the choice to return to a world with a fraught family dynamic, I needed to show that dynamic on page. I was worried that it would feel like I was drawing out the end too long after the Big Bad was defeated, but I think all of those scenes feel necessary and (hopefully) healing.

Anyway, hopefully this was interesting and maybe helpful! I find craft super interesting but it can be hard to talk about in concrete ways, so I wanted to get all this down on (digital) paper as clear examples I could point to when people ask.

[moonlitfirefly]

“Baptist preacher here. If you are interested in my thoughts on mocking God...well, I can probably offer some more interesting reading suggestions than anything I will say. Like the project that has been set forth for next year and is widely available to you online. But here goes.

2. Treating an Italian painting of white Jesus as sacrosanct is most certainly honoring something that is not God. The accusation that one is mocking God begs questions about what exactly the accuser is honoring.

3. A depiction of Jesus welcoming table guests that others shun is Biblical. The accusation that one is mocking God begs questions about which Gospels the accuser is reading.

4. "Mocking God" is a mean-spirited critique. The accusation that one is mocking God begs questions about the intention of the accuser.

But more than any of this: the fact that American Christians so wildly missed the celebration of the Greek gods is stunningly and embarrassingly a result of the anti-intellectual tragedy into which the far right has invited evangelical Christians.

Listen. There is no shame in not already knowing something. It is ok to not readily recognize the Feast of DIONYSOS (Dionysus). I have to look up how to spell it every time I write it.

But the Greek gods are at the heart of the history of the Olympics.

And the opening Ceremony in Paris was about things deeply rooted in French culture and in Olympic history.

Artwork from the Louvre was highlighted.

And though there are depictions of the last supper in the Louvre, the particular painting in question is not at the Louvre because it is in a church in Italy. It has nothing to do with France-or the Olympics and it would have been wildly off topic.

It makes much more sense for the bawdy scene in question to be a depiction of the Feast of DIONYSOS (Dionysus).

I hope you will stop spending energy being angry about the opening ceremony mocking God.

And.

There are things that dishonor God.

Policies that make it harder for children to eat dishonor God.

Policies that strip dignity and self-determination from those whose realities you do not understand dishonor God.

The dismantling of public education dishonors

God.

Racial injustice dishonors God.

Centering heteronormative relationships dishonors God.

Championing women who are able to birth live children as virtuous or honorable dishonors God.

Using tricky words to herald a society where freedoms and safety-nets are taken away in the name of some false nobility of suffering dishonors God.

Lying dishonors God.

Cheating on your partner dishonors God.

Destroying ecosystems dishonors God.

Filling the oceans with plastic dishonors God.

Hoarding wealth dishonors God.

Choose, then, whom you will serve.

---------EDIT for an additional comment:

I've seen people asking about the apology from the IFC and I'd like to encourage us all to read what was said!

I respect an apology for unintended harm! I respect an apology for something that caused a response they did not expect.

In my reading I have not found the apology to say that the committee or the artist described the show as a parody. I see news reports describing that this belief is what people were angry about. And that is different.

This is what the AP offers.

“Clearly there was never an intention to show disrespect to any religious group. On the contrary, I think (with) Thomas Jolly, we really did try to celebrate community tolerance,” Descamps said. “Looking at the result of the polls that we shared, we believe that this ambition was achieved. If people have taken any offense we are, of course, really, really sorry.”

Jolly explained his intentions to The Associated Press after the ceremony.

“My wish isn’t to be subversive, nor to mock or to shock,” Jolly said. “Most of all, I wanted to send a message of love, a message of inclusion and not at all to divide.”

It's a version of "that is not what I intended but I'm sorry it landed that way." Although the "I'm sorry you took offense" is pretty generic.

And indeed. We are all called upon, sometimes, to be gracious if our work or words have caused offense. We can all wonder what that might mean for us.

Also yes the image I used was just some image I found that seemed available and funny. And I expected a few friends to see and engage with my post. It's a fair critique that there is much better art available. Accurate. You are not wrong. I'll change it.

Here is Banquet of the Gods by Carl Bellosio”.

Banquet of the Gods. 1840. Carlo Bellosio. Italian 1801-1849. oil/canvas.

Olympics 2014 France

[xinnabon]

he's the type to...!!!

#kazuha & albedo x gn!reader

note; "he's the type to" edition!!! but these are basically just wholesome, on crack, short, and definitely hcs that don't make sense at all.

requests are allowed to be sent but do take in mind that i will take longer than expected since i would require your patience over this. also no nsfw, i'm a minor.

i don't think this is proof read since i just wanted to post after months.

+KAZUHA

he's the type to dance like old married couples with you. life awaits him and now that you're here, many outcomes behold in the future to the two of you as time comes, as he wants you to be a part of it.

he's the type to wait for you. if you're going to be gone long, he'll support you and still stay loyal. why is that?

he's the type to sing for you. the questionable thing is, its like he's alluring you to sleep after a hard day. he has some poems he made and just make it in song form to just make you more sleepier just trying to understand what it means. i do wonder if it does matter.

he's the type to be like a knight. even though he is a noble himself, it is never a burden to sweep you up your feet. saving you and saving himself.

he's the type to lift your stuff. maybe when you try moving in with him, he'd do all sorts of things just to make you feel welcomed enough, or its just simply carrying certain grocery. who knows.

he's the type to write about you ACCIDENTALLY. maybe he'd reflect it over something he foresaw or just something he takes value of and inspired him. as he progresses, it eventually turns about you.

(previous bullet extended) "a promise is made out of true loyalty and devotion in committing to someone. either you spouse, friend, family, or even to someone as hard as rock to figure out, it is still a must to be able to harnest your ability and fulfil it. someday, somewhere, somehow, i'll have the will to promise to my own spouse. to make due with at the end of " he scraps it off. (bonus if he just keeps it somewhere instead)

he's the type to save drafts from his writing. he probably has a lot and likes looking at it since it sounds so direct and a few mistakes... just often poorly written or not understandable enough to comprehend.

he's the type to be caught rambling too much about a certain topic or interest by "reflection". he'd go all out and get sympathetic, just by thinking as well what other people would think about it. you sometimes tell him over and over again but maybe he can't stop because it may take advantage of him.

+ALBEDO

he's the type to never judge. even at times of being reckless, he wouldn't bother to pressure you further. he is someone to trust whenever you fear of one's opinion or possible judgement that can lead as an offense. no. he would never.

he's the type to doodle. whenever you come by while he is working or watching him work, he does horrible but cute doodles of the both of you while writing specific formulas or other materials he does. he thinks that it serves as entertainment for you.

he's the type to ramble and fidget around. again, working. you can hear him spitting out certain hypothesis, possibilities, formulas, or literally... anything. he likes it just because he thinks that it can help progress his mind more.

he's the type to be clueless. maybe the first time you were trying to court him, he thought you were just trying to hell regardless of the weird pick up lines you did to get his attention. you literally told him off that you liked him and the fact he only knew now at that moment.

he's the type to accidentally baby you. he's pretty much used to being with klee all the time to the point he is overly protective even if you doubt it. as in, he would ask if you are comfortable with him or not. maybe he does need a break.

he's the type to generally not know how to cook. he'd kept asking you how to just to spend some time and improve. all he probably knows is just to make daily every morning coffee.

he's the type to be less self-conscious around you. people are horribly terrifying to be with because it's either they'd want to test you or even aggravate you to your limit. not you. no. you'd never do that to him. he did thought about it but as timed leaned and further passed, with you, nothing will interfere.

he's the type to be your tutor. history or chemistry, he'd know. instant head aches just hearing him teach you but he doesn't bother to make an issue out of it. but of course, he'll be cut out in trying to go a more simpler level for you. (not an insult...)

he's the type to do crossword puzzles or just puzzles in general. he can be bored or just in a burnt out, and you know all about the cerebrum and testing your brain to become more knowledgeable per puzzle or anything. he liked asking you if you ever want to do some with him but maybe that's your fault for the lack of capacity you contain in your head that you refuse to at times.

[xtruss]

There Was an Underground Magazine for Transgender Women in the 1960s! Transvestia's Archives Provide a Window onto a Hidden World

— June 22, 2023 | Kirstin Butler & Casa Susanna | Article | American Experience

The cover of the August 1966 issue of Transvestia magazine.

In the first month of a new decade, a Los Angeles chemist named Virginia Prince mailed out the inaugural issue of a magazine. It was, as the title page of the January 1960 edition of Transvestia states, a privately printed journal “with three objectives: to provide EXPRESSION for those interested in the subjects of exotic and unusual dress and fashion; to provide INFORMATION to those who, through ignorance, condemn that which they do not understand,” and, finally, “to provide EDUCATION for those who see evil where none exists.” With these oblique statements, Prince launched what would become the first long-running periodical for male-to-female crossdressers and transgender women in the United States.

Over its 25-year print run, Transvestia grew from 25 initial subscribers to several hundred distributed across the U.S. Most readers received their bi-monthly issues through the mail, though after 1963 the magazine could also be found in alternative and adult bookstores and newsstands in major American cities. Prince was the magazine’s driving force and served as editor until 1979, but Transvestia’s contents were as much by its readers as for them. Subscribers submitted life histories, letters, editorials, book reviews and photographs of themselves. They had their own jargon: “TV” for transvestite, “GG” for “genetic girls,” “brother” for their male identities and the “girl-within,” to refer to their feminine selves; some readers also used “femmepersonator” or “FP” for short. Prince also reprinted medical papers on topics such as gender identity and the psychology of cross-dressing.

Each issue typically ran around 80 pages, with several dedicated to advertisements for various goods—self-published books, custom undergarments and wigs—and services such as electrolysis and makeup consultation. “Perhaps there are no good stores in your town. Perhaps you are too well known,” offered one advertisement for a personal shopper. “Perhaps you need an unusual size and would be embarrassed to ask for it. Whatever the reason, I can help.” Every issue also contained a “Person to Person” section where subscribers could connect with one another. “Lifelong TV, married, 34, scientist, welcomes all correspondence with all TV’s foreign or domestic,” reads a listing by Barbara, a reader from southern New England, in the December 1965 issue.

An optician’s ad in Transvestia’s October 1969 Issue.

Transvestia was an outlet for creative writing as well. A piece of fiction in the magazine’s first issue told the story of a married couple enjoying a night out, both husband and wife dressed in traditionally feminine attire: “The sound of my high heels matching hers, the sight of my frock swirling beside hers, made us feel as one…sensing the fragrance of the real woman so close to me, the distinction between ‘man’ and ‘woman’ vanished like smoke in a high wind.” Prince herself contributed a poem to that issue, composing on a theme that would recur in many other editions of the magazine—the relief experienced upon transforming from masculine to feminine archetypal expectations and presentation.

Poems in the January 1960 and March 1961 issues of Transvestia.

In fact, several subjects appeared with a great deal of regularity throughout Transvestia’s pages. Dr. R.S. Hill, a professor at Concordia University, authored a seminal study of the magazine as his dissertation. Reflecting on Transvestia’s most oft-recurring content, Dr. Hill wrote, “The letters and histories endlessly elaborated on the same themes and topics: theorizing the causes of their condition; crossdressing for the first time; overcoming obstacles to free expression; dealing with guilt, fear, or loneliness; disclosing to or hiding from parents, wives, and children; venturing out in public; passing successfully as women without public detection; describing articles of clothing, wardrobes, and bodily measurements; and sharing fashion and make-up advice.”

Through the magazine, Transvestia readers forged a group consciousness, united not just by mutual interests but also for their common demography: The majority of subscribers were white, middle-to-professional-class, and considered themselves heterosexual. Most were married and had children. Some spoke of cross-dressing as just a relaxing “hobby” they occasionally enjoyed. But a substantial number would come to identify as women over the course of the journal’s publication, including Prince herself as well as contributing editor Susanna Valenti. Prince wrote about that decision in her final issue as editor in 1979, saying, “I figured that since I had learned pretty much all I needed to know about being a man in this world, that I might just as well devote the rest of my life to exploring the other side of my own humanity…That was in June of 1968 and I have lived as Virginia ever since.”

All of the magazine’s readers agreed that the practice of cross-dressing allowed them to access their most vibrant selves. “I have been married, have fathered five children, and am about to become a Grandpa any day now,” said the magazine’s 1962 covergirl Eileen in an accompanying personal history. “The men I work with are all hairy chested so-and-so types, and have accepted me into their ranks without question. Yet, when I rush home from the office and enter my own world of delight, that is when I truly live.”

Transvestia subscriber Eileen graced the cover of the magazine's August 1962 Issue.

The Publisher

Having been through a great deal of pain, fear, guilt, loneliness and frustration in my life I wanted to help others to avoid or conquer these feelings. My tool for doing this has been Transvestia.” — Virginia Prince, Transvestia, Vol. 3 No. 16, August 1962

Born in 1912, Virginia Prince was the highly opinionated, often irascible godmother of Transvestia’s print pages and its extended real-life network. After launching the magazine, she also founded a national sorority for other crossdressers in 1962 called Phi Pi Epsilon—or FPE, which also stood for Full Personality Expression. This later became Tri-Ess, or the Society for the Second Self, an international crossdressing organization that still exists to this day. Prince frequently gave interviews to American and international media and liaised with medical professionals about the practice of cross-dressing.

The magazine’s “Person to Person” section was restricted to FPE sorority members to ensure correspondents’ safety.

Prince’s primary goal was to destigmatize cross-dressing; and she utilized the magazine as well as FPE to create a conservative bulwark against other, competing forms of transgender life and community in the United States in the 1960s. “Prince wanted to socialize individual ‘deviance,’” said Dr. Hill, “to place transvestism within a group context, domesticate it, and normalize it by promoting the radical idea that transvestites were not immoral, sexual deviants but rather normal, respectable citizens with only a harmless gender variation.” Even the name of Prince’s regular column in the magazine, “Virgin Views,” was part of her plan to de-eroticize a lifestyle that included cross-dressing by linking it to connotations of purity.

Already within a year of Transvestia’s genesis, Prince had assumed the role of self-appointed moral arbiter. “We must keep our own house clean and above reproach,” she asserted in the magazine’s March 1961 issue. In a repressive Cold War context where heteronormative standards reigned, that meant distancing cross-dressing from other gender and sexual subcultures: “We all know that the world confuses transvestism and homosexuality and when there is a campaign against the latter we are caught in the crossfire.” Prince asked readers to police themselves and each other, saying, “you come into the future of the magazine, not just by way of financial support and contributions of material, but by being a watchdog too.”

Prince’s column in the December 1965 issue included her portrait.

As part of her desire to domesticate transvestism, Prince also sought out and published writings by transvestites’ female partners. Some were tender—thus supporting Prince’s respectability campaign—as in an account from a wife about her husband’s transformation to “Betty Lynn, the Blonde Bombshell.” “I can’t understand why anyone wouldn’t want another dimension to their love,” wrote Fran. Still, the majority of Transvestia readers spoke of fraught negotiations around their cross-dressing, sometimes ending in the dissolution of marriage.

The narrative Prince espoused through Transvestia initially held that the goal of transvestism should be an exercised balance of masculine and feminine identities, with each having its own separate opportunity for expression. “[T]ry to employ perspective in seeing FemmePersonation as an adjunct to your masculine personality, not a substitute for it,” she suggested in her August 1962 “Virgin Views” column. “Transvestia does not exist for the purpose of impairing or destroying the masculine but rather to allow those who are aware of their feminine side to extract the full benefits from it. We can experience some of the feminine side of life, express part of our personality that way, and be better persons and citizens for it IF we…keep the whole matter in balance and under control.”

She advised against medical interventions such as hormone therapy and what was then known as sex reassignment surgery, saying, in 1965, “I realized that surgery would be a form of suicide not only for my masculine self but for Virginia too since it would cut the ground (as well as other things) out from under her…being a woman some of the time is wonderful, having to be one all the time would not be half as great as it seems to be from a distance.” As Dr. Hill writes, “‘transsexuality’ is everywhere in Transvestia as a category against which the ‘true transvestites’ defined themselves.”

Transvestia’s October 1962 cover featured photos of its first two years of cover models—“The composite cover of 12 livin’ dolls.” Prince’s is the largest photo in the center.

Over the coming years, however, Prince’s position would shift from this earlier dichotomous gender model to an identity where one’s masculine and feminine selves were merged into an integrated whole. “[V]ery little in life is tied up hard and fast with the fact that one is male or female,” she wrote in the August 1966 issue, adding “that the ideas of man and woman and masculine and feminine are cultural inventions for all their as­sumed usefulness.” Her views on gender had gradually become more flexible.

By June 1968, Prince had come to a decision to live full-time as a woman. Assembling the magazine, she said later, was what had allowed her to arrive at that turning point. “In trying to help you, my readers, I have learned and grown myself,” she wrote in the magazine’s 100th anniversary issue in 1979, which was largely dedicated to “The Life and Times of Virginia,” her personal history. “I am now a whole person, completely self accepting and at ease…[M]y best hopes and good wishes to all of you—may you, too, find the acceptance and the internal peace that we all need, and with that I say farewell.”

Susanna Says

“But Enough of Philosophising…Let's Gossip!” — “Susanna Says,” Transvestia, Vol. 7 No. 40, August 1966

Where Virginia Prince was Transvestia’s reigning West Coast intellectual, Susanna Valenti, the magazine’s contributing editor, was its East Coast bon vivant. Her regular column, “Susanna Says,” contained social news, fashion tips and advice, all served up with attitude and pointed humor. “I most certainly have particular people in mind whenever I unsheath a journalistic claw,” she wrote in February 1963, in response to what some readers deemed her “cattish remarks.” “Where would the fun be,” she protested, “if people could not see themselves mirrored in the printed page?”

For Valenti, criticism also had a noble purpose. She offered cosmetic and comportment tips—informing her readers about the right ways to walk, how to soften their voices and what pressed powders to wear—because those elements would allow them to more safely present to a world threatening arrest and violence. “Sorry, my friends, to sound so mean,” she demurred in that same column. “[S]omebody has to pour out a bucketful of cold, merciless realism, just to remind ourselves that the world is not entirely made of pretty clouds and blue skies. There’s also mud and hard pavement under our feet.” If being “read”—common community parlance for being discovered while dressed—was the greatest danger, and “passing”successfully as female would ensure their protection, then Valenti would scold Transvestia subscribers into shape.

Virginia included this image of herself and Susanna in Tranvestia’s 100th anniversary Issue.

“[P]resent as smooth an image as possible,” “Susanna Says” advised in 1965. “In some areas there's nothing we can do about—height, skeletal frame, feet, hands, muscles, etc—but in those areas where something can be done, there's just no excuse if we don't at least make an effort.” Valenti spoke at length about her own efforts: wardrobe alterations, dance classes and diets. For her, moral improvement could be achieved by means of aesthetic perfection—and why not enjoy oneself doing it? “The real fun about being a TV,” she proclaimed, “is in the CONSTANT IMPROVING.”

The April 1965 issue continued a feature that spanned several editions called “What Should I Wear?” and contained tutorials on wardrobe color, shape and style, including guides to neckline types and hem lengths.

Like Prince, Valenti had a significant community presence both on and off the page. In the very first issue of Transvestia, she announced that she and her wife Marie were opening a private retreat at their property in the Catskill Mountains catering specifically to Transvestia’s audience; the “Chevalier d’Eon Resort” was named after an 18th-century French crossdressing spy. “Change clothes as many times as you want, stay inside or go out—in short, do as you please and ‘LIVE.’ Even hairdressing help will be available,” promised the announcement. “What more can you ask? This sounds more like fiction than a lot of fiction, but it's real!” Indeed, over the next decade, Marie and Susanna would run what eventually became the eponymous “Casa Susanna,” which became the East Coast hub for crossdressers and a burgeoning transgender community.

Valenti, who had adopted Prince’s script against transitioning, also came to change her position with the changing times. She announced her own decision to live full-time as a woman in Tranvestia’s October 1969 issue. “I’ve ceased feeling that fabulous thrill of the change itself,” Valenti said of her part-time transitions back and forth from Susanna to her male identity. “It’s only fabulous in one direction: from HIM to HER. But the reverse from HER to HIM, is becoming more and more painful. It actually depresses me… To be ‘her’ is quite different. Energy seems to flow into me from all directions, and no matter what activity I engage in, I never seem to tire…I cannot speak of thrills, but of a peace and contentment that I find nowhere else.”

Susanna Valenti announced a momentous personal decision in her column for the October 1969 Issue.

Still, her final words in the magazine were more equivocal. A decade later, in 1979, Valenti reprised her column once more at Prince’s request for the centennial issue. “One hundred years! Or is it one hundred issues of TVia?” Valenti mused. “It really seems like a century ago we started groping in the confusion of our lives for a truth and a self-definition. We followed the same pattern that modern youth seems to have found, the eternal question of ‘who am I’?” Then she took stock of the gains Transvestia had won for her community, saying, “We seem to have moved forward to a certain extent. A good number of people, many more than there were one hundred issues ago, know about us. The moral ‘liberation’ of our times seems to have helped somewhat, too.

“But,” she concluded, “we ask ourselves, have we really become liberated? Have we really become understood? Accepted?”

[bandomgay]

THE ZANE LOWE INTERVIEW THOUGHTS ...

ALEX BEING CHEEKY ABOUT THE COMPLEMENTS PLS HES SO ❤️❤️❤️

zane is literally so sweet about how he approaches questions so differently from other ppl to Alex like I love the way he's adapting to Alex's personality and he makes Alex comfortable

Mirrorball and do I wanna know being the ones that set the stage for the album really shows and that really makes me think about Alexs love for the aesthetics of music and whether consciously or not and it kinda goes back to all am albums are essentially a place that you go to not only musically even though that's the art medium you r using to get there it's also visually a place and Alex knows that and he sees that actively while writing and reflecting

Zane pointing out JUST how sad mirrorball is AND RADIO WANTED TO CUT THE INITIAL INTRODUCTION and we learn (if you haven't already by inferring) that theres a relationship between the intro and "don't get emotional" like....that's fucking amazing like I was thinking it but him saying it blew my mind like reacting to music within music...and how it's represented in the video somehow gave me even MORE astounding love for mirrorball and what it means to me, genuinely a breathtaking detail

More speak of the unrealeased song!!!! Hopefully we get a b side maybe but usually it's released under singles so maybe not but we can hope since they're actively expressing interest in it

This may be way to opinionated sorry lol but Alex saying the end of the tbhc tour made him want to get back out there so like wildly getting that energy in and it sounds like he may have been going for a big studio stadium sound ("let's do summat BIG" , "all down strokes") it reminds me of Halsey if you guys keep up with them about their decision to go with the softer sounds of "If I can't have love" after realizing they were to caught up in their angst or the negativity of their life in a bad way which made it's way into their single "nightmare" and it reminds me of the end of the tbhc tour and it hurts to think about but I'm glad, even though all these songs are gut wrenching it's being put out in a healthy way now after reflection and there's a lot of talk of that in this interview sometimes subtle sometimes not

Also I think adding on the fact that Zane said it sounds like the band is fighting there way out of the songs but are not,if this isn't to far fetched kinda way reminds me of how reserved (prone to very outlandish/lh levels of self editing/self control)Alex is and how he's trying to combat that more recently (in interviews and in song) though they are small changes they make quite mighty strides in the long run

Love the ideas of the band itself being an instrument for something grander on this album it's like it's supporting an idea or a feeling and thats just how large that feeling is that the band itself is serving the songs and emotion

LOVE THE TALK OF BAND DYNAMICS LOVE THAT JAMIE IS STILL THE RASCAL DJJCJCJJDJCJDJJC them supporting Alex when he's doubtful about his ideas :')))) COOKIE MAKING THE BIG DECISIONS SINCE THE BEGINNING IS SO :)

Them talking about how crazy it was when it all first began even eluding to how stressful (even using the word traumatic which I agree with) that was being so young and having that much fame already Alex talking about how he literally doesn't remember playing the reading tent which is so :'(

ALEXS DEAD PAN "I think that were the intention" (or something along those lines) and Zane dying like u literally can tell if Alex is like being for real

ZANE BASICALLY TELLING HIM NOT TO BASICALLY RETREAT INTO HIMSELF WHEN ASKING HIM ABT MEMORIES IN A CAR ....Zane you bloody mindreader he knows fr (one of us! one of us one of us!)

MR SCHWARTZ STAYING STRONG FOR THE CREW.....love that Zane straight up asks who this is and Alex gives and very great metaphor that I actually got when I listened to it!!! Like I literally saw the same thing mentally like I imagined the crew putting the king's theater stage together when listening to it if that's weird idk (definitely something hidden in this metaphor)

THE RITZ TO THE RUBBLE BIT IS EVERYTHING TO ME..........OH MY GOD....A BIT BROADWAY ON THAT SONG HELP MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE !!!!!!!

And that concludes my mini analysis I hope u guys enjoyed reading that and have ur own thoughts u wanna send me or comment, sorry! if this post is too long I'm just :')

[kazivercore]

hellllo i would like to learn about iris ,,,, she seems very cool

OH MY GOD HI. HELLO. IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS

OK THERE IS SO. much. abt her that i don't think i can condense into a single post but here are the basics:

art credits : 1. 2. 3.

" Hey. I know this sounds sort of silly, but.. do you believe in fate? "

" Quiet, calculative, and pacifistic – Iris Williams can only be described as an exceptionally timid girl. Riddled with social anxiety and constant self-doubt, Iris shies away from all instances that involve human interaction, no matter how brief or inconsequential; instead, she is drawn to seclusion, preferring to keep to herself on most occasions as to not disrupt others with her awkward and, according to her – largely insignificant presence. She struggles to view herself as anything particularly valuable in comparison to others around her, having been used to being treated as a miniscule priority practically her entire life.

Despite her aversion to people, she possesses a particularly strange penchant for love – falling for nearly any individual that crosses her path. "

. ♡  .

on a surface level, she's your typical shy girl archetype! up there ^ is a slightly-edited excerpt from her personality doc, which is honestly sort of outdated but serves fine as a synopsis i think

she has a special connection to romance in particular, and not only is she obsessed with the romance genre, she's internalized so much of the idealized over the years that she falls in love easily as a result. as for her role in mighty med, she's essentially the third addition to the kaz & oliver duo – landing a job at the hospital not long after meeting them, as her instant infatuation for kaz and desire to share interests spurred her on to start reading comics.

i'm still working out when exactly she'd be introduced into the timeline, but my general idea for her is that she comes in around mid-s1 and starts a character arc mid-s2 that bleeds into elite force abt how meeting k&o basically changed her life! and speaking of elite force..

. ♡  .

art credits : @sketchycc

" From saving the people who save people to becoming the people who save people.. Never in a million years would I have thought I'd wind up here. I thought I could never hope to call myself a hero – but you.. you proved me wrong. Thank you, for everything. "

aside from the first half of season 1, iris was present for everything. which means, just like k&o, she obtained superpowers from the arcturion! her main ability is electrokinesis, but you can find a complete list of all of her current powers here.

. ♡  .

other miscellaneous trivia that i couldnt quite fit anywhere else are as follows:

adores cute things! she wears all kinds of cutesy pins on her doctor's coat that change every episode – sometimes they even foreshadow the episode itself, similar to leo's graphic tee's

collects all kinds of plushies. she has a mountain of them on her bed

dots her i's with hearts

has a v blatant heart motif in general

she's autistic, but is in huge denial abt it due to being undiagnosed and unknowingly masking her entire life. chase has ripped out an alarming amount of hair trying to explain this her

she loves sweaters – she's never seen without one, even in the warmer months. they're a huge comfort for her and the bulk of her paychecks go exclusively to her sweater collection

loves animals, especially cats

she has a diary. kaz goes through people's personal belongings. iris knows this. and so, in a brilliant move, she changes kaz's name to chaz whenever she writes about her crush on him, and for awhile it works – so well, in fact, that it backfires catastrophically when an actual chaz saunters into the hospital

her backstory doc + face claim are available here. all trigger warnings are labeled accordingly, but as the subject matter is rather heavy, i still advise you that you proceed with caution

[proceduralpassion]

I Don't Wanna Be Unfair | Chapter 07

Pairing: Jax Teller x OC (McKenzie Gilbert)

Summary/synopsis: Fresh off a broken engagement, McKenzie Gilbert has a one night stand with a random guy she never plans to see again. Soon after, their paths cross, which complicates several situations at hand.

Chapter warning(s): language, lightly edited because I like my writing a lil rough ‘round the edges, Brandon

WC: ~7.3k

Brandon paced the hallway as waves of anger rolled through him. Jax’s words were flowing through his mind and it only served to amp him up even more. He slammed his hand against the wall while huffing out a frustrated groan. He wanted nothing more than to walk back up those steps and give the SAMCRO president a piece of his mind. His plan was a good one, he knew that. He didn’t deserve to have his thought process silenced, especially when it could be something beneficial for everyone. 

But he wouldn’t go back up there. Not when it could rock the boat and ruin this partnership before it even began. But that didn’t mean Brandon couldn’t be angry. Resentful that his ideas were discarded before even seriously considered. 

And if it hadn’t been for Rev, maybe he wouldn’t have been tossed so easily to the side. If the Street Wolves VP hadn’t been mouthing off about Brandon’s personal life, maybe he would’ve been looked at with a bit more respect and seriousness. Instead, he was dismissed as if he were some immature kid bullshitting around. And the view of him probably wouldn’t change unless Rev kept his mouth shut.

Slamming his hand against the wall once more, he stalked out into the bar area looking for a moving target.

And there he was.

Slowing his steps and narrowing his eyes, Brandon's anger grew the closer he got to Rev.

McKenzie saw him first. She was leaning over the bar, in conversation with Rev. She frowned as he strode over to them.

“Rev!” Brandon barked harshly. The vice president looked back with annoyance in his features.

“What?”

“Next time you wanna give one of your little self-righteous lectures, do me a fucking favor and not have them where anyone can fucking hear them. I don’t need the club in my damn business!”

Without so much as a grunt, Brandon turned back around not even acknowledging his club brother’s tantrum. 

McKenzie’s eyes narrowed and her frown grew deeper as she watched her ex stride out the side door in irritation and enmity. Rev was in the midst of continuing their conversation, but McKenzie had begun to follow Brandon.

“Wait, where you going?” Before she walked out the door that Brandon had just torn through, she heard Rev yell, “Kenz, just leave it!”

“Hey!” This time, it was her turn to yell forcefully as he continued his angered pacing. It wasn’t like it was actually burning off any of his agitation. In fact, it was like every step he took only spurred him on. She looked around and made sure they were the only ones out there before she moved in closer. “What the hell was that?! It’s one thing for you to talk to me like that, but show some fucking respect. Rev is your vice president. And he hasn’t done anything to you.”

“Hasn’t done anything to me.” Brandon repeated with a scoff. A dark smile covered his face as he shook his head. “And don’t even act like you don’t know what this is about.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You! You and Sairah and now Rev, you’re all trying to make my life hell to spite me,” He growled. “You keep talking shit about me to make me look bad, I’m not fucking stupid.”

“I haven’t said shit!” McKenzie threw her arms up in frustration. She didn’t want anything about them and their now dead relationship broadcasted for everyone to know. If anything, for once, Brandon and her had come to agreement on the matter. So, why he was so up in arms causing a scene was beyond her.

“Okay, fine, so it’s not you. But whatever they’re saying, it’s because of you. Because you can’t keep your fucking mouth shut and get over it, ” He spat. “Rev is all buddy-buddy with Teller, which means he’s probably hearing all your bullshitting and bitching secondhand. I don’t need this shit tainting my reputation and bleeding over into club business!”

McKenzie chuckled. “Is it really my ‘bullshitting and bitching’ or is it just the truth of what really happened?”

His face hardened, “McKenzie…”

“Anything that I’ve told Sairah or Rev, which isn’t much by the way, has been the truth. So if people are starting not to like you because of that, that’s because of you.”

“I thought dumping you would end this bullshit. Instead, you’re just becoming a pathetic, vindictive bitch who’s intent on making my life hell.”

“I don’t care enough about your life to try and ruin it, Brandon. You made your bed, so don’t blame me when people start having low opinions of you when they find out how low down and trifling you are. That’s not the kind of thing that instills trust in a brotherhood. So, whatever the fuck you’re mad about and blaming me or Rev or Sairah for, look in the damn mirror. I’ve done you a favor by not airing out every single thing that went down in our relationship. Especially to my father. You really think he wouldn’t wipe the floor with your face if he knew the things you put his daughter through?” Venom dripped off her words and burned the insides of Brandon. His eyes steeled as he questioned her.

“You threatening me?”

“No. I’m telling you to knock it off. You keep saying how you don’t want everyone in your business, so maybe shut the fuck up and stop picking fights about it. It’s only gonna draw attention. I’m sorry that somebody apparently hurt your precious little feelings, but that’s not anyone’s fault but your own.”

“Watch it, McKenzie,” his voice low and his face hardened.

“Or what? What exactly are you gonna do to me here of all places?” And maybe for the first time during this conversation, an ounce of fear creeped up inside her, but she pushed it down and remained patient. Once she saw he made no further move to say or do anything, she spoke again, “Exactly.”

She turned around and went to head back inside when she felt him grab her arm in a tight grip. Her body ran ice cold but she swallowed and looked into his eyes.

“Get. Your. Hand. Off. Me.”

He held on for what felt like minutes, but was only another second. She didn’t feel the need to stare him down, merely taking the win of this not going any further. She pulled away and pushed into the side door, not taking another look back. And once she was back inside, around her family, she felt safe again. She let out the breath she’d been holding, along with her guard. 

********

Rev released an exasperated sigh as McKenzie stormed off after Brandon. Considering the changes he’d seen in her over the expanse of their relationship, he didn’t want her to have to be put in the position of interacting with him any more than necessary now that they were no longer together. The only reason why he hadn’t gone out after them was because he didn’t want to exacerbate the situation further. Him smacking Brandon upside the head wasn’t off the table, so he figured he’d keep his distance.

And honestly, he had no idea what Brandon was going on about. He wasn’t afraid to voice his concerns, sure, but Rev didn’t go out of his way to purposefully gossip and spread rumors about anyone, Brandon included.  The only recent encounter he could think of that might’ve peeved the man off was when Rev confronted him the other day. An event that Jax has inadvertently been a witness of.

He sighed to himself and headed towards the stairs to get a better idea of Brandon’s mood. Jax was the only other person upstairs, most of everyone else enjoying the downtime before a new year was ushered in. The lounge room door was wide open and Rev found him diligently at work with getting the remaining paperwork in order for their upcoming affairs. 

He tapped on the ajar door and sauntered in with a careful smile.

“Hey, man.”

“Rev,” Jax greeted, “What’s up?”

“You got a second?”

Jax’s eyebrows rose at the question, taking in the man’s withdrawn demeanor. He put down the paperwork, “Yeah, what’s up? Something wrong?”

“Nah,” Rev shook his head, “Just… did Brandon say something to you while he was up here?”

Jax’s face fell. A conversation he didn’t want to have. It felt bizarre enough to have another club’s member come to him about a potential game plan. They were partners, sure, but they were still two separate clubs with a hierarchy existing in each. Brandon coming to him, of all people, about this supposed third party to bring into their plans could potentially step on toes. And that’s what it looked like it was doing. Jax sat straight, ready to defend himself and clarify that the plan was brought to him and not hatched with Brandon without input from the clubs. 

He didn’t know that that wasn’t why Rev was asking about Brandon, but he opened his mouth to clarify the situation anyway.

“Look, man. We had a discussion. He brought a plan to me, one that I basically brushed off and said should be brought up when we all meet together. Nothing more, nothing less. He got all bent out of shape, worried about what people may have been saying about him, I don’t know.” 

And to that part, he shrugged, because he found it both callow and egotistical of Brandon to bring up a concern about whether his personal shit was influencing Jax’s rejection of his proposal.

Rev nodded slowly at Jax’s words, taking in the fact that Brandon had gone over both his head and Gil’s head about whatever kind of idea he suggested to Jax. He also took note of the mention of him “worried” about what other people are saying about him. 

“I guess I shouldn't be surprised.” He commented.

“Did I… cause something? The last thing I want is to step on any toes or cause any riffs, bro. That’s why I just dismissed the idea and nipped it in the bud. So that it wouldn’t look like I was overstepping boundaries.”

Rev shook his head dismissively, “Nah, it’s nothing like that. You shouldn’t have been put in that position to begin with. He just made that comment about people saying shit about his personal stuff, that’s it.” A beat. “Which I guess he has, at least, somewhat of a point. The last thing we need is drama and tension from personal shit so I’ll try to keep a lid on it. That conversation you heard earlier shouldn’t have happened here.”

Jax chuckled, “Bro, I’m the last person to judge about domestic problems. Trust me, SAMCRO has our own soap opera shit. That’s what makes us family. Doesn’t change things, and we’re not gonna renege on our deal just because of a little drama. We’re good.”

“Good to hear,” Rev countered, “And you’re good, too. About whatever fucking plan he’s got, you were right to dead that shit. ” Rev kept his lips shut about the fact that he and Gil had no idea about whatever Brandon was concocting. Teller may have been cool about a little relationship drama, but it didn’t look good for this club’s leadership to be unaware of a member’s actions and clandestine scheming. Still though, he couldn’t help but chuckle now at how pissed Brandon was from whatever transpired between him and Jax. At the thought, he voiced it, “Whatever you told him, it pissed him off. That’s what his ass gets.”

Jax laughed along with him. “Can’t really say it did a whole lot of good if he’s off pouting about it. To be honest though, he was already on the defense when he saw McKenzie in here. Almost like he was looking for a fight.”

“McKenzie?” Rev questioned.

“Yeah, we were talking when he came in.” 

Rev nodded at the bit of information, but didn’t comment on it. Jax provided an explanation, nonetheless, making sure not to let anyone in on their previous, though recent, history. “Damn muffler burns, I was getting medic advice about how to get rid of ‘em without scarring.” 

“Ah.” Rev merely said. “Anyway, just wanted to make sure we were good, yeah?”

Jax stood from his chair and embraced Rev in a half-hug, half-handshake. “We’re good, man.” 

“You coming to the New Year’s Eve party tomorrow, right?”

“Yep! Lisa said it’s mandatory, even invited our Red Woody crew to join in on the fun.” 

Rev chuckled and pointed a finger at Jax, “You learn quick. If Queen Lisa decrees her demand, you have no choice but to abide.”

They shared another laugh before Rev left him to finish his paperwork. Once he returned back to the lower level of the Garden, he was met with McKenzie who had just walked back inside. She looked more agitated than before she had gone after Brandon. 

“Hey, you good?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. B, he…” She trailed off in irritation and rolled her eyes.

Rev’s spine straightened, “He didn’t do anything, did he?” 

“No, he just…” She trailed off again, not allowing herself to finish her sentence. Rev peered down at his surrogate sister, observing her demeanor. She didn’t necessarily look frazzled or shaken, but she seemed a bit unsettled. Annoyed, but also a little miffed. He wasn’t sure what to make of her expression.

“Kenz..” he pried.

“I’m fine, really. I just told him to back off. I meant what I said, whatever problems we’ve got have no business interfering with the club. Whether he’ll actually listen to what I said remains untold, but I let him know that him flying off at you like that wasn’t cool.”

“You didn’t have to go out there at all, sis.”

McKenzie sighed, “This is exactly what my dad meant about our personal problems causing trouble. You’re the VP. He can’t go around talking to you like that.” 

“Look, I spoke to Teller,” the words gained McKenzie’s attention and shut her up as Rev continued, “Apparently, he was trying to sell him some stupid ass plan and got mad thinking that Jax doesn’t like him because of his drama with you or whatever. Honestly, it had nothing to do with you at all. Just him on a fucking ego trip because he got shot down,” Rev explained.

McKenzie nodded as the context became clear surrounding everything. It was convoluted and the stupidity of it all was beginning to wear down on her. She closed her eyes for a minute to ground herself from all the heaviness that’d been beating down on her these past few months.

“What’s wrong?”

She sighed, “Nothing… I’m just tired of him.”

Rev scrunched his face, “Jax?”

“No, dummy,” McKenzie punched his arm, “Brandon. I’m tired of his shit. I’m tired of the miserable ass person I am around him. I’m tired of feeling weak and worn down by him. That’s not who the fuck I am, so why am I letting myself brood over him even after we broke up?”

A proud, reassuring smile covered Rev’s face as he let her continue.

“He chose this. And he’s done his fair amount of shit. But he doesn’t get to choose how I react to him or how I live my life. I’m done hiding because of him.” 

“That’s my sis.” Rev wrapped her up in a big bear hug. “She back, y’all! Took her fifty-eleven years, but she’s here!” He yelled to no one in particular between the regulars and new faces that had begun to crawl in at the bar in this early hour. 

“Shut up!” she sniggered. 

He ignored her, placing a kiss on her forehead while walking her towards the bar, “So what’s next for Kenz 2.0?”

“Well, I’m going to this damn New Year’s Eve party tomorrow before Lisa skins my head. Shit, this is my bar, too. I’m tryna get lit for once.”

“That’s what I’m trying to hear!”

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

Jax dismounted his bike and shoved his hands into his kutte pockets to shield them from the night’s chilly air. He could hear the party already hopping inside, not surprised when you considered an event that was dominated by a bunch of bikers.

As he walked closer to the door, he was met with a familiar face who was also heading towards the entrance. 

“Fancy seeing you here.” He grinned.

McKenzie slowed her steps so that they were walking in tune with one another. “At my family’s bar? On a holiday no less?” She flashed him with a teasing smile and then an appreciative one after he held open the door for her to walk through. 

“Can’t lie, darlin’, wasn’t expecting to see you tonight. Much less in a dress.” 

He’d never seen her in anything but either a tee with jeans or her paramedic polyester. His eyes raked over her, enjoying the view of her curves accentuated in the silk lime green bodycon dress. 

“And somehow I knew that you would show up in that same ol’ flannel with those impossibly pristine Air Forces.” 

He didn’t know what to make of the vibrant mood she had found herself in. It caught him off guard but also mesmerized him. The glow of both her skin and her aura was an enchantment he couldn’t pull himself out of. He couldn’t do anything but follow after her as she made her way towards the bar. The crowd was alive with every single member of both charters present, along with several patrons coming to have a good time. 

“There you are!” Jax heard Sairah greet her older sister. “How the hell did I leave from work and still make it here before you?”

“Well, excuse me for taking the time to get myself all dolled up!”

Sairah laughed, her eyes landing on Jax, behind McKenzie. Her eyebrow rose and she looked back and forth between the two of them. 

“Hey there, Teller.”

“Sairah, nice to see you again.”

“Did you two come together or…?”

Jax shook his head. McKenzie jumped in before he spoke, shrugging and then saying, “Nah, we just got here at the same time.”

And even though that was true, it still felt like they had come here together. Obviously, that wouldn’t be something shared if it were true, but there was something comfortable and pleasant in the way that they walked in here together. 

“Well, the new prospect’s manning the bar tonight. Get you guys some drinks.” 

Sairah called over the young man who promptly went and grabbed a beer for Jax and a French cocktail for McKenzie. As they got their drinks, another voice called for the prospect.

“Hey X, my girl here needs another drink.”

A lump formed in McKenzie’s throat as she took in the sight of Brandon across the bar with his arms latched around the same girl that was lounging on the couch at his place. His grin was smug, but McKenzie refused to acknowledge it. She vied to simply turn back around and sip on her cocktail. She could feel Jax’s eyes on her, but she wouldn’t turn his way either. 

“It’s like he’s begging for me to molly wop his ass.”

“It’s fine, Sairah. Surely, you weren’t expecting him to stay home, were you?”

“No, but he knows what he’s doing.” The younger Gilbert sister looked back, staring daggers at the new couple. 

“It’s whatever. Fuck him. We’re celebrating a new year. One that doesn’t involve him any more than it needs to.” 

Sairah huffed, but couldn’t keep the smile from creeping up her face, “Well damn, I guess I can drink to that.” They clinked their drinks together, but Sairah couldn’t help but add, “If you want me to trip her or accidentally spill a drink on her though, just say the word.”

They laughed together and chatted for a minute or so, before Sairah excused herself, joining Chibs at the booth near the pool table.

Jax had been quietly sipping his beer as he watched and listened to the sisters interact. Now, as McKenzie hopped up onto the stool that Sairah just vacated, his face was unreadable. It was the first time that she actually looked at him since they’d greeted Sairah. She could tell from his face that he’d been watching her.

“You got something to say, Jax?”

If it had been a few days beforehand, he would’ve detected venom and animosity in her words, but now all he heard was amusement and a little flirtatiousness. 

Yeah, definitely a side of her he hadn’t seen before.

That unreadable expression on his face was something of allurement and amazement as he took in her essence. He’d almost forgotten that she asked a question.

“Nah, I don’t, darlin’.”

She nodded, keeping her eyes on him. Curiosity sparked in them.

“I heard you had a talk with Brandon.”

He let out a huff of air before he answered, “Yeah, a real winner.”

She giggled at the crack and his mind found no barriers in joining in on her laughter. It took her a few tries to rein it in, but she was too tickled at his words to stop on the first try. Meanwhile, he found her laugh infectious even if his words weren’t all that funny. At least not as funny to warrant her cackles. 

When she finally found herself able to stop, she drew in a deep breath. 

“It wasn’t because of me, was it?”

“Huh?”

“Rev said it was an ego thing. That it wasn’t really about me. But then again, he doesn’t know about us. So I’m asking you. The fact that you don’t like Brandon, it’s not because of me, right? Because of what we did?”

Jax shook his head, “No, no. To be honest, even if I didn’t know that he was not only shitty but dumb to mess things up with you, I still wouldn’t think too highly of him as a person. You definitely don’t have to worry about us being BFFs anytime soon. Although, I’m pretty sure you think he and I are the same, anyway... But either way, that’s not gonna affect things with how we work if that’s what you’re worried about.” He remembered Rev’s earlier comment about things bleeding into club business and he felt the need to allay her concern about things causing tension and problems.

Meanwhile, McKenzie’s face fell at the comment about her thinking Brandon and Jax were one and the same. She deserved that. She’d been biting with her words towards him, a lot of it, he didn’t even deserve.

“I’m sorry, Jax. I was a total bitch to you. And you’re right. I don’t really know you. I just- I saw you at that bar, hitting on all those women, failing too,” she added with a chuckle, “I guess I just associated that with him, but that was so unfair to you.”

Jax had a sheepish grin on his face, “Can’t lie, wasn’t my best night. I was kinda going through something of my own. Something good came out of it, though,” he winked at her, her cheeks warming up at the innuendo, “And maybe I was looking for someone to fuck my frustrations out on the same way you took all your shit out on me. You weren’t 100% right, but I can’t act like there wasn’t some truth to what you were saying.”

“Yeah, like the fact that you suck at picking up women.”

“It was an off night!”

And just like that, they were back to snickering together after the serious turn in their conversation. Later on, when they’d reflect on this night, they would have trouble recalling the last time they’d been smiling and laughing so hard.

“Just when I thought we were becoming friends.”

“Mhmmm, although I don’t think friends is the right word yet. I’d like to think we’re on the way there, though.”

And then, they merely gazed at each other. Considering each other’s faces and carousing in the not-enemies, but not-friends space that they were in as of now. McKenzie ignored the weird, swirling sensation in her stomach, while Jax refused to acknowledge the elevation in his heart rate. His eyes flickered to her lips and smiled his own smile, taking in the soft one planted on her lips.

“Yeah, maybe one day.”

Sairah’s voice snapped them from their trance.

“I’m sorry, but can you believe his ass? Screwing a random chick is one thing, but parading a new girlfriend the same month you break up with your fiancee is a bitch ass move.” 

McKenzie simply laughed at her baby sister’s antics. Who would have thought that a shitty broken engagement would bring out the protective factor in someone who stuck to herself and was on most occasions, reserved and peaceful? The same way she was looking on at her sister in enthrallment, Jax was looking on at McKenzie with the same affection, tenfold. He still wasn’t sure what to make of the McKenzie that sat in front of him, but he was glad to see the shift that led to her shining radiance. If this was anything like the McKenzie before her broken relationship, she could see how anyone would fall for her.

“Hey, prospect! Get us some more drinks!” Sairah called out.

When their drinks were renewed, Jax took a step back to excuse himself, “I’m uh- gonna see if I can find Rev and Gil.”

The sisters both nodded at each other and Sairah took the spot that Jax was just standing in.

“You two seem cozy,” Sairah teased.

McKenzie rolled her eyes while trying to keep a straight face.

“What? I’m just saying. Girl, you ain’t that funny but y’all were over here heeheeing and hahaing like Bernie Mac was on stage.” 

“Sairah…”

The younger Gilbert sister threw her hands up in defense. 

“Can you even fathom the fallout if anyone were to find out we were hooking up?” McKenzie asked. It was posed as a hypothetical question, despite the fact that the two had indeed already hooked up. 

“Well, then stop looking at him like you wanna ride him six ways to Sunday.”

McKenzie’s eyes widened at her sister’s comment. She reached over to thwack her arm.

“Ow! What? I’m just saying. Man, we thought Brandon was acting like a lil bitch boy before. He finds out the SAMCRO prez is fucking his ex-”

“Sairah!”

“Alright, alright. Fine,” She held her hands up in defense with an amused simper still planted on her face.

McKenzie, meanwhile, sat back in her seat and hoped she didn’t seem as flustered as she felt. She finished the rest of her cocktail and found Sairah’s eyes were still on her as she placed the glass back down.

“There is kind of a vibe between you two, though,” she remarked, “Or maybe I’m just happy to finally see that thousand watt smile back on your face.” 

Meanwhile, Rev and Jax were settled in conversation at a booth farther away from all the partying. 

“Sacramento’s like an hour away. You’re telling me you’ve never been to a Kings game?”

Jax shrugged, gulping his beer before answering, “I’m more of a football fan to be honest. But even then, I’ve never been to a live game before.”

Rev shook his head, “We definitely need to go, maybe make it a group trip. I’m telling you, watching it on TV is one thing, but being in a stadium or arena is a whole different experience.”

“Sounds good.” 

“Shit, we got a run at the end of the month in Vegas. Maybe we’ll hit up a Raiders game,” Rev threw back his whiskey, “I’ll have to see if-”

“Rev!” Both men looked up as Brandon approached them with the girl he came with on his arm. Rev winced at the volume of the man’s voice, hearing the drunkenness in it. 

“Yeah, man?”

“I’d like you to meet my girl, Pauletta.”

Jax’s eyes widened while Rev’s narrowed.

“Your girl?,” he pressed. To which Brandon responded with a triumphant smile and nod.

“Yup.”

Rev threw him an exasperated glare as he rubbed the side of his face. Brandon immediately picked up on the tension in Rev’s expressions and turned to Pauletta.

“Baby, why don’t you go get me another drink, yeah?” He squeezed her hip in encouragement and accepted the clumsy kiss on his cheek as she assented to his request.

Rev rolled his eyes, but waited until she had walked away before opening his mouth.

“Girl? As in you’re claiming her?” At the end of the day, Brandon was single. But it’d been less than a month since he ended things with McKenzie. Pair that with his recent outbursts, it looked intentional and messy to be parading out a supposed established relationship in front of her and everyone else.

“Yeah,” Brandon responded sharply, “She’s not up my ass, she actually listens to me, she’s a beast in the s-”

Rev rose from his seat, “Be fucking respectful.” Jax sat back a bit, but said nothing, not wanting to poke his head in business that wasn’t his. Regardless of how he personally felt, getting involved would only make things messier. “You got someone who makes you happy? Fine. But don’t act like you parading her around here is anything less than a dick move.”

“Last time I checked, I wasn’t looking for permission, Rev. I’m single. Sooner or later, everybody’s gonna have to get on board with the fact that I can do whatever I want,” Brandon shook his head and looked back up at Rev again, “Look, I’m sorry about yesterday. I was out of line talking to you like that, but you can’t tell me what to do regarding my personal life. You’re my brother. Figured you’d be happy for me…”

Brandon walked away, searching for his girl.

As Rev sat back down, Jax couldn’t find much to say about what he’d just witnessed. Instead, he just gave a low whistle before chugging the rest of his beer.

Rev shook his head remorsefully, “I swear I don’t even know who that guy is. Not anymore, anyway.” 

He blew out another breath. Before letting an uncomfortable bout of silence permeate their space, Rev picked back up their previous conversation to fill the space.

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

After partaking in some dancing with both her dad and Sweets, she was back at the bar to get off her feet. She switched her drink of choice to champagne and nursed the flute as she got lost in her own head. Her sister’s comments aside, there was something between her and Jax tonight. The playfulness. The giggling. The wink. Was it in her head or was it real? Was this just who he was as a person and she was only just now seeing it now that she wasn’t hailing insults down on him constantly? She didn’t know. 

She was struck out of her thoughts at the sound of a hesitant, soft voice calling her name. 

“Hey, McKenzie…”

She turned to the side and her eyes widened at the sight of Pauletta in front of her.

“Uh, hey…” She wasn’t even entirely sure of her name and she didn’t really know what else to say other than return her greeting. She looked around and spotted Brandon speaking with Rev and Jax. Her eyes bounced back to Pauletta as the unassuming woman spoke again.

“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry if me being here makes things uncomfortable or awkward for you. I know you and B ended things not too long ago and I know you’ve gotta be thinking that we’re probably moving too fast, but he’s been really really amazing to me. I mean, you’ve gotta know, you were with him for all those years.”

“I’m sorry, wait. You guys are like… together together?”

A look of confusion passed over Pauletta’s face before her smile lifted again, “Well, yeah. He asked me when we were on our Christmas trip. I honestly didn’t think he was ready to be in a serious relationship yet considering,” she gestured towards McKenzie, “but he really opened up to me. Told me all about you guys and how he was still struggling but really wanted to take things seriously with me. I mean, we’re taking it slow, but he says he’s in this for the long haul.”

McKenzie felt simultaneously sucker punched and not surprised at all that her ex had twisted the truth to yet another person. A person who actually seemed sweet albeit aloof.

“Oh. Well, I guess I just didn’t realize it was that serious.” From the corner of her eye, she could see Sairah stalking over towards them. And from behind Pauletta, Brandon could be seen making his way over with a confused grimace on his face. “But, I mean, I’m glad you guys are happy.” The words were hollow and held no sincere meaning, but McKenzie had been guideless throughout the conversation not really knowing what to say anyway.

Soon enough, Brandon had made it over and immediately wrapped one of his arms around Pauletta’s waist. He looked between them and queried, “So, what’s going on here?”

Sairah arrived and McKenzie immediately grabbed for her hand, keeping her sister by her side.

“Oh nothing. I was just clearing the air with McKenzie. I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t making things awkward by me coming here with you. But we’re good.” She beamed at McKenzie and then up at Brandon while leaning closer into his arms.

“Good,” he said tightly. He gave a loving look before glancing towards McKenzie.

She cleared her throat and spoke, “Yeah, I didn’t realize you guys were now in a relationship. Congratulations.” 

Somehow, she found a way for the words not to come out as gritted as they sounded in her mind. It didn’t necessarily sound sincere, but she didn’t sound as hateful as Sairah looked right about now.

She grasped tightly to her hand in the hopes of grounding both of them.

“Thanks,” he simply said, “We’re, uh, gonna go back to our seats.” 

And, so they left. And now the air didn’t feel as heavy as it did seconds ago. 

She felt Sairah rubbing up and down her arm and looked over when she heard her ask, “Are you okay?”

McKenzie swallowed thickly and actually thought about her answer. She was surprised as she found herself honestly responding, “Yeah.”

She continued while nodding, “Weirdly enough, yeah.” With a shrug, she added. “I mean, he’s free to do whatever he wants.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean he gets to flaunt it at our clubhouse. And then the nerve of her to come confront you like that, fake ass bitch. She can act as she sweet as she wants, she knows how messy it was to come over with her fake concern.”

The older Gilbert sister chuckled, “It’s fine, Sairah. He can do whatever he wants.” Her eyes scanned the room, flickering away from the new couple and over towards Jax and where he was drinking and laughing with Rev, “And so can I,” she murmured. 

Sairah sighed, “Alright. But just say the word and he won’t see the New Year.” 

She left it at that and lured her sister back out onto the dance floor. The night wore on and midnight drew nearer. McKenzie was surprised by the amount of times she ended up at Jax’s side. The amount of her time that he sought her out. And maybe it wasn’t intentional but it was still something she noticed. He wasn’t much of a dancer, but he indulged her in one mid-tempo track where he mainly just stepped side to side as she surrendered herself to the music. They had a couple of Jello shots with Ace and Juice before she switched her drinks to water for the rest of the night. Now, they were in a booth together with Rev, who was getting ready to make his exit.

“A’ight, think I’mma head home.,” he adjusted his kutte as he got out of the booth.

“Strip club,” McKenzie coughed. It was less than half an hour before midnight and she knew he was probably hoping to steal a New Year’s kiss from the girl he’d been flirting with that worked at Mons Venus World.

“Shut up.” Rev muttered with a grin before clasping Jax’s shoulder and saluting them both goodbye.

He didn’t get far before he came up on Brandon and Pauletta who were preparing to walk past him.

Brandon nodded towards the exit, “You heading out?”

“Yeah,” he simply said before looking at Pauletta, “Nice to meet you.”

Pauletta smiled widely, “It was nice meeting you all, too. And it was nice to see you again, McKenzie.” She said as she looked over Rev’s shoulder towards where McKenzie and Jax sat. 

McKenzie flashed a weak smile back and went through the extra effort of sending a wave her way. 

Brandon and Pauletta headed towards the bar and Rev sent a sympathetic smile McKenzie’s way before heading out and rushing out his final goodbyes before taking off. McKenzie and Jax looked at each other and silently agreed to part ways towards different areas of the Garden. It was one thing for them to be hanging out in the midst of others, but they didn’t want anyone getting any ideas by them hanging out all by their lonesome. Jax veered off to where Opie was and McKenzie made her way back to Sairah. There was a little photo booth towards the front of the Garden with decorative glasses, hats, and other New Year’s Eve themed trinkets. They took selfies together and even forced Gil and Lisa into a few shots. None of them were much into social media, but they figured these would be fun photos to look back on. Lisa kept them to put into a scrapbook while McKenzie and Sairah simply sent the pictures to their phones.

McKenzie was setting a silly one with the four of them as her phone background as she looked up and saw Jax exiting towards the side entrance. She looked back down at her phone and saw that it was four minutes til midnight. 

She wasn’t sure what compelled her to go after him, but her feet were moving before her mind registered the steps. You would think she’d learn her lesson, come to the realization that nothing good could possibly come from the two of them. But she still kept going. The night air smacked her something good considering she was in a sleeveless dress that was several inches above her knees. Jax was walking towards his bike and she could see his hand raise as he lit a cigarette to his mouth.

The steps she took taking after him consisted of ignoring every thought in her head telling her to run in the opposite direction. Once she reached close enough, she grabbed onto his arm with a little more force than she meant to. His cigarette nearly fell out of his hand and he turned around with a bewildered expression.

“Oh,” he released as he realized who had grabbed him. He smiled but looked back at the clubhouse in confusion. The quiet outside allowed them to hear the booming music and cheering inside. His eyes veered back to her and they traced all over her as he silently tried to read her. 

“You okay?”

“I don’t know. I mean-” McKenzie chuckled. “Yeah.”

Jax returned the chuckle while his eyes remained on her. When she said nothing else, he ventured, “So….”

“You wanna get out of here?”

Her words were rushed as if they were chasing his “So…”. As if she was waiting for his prompt. He looked at her and then looked down. 

“I, uh- I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he looked back up at her with tender eyes, “We can’t keep doing this, darlin’. We can’t keep falling into bed every time you need a distraction.”

McKenzie shook her head, “This isn’t that.” There was conviction in her words and sincerity in her eyes as she spoke. “This isn’t me looking for a distraction. This is me having fun with you tonight and not wanting that fun to end,” she reached for his hand and hoped she hadn’t terribly misunderstood what they shared tonight: the flirting, the times he sought her out, the connection that had sparked. “If you really don’t want to do this, that’s fine,” she waited a few seconds and watched as he watched her, more than likely seeking to confirm the veracity of her words, “Although I’m pretty sure you want this just as much as I do, if the way you’ve been looking at me all night is any indication.”

His eyes flickered to her lips and then back up to her eyes.

“Last time didn’t end so well. Who’s to say tonight doesn’t end the exact same way?” He was trying so damn hard to fight it, but his eyes grew darker and his voice rougher.

Inside, the one minute countdown had begun. Though muffled, they could both hear the jumbled voices of everyone inside cheering “60, 59, 58…”

“Because we say it doesn’t. Because this isn’t like last time. Because this time, we both get to set boundaries on how exactly we want this to go. I’m not asking for a ring or a relationship. Hell, that’s the last thing either of us need. I’m just asking for one night of fun. Maybe several nights of fun. But only if you’re down for it. We get to set the rules. Together.”

Jax felt his throat go dry as her hand crept up his chest.

“39, 38, 37…”

“And you’re sure this isn’t because of Brandon? Because of him and his new girl?”

She didn’t even flinch at the mention of him. In fact, she moved even closer to Jax.

“He’s pretty much the last thing on my mind right now.”

“25, 24, 23…”

He allowed her words to wash over and his eyes searched hers, probing for any signs of deception. He licked his lips again and reached for her hand that was grasping onto his chest.

“10, 9, 8…”

“So is that a yes?”

“5, 4, 3…”

Jax broke out into a smile and grabbed ahold of her arms. Their lips met in hunger and yearning as screams of “Happy New Year!” could be heard from inside. Their kiss drowned out her excited squeal as he lifted her up by the back of her legs. Her arms were wrapped behind his neck, holding onto him as he takes a couple of steps towards his bike. 

Of course, that pesky need for air arose and McKenzie almost wanted to pout when their lips separated. Jax chuckled as he lightly let her down, “We really shouldn’t be doing this here.” 

Anyone could walk out at any second and there’d be explaining to do if it was anyone from either club. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” she conceded and took a step back. “I should probably also drive. If I go on your bike, they’re gonna be wondering where the hell I’m at and why my car’s still here.”

Jax nodded and placed another light kiss on her lips. Then, he gestured towards the Garden. “Go say goodbye. I’ll see you there.”

And just because she couldn’t resist, she pecked him with another kiss and practically hopped towards the clubhouse. If Jax wasn’t in his own infatuated stupor, he would’ve laughed instead of being stuck still in space for those few moments. It wasn’t until he heard the door closing that he shook himself out of it and mounted his bike. 

Logically, he knew there was trouble to be had and fallout that could occur if things went sideways. There were umpteen different reasons and umpteen different ways this could go off the rails. 

But he couldn’t find it in him to care about a single one. He wanted this. And so did she. And that was all that mattered in the moment. 

A/N: Whewww that was so fun to write lol. As you can see, there’s now a major shift in not only McKenzie, but also McKenzie and Jax’s relationship. Let’s see what happens next on their journey. Hint: the next chapter starts back at Jax’s house hehe

Taglist: @drabbles-mc@ocfairygodmother@youlovetkay@est1887@rebelwrites@hey-taylor-hey@brownsugarcoffy @kmhappybunny240@readsalot73

[bluebudgie]

2, 8 & 18 for my most specialest little guy petthri, 1 & 14 for lahpp and 12 & 19 for bobbie <3

Thank you for the asks!! Let's go:

Petthri

2. Did you design them with any other characters/OCs from their universe in mind? 

Not at all! But as a little fun fact: I changed his haircolour (and haircut) twice the day I created him lol. (It was white at some point but ultimately that felt too close to what I already had on someone else so I changed it back to the original darker grey).

8. What (if anything) do you relate to within their character/story? 

I think this image will do a better job explaining than any words could:

18. What is the most recent thing you’ve discovered about your OC? 

I actually think the question you asked me about his saviour complex a while back and the explanation I tried to come up with is sort of the "biggest" recent development. There may have been smaller little tidbits but I can't think of any more recent ones rn >.<

Lahpp

1. What was the first element of your OC that you remember considering (name, appearance, backstory, etc.)? 

His voice. Not to open the biggest can of worms I got available in the shelves again but I cannot stress enough that this man came into existence because of A Song. Or well, several songs from the same recording if you want to be pedantic. But there was definitely one main culprit.

If memory serves right my very first thought was "I need a guy with this voice who simps for Dunnh". A relatively large chunk of his current backstory actually followed pretty soon after. So uh. Yea. That makes him, alongside Luqqah, another of my rare "wasn't created because of a cool armour/weapon skin" characters.

14. If you had to narrow it down to 2 things that you MUST keep in mind while working with your OC, what would those things be? 

This is sooo diffiult for him;; I always felt like I had a really clear vision of who he is and still had the hardest time really grasping his personality in a "tangible" manner for a long long while.

I'd guess one of the main principles would be "keep him the boring background corporate guy". The other one would be being mindful of the challenges his disabilities pose him? Trying to keep in mind how certain situations, interactions etc. would be impacted, obviously without reducing him to just that... aah I hope this makes sense;;

Iekko

12. What have you found to be most difficult about creating art for your OC (any form of art: writing, drawing, edits, etc.)? 

I think he's actually one of my easier characters to draw! He's so expressionless too it makes it really easy to draw his face because he looks pretty much the same all the time haha.

That said, I don't think I could ever bring him to any sort of RP event or the like. I'm not a writer but I feel like writing about him would be very, very descriptive. Any first person dialogue would be hell because quite honestly, he just doesn't have much input on anything at all. Neither vocal nor in body language.

19. What is your favorite fact about your OC?

I keep nicknaming him the "walnut" which essentially just became a thing because... was it either his skin or hair/leaf colour in the character creator were called "walnut".

I later decided he's got these little heart-shaped openings on his cheeks between his leaves. Well guess what I found out: There's actually a japanese walnut tree that produces heart-shaped nuts. He doesn't grow any fruit himself but I think this is a kinda cute coincidence. And also makes for a funny cute-sy contrast to his very emotionless self.

[highfaelucien]

While on the topic of wishing sjm had done something different for her characters, I really wanted something more for cassian. For example, cassian’s wings going from being completely ruined in the end of acomaf to being 100% healed in acowar made no sense to me. I think it would’ve been an opportunity for the growth of cassian’s character to see him go through the loss of losing the ability to fly and instead retrain himself to be a warrior in other ways and find other things about himself that prove his own worth to himself. Given the fact that cassian’s confidence is aligned with his ability to protect and serve others, it just would have been sooo good to see him overcome his grief and become even stronger of a character. And how wings, in general, are a sense of male pride among illyrians. I think this would’ve been the perfect way to write cassian and have him break away from his own idea of masculinity. He could have redefined what it meant for him to be a Man ™. Ugh, it just could have been so GOOD, imagine the character we could have gotten from him.

Listen, after ACOMAF, when this happened, EVERYONE was buzzing about this. Most people thought he wouldn't outright lose his wings permanently, but there would be a LOT required.

And then ACOWAR came and approximately nothing happened whatsoever. Oh he had to be healed. the healer had to rebuild his wings. he had to do strength training every day. But fundamentally: not a sausage.

Personally? I think Maas chickend out. I think she was unable to commit to taking Cassian's wings, or figuring out how to write him as anything other than what she's established him as: fun jock man who likes to hit things real hard and make dick jokes sometimes.

Having to see Cassian vulnerable? Having to see him broken, and struggling, and having to reevaluate his entire life and self-esteem and sense of masculinity would have been an incredible option for a character arc.

Most of the theorising/Nessian fics involved Nesta helping him. The two of them being broken/fundamentally altered by their experiences in Hybern - she being killed and Made with a dark power, Cassian losing his wings.

There was expected bonding over that, peeling away the masks they both wear to discover the softness underneath. The two of them being able to reach one another, because of their bond, in a way the others could not. It produced some pretty epic stuff, honestly.

And how badly I wanted that I didn't FULLY realise until the disappointment of ACOSF, when it hit fully.

Because instead of stripping Cassian back and seeing the tactician, the strategist, forcing him to put his other skills to use, to develop those skills, rather than 'smash with sword and ask questions later'. This man is a General. All the combat training in the world doesn't let you be good at this job if you can't command, if you can't use tactics, if you can't strategise.

And THIS is where I wanted to see Nesta. Nesta, the woman who calculated how many ships would be needed to save the humans of Prythian. The woman who looked at Greysen's manor and assessed its capabilities and saw a prison. The woman who devours history novels, who has a tactical, cunning mind. Who has never been a warrior or a creature of brute strength or physical abilities.

THIS is how I wanted to see Nesta evolve. This was how I wanted to see her develop. I didn't want her taken out of lady's dresses. I didn't want her forced into fighting leathers, to basically become another copy of her sister, and follow down that path.

I wanted her to take her own. I wanted her to finally be in a place where she could learn, and strategise, and contribute. And I wanted her to work with Cassian on this - who was grounded because of his wings, who couldn't command on the frontlines anymore, or even fight. Who had to stay back, and see how he handled this. How he maintained his authority. How he maintained his sanity without his wings.

We could have had so fucking much. Such a powerful narrative about survival. I wanted her in the library, with the other survivors, (and with fucking MORRIGAN - not sidelined, not dismissed, not being bitchy and catty for the sake of it. But someone who visits the library frequently, who interacts with the women there, and sometimes just is a woman there herself, because there are still hard days.)

But no. No instead of something nuanced, and original, and actually tailored to Nesta's strengths as a character, we got Yet Another Weapon's Trainng Montage.

We got the narrative that the only way to heal from abuse is to be able to beat the shit out of your abusers. Because that's #GirlPower, right?

It makes me so furious I almost want to just. Just fucking rewrite the whole damn fucking thing myself the way it SHOULD have gone.

And I know you talked about Cassian and not Nesta, so I do apologise, but they were tied together. But I agree.

We all wanted Cassian to evolve from that 'Lord of Bloodshed' / "savage brute" because reading between the lines and forcing some nuance from these books, which is the only way to survive: Cassian has a lot of layers. There's a lot of trauma there. A lot of insecurity. A lot of angst. A lot of heart. A lot of fucking INTELLIGENCE. (I'll fight on that point, I really will. Cassian is not a dumb himbo who can barely add 1 and 1).

But sjm was too busy writing him having a hard on for Nesta to explore....anything about himself. Or his relationship with Azriel, and Rhys, and Mor, and everyone else.

The removal (even temporarily) of his wings would have allowed for a LOT of that exploration.

Firstly, the fact that he injured them by CHOICE, saving Azriel's life. That would have been such a deep connection and bond between them. The guilt that Az would feel - but the potential for Cassian to step in, even with his wings gone, and say that he'd do it again.

Because Azriel is his brother. He loves him. And it was worth it. It would be worth it a hundred times over to save him. Because he's worth saving. And he's worth sacrificing for. And what that would have done for Az as a character, too. Who always offers himself up first for dangerous missions, puts himself in peril to protect the others.

And having Cassian join Feyre and Az's flying lessons? Because Cass having to relearn how to fly once (if) his wings healed to that extent, means letting Azriel train him. Because those old instincts aren't enough. And he has to learn how to strengthen them, and train with them. And how this affects his perception of himself and his masculinity, as he said. But also deepening his understanding for Az, and the bond the two of them share, in having this experience together.

Bonding with Rhys, who FINALLY fucking opens up to someone and has some nuanced therapy-like conversations about what happened with Amarantha. The sacrifces they've made for their people. How they'd do it again but it still hurts, and changes them, and how they have to learn and grow and move on from that and heal together.

Rhys working with Cassian on his other talents, using him as the skilled strategist and tactician he MUST be. Helping him to develop that, keeping his brother from losing his mind while he can't fight or use his physicality to solve problems, as he usually does.

Mor personally healing and tending to Cassian. Mor being there at his bedside every day while he was bed bound. Mor becoming as possessive and overprotective of both him and Az as any mate ever has been.

Mor speaking to him about her own rehabilitation after what her family did to her, the physical toll that took on her. Mor's heart breaking because she nearly lost both him and Az and she couldn't handle that at all. Mor reiterating how much she fucking loves him, and how she needs him.

Mor helping him through the darker days of his depression because she's been there. And she knows what it is to put on a front. To always be laughing, and joking, without the seriousness of life -leave that to the others. But sometimes it's too much and he needs to break down. And be angry. And furious. And hopeless. And scared. And that's what she's there for. Because she understands.

Mor winnowing him to his favourite spots that he can't fly to anymore, just so he can be there. The two of them spending time, and bonding, and developing that relationship we got in ACOMAF beyond 'we bicker constantly and drink together and make sexual innuendos'.

Even Amren showing up and doing her part. Snapping at him to stop brooding so much. But also bringing him some of her puzzles. Some of her favourite military history books (which she has anotated and edited to highlight the bits that have been incorrectly reported). Spending time with him to stop him going mad. Exhausting herself those first few days personally attending to Cassian's wings, and snarling at anyone who tried to interfere.

IT COULD HAVE BEEN SO MUCH.

IT COULD HAVE DEVELOPED SO MUCH WITH THE INNER CIRCLE. AND CASSIAN. AND NESSIAN. AND JUST. EVERYTHING WOULD HAVE BEEN BETTER BUT NAW. IT WAS BASIC ASS AND BORING AND I'M GONNA DIE MAD ABOUT IT.

[greenninjagal-blog]

The Rumor Mill Game (pt4)

I swear I didn’t forget about this au. This chapter is just....long.

Welcome back to this mess of an au :) If you need a refresher, you can find Part Three [here!] Or if you’re new check out the first part [here!]

Summary: Logan is...dealing with the fallout of him and his coworker, Remus, having created a rumor about them being married and now apparently having a kid except not because Logan screamed at the top of his lungs that Virgil wasn’t his kid. His boss has a different definition for what “dealing” actually means. 

Words: 8292 (Holy shit remember when this au was 2k words)

Read on Ao3 || My General Writing Masterlist

When Logan had seen his boss after he made Virgil cry, he hadn’t expected it to end up like this.

Granted when he hadn’t exactly been expecting anything. He hadn’t been looking ahead, hadn’t been making plans, hadn’t been thinking at all. Which was most likely how he ended up outside the bar in the first place. 

Logan could, of course, count the number of times he had been drunk on one hand. College had been a time for experimenting, and of course for his twenty-first birthday his friends at the time had been insistent that he needed to imbibe an unholy amount of alcohol in one night. They had turned it into an experiment, where Logan documented exactly what he was feeling after each drink and he still had the notes in his desk at home, despite the fact that his handwriting had become illegible after the fifth drink and someone had spilled an orange soda based tonic on the third page. The notes themselves were worthless, but they served as a memoir to people who he no longer associated with and a younger version of himself who had still been learning.

And Logan did have a soft spot for that imbecile: Twenty-one-year-old Logan Ackroyd who still believed in the goodness of people and who wanted to change the world and who could fall in lov--

Logan pitied him-- that kid he used to be-- which he was certain that his younger self would be indignant about. Logan always did hate when people pitied him. Those emotions had rarely ever been genuine, rarely ever been helpful, rarely been productive. What was he to do about people feeling bad for him? About others being disappointed? About others making assumptions about him and how he felt?

He didn’t need pity, and he didn’t want it. Not when he got rejected to his first three colleges, not when flunked that English class and had to pay to retake it the next year, not when he had bought that ring and gotten down on one knee and made a whole carefully edited speech and--

And he’s not nearly drunk enough to deal with these types of thoughts. Or any thoughts for that matter. Wouldn’t it just be great to stop thinking? 

Then he wouldn’t have to remember the looks on his coworkers faces when he storming into the office less than fifteen minutes after initially leaving for lunch and demanded that Beatrice turn in her overdue spreadsheets in twenty minutes or he’d have her fired before slamming his office door hard enough to crack that frosted glass, or the look on Remus- fucking- Prince’s face when he tried to act like everything that had happened was not his fault and that Logan had taken the game to far by himself without any sort of prompting from Remus, or the look on Virgil’s face when Logan lost his self control.

Like an idiot. Like an asshole. Like someone who doesn’t think before he acts.

Like someone who should be alone for the rest of his life, because he can’t seem to get a hold of those useless emotions of his. 

And Logan wanted so very badly to blame Remus Prince for this whole endeavor, the whole production, the whole catastrophe. He wanted to say that without Remus he never would have gotten that angry, wouldn’t have had that conversation, wouldn’t have even gotten Thai today. 

Logan wanted to say that, but really it's his own fault. If he had just dismissed Remus’s rumor in the beginning, if he had just told Jen and Quin that his personal business was his own, if he had just ignored the urge to get coffee and finished the spreadsheets without getting up that last night.

His fourth finger itched around the base, the area where that little silver ring had been sitting for less than a day. It was ridiculous, utterly ridiculous, because Logan had never worn a ring before and now suddenly the absence of it caused his skin to crawl in a most unpleasant, unproductive way. 

Distantly Logan realized that by gifting Remus such a wonderful present, he had also thrown away four hundred dollars. And perhaps ironically Logan noted that he feels annoyed about it-- four hundred dollars had been sitting in a pocket of a dress jacket in the corner of his office for over nine months and he had tossed it aside in a fit of impulsive anger.

Logan had not been hurting for money recently, with how decently he was paid, and the amount of overtime he worked, and how little time he had taken off since that disastrous night.

But perhaps he might have been able to return it to the jewelers and weathered the terrible, awful pitying looks they would give him when he requested about their refund policy or a location where he might be able to sell it himself. It was a ring that was worth four hundred dollars and he had given it to Remus, and isn’t it funny that that’s farther than he got with the one for whom the ring had been originally intended?

And as Logan downed his next rum and coke of the night, he hoped that Remus found a better use for it. Newton knows it hadn't done any good for Logan. 

(Its stupid, Logan knew, to blame a ring for the way that he had screeched “He’s not and never will be our son!” Its stupid, Logan knew, to blame a ring for the way that Remus had hummed mischievously “I think I enjoy being fake-married to you, Logan." Its stupid, Logan knew, to blame a ring for the the way his last partner had said “We should see other people”. Its stupid, stupid, stupid--)

“Hmmm,” A voice behind him said, “I thought I would find you here!”

Logan didn’t realize he had closed his eyes until he heard the voice and felt every atom in his body figuratively threaten to combust. He wasn’t drunk enough to be thinking about him, and he most certainly wasn’t drunk enough to turn and look at the incessantly, perky man that had decided to sit down next to him.

Logan waved at the bartender and ordered another rum and coke and watched his freshly emptied glass disappear like the handful of others he didn’t bother to keep count of.

“And I’ll have two waters, please!” Patton Hart added with one of his peppy, happy, insufferable laughs, before turning to face Logan. “Hiya, Lo! It's been so long since we’ve seen each other!”

“Not long enough,” Logan disagreed, with a rueful smile that should very clearly, very precisely detail how much he does not want company at the current moment. “Don’t you have things to be doing tonight, Mr. Hart?”

Patton hummed, pressing his lips together as he thought-- a monumental task for someone like him, surely. Logan was partially convinced that if he removed his glasses he might be able to see the squirrels beginning to run on that rusted wheel in the other man’s brain. If Logan was of a less logical mind he might even be brazen enough to call this the first time Patton had used his brain all week.

“Well,” Patton said, carefully settling himself on the stool next to Logan. “I was graciously informed by my son that he would be enjoying the perks of being a teenager with no bedtime tonight and along with where exactly I could shove my homemade lasagna.” He laughed lightly, “Kids, these days! He really does keep me on my toes!” 

Logan did his best not to roll his eyes. “I do not know the whereabouts of your son, Mr. Hart.”

“Patton,” He said easily, “And I’m not here for my son. I’m here for you, Logan.”

“If this is about the glass in my door, you are very capable of taking that out of my paycheck.” Logan told him.

The bartender placed Logan’s new rum and coke in front of him and he reached for it almost immediately, only stopping when Patton’s hand landed on his forearm.

“Mr. Hart--”

“Patton,” Patton corrected with that smile that Logan suspected was the worst thing in the world. Worse than Virgil’s blank expression when he told them to get out, worse than Remus’s smug one when he suggested that Logan did indeed enjoy the ability to manipulate his coworkers, worse than Beatrice faulty excel sheets, than broken glass of his door, than a ring he never wanted to see again and yet he still felt like it was missing from his finger.

“Mr. Hart,” Logan said again, “I am going to get horrifically drunk tonight, and I will be calling out sick tomorrow, regardless of what you say. So my advice to you is, say anything of importance now, before I am too incoherent to register and respond accordingly.”

“That doesn’t sound too smart there, kiddo!” Patton said, like he was any older than Logan was.

“I do not feel like being smart right now,” Logan said snippily. Because being smart involved thinking, and Logan had done quite enough thinking for the day. He was tired of thinking, tired of memories, tired of the lump in his chest that had formed during his lunch break and hadn’t dissolved in the eight hours since. He was tired.

“Would you like me to be smart for you?” Patton asked.

Ah.

Yes, Logan remembered suddenly with just a few words why he hated Patton Hart so much. Why he hated those too-wide brown eyes, those stupid freckles, that soft smile. Why he hated the way that Patton had tracked him down despite the fact that he had turned off his phone, the way that Patton had ordered two waters, the way that he hadn’t taken off his jacket. The way that he had taken out his keys and put them on the bar counter between them and Logan could pick out his own house key from the jumbled mess of bits and bobs.

“I heard something pretty interesting today,” Patton said, when Logan didn’t reply because he was too busy remembering why he hated Patton so much.

“Please don’t pretend like you didn’t know about my so-called affair before I did.” Logan snapped. “Honestly, Patton!” Logan dropped his arm from the glass and instead pressed his knuckles to his forehead. “Playing dumb about your own company is my least favroite thing about you.”

“I thought you hated my laugh the most.” Patton looked at him, letting the smile slip into something more serious.

“I hate everything about you.” 

“Pay for the drinks, Lo.” Patton told him, “And I’ll take you home. We can have some of my lasagna and watch a space documentary, like we’re twenty years old again.” 

Logan hated Patton and hated the way his chest ached at the offer. His knuckles bore into the side of his head, jabbing the frame of his own glasses into this temple. He hated the way that Patton was looking at him, soft and sweet and naive.

He hated the way his fingers itched to take Patton’s hand and go home.

“And after all that,” Patton continued so lightly, “You can tell me all about how Remus Prince got under your skin.”

 Logan’s hand slammed on the counter, so suddenly he surprised himself. Patton, however, didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink, didn’t react other than to hold that smile. 

“I am not drunk enough to be talking about Remus Prince,” Logan spat. “Especially not to you, Patton.”

Patton was quiet and at first, Logan really had thought that he had won something-- he thought that perhaps Patton would grant him mercy and let him drown his sorrows alone and miserable in a bar until he forgot his own name. But Patton was too good of a friend and Logan really should hate him less for that.

“You know,” Patton said with a cold type of humor that doused Logan with awareness. Bad awareness. The type of awareness that sunk it’s metaphorical claws into Logan’s chest and pierced straight through his heart before Patton finished what he was saying. “I think….yeah that does sound familiar. Do you remember the last time you said you weren’t drunk enough to tell me something?”

Logan did.

Logan couldn’t forget if he tried. 

And he had tried so very hard for so very long-- except that Remus Prince had waltzed into Logan’s life, had called him a Robot, had smirked at him and run their coworkers around like cattle with pretty little words. Except that Remus Prince had gotten bored and decided that the only logical next course of action was to mess with Logan’s personal life. 

Except that Remus Prince had played along with the rumor game, and smiled at him, and kissed him, and---

And Logan had started thinking---

And Logan’s mouth had started moving--

And Virgil face had--

Logan reached for the glass in front of him, reaching for the cool ice and the spritzy carbonation and the burn of the rum.  

Patton watched him, blinking in the long, slow, dumb way of his that had fooled just about every person that he had come in contact with. With the goofy smile and the habit of deliberately misunderstanding key phrases and making puns and jokes when things were tense, it was hard to see him as anything other than a rich son who became CEO via thinly veiled nepotism. 

Logan knocked back the drink, blinking back the burn behind his eyes that were from the alcohol and definitely not from the lump in his throat that had started dissolving.

He didn’t want to close his eyes, because he knew what he would see when he did: a nice suit, a fancy dinner, a walk to the bridge dotted with fairy lights of all things. He’d see that stupid ring, that stupid face, that stupid end of the night that everyone had told him would be nice, and perfect, and everything he would ever want! 

And he didn’t want to think about how it had not been nice or perfect or anything either of them had ever wanted!

He didn’t want to think about how years ago he had come to a bar just like this, and tried to get so drunk he could pretend that it hadn’t happened, and Patton had shown up then and offered him a job and--

“He wants to go by Janus now,” Patton said, picking up one of the waters and taking a sip.

Logan squinted at him and tried not to be happy about the distraction from his own thoughts, “Who?”

“My son,” Patton said, like it was obvious he had switched back to a neutral topic. “He told me earlier during our phone call he wants to go by Janus, now. He said he’s hated the name Dante for forever. Can you believe it, Lo?”

Logan couldn’t actually. Because he had known Patton since they themselves were teenagers, since before Patton had brought up how empty being a CEO was without anyone to come home too, since Patton had first invited him to Sunday brunch and introduced him to the child he called “son”. Logan had babysat Dante when Patton had business trips and Dante had always been proud of himself, of his better-than-the-status-quo lifestyle, of his name that held power and prestige and weight.

Dante had been practicing saying his name in the mirror since before his voice cracked. Dante Hart, future CEO. Dante Hart, son of Patton Hart. Dante Hart. 

“He’s a teenager,” Logan said, “He’s rebelling.”

“Maybe so!” Patton laughed, and it dwindled down to something that was easier felt in the air than definable in terms Logan was familiar with, “Gosh, I love him so much, Lo. My baby! He’s growing up so fast now! The other day he told me he had a boyfriend. He’s at that stage where he doesn’t want me to help him anymore!”

And despite the buffoon having not had a single drop of alcohol, Patton was tearing up. Logan gritted his teeth at the implications of a weepy, teary, so-full-of-emotions Patton. He had spent enough time in college trying to console him as he figured out the whole “Why does it always have to be about sex? Why can’t I just love hugging someone, Lo? Why does everyone make me feel so broken?” Logan hadn’t been any good back then, and he definitely hadn’t gotten better with time. 

After that disaster with the last guy, Logan had decided that feeling things, frivolous things, emotion-like things, were not something he was into anymore.

Logan learned from his mistakes, after all.

Even the mistakes that started with “R” and ended in a $400 ring being thrown away.

“Is that why you’re here, Mr. Hart?” Logan asked, in that way of his that told even Patton with his squirrel run brain that it wasn’t actually a question at all. “You can’t baby your son anymore so you’ve moved on to the next best thing?”

Patton stuck his tongue in his cheek and set his water back down. “Patton.” He stressed. “And I’m not here to baby you, Logan. I’m here to be your friend.”

He said “friend” like it was a word in the dictionary Logan didn’t know. It was infuriating: the insinuation that Logan had never cracked open a dictionary before, that he was so unknowledgeable about the concept of a friend that Patton was about to show him the online Oxford dictionary definition, like someone who played dumb all day and peppered his windows with sticky notes in the shape of a game of Frogger knew more about something than Logan who had clawed his way up from nothing and was constantly needing to prove how he earned his position.

Patton nudged the second water in Logan’s direction.

Logan stared at it, at the condensation on the glass, at the ice cubes, at the refraction of the low lights from the bar counter. He stared at it like it was a portal back through time that would allow him to slam some sense into poor, pitiful twenty-one-years-old Logan before he let himself fall in Love.

Before he bought a ring or stopped taking days off unless Patton tromped down to his office himself. Before Remus Prince borrowed his cup and before Logan got it in his head that he was serving revenge rather than idiocracy. Before he let himself think too little and say too much and hurt a kid that had never deserved to be upset before in his life.

“If my son wants to be called Janus, I’ll call him that,” Patton says softly. “Because even if it doesn’t make sense to me, it means something to him. And even if my friend is struggling with emotions that don’t make sense to me, I’m still gonna try to help him, Lo.”

Patton ducked his head just a little, just enough that he managed to catch Logan’s strategically averted gaze and make something out of it: a swell of guilt, a sense of hope, a pinch of safety and unadulterated kindness.

His throat was dry, but it was the type of dry that couldn’t be fixed with a glass of water.

“I made a kid cry,” Logan said, because self loathing is a coat he had thought he’d outgrown but he can still fit his arms in the sleeves.

Patton nodded. “Yeah, I heard about that.” He sipped his water. “I think we all have at one point or another.”

“See, the distinct difference that you are missing here, Patton, is that you are a father.” Logan snapped, “And your son will cry at the drop of a hat if he thinks he can get something out of it. And you would never harm a child! Not for any reason in the entire world!”

“And you would?”

“I did.” Logan felt himself sink into the chair, sink like an anchor in the ocean, sink like the floor below him had turned into a blackhole. “I did, I did it. What type of person does that make me?”

“I hate to break it to you, Lo,” Patton said, as kindly as he could, which Logan knew was truly, sickenly nice. He wanted to choke on the sentiment but he found that he couldn’t quite make his chest hurt the way he wanted it too when it came to Patton’s pity.

 “But that just means you’re a normal person.” Patton smiled dumbly, tilting his head and shrugging. “Everyone says things they don’t mean sometimes.”

“You don’t.”

“I do,” Patton countered gently, “Like when I hired Beatrice before realizing that she had lied about knowing how to use Excel.”

“Fuck, Beatrice,” Logan agreed, because if he closed his eyes too hard he thought he might still see grid patterns as much as he might see Virgil’s hurt expression and he hated it so much. So much. 

“I also told-- Janus once that I would get him anything he wanted for his birthday, and he asked for a snake.” Patton shuddered, almost comically, “And you saw how that turned out.”

“I’ve always been impressed with his ability to sneak things into the school buildings,” Logan sighed. “I doubt anyone has ever forgotten that Show-and-Tell.”

Patton chuckled quietly. It was almost lost in the buzz of the other patrons in the bar. He drew a smiley face in the condensation on his glass and Logan reached over to wipe it away, like he had done a hundred seventeen times since college.

“So….Lasagna?” Patton offered. “We can make some garlic bread too.”

“I regret ever meeting you,” Logan said, even as he picked up the keys on the counter between them. He wished that Patton didn’t look so self satisfied, so pleased, so smug when the words tumbled from his lips, but Patton had never been one to pertain to the wishes and whims of Logan like that.

Settling his tab was quick; a pile of bills from his wallet that he didn’t actually check, but decided the bartender deserved anyway and then Patton linked their elbows together so that Logan couldn’t walk off the way that he used to when he would agree with Patton just to get him to shut up. Logan snagged Patton’s glasses from his head and fogged them up with his breath, before taking on the tedious task of cleaning the fingerprints off the lens meticulously while walking in a wobbling straight line. 

Patton laughed like silver bells and it alone brightened the entire street with a type of magic that Logan had long since given up on trying to scientifically explain. The poet in him that Logan had buried under Calculus classes and Statistics courses and a Business degree and only let out when the alcohol out weighed the blood in his system, whispered that it was because it was Patton and his aloofness, and his kindness, and his generosity that never made any sense, and wasn’t that reason enough for the universe to lighten up?

It was drizzling outside, scattered raindrops and dark heavy clouds that whispered of a thunderstorm later. Patton skipped, Logan rolled his eyes and let himself be dragged towards the familiar pale blue punch buggy. It was the same exact car from their college time together, if one ignored the frankenstein replacements of just about every single component in it. Patton clung to the car the same way he had clung to the delusion of Logan being a good friend; sticking close through every breakdown, excusing every letdown, and spending far too much money on it when economically it would have been more beneficial to just let them go.

A wave of self loathing wrapped over Logan again when he pulled on the car door. Patton was genuinely a good person, a good friend. He was stupid at times and he made decisions that made Logan was to strangle him, but he cared so much more than other people. He offered fourth and fifth chances when Logan would have stone-walled his offender at one. 

Not to mention, he had come out in the rain to find Logan specifically, probably traversing through three other bars to find the one that Logan had chosen to be his misery echo chamber.

By some sort of lucky happenstance, Logan had originally walked far enough to hail a taxi  to get to this bar, leaving his car in the safety of the parking garage where Patton’s company paid a nice sum for security. Logan had tried to argue about that expense with him back in the day, but Patton had pulled out a picture of his toothy grinning son-- Janus-- and said “Lo!! What if my son comes to visit when he learns to drive?! I don’t want to worry about him getting attacked in the parking garage!” 

Logan had brutally pointed out that his son would never visit him during work, and so far he had been correct in that assessment, but that didn’t stop him from feeling the slightest bit guilty about his bluntness even so much time later.

Patton had always looked for the best in people, had more strength than most of humanity, had more hope in happy endings that Logan had trust in fact and numbers.

“Is your son okay with me calling him Janus? I’m unsure of etiquette on this. Should I wait until he tells me his preference or should I just make the switch and not bring it up to him?” Logan asked with a sigh as Patton pulled out of the parking spot and set them towards Patton’s house on the other side of town. Unobstructed and following the driving laws, it would only take them about fifteen minutes, and yet Logan wondered about the possibility of Patton having Advil in the car.

The back of his head was already aching from the days events: banging his head on the keyboard all morning leading up to his disastrous lunch date, Remus, Virgil, squinting at spreadsheets until he couldn’t make out the numbers anymore, and the of course stumbling his way to the bar and dealing with Patton.

Patton giggled. “Oh yeah! I asked him earlier if it was okay to tell you. He said he wanted you to call him Janus now. He also said to tell you, you can take a hike.”

Knowing Janus, it was probably something more volatile than “taking a hike”. Most likely it had been something that might have required him to put a full five dollars in the swear jar that they kept on the counter next to the cookie jar. Not that it would matter much. Logan had stayed over at their house dozens of times and every single time he had come across Janus taking that money back out of that swear jar.

As far as Logan was aware, the swear jar had never actually been full. Patton must have noticed at some point-- probably that very first time Janus had taken the money back out-- but he was irritating insistent that he play dumb about it. Thus, Janus continued to swear in excess, Patton continued to make him put money in a swear jar for no real reason, and Logan continued to never understand either of them.

The radio in Patton’s car had been broken fifteen times since Patton had gotten it, but Logan assumed from the silence of the drive that it was now sixteen. He rested his elbow on the window and watched the drizzle turn into a steady rain and the windshield wipers flutter across their vision to occasionally bring them clarity.

The night life was somewhat dreary. The driving pace was slow, and they hit every single stop light in the city because that was just Logan’s luck. There were a few people running around in the rain: a family with a small child who was jumping in every slowly forming puddle on the sidewalk, a couple sharing an umbrella walking so close together they appeared as if to be one misshapen form, a group of friends chatting outside a 24 hour dinner in raincoats, and a few smokers huddled under an alcove with embers burning just enough for Logan to make out their forms through the downpour. 

Logan realized almost immediately that the pit in his stomach was much more bearable if he instead focused on the raindrops on the window that are much easier to look at, much less representing something that Logan had always expected he might one day have, much less accusatory in wondering what is wrong with him that he can’t act like a normal human being, this isn’t working, who wants to marry a robot like you--

That was the reason why he wasn’t expecting the sudden jerk of the car coming to a hard stop at a yellow light that they absolutely could have made. 

“PATTON!” Logan yelled.

The car behind them blared it’s horn and Logan rubbed his neck and reset his glasses from the sudden movement, ready to question what exactly Patton thought he was doing, because truly of all the things Logan was not in the mood for, this was one of them. 

Except that before Logan could get any words out, Patton had put the car in park and whipped off his seatbelt to kick open his door. A wave of rain came pouring into the car as the man threw himself from the driver's seat like there was something wrong with the car, and for a second Logan entertained the absurd idea that they were going to blow up.

Which truly, would have just been a fitting end to his horrific day.

“Patton!” Logan hissed, grabbing after the other’s coat to pull him back inside before the rain soaked into the seats. “Get back in th--”

The other man ignored him, frantically waving to someone in the rain. “REMUS!! MR. PRINCE!! OVER HERE!!”

If Logan knew slightly less about human biology he might have been inclined to say that his heart jumped straight to his throat and climbed its way up his esophagus to strangle him. He wouldn’t have recognized the figure on the street corner on his own: Remus Prince was wearing a black leather jacket and jeans with holes in the knees. He was soaked to the bone, without an umbrella, and his usual bouncy brown curls were matted to his head, as if he had been walking out in the rain for much longer than the rain had been sweeping through the city.

He was standing with the smokers under their minimal tarp, although he, himself, was without a cigarette at all. When he turned at the call of his name, there was only confusion and exhaustion in his face. None of the smugness, or the ego, or the energy that he usually had.

Logan didn’t know why that bothered him. He was hurting from earlier; that was good. 

After all, it was Remus’s ridiculous game that he had dragged everyone else into. 

((Logan’s finger itched and he dug his nails into his skin so deeply he was afraid to glance down in case there was blood pouring off hands.))

Remus ventured out to meet them, dodging across the lanes of traffic without a care in the world, or perhaps with a death wish. Remus didn’t seem particularly like he would mind getting run over by the way that he opened the back door, climbed in, and shook the excess water out in the interior of the car like some type of undomesticated dog. 

“Is this a kidnapping?” He asked, rain dripping down his face. “A murder? Do I get to know your name before you dismember me, cutie?”

Patton laughed joyfully, even as Logan felt his face screw up at the sound of Remus calling their boss “cutie”. It was beyond unprofessional, even if Remus was apparently unaware that his career hinged entirely on not insulting Patton. It took a lot to make Patton angry enough to fire someone-- his patience was the best and worst thing about him, as Logan had been reminded every time they interacted-- but once Remus crossed that line, not even a cockroach like him would be able to drag himself out of the metaphorical wasteland Patton would make out of his life.

Cutie, honestly. Who calls anyone they’ve just met cutie. Logan could understand Remus having called him Lovebug and Lolo, but cutie? 

For Patton?

Patton climbed back into the car, snapping on his seatbelt and managed to get out of park at the very same moment as the light turned green. He wiped his sleeve along his glasses, and brightly said, “I’m Patton! And you already know Logie here!”

“Logie?” Remus repeated, sitting back against the seat taking in Logan for the first time. “Oh shi--”

“Do not call me that,” Logan said. “Patton, you can drop me off at the next corner. I will walk home.”

“Don’t be silly!” Patton said, in the same tone that he had used during their college days to coax Logan into driving him to the nearest grocery store after he had successfully managed to pull two all nighters in a row. Logan hated that tone, and Patton knew that well.

“If you do not stop the car, I will throw myself from it while it is still moving.”

“I can get out, actually!” Remus said far too loud for the small car. Logan resisted the urge to turn around and scowl at him. Surely, his pea-sized brain had managed to figure out that he was the point of contention here and that his best move would be to shut up, so why had he decided to open his mouth? “I need to get home anyway. Big day tomorrow and everything.”

“Oh?” Patton said delightedly because Logan would not ever play into subject changes willingly. “What’s tomorrow?”

“I’m getting fired,” Remus said with a nonchalant shrug.

Patton blinked for a moment-- his squirrel-run brain jamming at the sudden twist of the words because whatever he was expecting from his visitor it was not that. Logan resisted the urge to reach over and give him a shake at the shoulders: of course he wouldn’t be able to expect anything with Remus Prince. The man was insufferable and illogical and he wrought chaos for fun. 

With everything that had happened, did Patton really think that there was an exaggeration in there?

Remus wanted attention. And he said whatever he needed to in order to get it: a fake affair, a fake divorce, a fake child-- Of course he would say he was getting fired tomorrow if it got Patton to have to use all of his meager brain cells to figure out how serious he was.

“Is that something to celebrate, Mr. Prince?” Logan cut in coldly. “Getting fired?”

“And here I thought that you would be happy, Ackroyd,” Remus said. “Unless you think you’re going to miss me.”

“If only I would be so lucky,” Logan said, digging his phone from his pocket, and turning it back on. The screen was blindingly bright and Logan’s eyes ached just glancing at it in the corner of his vision. “Patton, pull over. I am not doing this tonight. Or tomorrow. Or ever again.”

“I’m not going to let you walk home after however many rum and cokes you had, Logan.”

“Patton,” Logan snarled. “If you continue to treat me like you treat your son, I will tender my resignation tonight. Pull over now.”

Patton opened his mouth, but whatever he was going to say was swallowed up in Remus’s empty voice speaking. 

“You went drinking?”

“Do not talk to me, Mr. Prince.”

“You’re not even yelling.”

Logan wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean, which may have irritated him more than the fact that he was so insistent about continuing to talk when Logan was liable to push the car to crash and kill all three of them. Remus was already staring at him, his expression dark and serious in the passing car lights and somehow Logan thought that he looked vulnerable. 

Logan gritted his teeth as his headache pulsed behind his eyes. 

“Shut up,” he said. “And put on your seat belt.”

“Or what? You’ll divorce me?” Remus pushed forward between the seats until he was just a few inches from Logan’s own face, grinning with all his teeth. It was at once the same smile that Logan had catalogued through every week of working with him and also something completely foreign.

Remus had pulled him into a kiss earlier that morning, and Logan remembered the taste of pickles on his lips just as well as the smirk he kept as Logan walked away. But this expression is somehow inverted, somehow shifted, somehow a weapon more than a challenge.

“Boys,” Patton said. “Please don’t fight in my car!”

“If you did not want us to fight, why did you invite him in this car?” Logan asked. “You, of all people, know my opinions on--”

“Logan, you’re drunk.”

“What does that have to do with this?!” Logan bit out. He glared at his phone: there were three missed calls from Patton and a handful of text messages from him that Logan couldn’t actually read in the combination of the bright phone light and darkness around them. His eyes were blurry even with his glasses on and the frustration of not being able to read only heightened as he made out the notification for his email which meant that Beatrice had managed to finish her work (allowing Logan to be able to go fix it) or that news of him yelling at a child made it around the office and now he was going to harassed by them as well.

All because of Remus Prince’s inability to shut up. 

 Patton threw a hand out and grabbed Logan’s phone from his hand and carelessly tossed it over both their shoulders to Remus.

“Patton!” Logan hissed, rubbing the irritated tears from his eyes. “Remus, give it back!”

Remus, however, was just staring at the phone in his lap like it was some type of bomb. Logan’s phone locked itself and the screen went dark, and still Remus sat inhumanely still in the seat, staring at it, with a type of blank expression that Logan oftentimes related to their coworkers when Logan asked them to perform any sort of math without a calculator.

“Remus,” Logan said again.

Remus jerked at the sound of his voice, snapping out of whatever fit the phone had put him in almost meekly-- if Logan could describe anything Remus did as meekly without it being a blatant falsehood. “Meekly” itself had never seemed to be a word in Remus’s vocabulary which was another irritating fact about him that made Logan break out in figurative hives.

Logan knew how Remus was.

He knew Remus.

It didn’t matter that he had never talked to Remus before today, that his thinly veiled contempt for his coworkers kept him from being willing to stand in their presence more than he was being paid to, that this fake affair was the first stupid relationship of any kind he had gotten outside of Patton and his son since his last boyfriend had dumped him on the night he was going to propose and hadn’t he thought he’d known him too? Isn’t that what led to all this? 

It didn’t matter. 

Logan was smarter, now. Logan was better now. Logan was--

“I don’t…” Remus said, trailing off as he stared at the messages popping up on Logan’s phone and Logan wondered why it felt like his lungs had shrunk right in his chest. “I don’t think you should be reading these right now.”

“He definitely should not!” Patton said, with a very convincing amount of forced happiness. “Hold that for him will you, Remus? Oh and why do you think you’re going to get fired tomorrow?”

Remus looked up at Logan and then at Patton and then back at Logan, like Logan was supposed to know what that meant in addition to every other stupid look he’d given Logan all evening. Logan shoved his glasses up to his hairline and rubbed his aching eyes, and yet somehow that still didn’t fix the pounding in his head or the exhaustion hollowing out his bones. It also didn’t make Remus disappear from the backseat, which was equally annoying, even though Logan hadn’t truly thought he was a shared apparition for him and Patton.

“You didn’t mention anything about today to your… what are you a fuck buddy?” Remus said.

And Patton laughed. 

Logan grabbed the door handle and yanked on it, but of course the ridiculous safety locks were engaged, and Logan had spent far too many sober years getting locked in this car to try to puzzle out the broken locking system in order to drunkenly throw himself out of the car. He was not in the habit of wishing for miracles, or even believing in deities, but he imagined that some powerful entity was finding ruining Logan’s life to be semi enjoyable.

“See this is why I can’t fire him!” Patton said through giggles and Logan thought maybe he was being addressed for this. Patton met Remus’s gaze through the rearview mirror and shook the last bit of water from his damp hair. “You make everything so entertaining!”

“What?”

Logan grit his teeth and yanked on the door handle again. “Remus, meet Mr. Hart, the CEO and your boss. Also put on your seatbelt.”

Remus blinked at them both, leaning between the seats and definitely not putting on his seatbelt. Logan counted backward from ten, reminding himself that one of the hiring requirements for Patton’s company has always been must be the stupid beyond belief. He’d known for a while that his coworkers were idiots on a good day, hazards to his health on bad ones, and yet somehow in the whirlwind of the day he’s had, Logan had forgotten that Remus counted as a coworker still.

“I’m not… getting fired?” Remus said, acting much like a computer after being turned on. “Why do you know my name then?”

Patton shrugged, flicking on his blinker to change lanes before the next light. “You have interesting ideas for your advertising strategy! Of course I would know your name! I’m sorry about vetoing that last one. I know Logan liked it, but I wanted to stick to the family-as-a-whole angle.”

“Patton,” Logan warned with an edge.

“Logan liked…?” Remus echoed, before turning towards Logan with a look of bewilderment that annoyed Logan far more than it had any right to. “You actually look at my shit?”

“Put on your seatbelt, Remus,” he said, because wasn’t it obvious that Logan looked at his things? Before the whole Robot incident Logan hadn’t had a problem with Remus at all: he was effective and efficient and the rumors were irritating but below him to indulge in. Before Remus had dragged him figuratively kicking and screaming into this mess, Logan approved the budgets that came with the projects Remus created.

He still did that, just with more anger than before. Petty feelings for Remus himself aside, his work was objectively good. 

Logan knew that about him.

“So!” Patton said over both of them, with his signature grin that Logan suspected he would still be wearing even if Logan decided to kill him right now. It must be the by-product of being controlled by rodents running on a wheel. “How was your volunteer work Remus?”

Remus froze in the back seat, going unnaturally still again. “Are you some kind of stalker-- uh sir?”

“Will you knock that off?” Logan snapped, which only made Remus’s shoulders jump straight to his ears. “And put on your seatbelt.”

“Just curious!” Patton said, ignoring Logan entirely. “Darlene is a good friend of mine! I make sure to send monthly donations to the organization since I don’t have a lot of free time to jump over and help.”

Remus didn’t say anything to that. He swallowed audibly and leaned back against the seat, dragging fingers through his wet hair and then tucked his arms in his own armpits. Logan pressed a palm to his forehead watching the street lights bend from behind his eyelids because that was easier than staring at Remus act like Patton was trying to pull his teeth out.

“You actually do volunteer work?” Logan said. “You don’t seem like the type.”

“Ha,” Remus said without any inflection. Logan thought that was the quietest that he had ever been. Where was that stupid ass smirk? Where was the stubbornness that pushed back against everything? Where was that loud voice and that confidence?

“Put on your seatbelt,” Logan said again.

“Why do you care if I wear the belt or not?”

“Remus put on your seatbelt or, so help me Newton, I will climb back there and put it on for you, myself!”

The air simmered from the acid in his tone, making the silence figurative chafe against his ribs. Remus stared at him, blinking slowly, with the street lights casting roving shadows on his face. His dark eyes were just so-- so--

Logan dug his nails into his palm. Why was it Remus Prince could make him feel like this? What gave him the right?

“It’s okay!” Patton said, setting the car to park. “We’re here anyway!”

Logan reached up and pulled his glasses back onto his face properly, but it still took him a moment to realize that they were near a bunch of townhouses, double parked outside one that Logan had considered moving into all those years ago when he had first been looking for an apartment for after college.

Remus too, apparently needed a moment to recognize the area. “We… are at my apartment? Holy shit, you are a stalker.”

Patton giggled, flashing Remus with his blinding smile and reached back to pick up Logan’s phone from his hands. “Thank you so much, kiddo! We’ll wait until you get inside all safe and sound, and I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“You will not,” Logan said. “Tomorrow you have a business deal two hours away to complete and if you miss it--”

Patton stretched back in his seat and let out a hugely exaggerated yawn. “But they’re so boring! Maybe I should bring Janus with me. He always makes my business deals entertaining. I love when he sets his snake on people. He looks so happy and he laughs and--”

Logan squeezed his eyes closed and recited the first twenty digits of pi in his head to keep from grabbing Patton’s squirrel run brain and slamming it into the steering wheel.

“Homicide is wrong,” Logan said.

“I’ll help you vouch for insanity,” Remus said. “I mean, tied together through a murder, and possibly hiding a body is much more juicy than a fake marriage that’s falling apart. We’d be the talk of the office.”

“They would not find any body that I hid,” Logan said. “Nobody would.”

Remus opened his mouth to say something more, but whatever it is he decided against it. Instead he slid over the seats and kicked open the door right behind Logan and stepped out into the night air.

“Thanks for the ride, Mr. Hart, sir,” he said, strangely formal, then squinted and added, “Daddy?” 

“I’m not firing you, Remus,” Patton said. “No matter what you call me!”

Logan ran his tongue over his teeth counting each and every one. Remus looked at him but ultimately finally adhered to that whole shutting up thing. He closed the door to Patton’s blue punch buggy and started towards the door to the apartments.

“Oh,” Remus said, and turned back at the last second. He knocked his knuckles on Logan’s window a few inches from where Logan’s gaze fixed itself on a light. Patton apparently knew more about what to do than Logan because he pressed the window lowering button and Remus reached his entire arm into the window to drop a small object right into Logan’s lap.

Logan caught it mainly due to reaction rather than skill and his skin tingled at the familiar item. Even in the dark, Logan’s fingers roll over the shape of the ring that had always reminded him of the worst day of his life. It was still warm from being in Remus’s pocket.

“I think that should stay with you,” Remus said, like it wasn’t a big deal at all. “You know… for the next boytoy you take to your sex dungeon or whatever nerds like you do on weekends.”

And then he turned around and fled towards the apartment building. Patton turned off the hazard lights and slipped back into traffic and Logan wondered if he would be polite enough to not comment if Logan started crying right then and there.

His throat felt swollen, his tongue too big for his mouth, and the headache thrummmmmmed painfully. 

Logan knew Remus Prince.

“You know that Remus Prince isn’t gonna be like him,” Patton said to fill the silence.

“Remus Prince isn’t like anyone.” Logan didn’t whine. To whine would be unbecoming. And childish. And embarrassing.

So Logan didn’t whine and Patton mercifully didn't call him out on his not-whining.

And neither of them mention the choked tone that Logan had for the rest of the night.

When Logan had seen his boss after he made Virgil cry, he hadn’t expected it to end up with him clutching that ring like a lifeline, but as he ran his fingers around the rim, he wondered if it had fit on Remus’s finger at all.

(Part Five)

[kojinnie]

AOT Characters’ Modern Jobs Headcanon; The Vets Edition!

The jobs that The Vets would have in modern!au, their workplace antics and their back story. There might be some inaccuracies when describing the job as obviously I don’t work at these industries to know its intricacies. Most of the jobs are office jobs. Enjoyyyy!

My Masterlist .::. Pt. II: Zeke Yeager’s Modern Jobs Headcanon   

Most recent work: Dream Me Home (Before Shiganshina) | reader x erwin smith

A/N: I really need to finish a presentation deck due tonight for an early morning meeting tomorrow but of course, this comes first hahaha 

erwin!

A/N: Basically lawyer!erwin is the way to go, innit?

He's in his 40s, so he may have a settled career

He came from a white-collar, middle-class family. So he wasn’t silverspoon-fed, but his parents had enough money to put him through good school

Got a scholarship to go to one of the nation’s finest law schools

Kept it lowkey in college’s social circle, graduated with summa cum laude, developed a strong academic relation with his professor, and got recommended for an internship at top law firm at the capital city

Starting his career as a corporate lawyer, but then built his expertise as white-collar crime attorney

In his early 30s, he represented a union suing against conglomerate corporation in a big case that had national coverage, from then on he began to know his calling

Expanding his portfolio and became well-known for defending workers, consumers and civilians against corporate fraud scheme

Currently doing a lot of pro-bono cases for deprived victims of big corporate fraud. You would see him frequently gracing your local newspaper we love us some socialist king

On the side, he often writes for law journal and fills in as guest professor at local universities for summer courses

Established his own law firm with some of his partners, specializing in white collar crime and labor & employment law

He’s damn accomplished, but never really had any time for self-indulgence. Even after he becomes a household name in the country, with tens of attorneys working under him, his employees would still see him working on New Year’s Eve

He was always attentive to his employees, though. Although he has a very strict, borderline no-life work ethics, he never forces his employees to follow his habit, in fact he despises when his employees works on holidays and can be seen blaming himself for it a bit of a hypocrite but thats ok

He still takes metro to work. He prefers a very lowkey, ordinary lifestyle because he fears if he shows any knack for indulgence, he will be susceptible to gratification from potential enemies or crooked politicians

Definitely a sight to see at the workplace, for he's tall and always oozes a sense of authority in the way he speaks and carries himself generally

His emotional intelligence is top-notch, you would never meet someone who is able to be very objective and calculating, while being kind and compassionate at the same time

His fellow attorneys put a lot for respect for him, and hundreds of applicants come to his considerably small firm every week, because a lot of aspiring attorney find him inspiring to work with

He wasn’t oblivious to his shiny reputation, but he’s trying his hardest to not let the compliments get to his head. Sometimes he doesn’t give himself enough credit for it

Was approached by one of the political party’s committee to run for local senate, but turned it down

basically he’s perfect if you like a man who’s never home for christmas

Hange!

A/N: Ok ok, I really wanna see Paleontologist!Hange because it has always been my fave dream job, but I want Hange to be out and about with people so here it is

Hange is the type to be incredibly good at one thing, that she will dedicate her whole life for that pursuit, but will be awfully oblivious to a whole lot of things (not intentional of course, they just have a very limited attention span) (they wouldn’t know who kanye west is or what tiktok is)

Like Erwin, they came from a middle-class family. While Erwin’s parents might have been teachers, accountants or other common profession, Hange came from a family of academician and researchers

Hange studied Human Geography at uni, but later found passion specifically in its relation to industrialization and urban development

Hange aims to advocate for a better living condition for workforce, and nearby inhabitants of industrialized city detroit would be a beautiful city if only they let hange designed it

Hange is a professor at university, where they also led a non-profit research think-thank that also serves as pressure group for better government policy.

The university that Hange teaches in, is also the uni where Erwin teaches in summer. They’re close-knitted colleagues as they share similar passion. Erwin relies on Hange a lot for some intellectual insights to help his cases  

Hange is relentless in their cause, you may find Hange everywhere! From street protest to a hearing in the government court. They are passionate and will do anything for the cause they believe in

Hange was once hired by the government as an independent consultant for a new housing project, but left because they grew to be frustrated by the government’s bureaucracy and their outward reluctance to follow Hange's recommendation

Hange spends a lot of time overseas, consulting and advocating development in newly industrialized countries

On Hange’s birthday, her fellow researchers surprised them with a ‘pampering day’ where they took them to an optometrist because Hange had been complaining about their eyesight for a YEAR that gave them a lot of migraines, but was always either too busy or too lazy to go

Hange never really considers themselves as working, because they enjoy their job very much. Hange likes to spend months observing a community, talking to people for hours, and trying their best in understanding their problem

Out of so many great qualities that Hange has as a researcher that meets different set of people everyday, prejudice or preconceived judgment is completely absent in Hange’s demeanor and perspective

Hange doesn’t get a lot of free-time, even if they do, they’d wander around the city to do a little observation. But when the weather’s bad and they’re stuck at home with their pet lizard, they would logged into Quora to answer random internet questions

They’re an avid writer for National Geographic, and one time Hange won a pitch to make a documentary about an industrial city project they were working on

After the docu-series got broadcasted, Hange gained a small but passionate and loyal fans on the internet. You could even find a subreddit dedicated for Hange’s works

for real I want to be Hange. I want to have that kind of passion in life

levi!

A/N: I spent a lot of times thinking about Levi’s job in modern!au. Because here’s the thing, either we adopt his unfortunate childhood into its modern!au equivalent, or let’s just recreate his whole upbringing. But I think his personality stems from a specific things he experienced during childhood, so let’s not dismiss that.

Levi came from a struggling working class family. I reckon his parents might have had worked multiple jobs to sustain their living expense. Unfortunately they both passed away when Levi was very little, and left little to no inheritance

Levi’s parents were not close to their extended family, so when they died, Levi was admitted to the system and had to brace several foster families who didn’t really pay attention to him

Little Levi had come to realize that life’s all about survival and so he had been able to fend on for himself since very young age, he never asked for things

His uncle, Kenny, finally won custody over Levi when he was in elementary. Kenny made money from small-scale racketeering here and there. Levi never asked what he did for living, as long as he got food to eat and tuition paid off

Kenny was emotionally absent, but he loved spending time with the oddly quiet little child, teaching him a lot of crafts, from carpentering to how to flay pig’s skin

Levi didn’t really care about getting into college, and thought that he’d probably end up working for his uncle, so he put his bare minimum throughout school, although he was really good with numbers, especially in math, accounting and finance

One time in high school, Levi’s teacher asked him to sign up for the olympiad team, Levi turned it down because he thought that was a rich kid thing

He didn’t even apply for college, and worked odd jobs after high school. Probably working as cashiers or assistant to retail shop’s owner for couple of years, enough for him to afford a cheap studio apartment on his own

One of his bosses came to acknowledge Levi’s talent, and trusted him to handle the company’s accounting

By sheer luck, the company hit it big, and Levi found himself running the day-to-day accounting of mid-sized business with over 300 employees

He made good money already without a college degree, but with a new-found confidence Levi applied for uni, where he chose to study accounting (of course)

Although he was confident with his skills, he understood he needed to widen his horizon and network -- thus uni

Levi was one of the oldest members of his cohort in uni, but graduated with highest distinction

After graduating, with his skills and experience, it wasn’t hard for Levi to score a job at top accounting firm

There, he discovered an interest for forensic accounting, where through audits, analysis and investigation, he basically finds out if a company is doing fraud and embezzlement or not

This is where he came to know and get acquainted with Erwin and Hange (yippie they’re together again)

The firm he works for was assigned to investigate the finances of a troublesome company that had been sued by its workers for a jeopardizing working condition. Erwin was on the case, and Levi helped him with evidences for legal proceeding.

By chance, Erwin introduced Levi to Hange. At first, Levi would find Hange annoying and overtly energized, but after learning the things they have done, Levi grew to appreciate Hange’s passion (and secretly wants to have more of his positive outlook)

Levi is fucking good his job. In short amount of time, he could get a really ideal position in the office. He was almost foolproof, finding even the tiniest bit of discrepancy in his audit. He’d get assigned to the big league case/project.

Although really good at his job, he’s not a social person, especially in his office. He couldn’t understand the lavish lifestyle that finance and banking people often lead. He will only show up to office party if it is really necessary for him to show up (usually to receive some kind of informal awards for, again, being so fucking good) 

He leads a no-bullshit attitude at the office, largely because of his background. He is a self-made man, and is not easy to impress by some young executives from posh school that talk bigger than they can chew

His cold, seemingly dismissive attitude gained him a reputation of being scary, when actually he is very considerate

One of the things he enjoys doing is to actually teach, he really likes when a new kid at the office come to him with none of that pretentious, big talk, and really asks for his guidance. He would love to teach you a thing or two

He would frequently check on his mentee, just to keep up with their development

And he doesn’t take credit too. When his mentee makes a milestone, he believes it’s 100% your work

If you’re his mentee, he probably doesn’t give a crap about your personal life, so don’t expect him to make small talk about that (and don’t ask him about his personal life either). But he really cares about your skill and career development

Same with Erwin, he leads a very ordinary lifestyle. He doesn’t go out often and would rather reading detective novel with his cat on the couch

He likes to spend Sunday at Uncle Kenny’s house, because he finds himself worried about the old man very often. They became close as Levi grew

Overall, Levi is a really kind and caring person if you know how not to push his button