#this is sort of a reoccurring problem which I think is another reason why its irritating me

[trans-xianxian]

I don't have any money cuz I had to pay my housemates rent and he hasn't paid all of it back yet so I texted him this morning like hey are you able to pay me back 180 so I can take pollux to the vet but he could only give me 100 so now she just gets to suffer I guess

[linkspooky]

TOJI AND MAKI

The parallels between the two outcasts of the zenin clan have already been pointed out plenty of times in canon, for example they're both incredibly buff. However, I thought I would take a deeer look at both characters, as they share both a role as the abused child that destroys the system that created them, and the same fatal flaw.

1. The Child Who is Not Embraced by the Village Will Burn it Down to Feel its Warmth

"The Ones who Walk Away from Omelas" is a 1973 work of short philosophical fiction, about a summer festival in the utopian ity of OMelas, whose prosperity depends on the perpetual misery of a single child. The idea is written around the idea of the scapegoat, a reoccurring trope in stories where someone innocent is blamed, or outcast for the mistakes of other characters.

All of this to say that both Maki and Toji represent the archetype of the scapegoats of their generation. Just like the child of Omelas, all of the problems in the Zenin household are blamed on one child.

This is something Ogi does to Maki directly, and also Naoya recognizes that the other members of the clan did to Toji. They were unable to face their own inferiority, so they blamed it on a scapegoat. Ogi blames his failure to become the head of the clan on his children. The entire clan is unable to recognize Toji's strength, because it would make them question their traditionally held notions of strength, Toji requires the use of weapons and can fight without cursed techniques, which means the cursed techniques they were born with don't make them inherently better with other people.

This is also related to Gojo's criticisms of Jujutsu Society at large, of which the Zenin Household is a very toxic microcosm of. Gojo's critique is that the previous generation will sacrifice the lives of the younger generation, to maintain their power, and in the name of pointless tradition. In the Zenin family "tradition" is the idea that inherited curse technique determines a person's worth.

Their entire system is built around one, keeping cursed techniques in the clan, and two, passing down inherited curse techniques from father to child. Which would go farther to explain the treatment of women by the clan, but we're not getting into that this time. Basically, the "peace" and the "superiority" of the household are built on the idea of marking and scapegoating an outsider, that is anyone who doesn't fit in with the clan's traditions. "If you are not of the Zenin Clan you are not a sorcerer, and if you are not a sorcerer then you are not even Human". That quote alone should explain how Maki and Toji were both treated as subhuman 'monkeys' by everyone around them.

However, the story shows us by both Toji and Maki snapping how terrible these abusive power structures are. One person cannot handle all of that alone, so they snap. Of course they snap. It's not a sign of who Toji and Maki are as people, but rather how no one deserves to be treated that way. A major reocurring theme in Jujutsu Kaisen is no one person alone, can take responsibility for everything, not even Gojo who is the strongest can save everyone he wants to save or be responsible for all of society he needs allies too. Toji, and Maki without allies, they snap and lash out against the same abusive power structure that created them. They are so thoroughly othered by everyone around them, that they embrace their own inhumanity, Maki becomes a weapon bent on killing her family even murdering her own mother, and Toji outright calls himself a monkey.

This is also why Toji is referred to as the "destroyer of destinies" there are two reasons for this. One, Gege is making a thematic point here. The abusive system built on othering and excluding children among other things doesn't actually provide the stability it promises. The center does not hold. The abuse of the system perpetuates and only leads to more destruction. Toji's outcasting isn't something that just hurt Toji alone, everyone felt the consequences of it because the abusive system proliferates and only causes further destruction. The second reason is a Jungian idea on which the story is based on. Toji himself is much like a curse created by the actions of his entire family. If Mahito is created from the fear humans have for each other and acts as the shadow of humanity representing their dark side, Toji metaphorically represents the combined shadow and dark side of the zenin clan. In Watch Man, Rorsarch monologues about how the accumulated filth of all of the abuses that happen in the city will one day rise up and affect everyone.

"This city is afraid of me, I have seen it's true face. The streets are extended gutters and the gutters are full of blood and when the drains finally scab over, all the vermin will drown. The accumulated filth of all their sex and murder will form up about their waists and all the whores and politicians will look up and shout save us and I'll look down and whisper no."

This is expressing the same Jungian idea, a society that ignores these problems will only cause the muck to rise up further and further until it affects everyone. The Zenin clan was a microcosm for the abuses of Jujutsu Society as a whole, they weren't the only ones affected by their abuse because abuse perpetuates. They endured it until they snapped and then acted out that abuse. The Jungian idea put forth is that this sort of reckoning was always going to happen, as long as the Zenin clan continues to create these outcasts in order to hold themselves up as superior, another Toji will happen.

2. Love is the Worst Curse of Them All

Toji and Maki also share the same flaw as people. Their abuse revolved around the idea of outcasting them from the rest of the family, othering them, continually putting them down and also most likely not even doing the job of raising them as children or providing them with the help they needed. We don't see much of it, but in the databook apparently Toji regularly had cursed spirits sicked on him to mock him, and Maki was locked in the cursed spirit room as punishment.

This taught them not only do they need to be strong on their own, but also in order to prove themselves they both thought they needed to be stronger than anyone else in the clan. Toji left Jujutsu Society as a whole, whereas Maki just left the house, both of them with the motivation of proving themselves stronger than the people who looked down on them.

This strong sense of individualism is their greatest strength, and also their weakness, as the situation is more complicated than being stronger than a bully. Maki and Toji are made to feel alone because of their abuse, however, neither Maki nor Toji suffer their abuse alone.

Mai was abused right alongside Maki, they were both outcasts due to being twins. There's no point in arguing which one of them had it worse, because Ogi was perfectly willing to kill both daughters right alongside each other. Maki does and doesn't remember that Mai is right alongside her in her abuse, it's... a bit complicated.

I mention this because Makiaated reason why is that she would have hated herself if she stayed inside that household with Maki. She put pursuit of becoming a stronger sorcerer above her relationship with her sister.

Maki later states "I can't create a place where Mai would feel like she belongs". I don't believe that was always her intention from the start that she secretly left the household for Mai's sake, and wanted to get stronger to create a place where Mai belongs, because Maki's always been really clear she was doing it for her own sake. I think rather after the loss she suffered in Shibuya, and also the fight she had with her sister in the school met, that she came to change her mind and realized she wasn't just in this alone. She changed her mind, that she wanted to be together with Mai, but she didn't change it in time and tragedy struck.

I mention this because Maki and Toji both share the same tragic flaw. Both of them have no idea how to be close even to the people they love, so they end up pushing away the ones they love the most. Maki continually shows behavior of pushing away Mai, and in Toji's case he does everything he can to try to show himself he doesn't love his son.

Maki continually pushes away her sister Mai. Mai reacts to getting pushed away in a not-so-healthy way. Toji full on deadbeats his son. He doesn't raise him or participate in his life to the point where Megumi can't remember his face or name at all. Toji did everything he could to try to give Megumi to someone else, anyone else other than him and avoided his responsibility as a father.

It doesn't come from malice on Toji and Maki's part, but rather it's a less savory aspect of their abuse. Both Toji and Maki believe themselves to be worthless, and that they can't be accepted or loved. They've internalized the way the clan has treated them. They are so isolated that this comes out in how they treated their closest loved ones, their response is to always push them away and isolate themselves further. Toji narrates this, he chose to throw his son aside because he wanted to affirm himself and prove that he was better than Jujutsu Society. Maki says to Mai that she left the house and left Mai because staying would have meant hating herself.

They are both trying desperately to prove themselves as individually strong, to the point where loving anyone else, or even requiring that love from someone is a weakness. They prove they are strong by avoiding the vulnerability of loving someone else. Toji and Maki both try to separate themselves from their heart in order to become even more physically stronger. For Toji his heart was his son Megumi who he did everything to distance himself, forgetting his name, selling him to the Zenin clan, while at the same time paradoxically believing that he was somehow protecting Megumi and arranging for things that would have been better than Toji just stepping up as a father and taking care of him.

At the same time Maki pushes Mai away when Mai does not want that, and believes that also she can return to the clan and make it a safe place for her sister by being individually stronger than everyone else.

They both approach their loved ones this way, because they were taught that one, they are unworthy of love, and they choose to try to get stronger by throwing away anything that might make them vulnerable.

TWhich is why Maki breaks so hard, and lashes out at everyone when Mai is gone, because Maki believed that keeping Mai separate from herself and protecting her was her way of showing love.

However, Mai and Megumi are like... people. They're people entirely separate from Maki and Toji and also affected by their actions. Megumi was neglected his entire lives, whereas Mai didn't get to have a relationship with her sister and felt like she was worthless and only holding her sister back. This is the central idea of Toji and Maki's abuse narrative, that abuse is complicated, and abuse proliferates and hurts people you don't even intend for it to hurt. It has consequences. Megumi suffers the consequences of the Zenin family's abuse because it turned Toji into such an unfit and emotionally immature father. Mai was being abused alongside Maki, and even ended up dying from her abuser's hand as her father Ogi beat her half to death and locked her in a room. Now, as a consequence Maki is lashing out at everything around her. That's also why the connection between Toji and Maki is drawn, to show that as long as the abusive institution still stands, it's just going to keep creating more outcasts like Toji and Maki.

[gale-gentlepenguin]

ML Analysis: Love Rival: Why Kagami works but is still hated and why Luka doesn’t but is loved

Now this will be my most controversial Hot take, a lot of you already saw the title and are already organizing your complaints. I don't care, you are free to do so. 

In a previous post, I discussed what makes a good love rival and if you want a good explanation of that, click the in bold link. 

This is a VERY LONG POST, so I am posting a read more. I would love to hear your thoughts on this analysis. Do you agree? Do you disagree? Did you want to include something? Let me know.

I think in order to organize this post I will be splitting it up as follows.

Why Kagami Works as a Love Rival

Why She is Hated for it

Why Luka Doesn't Work as a Love Rival

Why He is Loved despite it

Final thoughts

So lets get to it

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Why Kagami Works as a Love Rival

Kagami Tsurugi was introduced in the episode Riposte, where she is established as a straightforward, no nonsense fencer that wants to be the best. 

Her introduction is solid, she establishes her base and what the audience is supposed to know about her from the getgo. We also get the impression that Kagami when introduced would be a rival to Adrien, as they are competing in Fencing, which makes for a nice twist when they end up getting along and Kagami begins the task of being a Love rival. She starts off as a foil for Adrien, but then the reveal is she is actually a character foil for Marinette.

What also helps Kagami is that the show is mainly from Marinette’s perspective, so we get to see Kagami as Marinette does, as someone that is competing for Adrien’s affections, cementing the Rival aspect of the Love rival. Kagami clashes with Marinette causing Marinette to in turn be more upfront with her feelings and push harder to try and win over Adrien. This is something a good rival does, pushing Marinette forward and making her have to try. This rival aspect of Kagami’s character give Marinette urgency, which is something that is needed in order to drive Marinette towards a conclusion, whether it is to pursue Adrien or move on. 

Now as a love interest, Kagami establishes her relationship with Adrien in a different way then Marinette. Kagami’s straightforward nature allowed her to tell Adrien how she felt much earlier on, she pushes and asserts herself. This contrasts Marionette’s approach to wooing Adrien, and also has an interesting parallel to how Chat Noir handles his feelings towards Ladybug. Acting as a mirror towards that relationship. While Kagami is not flirtatious like chat noir, she is upfront about her feelings. She puts it out there and is understanding when Adrien isn't ready to respond, much like how chat noir is with ladybug. But the difference being that ladybug and Chat noir’s dynamic has a bit more complexity to it. Regardless, Kagami checks the boxes needed to be a true love rival.

Now the last and most crucial part about Kagami is the character at the core. Cause in the end, we know her and Adrien’s relationship wont be endgame, and interestingly she will be better off afterwards. Ikari Gozen does an excellent job filling in more information about Kagami’s character. In this we get to see that Kagami’s life doesn't revolve around being Adrien’s love interest, she is someone that has her own struggles and wants to find freedom in her own way, be friends with people, but she is awkward. Her development from this and Loveater shows how much she has grown on her own, how she has come to see Marinette as a friend, how she understands that there is more to life than just fencing. She wants to prove she is good enough, and wants to show she is worthy of friendship and love. Those are themes and traits that can be cultivated and grown. Kagami’s greatest appeal is that she can grow beyond her role as a Love rival, and that is why she succeeds.

____________________________________________________________________

Why She is Hated for it

Now despite all of these great qualities Kagami has demonstrated as well as how perfect her character is for such a role, the fandom is mixed about her, some even down right hating her. Interestingly enough, the reasons they dislike Kagami is not because of her character. Especially when you consider the rise in popularity of Marigami. Its because of 3 other factors outside of Kagami’s control. Over-saturation, Writing, and Fandom trends.

Over-saturation seems like an odd choice but it perfectly describes the situation. In season 1, we are introduced to two other female characters that were reoccurring characters AND were romantically interested in Adrien. Chloé bourgeois and Lila Rossi. Now both of them can be considered antagonists, and that is kind of the problem. Two reoccurring female characters already have a thing for Adrien, and both of them are jerks (that being the lightest term I can use). Now we know Adrien would never end up with a bad girl, but that impression starts to stick and make it seem like a pattern. That Adrien only attracts bad people (excluding Marinette). By season 2, when Kagami was introduced, it just seemed to the fans like, “Oh great, ANOTHER one”. Despite Kagami being a good character, and someone that actually cares about Adrien outside of the shallow aspects that Lila and Chloé were invested in, fans were ready to write her off and, with how the show was written, you couldn't really blame them at the time. 

The second is a bit more obvious, the shows writing. The largest offender being Frozer and Oni-chan. While Oni-chan was salted on by fans a bit excessively, I have no real defense for Frozer, Frozer was an awful episode and everyone involved should feel bad. Kagami suffers like many ML characters do from poor writing, now this doesn't destroy her character like many would like you to believe, but she gets portrayed in a more negative light when the intentions are not meant for it. Its a bit harder to explain, but just know poor writing and assume Zag interference was what caused issues.

The Last one is something that is a bit more controversial, Fandom trends. Now in season 2, fans really, REALLY, did not like Kagami. The first two reasons having a large impact on that, but what really made it hard for Kagami, was the fandom itself. Since she was introduced first, certain lovesquare shippers LOATHED her appearance, HOW DARE she jump in and disrupt the love square! There are more words that were used, most of which are very degrading towards women and I would not want to repeat. Kagami took the brunt of the fandom backlash, the one that ‘Ruined the Lovesquare’. And when season 3, or as I call it, the season of Salt, fans really hit her hard with hatred, the Adrigami fandom took a lot of salt from toxic stans, some of which didn't like adrigami because they hated Adrien and didn't want him to be happy. It is gross to think about and its tragic that she is hit hard by hatred simply for things outside of her control.

_______________________________________________________________________

Why Luka Doesn't Work as a Love Rival

Luka is the alternate love interest of Marinette and was introduced in Captain Hardrock. He is Juleka’s older brother and is a guitarist.

His introduction is not terrible, but it is not as strong compared to other characters, but I do believe it sets the mood for what he is as a character. His character is the friend’s nice older brother musician, thats kind of it. It sounds like I am being mean but that sums up his character. He isn't really a foil to Adrien or Marinette in anyway, there is no shocking twists or clever parallels to be made, its just Luka. Simply put, Luka doesn't work as a Love rival.

Luka isn't a rival character. He isn't competing with Adrien, he doesn't clash with Adrien in anyway that would help him develop. Adrien and Luka get along fine, there is not a single bit of tension or conflict between them. This isn't a good thing when they are suppose to be competing for the same girl. I already hear what you are thinking, ‘But Adrien likes Ladybug.’ you're right, why isn't Luka interested in Ladybug then? Why is there no clash with chat noir? The point of a Love rival is to push another character towards something, to be a measuring stick. Luka doesn't do that for Adrien, and that is why the rival aspect fails for Luka.

The next course would be the love interest part. Surely Luka is someone that works well as an alternate love interest for Marinette? You are somewhat right, he does work better as a love interest for Marinette rather than a rival for Adrien. But that doesn't make him a good love interest for her. In my take on Love rivals, there needs to be three criteria met to be an effective love rival/love interest, an unequal development of both character, a differing connection that the two share, and a character underneath that can exist outside of the relationship. Luka fails to meet 2 of these criteria. The unequal development of both of them, Marinette has shown some development from her interactions with Luka but the reverse is not provable, we have yet to see Luka really change because of his relationship with Marinette, we don't know how much Marinette has helped/hindered Luka with his struggles, the best argument I could think of was that Marinette helped him be more bold in silencer, but really that sort of falls flat because he has shown bold actions outside of that. Captain hard rock said that he wasn't really good at expressing himself with words, but he shows pretty capable of doing so with people outside of Marinette, like his sister, or expressing anger to Bob Roth, so I don't really see how that works. The other criteria he fails to meet is having a character should the relationship end, Luka’s relevance is tied to him being the other guy for Marinette to choose, we as a viewer have no concrete reason as of yet to see him grow or change after the split. It doesn't help that Luka has even encouraged Marinette to go after Adrien on multiple occasions. People say thats because he is truly selfless and ‘Because he cares’ but really it just shows how little interest he has in trying to win her over, it almost comes off as insulting to Marinette. The only thing that Luka managed to pass was by having a different dynamic with Marinette than Adrien had with her. But that dynamic is shoulder to cry on. I guess that explains why salt fics really try to make Luka into Adrien.

Luka’s character in itself isn't awful, he isn't a bad person or anything of the sort. He is inoffensive and thats the problem. A love rival is suppose to be a point of tension, one that pushes, one that causes development, a force that at its core is meant to help the characters grow, and Luka just isn't the character to do that. He isn't a love rival, or a love interest. Luka is a wall, a wall put in between the two main leads in order to cause a divide without causing tension.

_______________________________________________________________________

Why He is Loved despite it

Luka isn't a love rival, and yet despite it he is one of the more popular characters in the fandom. It was something so mind boggling to me, what did this character have that made him so well liked in the fandom? Why wasn't he as hated as Kagami was during her introduction? I found myself coming up with three reasons why this was the case. Luka was so loved because of Necessity, writing and Salt.

 Much Like Kagami suffered from Over-saturation, Luka had the Opposite problem. Marinette’s other love interests all ended up losing interest by the end of the episodes they were in. Nino, Nathaniel, Theo (though it was for ladybug). All of them just got paired off with someone else shortly after. Marinette didn't have another person outside of Adrien that was potentially going for her attention. This necessity allowed for Luka to slip in and fill the gap. The fandom saw him show up and were excited! With Kagami *ruining* the lovesquare, they needed someone for Marinette to help mend her should kagami ‘Win’, and Luka won by default. So Luka was the one the screeching fandom saw as there answer.

The next key that helped Luka was the writing of the show. The problem with the writing in the show is that often the writing will clash and hurt the strong characters of the show. Luka, as someone that does not have any strong defining features is flexible and easy to write for the writers. It makes it easy for him to be written in a way that wont infuriate people because of bad writing. He is able to coast by without having his character be in jeopardy. In a way, he has nothing to lose.

The last factor is of course salt. Now in fandoms, salt is used as a means of criticism or used to describe problems with characters. Luka is someone that people don't really have a problem with, which during the season of salt, made him perfect for all those fics where they needed someone to be on Marinette’s side because Adrien was ‘the devil’ or Lila was an extra mean jerk. Luka didn't have any problems that were agitated by salt, so he was the perfect replacement for Adrien when the writer wanted to hate on the blonde. Luka was the substitute, he was the easy fix that took little effort to include. He was a nice older brother that already liked Marinette, perfect fix for any situation. Its rare to see Luka written in a negative light without his character being warped so far that he is a completely different character.

Luka is loved not because of the things he is, but simply because of the things he is not. He is used more as a means to an end rather than as a character. In the writing, he is more of a wall, while in the fandom he is more of a stand-in. At the end of the day, I don't know what is more tragic.

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Final Thoughts

Kagami and Luka are characters that were introduced in order to spice things up and add development for the main characters. I find that in some ways they do achieve that goal, but in other ways they fail. One of them embodies the spirit of a Love rival while the other embodies the love obstacle. Regardless of this analysis, your thoughts on Kagami and Luka are your own and you can love and appreciate them as you see fit.

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If you want to support my insanity. Buy me sushi please 

[randombtsprincessa]

Content Tag Game!

Tagged by my babies Dia and Maria ( @yoonia​ and @joyfulhopelox​) to answer these content queries and dish some dirt on me whoops!

Here we go!

1. what fandoms have you written for (but do not currently)? 

Well I for one thought that I would never write for Twilight again. I wrote Touch in the Worlds as a practice and just to get the feel of how writing and the posting worked online. I was very sure I wouldn’t visit the fandom again for obvious reasons, but yeah, I have recently gotten another idea for it for another character that many asked for in comments.

2. what fandoms are you currently writing for? 

I am writing for Kpop (BTS) and currently have two works for Harry Potter!

3. how long have you been writing? on this blog? 

I began writing in 4th grade. Silly me also tried to make a club out of it with a few friends but yeah lol, that tanked. I mostly tried to write Horror back then because I was a hardcore Goosebumps fan. Writing kind of took a back seat to my music and dancing before making a vicious comeback. 

I made this blog to follow SuperWhoLock and other shows. Before I refurbished it to accomodate my writings. Then in 2017, I purged it again at the same time as Tumblr underwent it’s own mess of thingy.

4. on which platforms do you post your stories? 

I post on FF.net, Wattpad, Tumblr, Ao3 and Inkitt.

5. what is your favourite genre to write? 

I love smangst with fluff. Of course, like any deprived emotionally person I do do fluff because where would we be in life without it. I love the tropes of E2L, Estranged Lovers coming together, balancing otherwise unbalanced dynamics etc. Also woman empowerment because hell yes.

6. are you a pantser or a planner? 

I’ a firm swinger between the two. Usually for writing projects, like NANO i have a plan but well, when I get an idea hit, I usually just write how I see it in my head (I’m a visual imaginator). Series require more planning than one-shots.  

7. one shot or multi-chapter? 

Depends on the stories I cook up. Many of them might be finished and reach the proper catharsis in one chapter but many others aren’t stories that can be wrapped up in one sitting.

8. what is the perfect chapter length in your opinion? 

Don’t ask me. I have a problem with word counts. Ask my undergrad professors.

9. what is your longest published story? is it complete? 

I still think my longest is Touch in the Worlds. Its four books and over 200k so. Yep, it’s done and over with.

10. which story did you enjoy working on the most?

I. ADORE writing Autumn Leaves, mostly because my MC is lowkey brilliant. She’s a living embodiment of all the mistakes the HP characters made corrected. For BTS, I loved writing Aberrations. I’m going to have the same fun when I get to the ‘part’ in Achilles Heart. hehehe...otherwise in the future some works are *satan grins*

11. favourite request you’ve have written and why (if any?) 

I wasn’t sure if I was going to be writing a sequel for Bed Bereft. But people have asked and yep it’s coming (plotted already and I will enjoy it)

12. are there reoccurring themes in your stories? 

I’ve been told I write women in relationships well. Honestly if I wanted a break down of what I as a writer have done nicely in my BTS fics it would be a question for people like @jimins-ass-eater, @stealth-liberal and @cuziloveyou7

13. current number of wips? 

Outrageous and increasing. I have a lot of chapters to upload lol.

14. three things you have noticed about your own writing? 

Some fics I have noticed are purely for a particular mindset. I wrote Asylum in my down time and Ambrosia is going to be the same. I tend to aim to be realistic. I am 23 years old, I have seen a few things that deserve to be addressed and I do that in my fics. Oh, and if I am writing for Namjoon, you can expect my philosophical side to jump right out and ramble in that fic. 

15. a quote you like from a published story.

● Series:

There was nothing soothing about people watching.

Or maybe there was and it required some form of inner peace to find the charm in it.

You didn’t have that sort of inner peace; neither did you have the patience for it.

- Belladonna, Chapter 1

● One-shot:

All the stories that showed that Princesses would be rescued fell short at one crucial juncture.

No one told the story about the cursed princess who was ugly, who was a monster, who wasn’t the pale skinned beauty in a glass case or silk bed.

No, nobody came to save the ugly princess and over time you learned to see yourself just that.

This man – this Jimin, would be no exception.

“After all, what’s to love?” You muttered.

You vowed not to weep. Not for a man, not for the humanity that judged who was worthy of love.

- Blackthorn Creek

16. a quote from an unpublished story.

Jimin didn’t reply, carefully placing a donut on a small, pristine white plate. “I don’t think there’s anyone who just was born wrong. Everyone has reasons, everyone has stories. Things that happen to people to make them the way they are at present. It’s harsh to judge a person’s future for what the past did to them in the present.”

His eyes flickered up to glance out the window. At the edge of the park, right along the lines separating the background of the city from the forefront stood an old Honda. On it was perched a single girl.

“Like her.”

- Brownie Points

17. space for you to say something to your readers. 

I want to thank each and every single one of them. On tumblr and out of it. I know I miss out on a lot of interaction but I want you all to know that you always have an ear and shoulder available on my blog. I want you to know that these fics I write are for more than just your enjoyment. It’s for them to maybe find a part of them resonating inside of you and if I achieve that then that would be my biggest achievement. I love you all and your encouragement is literally the reason I and many other content creators are still here.

Tagging: @avveh @serooks @softyoongiionly @hobidreams @jungkxook @joonscypher @hobiwonder @bangtanhome @joheunsaram @kookdiaries @ressjeon @kithtaehyung-main @vyduan @rosietae @kookingtae and anyone else who wants to do this!

[mk-wizard]

Another Top 10 Reasons TF Needs to Change its Status Quo

After making this list, I realised 10 reasons are not enough and that alone is telling. After some thought, I realised there are many reasons though these are the ones that are most important as to why Transformers needs to change its status quo.

1- Proper representation that is respectful and with the times matters. - Did you know that Jazz is so far the only confirmed Transformer of colour and every damn time he is used, he’s a stereotype of a black person? Did you also know that even though everyone knows Knockout from Transformers Prime is gay, the writers denied it by denying that Transformers don’t have genders or orientations even though it has been confirmed that they do since Beast Wars? Also, the first openly “oriental” Transformers are a little ridiculous to look at it. Windblade looks like a geisha girl with hair and make up to match. Then we have Drift who looks and acts like a stereotypical overly stern samurai. And let’s not forget Transformers Animated Ratchet who is another stereotypical old man character who is predictably grouchy, not fun, anti-social, borderline ageist and has PTSD. I hate being politically correct, but as a progressive and open minded person, it’s getting a bit ridiculous that the writing still treats the times like it is the 1980s in which every type of character is a stereotype of itself. Write characters naturally and don’t be afraid to make diversity a natural thing without extremism in culture, colour or anything. And that thing that the writers said about Knockout was outright offensive. Why create a character who is gay if you’re going to force him to stay in the closet? And what really stinks about that low blow move is that Knockout is NOT a stereotype of what he is and not everything is about him being gay. He is a well written fleshed out character. Transformers has to move on from the 1980s and accept diversity with open arms respectfully.

2- Children do not follow a status quo when they play with the Transformer toys. - Here’s a secret that’s not a secret at all, people. When kids play with their toys, they don’t always make them act the way they are “supposed” to. When I was a girl, I used to pretend Barbie was a superhero and sometimes, when I played with Transformers, I didn’t always have them fighting. Sometimes, I used to pretend the Transformers would do regular stuff like go out, visit friends and stuff. I even used to know someone online whose daughter pretended Arcee was married to one of the Seekers (I don’t recall which one) and played house with them with other bots acting as their kids and neighbours. If kids don’t follow a status quo and are open to different settings when playing with the Transformers, they are going to be open to shows/movies/comics that don’t follow a status quo. In fact, I think it they would love it.

3- We need more movies and specials like Bumblebee. - In other words, films that showcase a fan favourite to give them their own backstory and character development which answers a lot of the questions fans have. Even if they are just straight to Blu-Ray or Netflix movies. I mean, DC and Marvel has tons of made for TV only animated movies and they’re great. I would love to see a movie that showcases Prowl, Arcee or tells us Megatron’s origin story.

4- A prequel of Transformers is worth telling. - Beyond short mini comic series, we have never delved into the origin of Megatron, Optimus or how the entire war began. All we know is that in the beginning, Megatron’s intentions were noble, but then went bad and he ruined Cybertron, so the Autobots rebelled. Transformers War for Cybertron attempts to give us a prequel, but it’s not quite one. It’s still a story about the war, but in the earlier phase while it was still happening on Cybetron only. Give us a real prequel. Please.

5- There are confirmed bad Autobots and it’s high time we treated them like villains properly. - Devcon is a bounty hunter who is Autobot by faction, but he doesn’t follow the Autobot values or any morals as he is just concerned with getting paid, and he has been known to do heinous things just to get a buck. Then there is Repugnus who hence his name, is the kind of guy who will disgust you because he is sadistic, he has no honour, he cheats, he fights dirty and has been discharged multiple times from the army for taking things too far. And for the record, the Decepticons won’t have him in their ranks because even they think he’s too distasteful. I think it would be interesting and good writing to showcase these two as reoccurring villains who even face consequences like villains instead of “pardoning” them just because they are Autobots.

6- Does Optimus have to be the Prime in every series? - Seriously, this formula is getting old. Even Robots In Disguise snuck Optimus in as Prime and it was supposed to be Bumblebee’s time to shine. Then there was Beast Wars who had an Optimus as a leader too. You don’t even have to kill Optimus! Just have a different group of bots with a different leader. Star Trek does that with every different series and it’s great for it. And get creative with the settings through that: exploration, repairing Cybertron, politics, home life, etc.

7- Make different versions of the same character DIFFERENT. - Transformers Armada always stood out to me as a series because it was the one series where Starscream was not only not concerned with overthrowing Megatron, he was the complete opposite! He was loyal to Megatron and just wanted his appreciation, and above all else, Starscream was a good guy. In fact, a lot of characters were very different from their moulds. Maybe we should do this more often. Make an Optimus who is not very nice, make a Megatron who is empathetic, etc. If you’re going to put out a new story and make the characters look different, why not make them different on the inside too? I think that would be fun.

8- Transformers is in fact alienating new fans by keeping the status quo. - A lot of the suggestions I am making are not from me a lot. A lot of fans especially the newer ones are begging for fresh new ideas, but for the most part, a large majority of Transformers’ media is just Autobots vs. Decepticons or something like it. If you keep ignoring the suggestions of new fans, you will cease having new fans.

9- It is ok for characters to fall in love and be in love. - If there is one thing that Beast Wars did right, it was incorporating romance into the storytelling. And it did it beautifully. A huge chunk of Blackarachnia’s character development was thanks to falling in love and with a great guy above all else. Moreover, it didn’t stop her, her boyfriend or anyone around them from being badass, goofy and going on with life in other ways that were not romantic. I also want to add that it is important for kids to see all of that so they can learn that love is not yucky. And that for most grown ups, falling in love and starting a family is a good thing and an adventure within itself worth taking. And more importantly, you don’t stop being you just because you’re married and have kids. Yes, some people don’t want to marry or have kids, but keeping everyone childfree and alone is just as unnatural and unrealistic as having them all get hitched and multiply. Besides, it has been confirmed that Transformers can be in love, be male or female and reproduce like we do. There’s no point of hiding it.

10- Transformer epilogues are worth telling. - Just as a prequel is worth telling, so is an epilogue. We sort of get that with Rescue Bots Academy after Transformers Prime and Robots In Disguise, but what about other series? What happened after G1 and how did the peace treaty between Autobots and Decepticons go down? Did it work out? How did characters adapt to peace? How did they deal with trauma and PTSD? What was life like for the civilians after? Were the problems that spawned the war fixed? Do Autobots and Decepticons even live together on Cybertron? Personally, I would love to see all of that as a huge fan of Steven Universe Future and Picard. Just because one story ends doesn’t mean another can’t begin. I think it would be a lot of fun and also, it would give closure to many Transformer series that never got any.

Do any of you have good reasons you can all think of as to why Transformers needs to change its status quo?

[second-chance-stray]

RP Log: Bertram helps Cravs with a bug problem. They meet each other, but fail to connect the dots... 

Cravendy Hound pants heavily as she BOOKS it, sprinting away from a swarm of bugs and microchus that nip at her heels. She hadn’t even been doing anything prior - just going on a walk by the stream. Just enjoying the crisp, cool air. But it would seem that the elementals had had enough of her target practice, and now the woods don’t seem as peaceful as they were in the past.

Bertram Windshadow had been attempting to do the very same with his own time on this particular day. There were always a myriad of things upon his mind these days. It did him good to simply step out and move without particular direction and unrestrained pace. Wherever to the wind lead him. That is, of course, until he spied a roegadyn woman being harried by the denizens of the Black Shroud. 1/2

Bertram Windshadow came to a stop within the canopy of a moderately sized tree before dropping down to the forest floor so that he could get a better assessment of the situation. He wasn't about to leave someone in trouble . .. in trouble. 2/2

Cravendy Hound stretches her arm back, aims her gun at her pursuers, and fires a couple of rounds. Some of the shots hit microchus, splitting them from the mob momentarily...though, with every one that was dispatched, two would spring from the bushes and take its place. Meanwhile, for the bugs, I simply present to you this question...have you ever fired a gun at a housefly? Would that work? The answer is no. No, it would not work.

Cravendy Hound: “Godsdamned, bleedin’ flyin’ pieces of shite! Overgrown spinach!” Cravs swats at the air as bugs relentlessly buzz around her. In an attempt to get them off her back, she jumps off the side of the cliff and into the river...however, she misjudges the depth of her target. It’s much too shallow to keep the bugs away from her. And now, she’s drenched AND annoyed.

Bertram Windshadow watches quietly for a moment as the stranger attempts to ward off the pests with her firearm. An attempt that causes the highlander to wince slightly just before she plunges herself into the drink . .. well, at least as much as she could manage in the relative shallowness. 1/3

Bertram Windshadow could only assume that the single-minded focus of these creatures could only come from one place. She'd done something to annoy the Elementals. Not enough to rouse them to outright *anger*, but . .. enough to peeve them. It was an easy mistake to make and Bertram figured they'd more than learned the lesson no need for further assault. 2/3

Bertram Windshadow reached into one of his pouches and pulled out a small orb. With a firm press, and a quiet click, it began belching out a stream of smoke or fog. The man then quickly rolled it in the direction of Cravendy in the hopes of helping disperse the swarm of bugs! 3/3

(Cravendy Hound) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZnHmskwqCCQ )) (Bertram Windshadow) (( *dies* This was what was *exactly* what was playing in my heat. ))

Cravendy Hound is too busy swatting away the bugs and plant monsters to notice the source of the sudden smoke, so she thinks it’s the Elementals toying with her further. Her confusion serves to make her even angrier. “If yer gonna kill me, just do it an’ be done with it!” What follows is a long-winded, story of a swear that ends with a coughing fit.

Cravendy Hound - The smoke, meanwhile, does disperse the bugs. They now hover at the edges of where the cloud stops. You can’t see through it, though you can certainly hear all sorts of things happening beneath its foggy exterior.

Bertram Windshadow bobs his head to the side slightly and makes his way forward at a slightly accelerated pace, breaking his way into the opaque cloud and speaking so that he can make his presence known. "I don't think you're going to get killed today, stranger, but we should probably get you closer to Gridania ..." He calls out before attempting to reach out and touch Cravendy's arm to let her know where he is.

Cravendy Hound: “Who, in the name of Llymlaen’s left teat, are you?!” Upon being touched, she instinctively aims her gun right at Bertram, and then glances to the side. “Behind ye!”

Cravendy Hound - Her aim shifts ever so slightly, from being pointed at Bertram’s forehead to something else entirely. The shot rings out, wind brushing dangerously close to his ear, and then sinks directly into a microchu that had been sneaking up behind them. “Gods, ye...let’s get out of ‘ere.”

Bertram Windshadow winces visibly -- or invisibly given the current circumstances -- at the sound of the gunshot so close to his ear. The ear on that side of his head was nothing but ringing in the moment and he could barely make out the latter half of her speaking. My this woman was an aggressive one. Some dots were starting to connect regarding the Shrouds current state of upset. 1/2

Bertram Windshadow called out in a voice slightly louder than necessary, "Let's get out of here," he echoes her sentiment without realizing it. "They're just going to keep coming if you fight them like that." 2/2

Cravendy Hound nods. She had no desire to let the ‘friendly, forest friends’ have their way for any longer. “Gridania’s a tad far...But Hyrstmill’s just a rock skip away. Let’s find a ‘ovel to ‘ole in and be done with this.”

Bertram Windshadow has to strain to hear the suggestion, but he calls out with an affirmative sound before reaching in to the same pouch again to remove another sphere. With a 'click' the smoke begins to spew and he pivots on a heel to face the direction of the small outpost. As he does he throws his arm back and then swings it forward; throwing the smoke-spewing orb like a bowling ball. In its path it leaves a trail of smoke. "That'll hopefully then thin the herd and give us an opening!"

Cravendy Hound stares curiously at the orb, and then back to Bertram. It clicks in her mind. The smoke? Not the Elementals. This guy. This...stranger, who happens to have smoke-spewing orbs in his possession. Questions would have to wait until after they weren’t being hounded by angry flies and grass. She makes a break for Hrystmill, coughing all the while.

Bertram Windshadow set his pace to match Cravendy's as he kept himself in her wake. He felt compelled to keep an eye out for anything that might lunge at the woman while she was making a break for it. This wasn't exactly what he was expecting to do with his day but it certainly beat being stuck in his own head. "Just keep running they'll break off eventually!"

(Cravendy Hound) LOL I'm seeing an unintentional, but reoccuring theme...in an earlier rp, cravs sucked in a feather and had a coughing fit. After this, she's gonna be super hoarse xD )) (Bertram Windshadow) (( Hahaha! It helps in sounding grumpy!! )) (Cravendy Hound) let's move to hrystmill! :3 )) (Cravendy Hound) LOL 6-pack a day scratchy voice. "WATER..." ))

Cravendy Hound - As they run, they can hear, but not see, the monsters pursuing close behind. But eventually, as Hrystmill comes into view, the noise grows fainter and fainter. In reclaimed silence, the sound of hearts pounding and panting breaths come back to the forefront. Cravs lets out a long groan and falls to the ground in a kneel. She beats the dirt twice with her fist, gets back up, and faces Bertram. She has no idea what to say.

Cravendy Hound: “.................So. That ‘appened.”

Bertram Windshadow eases as the sound of pursuit fades a quiet breath draining from his lungs as he finally gives himself a moment to glance over his shoulder. It hadn't seemed like they were in *mortal* danger, but it was hard to say when an elemental would decide to be a little extra cranky at any given moment. He dusted his hands off on his legs as he shifted his attention back to Cravendy. "Sure did ..." he answered, allowing himself a quiet laugh before bobbing his head to the side.

Bertram Windshadow: "I hope they didn't get any nasty bites in ..."

Cravendy Hound: “Couple of bruises and scratches, but nothin’ major. Gods, first dodos, now bugs and bloodthirsty flowers.” She lets out a long sigh. The world was conspiring against her, which...well, was fair, as she had a lot to answer for. But she wondered, why now? Why not before, or later? One thing is for sure, though. She’s thankful that this stranger was here to help out.

Cravendy Hound sizes up Bertram. He looks kind of familiar, but she shelves that feeling off to the side. “Thanks for ‘elping out. I’m Cravs. And ye are?”

(Bertram Windshadow) (( Would Bertram know that nickname? I don't *think* he would, but I figured I'd check before having him be oblivious, hahaha (Cravendy Hound) hmm I mean, she refers to herself as such, but idk if others would to her?? haha )) (Cravendy Hound) up to you really :P )) (Bertram Windshadow) (( I think Lin has only said Cravendy to him! So I don't think he'd make the immediate connection! Not yet anyway! ))

Bertram Windshadow bobs his head to the side slightly, "I can't pretend to know *why* but I think you did something to upset the elementals," he offered quietly as he finished dusting himself off and glancing around Hyrstmill, ". .. they can be a bit sensitive about how you treat the forest." He pauses for a moment before dipping his head toward the woman. "It's nice to meet you Cravs. Most folk these days call me Windshadow."

Cravendy Hound brings a hand up to her face and covers it in thought. Upset the elementals...no. Her target practice? She had thought since it was an accident, it’d be fine, but perhaps not. Blast it all, now she’d have to get a conjurer to help her apologize to those, frankly, eldritch spirits.

Cravendy Hound: “Windshadow. Now that’s a title -and- a mouthful...any reason why people call ye that?” Her brows knit together and her eyes narrow. He clearly wasn’t your average adventurer, judging from his gear. “That yer secret, crime fightin’ identity or somethin’?”

Bertram Windshadow blinks in surprise, though not that one could tell from behind the visor, at her comment. He'd never really thought about it like *that* before. There's an awkward pause before Bertram's hand rises up to the back of his neck and he shook his head. "Oh, no. It's nothing like that," he responds with a laughing tone, "It's ... an epithet. A Gyr Abanian thing."

Bertram Windshadow: "I can be ... pretty fast when I need to be. Quiet too."

Cravendy Hound just realizes that she’s smiling. Everything that had happened in the past hour. The smoke, the running...and now, Windshadow standing here, as polite as could be. He was an amusing enigma to her. “No need to be bashful. If people call ye something like that, then I doubt ye only go ‘pretty’ fast. But can ye outrun a chocobo? I’d be willin’ to bet against ye.”

Cravendy Hound laughs - the challenge only half serious. “But seriously. Ye saved my ‘ide back there. What can I do for ye...’ow about round of drinks on me?”

Bertram Windshadow can only laugh a bit more fully at the prospective challenge, his head shaking slightly as a smile finds solid purchase upon his lips. "Depends on the terrain and distance, honestly. A 'bo's going to out last me in the long run on flat ground." He shakes his head gently, as though he was dismissing the thought as overly self-indulgent. He cleared his throat at the new offer. "I ... " he pauses, tilting his head to the side, "... I wouldn't turn down a drink or two, no."

Bertram Windshadow: "But I'm just glad to have been at the right place at the right time."

Cravendy Hound scratches the back of her head, amused by how seriously Windshadow is taking the chocobo challenge. She can hardly imagine what it’d look like for a hyur to move that quickly. Would he send himself sailing forward like a rocket, or would he just move his limbs -that fast-?! Either way, she steps over and playfully bumps his shoulder with her fist. “I know a spot nearby that serves a solid Mun-Tuy Brew. Over ‘ere.”

Cravendy Hound would bring the two of them to an unassuming establishment. When she enters, she dips her head towards the Elezen barkeep, who returns the gesture. By the time Cravs takes a seat, the barkeep has already set out two cups and a bottle of brew on the table. The usual.

Bertram Windshadow laughed -- albeit a bit nervously -- as Cravendy bumped his shoulder gently while passing by while making her way further into the town. He certainly couldn't complain about a good drink of mun tuy so he followed behind her whilst glancing around the village with a thoughtful expression. He didn't say too much on the way but, as he settled in before the second cup of drink, he couldn't help but ask. "What had you out in this neck of the woods anyway?"

Cravendy Hound has already finished a cup and is halfway through pouring herself another glass. She places the bottle back to the center of the table with a satisfying, though loud, thump. “......Ye’d be surprised ‘ow far those critters chased me. That said, I come out ‘ere now and again. Nice trees, nice folk.” She clears her throat, and then says in a slightly lower voice: “The drinks not bad too.”

Bertram Windshadow might have -- perhaps -- been attempting to discern what the woman might have down to agitate the elementals, but ... he didn't seem like he was about to start prying where he wasn't invited. It didn't seem like he was Like That. Instead he bobbed his head forward and began a much more *measured* approach to his drinking. "I find it similarly calming. Spend time up in the boughs can really help clear the head when you're feeling a bit overwhelmed."

Cravendy Hound raises a brow. “So, ye run really fast, and ye have orbs that shoot out smoke. What are ye, some kind of courier? If ye feelin’ overwhelmed, then just tell the big man to stuff it. Don’t work so much.” She lifts her cup up with a grin. “Lifes too short not to indulge in the good stuff.”

(Cravendy Hound) lmao I can't get over how these two haven't connected the dots )) (Bertram Windshadow) (( It's *pretty* great! Hahaha. ))

Bertram Windshadow tilts his head to the side slightly as he listens to Cravendy's Words of Wisdom. He sips upon his drink thoughtfully for a moment before giving a concessionary bob of his head. He certainly found himself dwelling on the bad recently. Though it wasn't quite related to work as she might be assuming. Given his effective unemployment at the moment. "... I suppose that's true." He murmurs quietly, maybe more to himself than to Cravendy proper, "Is that what you were doing out there?"

Cravendy Hound leans back on her chair, feet propped up on the table. “Chin up. Ye seem the earnest type. Try at somethin’ long enough and it’ll change, eventually.” She takes another sip and listens to the sound of the waterwheel turning on the river. Windshadow’s second question gives her pause. “What? Was I...out ‘ere to indulge, ye mean?”

Bertram Windshadow quietly nods his head in response to her further words of assurance -- though it seemed difficult to determine how they were received behind the vidor -- before she asked her clarifying question. "Oh," he cleared his throat and shook his head, "Well, that or just ... enjoying the 'good stuff' as it were."

Cravendy Hound smirks, and gestures to the alcohol on the table, as if that was answer enough to his question. The two made an interesting drinking duo, and Cravs found herself drawn to her withdrawn, fast-running companion. When they eventually parted ways, she let him know that he was welcome to swing by for another round of drinks...or perhaps, she would find him, and make good on her bet that he could outrun a chocobo.

[gay-yosuke]

alright its time for me to post about sonic now. nobody asked for this.

personally. i think that the decline of sonic games is. well. nonlinear of course but its a combination of a lot of things that have been present for a while. i started thinking about this because i had knight of the wind stuck in my head while i showered and i thought “yknow i dont think the storybook games were that bad” and it evolved from there. readmore’d cuz its a longass post

first off. one of the things that was present in the games people consider “bad” is eggman NOT being the primary antagonist. i mean. fundamentally this makes sense. eggman has always been the primary antagonist in the games since the beginning, so suddenly introducing these throwaway villains is kind of a shot in the foot. what comes to mind is sonic lost world and the zeti because its like. sega wants us so badly to care about zavok and the rest of them but its just kind of difficult when theyre from yknow. sonic lost world and, fundamentally, throwaway villains. now i thought about this because. sonic lost world ISNT objectively a bad game i dont think. it has bad parts and i think those bad parts are mostly linked to the zeti being the primary antagonists. now this isnt saying that any game with eggman as the primary antagonist is good (ill get to forces later) but it plays a part.

now i couldnt entirely tell you when “eggman ISNT the primary antagonist” first turned up. i would assume sonic adventure because of chaos? which funnily enough links into my next point. the introduction of a secondary antagonist who either a) becomes a primary antagonist in the same game or a later game they’re part of or b) is meant to be some kind of counter to sonic. you could say it started in sonic 3. since knuckles acts as a secondary antagonist for most of the game. funnily enough though hes actually one of the only that stops being an antagonist in the same damn game. hes like “wait a second ive been fucking tricked” and turns to sonic’s side after seeing eggman doing his bastardly actions. so i’d say it actually started in sonic cd with metal sonic. he’s a reoccurring antagonist (the good kind) and was made with the sole purpose of Beating Sonic. in sonic heroes he becomes a primary antagonist in the true ending and whatever. in sonic adventure there’s chaos who becomes the primary antagonist in the true ending as well. now again. none of these games are BAD because of this aspect. sonic 3 is good, as is cd, heroes, and i think sonic adventure has its moments. but again this is just another piece to the puzzle.

the next thing i think thats sort of added to the decline is the fact that. well. corporations. yknow how it is with game design. as a game design student i know that theres fucked up shit going on in a lot of places and sega wanted to make sonic like mario. nintendo knows they have brand loyalty, just like disney does. nintendo slaps mario or pikachu onto something and it’ll sell and they KNOW that. sonic, less so, because hes yknow. got Controversy. sparks arguments about good and bad games. im particularly thinking about sonic boom here because that game had such potential that was stripped away not only by corporate greed (it being forced to be published onto the wii u, which, ill be real with you, i forgot existed) and hardware limitations, but by a lack of commuication within the actual company about WHERE the game was being published to. also dont get me started on how sega shafted the storyline. thats for another day.

overarching plot in sonic games is kind of fun in my opinion. i like a story i can get invested in. one that makes sense and like. you know. adds to the game. and this is the part where i talk about sonic forces.

sonic forces is kind of the culmination of a lot of these things. its a pander to the audience who loves classic sonic (as in, putting classic there for no reason as a nudge towards sonic generations), it features a secondary antagonist who attempts to become a primary antagonist (infinite needs work) and like. objectively id say that the phantom ruby is a bigger antagonist than eggman is. all the things that he does is down to the phantom ruby, and i dont entirely know how the phantom ruby even like. started existing. but we’ll just skip over that for now.

so eggman has infinite who he powers up with the phantom ruby and he becomes the metal sonic-esque character of the game. he’s meant to be sonic’s direct counter which is shown with infinite beating sonic at the start. but infinite just kind of. exists. as a throwaway villain. and the thing with throwaway villains is that infinite creates clones of some other villains (zavok, shadow (????) chaos and metal sonic) and that kinda confused me like. okay so you create fake versions of all these villains who turned against you for various reasons and also metal sonic??? who you could just create again??? but im going on a tangent.

the one thing i listed that forces didnt really feature was eggman not being the primary antagonist. i liked that he was the primary antagonist in forces. i just wish the story was better. and now i get to talk about story problems in sonic games. and as a writer, youre not getting spared.

ive talked abt sonic forces and story. i havent talked about other games and their story. sonic 06′s story was weak because it was trying too hard. the storybook games were good because the story was THERE. sonic gets put into this position of being a character from myths and characters we already know are filling the other positions. it was fun. sonic lost world, i dont really know cuz i never played it but from what i understood, eggman took the zeti’s planet and controlled them with a magic conch, and then the conch gets broken and the zeti fight back?? i dont know why the zeti hate sonic or why they roboticized tails but whatever.

fundamentally. sonic games are go fast. stop eggman. platform. of course eggman can be substituted for other antagonists like in adventure’s case where it becomes stop chaos. everything else in it is adding to the story (or in a lot of cases where its trying too hard, it detracts from everything) and like. adding different things is kind of fun sometimes. people didnt like the clunky controls of the werehog but i thought it was fun having the differences between daytime and nighttime levels. i think werehog had potential.

its less related but i also kinda wish they did what they did in sonic x and had sonic exist in a world with a lot of anthro animal characters instead of humans. i think forces did that okay. a lot of games have human characters like 06 and adventure, and it kind of blurs things. it doesnt make it a bad game if theres human characters but its still kind of. weird.

but anyway this wasnt clear or concise at all i just had some thoughts. i thought some of the marketing for sonic forces was funny like the welcome to the eggman empire video so you dont have to take anything from me.

[maerose-late-at-night]

Cupid!Callum AU

There’s things about being a Cupid that most people don’t understand. How it’s more than just shooting a few strategically aimed arrows, pulling at the tightly wound string and letting the love-tipped objects land where they’re supposed to.

Sure, they get instructions from above. Names written down in nicely curled letters, indicating their targets, the people destined to fall in love with each other. But that’s about it - other than name and location of their whereabouts, the cupids themselves are left with nothing. Some of his co-workers tend to be on the lazy side, which annoys him to no end. They figure out the next possible meeting place, arrange a certain happenstance and just… shoot.

It doesn’t bear thinking how times that lack of care can end badly. Callum’s seen the result of it at times, seen the heartbreak in its wake. People being struck that ain’t supposed to, or arrows bouncing off the side. Unrequited love. Horrid affairs that break up a family, yet leave everyone sad, alone and dying just a little on the inside. It makes him physically sick to his stomach.

It’s one of the reasons he actually takes great pride in his work. Callum’s the sort of Cupid who’s not just in love with the idea of love, but who finds himself actually falling in love along with the intended recipients. He loves every little thing about it, about them,… about their stories. Wants to set them up just right. So taking great preparation, he spends his time observing them for a long time before planning their Grand Meeting. Or their Grand Moment, in case they’ve met before. He thinks it’s amazing, how some people can be blind to what’s in front of them, years and years and decades on end… and then there’s that one Moment, where they look at each other, seeing something they hadn’t before. Callum’s usually there to witness it.

And yeah, sometimes his bosses can nag him about taking too long with it, but he’s a perfectionist.

(“It’s not actually that hard,” Gabriel had told him once, annoyance pulling at the corners of his mouth, making it even tighter than usual. “We are very aware you used to have top marks in your archery classes, Halfway, I don’t see why you’re…tithering on like this.” Aziraphale, on the other hand, had sent him a kind look at that, soft and understanding. “There’s a reason you can’t rush perfection, Gabriel. Even you can’t deny this cupid brings about some of the best matches we’ve seen in centuries”. He’d winked at Callum after, before picking up his perfectly brewed cup of tea and nibbling on a biscuit. “These jammy dodgers are absolutely delightful, aren’t they?”.)

-

The first time Callum sees Ben Mitchell, he’s on his latest assignment, round the East End of London. At first glance, Albert Square seems much like any other place he’s visited so far — there’s the usual pub stood at one corner, and market stalls weaving in and out of sight. People mulling about, spending their days and shopping for things, taking shelter from the harsh weather. Not for the first time, Callum wishes he could control it - people always seem so much happier soaking up the rays of sunshine as opposed to feeling drops of rain against their skin.  Callum can’t feel either, so he don’t mind it either way. But as a general rule, he supposes when the people are happy, that’s when he is too.

He follows one of his intended targets into the safety of the pub, smiling as she tries to take cover under her leopard printed jacket, holding it up like it’ll make a difference against the downpour. Heading inside, she shakes her head a little to clear it, pushing the wet strands of hair away from her skin. She’s a pretty girl, he supposes, though he never really looks at them that way. Folding back his wings to fit through the door after her, he’s once again happy about being invisible. Being in a room like this, on a crowded night, makes him anxious, sometimes.

Scanning the place to find the best possible vantage point, he settles on an empty chair at one end of the bar. From here, he can lean against the wooden counter, turning his face towards the gathering of girls - and get to see what makes her tick. It’s only the beginning of their girls’ night out … and he might be here a while.

But then Callum catches a glimpse of a dark grey-checkered coat, hands curled tightly around a glass, and a man’s face that make him stop in his tracks. He looks weary and angry and hurt; the cut on his lip a painful reminder of something unpleasant. For some unknown reason, Callum finds himself wanting to reach out and touch. Soothe. Make it better if he can.

It’s nothing compared to when the stranger turns to him, soft blue eyes shooting daggers connecting to his own. “Right. How about you stop starin’ and let me finish my drink in peace, yeah?”

Callum looks around dazedly, trying to pinpoint where the man’s attention is at. It can’t be him, obviously. But there seems to be no one else; and he just keeps looking straight at Callum, his eyebrow now raised in a challenge. It makes a little crease appear right above his nose. Callum doesn’t know why, but this seems important to him. Something to remember.

“I… er -” Callum stumbles out. “Sorry, are you actually -”

“… talking to you.” The man utters, slowly, like he thinks Callum might be a complete idiot. His fingers tighten even more, poised for a fight. “We going to have a problem?”

“Oi,” the landlord says, pointing a stern finger in the man’s direction. “No fighting in my bar, Ben Mitchell. You leave the nice punter alone or you and I’ll be the ones having an issue.” He turns to Callum at that, sending him a polite smile. “Don’t you worry about him, his bark’s worse than his bite. What can I get ya?”

He doesn’t understand any of this. Really, he doesn’t. 8 years he’s been at this job and not once, not once, has any person ever been able to catch sight of him. There was this old lady, who asked him to pass the salt, but she was blind as anything, so he figures that didn’t count anyway.

Being compromised like this, he should pack up and call it a day — observing the girl will look weird if people actually see him doing it — but somehow, he doesn’t want to leave this place yet.  There’s a little hum around his chest area, like there’s something warm calling to him, and it makes him want to stay.

“I’ll just have a coke,” he says. “Thanks.”

It takes him half a second to realize he has no actual money to pay for it - his grateful smile turning watery and brittle. But then, the second the thought forms in his mind, he feels something land in his pocket. Callum pulls it out to find a well-stocked wallet, small origami flower tucked between the folds. One of the petals says “read me”, so Callum gently opens it to find a message in the handwriting he knows so well. The one that always spells out his names beautifully, artfully, with care. Come see me when you’re done, please, Callum.

He stows away his worry ‘bout repercussions for another time, ears perking up when conversation around him starts again.

“Stop sulking, will ya?” The landlord says, speaking over the rhythmic background sounds of the towel swirling through newly cleaned glass. Swish squeak. Swish squeak. “Whatever it is, I’m sure you deserved that.”

The man - Ben - huffs at him. “Oh, cheers Mick. Nice of you to immediately  assume my guilt.”

Callum dares another glance at him. He wants to look closer, but he’s afraid to move.

“Yeah, well…” Mick says. “Let’s face it, we all know what you’re like, eh?”

Ben remains silent at the reproach, but the quiet is broken soon enough.

“What are you like?”

The words fly out of Callum’s mouth before he’s even consciously spoken them. Both heads twist around to look at him once more. Ben’s still wearing that heavy set frown, but Mick is looking quite amused, actually.

Ben rumbles at him. “Don’t see how that’s any of your business, mate.”

It isn’t. Callum knows it isn’t. His instructions are clear: find the girl; set her up with her intended; leave them to their happy ever after. But he.. he wants to find out why Ben’s nice-looking shoulders seem to be carrying around the weight of the world. He wants to hold Ben's gaze and squeeze his fingers. He feels his own twitch at the thought.

Callum’s being ridiculous. He opens his mouth to apologize, but Mick beats him to the punch, answering his question.

“Let’s just say that…trouble has a way of finding Ben Mitchell.” He grins. “Or the other way ‘round, possibly.” Seeing Ben’s about to interfere with some snide comment, he continues, “Anyway, what about you er -”

“Callum.”

“…Callum.” He nods. “You just passing through?”

“Er -” His eyes seek out Ben’s, but he seems stubbornly focussed on anything else. Don’t matter anyway. “Not sure yet.” He needs to come back for his charges, anyway… but there’s no telling whether this particular glitch will reoccur when he does.

“Well,” Mick says, “Don’t let this one scare you off, ey.” He puts a hand on top of Callum’s and it’s solid but it’s - cold. “You are welcome in my pub anytime.” He winks, going on to serve some of the other punters.

Callum returns to his drink, sneaking sideway glances at Ben every once in a while. He doesn’t seem to notice - he looks folded back in on himself; lonely. Callum sighs quietly, careful so Ben Mitchell won’t hear. He’d probably kick his arse if he even knew half of what Callum was thinking.  

Standing up slowly, he throws some money near his empty glass and walks over. His belly’s full of nervous jitters; but he doesn’t know if he’ll get another chance to do this, so… so he lets his hand reach for Ben, placing it against his arm that seems mostly unbruised from whatever dangerous encounter he’s had.

“Look,” he says. “I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean anything by it.” He bites his lip, unsure, not missing the way Ben seems to track that particular movement with interest. “Are you okay?”

Ben blinks at him, slowly. The way his eyes have glossed over a little makes Callum think they’re hiding something; maybe it’s because of the alcohol, or just some hidden emotion he don’t want to share with the rest of the world.

Ben shrugs. “I’ll be alright.”

“Okay.” Callum’s not sure he’s satisfied with the answer, but accepts it for what it is. A brush-off. A goodbye.

He should move. The weird thing is, though, he mostly wants to move closer. Horrifyingly, he doesn’t want to just heal Ben’s busted lip, he wants to kiss it better. His hand is still on Ben’s arm and bridging the gap wouldn’t take much. He knows what to do, he’s seen a lot of his matches go at it. Some tenderly, others with a raging hunger that doesn’t seem to settle no matter how many times their lips slide across each other’s.

Who knows, Callum may have even kissed someone before, in another life.

He’s brought back to the present by Ben’s amused chuckle. “Callum.” By the sounds of it, it’s not the first time he’s called.  Ben glances down pointedly, laughing at the way Callum’s cheeks flush with color.

“Oh, right, sorry.” Callum mumbles. “I’ll just - ” He withdraws his hand and makes to exit the bar. As he walks out, he feels heavy raindrops fall. Turning his face up to the sky, he basks in the feeling.

-

When he gets back, he immediately makes his way to Aziraphale’s office, as requested. It’s one of his favorite places to be, honestly. Most of the angels have decorated their rooms sparingly (Gabriel’s is stark white and clean as a whistle), but not Aziraphale. Oh no. Aziraphale’s room is filled with dark brown shelves full of ancient tomes and paperback novels, a potted plant in one corner. Callum very much suspects he spends a lot of time walking around it, taking in the smells and talking to himself for lack of more interested partner. It breathes warmth and cosiness. Speaks of a good soul.

“Well, Callum,” he starts, a smile so wide it seems to want to extend beyond his physical form. “That was quite an adventure.” Without even asking, he pours them Callum’s favorite tea, pushing the flowered cup nearer to where he sits.

“You know,” he continues, eyes shining with happiness. “I always knew it was your heart that made you special.”

[winterisakillerwrites]

Wanderlust

Title: Wanderlust

One Shot: 1/1

Character: Tom Hiddleston/Callie Williams (OFC)

Genre: romance/angst

Rating: Mature

Summary: He’d known since the beginning she had never wanted the things his life brought, and it had played a very crucial role into why things had fallen apart. Since then he’d taken it as gospel that her opinions hadn’t changed. She’d never said, never hinted at wanting more…But now…Now he found himself wondering if maybe she had done so and he’d simply been too wrapped in himself to see.

Authors Notes/Warnings: This is a follow-up/sequel to Old Flames. I started this shortly after I posted the original story and it took awhile to get these idiots to tell me just what was going to happen. And this is the end result. Thanks to @redfoxwritesstuff for letting me continually throw ideas off and at you. I still can’t fathom why you put up with it, but I am eternally grateful you do.

She is truly stunning. The thought stole its way across Tom’s mind as he watched her sleep beside him; peaceful and content. There was something about her that had captured him right from the beginning. He’d known she’d felt it too; he’d seen it in her eyes, felt it in the way she touched him, in every glance. And even now, years later, he couldn’t deny that she still held such sway over him.

It didn’t matter how much time had passed or how infrequently they saw one another; Callie was always in his thoughts. He thought of her whenever something made him laugh and he knew it would amuse her as well. She was the first person he wanted to call when he found a role that challenged him or when he gotten whatever part he’d been dying for. She was also the first one he wanted to talk to when something had gone terribly wrong and he needed a friendly voice. Callie was the one person whose voice he longed to hear on good days and especially on bad. But something had always stayed his hand; always made him hold back. He could barely begin to count the number of times he’d started to dial her number only to hang up at the last moment.  

It was hopeless, really. Tom had known it from the start. They had always been in such different places in their lives, had lived to very different worlds. He lived for his work; for the ability to travel, to try on new characters and challenges and to push himself as far as he dared. Sitting in one place for too long brought on an anxiety he couldn’t quite put into words. There was so much to see, so much to do, and so very, very little time in which to do so. How could he risk turning down a role when there was no guarantee he would get the chance to try it again? How could he say no to a promotional tour or meeting when the opportunity may not ever reoccur?

Callie, on the other hand, had loved the consistency and steadfastness of her life. She’d worked hard to get where she was; worked harder still to keep herself the best she could possibly be and, as such, enjoyed the comfort and security of knowing who and what she was and just what she’d wanted out of her life. Callie valued her own time and to simply just be. She was content to sit for hours reading in her worn leather chair by the window in her cozy living room and had done so as often as possible. She didn’t need the glitz and the glamour Tom had always seemed so at home in. His world didn’t make sense to her; it had never held any appeal for her.

It was one of the many things he cherished about her. He was simply Tom with her. No demands, no mask, just himself. And he’d loved that. Loved her. Not just in the physical sense, though he could not deny that the physicality between them had always been electric, but all of her. Her smile, her laugh, the way she cared about those who mattered to her and those she barely knew. The quiet strength and resolve she possessed no matter the challenges she faced. She never ceased to amaze him for simply being who she was.

And if he were to be honest with himself, he could admit she was everything he’d ever really wanted. They clicked in a way he’d had with anyone before or after. But they were too different; lived in two vastly different worlds. Their lives hadn’t and would never mesh in any way which would work. He knew it. And he knew she did too. But that didn’t stop him from wanting it to. And he did. Desperately.

That was one of the many reasons he’d found himself here, again, tangled up in his bed with her. Why he let himself open to her when he knew there was very little chance of an actual future between then. It always happened. He’d fought it at first, knowing that giving in would only make the hurt worse in the end. But it had all been in vain. He couldn’t fight the electricity nor the bond between them. And, in all honesty, he hadn’t wanted to. He couldn’t have her, not in the way he’d longed for; he knew it all too well. So this, these stolen moments, would have to do. But they wouldn’t last. They couldn’t. Eventually, and he feared it would be sooner rather than later, they would have to part. For good. And that hurt more than he let himself think on. The idea of never again holding her in his arms, of never seeing her smile or hearing her laugh, burnt him to the core. But he couldn’t seem to see any other way.

Callie turned in her sleep, the sheet that had been pulled over her shoulder slipped revealing a full, round breast and the smooth curve of her shoulder. She snuggled closer against Tom’s side, the warmth of her skin against his sent shivers down his spine. She looked so beautiful, so peaceful, in sleep and he was torn between wanting to simply watch her do so and the desire to wake her and have her at least once more before reality pulled them apart again.  

It had barely been a month since he’d seen her in the club, her head thrown back and eyes closed as she moved in time with the pulsing music. Seeing here there, just a handful of feet away from him, had thrown Tom; though, in all honesty, it shouldn’t have. London was only so big and he’d always known that seeing her was inevitable. But still, he hadn’t been able to believe his eyes at first. It had been so long; with his work and travel it had been months since he’d been in one place longer than a few days that wasn’t strictly for work. And even longer since he’d been home for any set length of time. Yet, there she was. He hadn’t let himself think about the consequences of his actions then; he’d simply gone to her. He’d needed her in a way he hadn’t needed anyone else.

And it had been wonderful; the feel of her skin against his, her breathy moans in his ear, the weight of her against him, above him. He’d woken the morning after in her bed, watching her as she watched him from the doorway. He’d wanted to tell her then how beautiful she was to him; just how much he had missed her, how badly he wanted her in his life, in his bed, always. But that would shatter the fragile thing between them. It would break the unspoken rule of whatever this was they were doing. So he’d said nothing and let himself walk out of her life once again. It was funny, really, how he was the one who always seemed to walk away. He’d never let himself think on it; wouldn’t let himself acknowledge it. But it didn’t make it any less true. He hadn’t been able to stay away though, had sought her after; needing to be near her, to pretend just for a little while longer that this could work. That she’d wanted it to work just as badly as he did. Just for a little while

Tom shifted in the bed, running a hand over the rough stubble on his chin. He hadn’t shaved in several days and it clearly showed. Callie stirred beside him, rolling tighter against him, her leg slipping between his and her head resting against his bare chest. He could feel the stiff peak of her nipple against his skin and bit back a groan at the sensation.

He wanted her; he’d always wanted her. That had never been the problem. Or, well, he mused, maybe it is. They had clicked so perfectly in the physical sense; she’d caught his eye from the moment he’d first seen her and he’d wanted her then more than he’d thought possible. But that had only been the start of it. Now…now it was so much more. And he knew deep in the marrow of himself that it wouldn’t be enough. The wanting her. The loving her. Not when she hadn’t wanted the spotlight that being with him would place on her.

His life, the demands it placed on him, it left little if any time for something real. And dragging Callie into it only to hurt her…He wasn’t sure he could live with it. Wasn’t sure he wanted her to live with it. With knowing he would be gone more often than not; knowing that she couldn’t be his biggest priority. Knowing there would be times when he would have to choose between time with her and his career and that his career would most likely need to win. And then the lack of privacy. He knew his fan base, had seen them tear into the lives of women he dated in the past…And ones he’d barely known, just for the simple fact he was seen with them. It was something he wanted to save her from if he could. Knowing it wasn’t what she had wanted. Knowing that he couldn’t walk away from his life, not when he’d worked so hard for all he’d achieved, not when he would end up resenting her for it if he did. And she would resent him for dragging her into it all. She’d been clear that the idea of a spotlight on her life scared her; that she wasn’t sure it was something she could handle, that she wanted to handle.

And knowing that meant there was only one option left and the thought of it crushed him. He would have to leave…for good this time. No turning back, no second thoughts. Pulling her back into his life, even this private part of it, would be the height of cruelty for them both. Not when he couldn’t give her what they both wanted; a life together; safe and private and theirs. But the very thought of walking away made his blood run cold. He was a coward of the worst sort and he knew it. Putting this off, pretending this wasn’t just a temporary respite in the chaos of his life. That this didn’t have to end. He wished he were stronger. Wished he could keep her, keep this. And knowing all the same he couldn’t.

“Stop thinking so hard,” her sleep laced voice grumbled from against his side. “Your making my head hurt.”

Tom laughed despite himself. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, reaching down to brush her hair from her eyes. “How did you sleep?” He tried to keep his voice light and airy but he could see his efforts fell woefully short. He could see the knowledge of it in her eyes. Callie always seems to be able to see straight through him. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

“You don’t have to do this, Tom.” Her voice was quiet and far too even. He watched as she pushed herself up and away from him, clutching the sheet to her chest. Covering herself from his gaze just as she distanced herself from him emotionally.

He wanted to scream, to beg her not to walk away. It was stupid and selfish, he knew it. But the desire was overwhelming all the same. “No, please…” Without conscious thought, his hand reached out to grasp at hers, holding her still. “I don’t….Callie…”

She let out a soft, resigned sigh, “We both know how this ends, Tom. You trying to sugar coat the fact you’re leaving and not coming back doesn’t make it any better. For once just fucking be honest with me. With yourself.”

The words, though calmly spoken, cut him deeply. He was a coward, he’d known that. But to have that thrown, however matter of fact, in his face stung. “Callie...This is...What are we doing?”

Her dark eyes locked on his, “I used to hope....” She trailed off, pulling her hand out of his grasp and climbed fully off of the bed. “I know what I want Tom. And I think you do as well. But I don’t think you know what you want and until you do...I don’t think I can do this,” she gesticulated wildly between them, “anymore.”

She was dressed and out the door before he could force himself to utter another word.

Tom sat dumbfounded on the bed, trying desperately to figure out just what had happened. He let out a string of curses, hitting his balled fist on the mattress. He should have run after her. Why hadn’t he just run after her? He should never have let her leave in the first place. Not with things so uncertain between them. Not when her words hinted that maybe, just maybe he’d read the situation all wrong. But it was too late now. She was gone.

He rested his head in is upturned hands and let out a sigh. God, he was a fucking idiot. How had he let things get so far out of hand? He cursed again, knowing it wouldn’t help. A small part of him, one he fought steadfast to ignore, wondered if maybe it wasn’t better this way. Simply letting her go and letting things end. Doing nothing. But the larger part of him screamed that if he let himself just do nothing then he would be nothing more than the coward she’d called him in all but name.

“Shit. Shit. Shit,” he cursed under his breath, rubbing his free hand over his face. “Tom, you utter, utter wanker.”

Callie had made a very good point; he’d allowed himself to be drawn into whatever it was between them without considering what he truly wanted…Or, well, without allowing himself to either accept the hard work involved in what he wanted or to acknowledge he wasn’t ready and simply walk away. Instead he kept letting the same thing happen, refusing to see the toll it was taking on them both. But knowing that internally and then having it spoken aloud were two vastly different things and he wasn’t sure how to handle it. Wasn’t sure just what to do.

He groaned as he pushed himself to his feet and pulled on a pair of jogging bottoms he’d left hanging on the back of his chair near the window the night before. He checked the impulse to call her and beg her to come back. That would surely cause more problems that it would solve. He needed to get himself straight before he risked making things worse between him and Callie. Though I’m not sure how much worse it could be, he thought with wryly. And he hadn’t wanted to find out.

As it stood, Callie probably had little desire to see him again let alone speak with him. And he couldn’t really blame her. What he had done was the height of selfishness, even if it hadn’t ever been his intention to be so. If he approached her without really knowing if it was because he wanted to rather than because he felt he should…Tom was well aware he could so easily lose her for good. That was something he wasn’t sure he was prepared for.

Coffee, he decided with a cool certainty, I need coffee. Coffee and a fucking miracle. While it brewed he would have time to think, really think, and then be able to come to what he feared, and knew with a grim certainty, would be quite difficult decisions. His footsteps echoed softly on the stairs as he made his way down to the lower level and towards the kitchen.

Sunlight poured in from the front windows, bathing the hallway and kitchen in bright, warm light. He pattered towards the cupboard above the sink, pulling a tin of ground dark roast coffee from the uppermost shelf and placing it onto the counter before the coffee press his younger sister had given him as a house warming gift years ago. Turning, he grabbed a mug from a nearby cabinet, a light blue one he’d had for ages with a chip on one side of its rim, and set it beside the tin of coffee. He made quick work of setting water to boil in a kettle by the stove and placing several scoops of coffee into the bottom of the press, allowing his mind to wander as he did so.

One thing he knew with certainty was Callie had become infinitely important to him. These moments he had with her were little life lines in the chaos his life inherently was. And he’d used it, selfishly, knowing but not really allowing himself to think on the fact there were more than just his feelings involved. It was equally clear to him that Callie cared about him, that she had for a long while now. He’d known since the beginning she had never wanted the things his life brought, and it had played a very crucial role into why things had fallen apart.

Since then he’d taken it as gospel that her opinions hadn’t changed. She’d never said, never hinted at wanting more…But now…Now he found himself wondering if maybe she had done so and he’d simply been too wrapped in himself to see. That thought pulled him up short. Judging from her reaction, he feared that might very well have been the case. Had he really been so blind? So wrapped up in what he wanted, that he missed the change in her? A bitter laugh fell from his lips. No wonder she’d been so cold, so defeated.

Tom rubbed his face with his hands once again. God, this was a mess. He’d been so certain before she’d woken, so damn certain that walking away was the only real path left for them. That his flitting in and out of her life, sharing her bed for these brief sojourns, was only causing them both unnecessary and avoidable pain. But now…Now when it was abundantly clear that she herself intended to sever their tenuis connection if he couldn’t make up his mind about what he wanted between them, the idea filled him with dread. The reality of never seeing her again, never holding her, never being able being able to just simply be with her again, shook him to his core.

The faint whistle of the kettle pulled Tom reluctantly back into reality. Tea towel in hand, he removed the kettle and poured the steaming water into the opened press. Tom stood, watching as the coffee steeped, his mind replaying the look on her face just before she’d grabbed her clothing and gone. It was a knife to the heart; her resigned heartache. The pained and weary acceptance that sat in her eyes, had been painted across her face. And he hadn’t stopped her. Hadn’t done all in his power to get her to stay and talk. He really was a coward after all.

Once satisfied with the strength, Tom worked the plunger with the smooth fluidity of years of practice and soon the strong scent of hot, fresh coffee filled the small, brightly lit kitchen. He poured himself a cup and, once it was doctored to his liking, headed into the living room. He let himself settle on the couch, propping his feet on the edge of the wooden coffee table.

The house was unnaturally quiet. It was something he used to revel in. Things in his life were so rarely quiet these days and he’d learned to take his solace in whatever silence could be found. But now…Now it felt oppressive. He shook his head and took a sip of his steaming coffee. He hissed as it burned his tongue. It was still too hot for consumption but he desperately needed the caffeine. Tom forced another sip before placing the mug onto the side table. He scrubbed his face with his opened hand before leaning his head back. This was a mess, pure and simple.

No matter what he chose, it would be an uphill battle. Between wanting to protect her privacy and his own, being with her would provide complication…And truly walking away and never coming back, that was unbearable. No matter what he chose, it would hurt them both. But staying and trying to fight to make something work between them…He knew with startling clarity that he’d wanted it more than he could find words for. It wouldn’t be easy but then again nothing in life worth having ever really was. And, truthfully, he’d never been one for the easier path. If he was mistaken though…If they tried this and she couldn’t handle it…Didn’t want to handle it…

He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm. If they tried and she couldn’t or didn’t want to handle what his life would entail…Then he would do his best to carry on. Things in life were never guaranteed, Tom knew that better than most. He’d had plenty of relationships fall apart, lost people he’d believed would always be there. It had hurt but he’d survived it. And logically, he knew if things between him and Callie fell apart he would desperately hurt but his world would not end. But understanding did little to stifle the feeling of panic. God, he was overthinking this.

Tom reached for his coffee mug and took another sip, cringing as the cold coffee poured into his mouth. How long had he been sitting there? Annoyed, he pushed himself to his feet and padded back into the kitchen and placed the mug in the microwave. Forty seconds would do the trick. As he watched the mug spin lazily around, Tom once again allowed his mind to wander.

What he wanted was simple. He wanted her. Wanted her in his life, not just his bed. Wanted to know she would be waiting for him when he came back from his travels. Wanted her to come with him whenever she could. But what she wanted, he wasn’t completely certain. He thought he’d known before and he’d apparently been completely mistaken. And if it was mistaken again…

They would need to talk, really talk. And then he would have to take whatever came of such a conversation, be it good or ill, and make the best of it. But would she be willing to talk with him? If she wouldn’t…He took another deep breath and pushed himself to his feet. There was only one way to find out.

Tom took the stairs two at a time, quickly making his way into the bedroom. His mobile was sitting on the bedside table, connected to its charging cord. He unplugged and unlocked it in short order, scrolling through his contact list until he found her name. No time like the present…

He hit ‘dial’ and held his breath as the phone rang.

And rang.

Tom fought to ignore the knot in his stomach. She might not be home yet (though if his watch was to be believed it was nearing eleven. When she’d left it had been going on eight and she hadn’t lived too far). Or she’s choosing to ignore you, his mind helpfully chimed in.

He very nearly dropped the phone when the line finally clicked and Callie’s voice echoed in his ear. “What, Tom?”

He swallowed thickly before forcing himself to speak. And once he did the words came tumbling out. “I know I’m probably the last person you want to talk to and I understand that. But we do need to talk, Callie. I need to tell you things and I think there are things you need to tell me.”

The line was quiet and for a moment Tom feared she’d simply hung up on him. “I don’t…” She paused and he heard her take a deep breath. “Somewhere neutral. If we do this, we need to go somewhere neutral for both of us.”

“Yes,” he answered, understanding the logic of her request. Both his place and hers held far too many memories which would make this so much harder than it needed to be. “Um…There is a coffee shop a few streets over. They are pretty quiet and out of the way….We shouldn’t be bothered there.” Tom cursed the circumstances of his life for what felt like the hundredth time that morning. If he were just any other bloke they wouldn’t have to worry about being overheard and having their conversation splashed across the front page of a tabloid as ‘entertainment’. They could meet and be free to honestly talk this out….And if he’d been just any other bloke then most likely none of this would be happening.

Tom ran a hand through his hair as he awaited her response; feeling the knots in his stomach tighten with alarming force.

“Okay,” she finally whispered. “Give me the address.”

Twenty minutes later found Tom sitting in one of the high backed booths in the back corner of the shop. His double espresso steamed gently before him, mostly untouched, and he found himself fighting the urge to jump and stare every time the front door bell chimed the entrance of another customer. Part of him feared she wouldn’t show. That she had decided to wash her hands of him once and for all. The idea stung but he knew she had every right to do just such a thing. To simply walk away…  

His attention snapped back to the present as the door chimed again. Callie had changed and showered since he’d seen her last, her hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun and she now wore an oversized green jumper and dark leggings. She looked comfortable but wary. Her smile was small and did not quite reach her eyes. “Hiya,” she greeted him before sliding into the other side of the booth.

“Would you care for…?” Tom gestured vaguely at his own cup.

Callie shook her head. “I’m good, thank you.” She folded her hands and placed them before her on the table. “You wanted to talk.” It was a statement, not question, and Tom found himself taken off guard by it.

He nodded, masking his unease with a sip of his espresso. “You were right.” Her eyes snapped up to his face, their brown depths echoing confusion and concern in equal measure. “This…What we are doing…It’s not working.”

Callie forced a nod. “It’s not.”

Tom started to reach for her hand, caught himself, and placed his own hands on the table. “You told me that you don’t believe that I know what I want and that it’s not fair to either of us…And in a way you were right.” He paused and took another sip. “I want you…And not just for a night or two…I want this…Us, to be something, but I thought…With what being with me entails…I believed you didn’t want any part of that…So I was selfish and I took what I could get…And I am sorry.”

She leaned back against the padded cushion of the booth. “And?” He could read the caution and doubt painted across her features as clearly as if she’d spoken them aloud.

Her doubt and uncertainty shouldn’t have surprised him. After all he’d not been the most forthright person in this endeavor. And she’d been left waiting and wanting far too many times to take his words at face value. But it stung all the same. “I made the mistake of assuming I knew what you wanted…That you wouldn’t want more because of who I am and what that would mean. And that was wrong of me. I should have asked you outright instead of believing that you hadn’t changed your mind. And that is on me.” He took a deep breath. “But all the same I wish you had said something. Told me explicitly what you wanted. I can’t read your mind, Callie. I can’t know what you’re thinking. I’m sorry I’ve caused you pain, but I didn’t know…Not really.”

Callie bristled slightly but nodded. “I should have and I own that. But to be completely honest I wasn’t sure how…Or if it was something you would have been willing to hear.”

It was Tom’s turn to bristle though he could not blame her for thinking as she had. He’d flitted in and out of her life without so much as a promise. How could she think anything but that? “Fair enough,” he murmured. He covered his unease once again with sip of his espresso. “We haven’t been clear with each other and that’s led us here.” He paused again, raising his head to hers. “But we can do better than this. I want us to be better. This…You and me, I want us to be more than just a few stolen nights. I want you in my life in a permanent way. I want us to be truly together.”

“So do I.”

The smile that spread across Tom’s face was exquisite. This was going far better than he’d dared hope it would. She wanted this, wanted him too. “Then let’s do this. Really do this, you and I.” He reached across the table, taking her hands in his own and squeezing them gently. His smile fell as he caught the look of hopeful doubt in her eyes.

“They are wonderful words, Tom. And I want to believe them.” Callie offered a small, sad smile, pulling her hands back from his. “But how do I know that once we leave here and you go back to your life that you won’t just disappear again?”

“Because I won’t. I can’t.” Tom leaned across the table and took her hand again, imploring her to believe him. “Not again. I cannot let you walk out of my life simply because I chose the coward’s way out. I want this,” he squeezed her hand, “with you. I want to…take you to the cinema. To the theatre. I want to walk hand in hand with you in the park. And all those silly, small things people take for granted. I want that…All of it, with you.”

“I want that too, Tom. Believe me I do…I just…I need more than words. Can you understand that? This…If I do this…If we do this, I need to know for sure that you are in this. Really in this. I can’t…I can’t open myself up like this without knowing there is something solid…Something real there. I need more than words.”

Tom nodded, squeezing her hand. He hated her doubt, her lack of faith in his word. But he could understand it. “You need to be certain that I am substance, not air.” Callie nodded. He smiled softly, “I can understand that….I…” He paused, looking down briefly in thought before raising his eyes back to Callie’s dark brown ones. “There is a premiere I’ve been invited to…In Leicester Square next week…Would you come with me? As my date?”

Callie shot him an incredulous look. “Tom…I…I’ve never...” Her hands gesticulated wildly, both disbelief and uncertainty coloring her tone. “I don’t have a dress…”

Tom shook his head, raising his hand to place a finger over her lips to cease her rambling. “Please. I want you to come with me….I’ll handle everything; dress, make-up, hair, transport…Just say yes. Please.”

He watched the indecision play across her face and hoped with all he had she would say yes. She would give him this chance to prove that he meant it. That he wanted this. Wanted her in his life and that he wasn’t ashamed of it. He was aware too, that he was putting her very clearly on the spot, potentially throwing her metaphorically to the wolves. And that was the last thing he wanted. He had just opened his mouth to take it back, to tell her she didn’t have to do this, if she didn’t truly want to when she spoke.

“I…” Callie started, her attention turned briefly down to her hands on the table. “Alright.” The word came out softly and for a moment Tom was certain he’d not heard her correctly. And then she spoke again. “I’ll go.”

Tom smiled brightly, taking her hands in his and squeezing them. He could see it in her face, in her eyes that she still was uncertain. Still held doubt. But she’d agreed and that was something. He could work on the rest. He could show her he meant it. And he would.

Luke hadn’t been best pleased at the work Tom had thrown his way and had told him so, often and loudly. “It’s not that I’m against you bringing someone; you have every right to do so, you great bloody git as I’ve told you for years now. It’s the fact you tell me less than six days before the damned premiere, expecting me to handle the details; a dress, make-up, hair…Dear god, man. I can do many things, Tom, but this is cutting it a bit fine don’t you think?”

Tom had apologized profusely but insisted nonetheless. Callie deserved it. If he was doing it, he was going to do it right. And Luke had come through, confirming the details with Callie and with Tom. It would be cutting it fine, but it had been doable, he’d assured them both. She would have a styling team and a decent selection of dresses sent to hers the day of the premiere and she and Tom would travel to the theater from hers (it would be a simple enough matter to have the car Luke had hired for Tom pick him up as originally planned and then swing by for her). The process had probably hastened the arrival of Luke’s grey hair and Tom knew he’d owe the man a very nice bonus for his troubles. And probably a very long, restful holiday.

He’d gotten the text from Luke stating that the team he’d arranged would be arriving at Callie’s in the late morning of the day of the premiere. And the morning of, had texted him to let him know they’d arrived. Tom let out a small sigh of relief, at least things were going to plan so far. His own final fitting wasn’t scheduled until later than afternoon and he found himself with the better part of the morning to kill. A run seemed immensely appealing just then. A chance to clear his head and focus his mind on something other than impending nerves. So he had made quick work changing into his usual running attire and headed out the door.

He was panting and drenched in sweat by the time he returned, but much calmer in mind and spirit. A quick glance at his watch told him he had enough time to shower before his own team would arrive. He wasted little time climbing the stairs and stripping off his running gear; leaving them in a pile by the bedroom door.

The hot water felt amazing on his sore muscles and, had it been any other day, Tom would have easily stayed in the shower until he’d resembled a prune. The temptation was a strong one. But he hadn’t the luxury, not today; the coming evening was far too important for him to risk jeopardizing it. And certainly not for something so trivial. He made quick work of washing his hair and body, wrapping himself in the large, navy blue towel hanging behind the bathroom door. He padded back into his bedroom and grabbed the clean t-shirt and jogging bottoms he’d laid out.

He’d just finished rubbing his hair as dry as he could when the bell by the front gate rang. Upon confirming it was indeed his team, Tom buzzed them in and gave way to the chaos. Once he was suited and his hair had been coifed he’d found himself pacing around the living room, his earlier nerves bubbling back towards the surface. The car Luke had arranged was set to arrive at just after four, giving them plenty of time to make it to Callie’s flat and then to the theater. But four came and went.

Tom had tried very hard not to panic and had given it a good ten minutes before texting both Luke and the driving company for updates. Traffic, he’d been informed. There had been an accident shutting down several main roads and the car had been forced to detour. They should be no more than half an hour late. Tom had been as gracious as he could be with the news, though on the inside he was a seething mess of frustrated anxiety. Every call he’d made to Callie’s phone had gone to voicemail and she wasn’t answering any of the texts he’d sent either. He could only imagine what would be running through her head when the car hadn’t shown when expected.

At quarter past four the car pulled to a stop before Tom’s and he’d rushed out nearly as soon as he’d heard the bell. It was another fifteen minutes before the car pulled in front of Callie’s building. Tom had jumped from the car and taken the stairs to her flat two at a time, arriving at her door slightly out of breath. She opened it on his second knock and the apology that had been on the tip of his tongue vanished.

Simply put she was stunning. Her long, dark hair had been curled and hung loosely over one shoulder. Her dark eyes had been lined in kohl, her lips painted a stunning dark shade of red, only a few tones lighter than the dark burgundy of her dress. The dress left one shoulder bare and clung to her curves in the most sinful way, falling just past her knee. The heels she wore brought her to nearly his own height and the thought of what they could do in them flashed boldly through his mind.

“You look absolutely…Enchanting.” Tom breathed once words and sense had returned to him. He held his hand out to her, hoping she wouldn’t note it’s slightly tremble. If he had thought Callie breathtaking before it was nothing…Nothing compared to the way she overwhelmed him now.

She took his hand, murmuring a brief and quiet ‘thank you’ but said nothing else as they made their way down the stairs and into the car. The ride to the theater was, thankfully, uneventful. Whatever nightmare the traffic had been earlier had cleared enough in spite of their later start they would still most likely make it to the theater on time. The idea should have filled Tom with relief but the silence radiating from Callie tempered it significantly.

“Callie, are you alright?” It was a stupid question and he’d known it the second it had left his lips. The set of her shoulders and the way she carefully did not look in his direction as they road spoke volumes.

“I’m fine,” she answered, briefly turning her head in his direction.

Tom let his gaze fall over her, uncertainty gnawing at him. He’d pushed for her to come, to do this with him. What if…What if this wasn’t what she’d wanted? Had he forced her, however unintentionally, into going along with this? That wasn’t what he’d wanted. He couldn’t, wouldn’t make her do this just for his sake. He reached for her hands, taking them in his own. “Callie, we don’t have to do this.”

Her eyes snapped to his and Tom could clearly see the resignation and hurt in them though she was plainly trying in vain to hide it. “Oh…” She paused and swallowed thickly. “If…Alright then. I understand.”

It hit him then, what he’d said, how he’d phrased it, had been exactly the wrong thing. She thought he didn’t want her there…With him. And that was the absolute farthest thing from the truth. “No…No. No. No, Callie. That isn’t what…”

The car pulled to a stop and the dull roar from the crowd gathered around the theater echoed through the closed doors of the car. When the passenger door opened a few moments later the dull roar erupted into a wall of sound. Tom sat for a moment, indecision playing on his features, before taking a deep breath and slowly climbing from the car. He turned then, facing the opened door, waiting. But Callie hadn’t moved.

Tom smiled softly and held out his hand towards her, “Come on. It will be alright.”

Confusion played across her face. “Tom what are you…?” It was clear she had assumed he hadn’t wanted her to accompany him on the carpet. And he couldn’t have that.

“I’m waiting for my date,” he answered, pausing to wave periodically at the crowd. “Come on, love, I’ve got you.” Tentatively, she took his proffered hand, and slid slowly out of the car. Tom could feel her trembling beside him and pulled her tightly to his side. This caused an explosion of noise and Tom did his level best to ignore the unending barrage of blinding flashes. “It’s alright.” He murmured into her hair and felt her nod against him.

With his arm locked firmly around her waist, he began to lead her away from the car and towards the start of the press line. He could feel her anxiety and uncertainty and did not lessen his hold. “Tom…”

“I know,” he reassured her. “I know. It’s a lot. But I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.” He pulled back just enough to look directly into her anxious eyes. Ceased by an impulse he refused to check, Tom leaned in and kissed her; firmly and with feeling. He felt her gasp in surprise and took his chance to deepen the kiss before pulling back and smiling down at her. The eruption of noise behind them, the shouts of his name and the click and flash of hundreds of cameras, barely registered for him. He inclined his head towards the waiting press line. “Shall we?”

She nodded silently and let him lead the way. He saw Luke standing at the start of the line, a look of resigned annoyance in his eyes; Tom knew there would be a reckoning later but couldn’t seem to bring himself to care. As they neared the first set of reporters and cameras, Callie pulled back and began to move towards Luke but Tom took her hand and held it firmly in his.

“Please,” he whispered. “You don’t need to say anything if you don’t want to. But please, stay with me?”

Callie looked at him, hesitation painted clearly on her features, for several moments before nodding and moving back to stand by his side. The grin splitting his face was nearly as blinding as the flashes exploding around them.

“Shall we?” he asked. Callie smiled, nodding her head and, hand in hand, they walked towards the press line.

[bigskydreaming]

Do you think that fics where Dick is in 24/7 Big Brother Mode and his whole existence is to take care of the other kids (which are most of the fics I've read, but I'm not sure how prevalent that trope is or or if those are just the types of fics I click on), are trying to make Dick essentially replace Bruce as a father figure when Bruce can suck a little at it? Not to try to justify that, just curious where the extremes come from, that Dick is either a raging jerk or a super soft caregiver.

Yes and no, I think. 

On the one hand, I definitely think there’s a tendency towards that for that reason, because of this implicit idea in a lot of canon writers and fans that Batman can’t be Batman without emotional and mental health issues. With at the same time, a lot of inadvertent ableism accompanying that, because like….people overlook the fact that like….you can have mental health issues and be bad at various emotional and social interactions and STILL be a good parent, like, they’re not mutually exclusive. I mean, Bruce HAS been a good parent at tons of points in canon, and at no point has anybody said….that is an impostor, that’s not Batman. 

But still, there remains this idea in a lot of times and places, I think, that Bruce is just….resistant to change. That he is who he is, for better and for worse, and that there’s no point in trying to alter his behavior in in character ways, because it either won’t stick, or he for some reason won’t be “Bruce” anymore. 

And this I think is where the tendency to slot Dick into that second parent role comes from. Like, I think that trend is already there to begin with in society, with it functioning that way in a lot of families, where this expectation is placed on eldest children…but then add on top of that this unspoken view I feel a lot of people have, that there’s just no POINT to trying to address where Bruce’s parenting is lacking, because he wouldn’t get it, or whatever….but Dick’s right there, so just have him step up and pick up the slack, even though that shouldn’t remotely be his role or responsibility in the family…

And you’ve got there a recipe for Dick being the super soft caregiver 24/7.

BUT.

Then you have to factor in the Good Dad Bruce Wayne fics, the ones who discount his worst tendencies and canon instances of being abusive or neglectful, because understandably, a lot of fans don’t want to see or have to deal with that in their content when writing Batfam. Its not what they’re here for, they don’t stan an abusive father, so why should they have to write the character in a way that’s fundamentally opposite to what they view as him at his core, the Good Dad that drew them to him in the first place? And they shouldn’t have to! 

No fan should be hampered in writing positive, wholesome Batfamily content simply because a bunch of dumbass edgelords over the years wrote Bruce being abusive to his kids without these canon writers GETTING that they were writing him as being abusive….and so they didn’t address it as such ever, and it continued, or reoccurred.

BUT.

Here’s my issue with how this tends to play out…..because the fics that COMPENSATE for Bruce’s shitty canon parenting or ignore it entirely to focus only on the good parenting in canon or Bruce’s characterization at those periods….

This is where we most often see Dick the raging asshole, who causes strife and conflict in his family, or is too stubborn and hot-tempered when interacting with Good Dad Bruce.

And this is where I get so so frustrated….because they’re ignoring or choosing to disregard Bruce’s worst parenting, which is totally their right….BUT at the same time, making no adjustments for how a LACK of those shitty canon parenting moments would in turn result in vastly different characterization and behavior for Dick too….especially around the times of their greatest canon conflicts.

If you change Bruce’s behavior, or omit the times he’s been a bastard to his kids….BUT you do nothing to change Dick’s behavior in turn….THEN Dick inevitably tends to look like a spoiled selfish asshole….because here’s Bruce being this perfect, doting father….and yet, their conflicts still exist….and those conflicts still have to come from somewhere….enter Dick The Asshole.

I’m ALL FOR changing, addressing or compensating for Bruce’s worst canon writing, in regards to his children. Where people keep losing me is they fail to consider the ripple effects of a Bruce Wayne who never let his children down the ways he has in canon….and thus never would have given Dick in particular cause to have the trust and abandonment issues and anger he has towards Bruce a lot of times. And I say Dick in particular, BECAUSE this is where its so important to acknowledge the way fandom and canon have chosen to willfully disregard a lot of what Bruce has done to him specifically….because it doesn’t fit the narrative of “Dick is the favored son” or whatever reason may be for that.

Like, this isn’t as much of an issue with Jason, for example, because nobody’s overlooking the ending to UTRH or RHATO #25. Nobody’s forgetting to consider that take away Bruce’s shittier writing, and voila….he and Jason have a MUCH better relationship…..because, that’s what we get in Good Dad Bruce Wayne fics. Its a lot of the reason FOR those fics.

In comparison, the unwillingness to engage with things like Bruce hitting Dick and throwing him out after Jason’s death….by being so willing to gloss over that or making this one of the specific things people ignore, but WITHOUT compensating for how the absence of this particular story would in turn affect Dick and his stories…..like look how that breaks down in comparison:

Because in NTT #55, the issue where all that happened….Dick went to see Bruce, to try and console him and grieve with him over Jason…even AFTER Dick had already dealt with the realization that Bruce had made no effort to contact him about what happened and the funeral had been held while Dick was still offworld. So, those were already issues that Dick had acknowledged and been shown willing to put behind him to focus on the bigger picture and be with his dad while they grieved for their brother and son….with Dick, upon Bruce finding him in the Batcave, making NO attempt to start a fight, and clearly expressing that he wanted to be there FOR Bruce, to grieve WITH Bruce.

The only reason it didn’t play out that way, and Dick and Bruce weren’t both in the Manor in the wake of Jason’s death, helping each other cope and move on AS A FAMILY….is because Bruce instead tried to instigate a fight with Dick, hit him, blamed him for Jason’s death, and threw him out.

This is important if ONLY because….this is the ONLY reason Dick - who HAD made an effort to reach out to Bruce and be there for him - WASN’T there, by the time Tim came along. Was the REASON Tim had to come along, and seek Dick out in another city and beg him to come back because Batman needed him.

So see how easily it gets flipped? By refusing to acknowledge or address BRUCE being the one to drive that canon wedge between them there, BUT still making no effort to compensate how the absence of Bruce’s part of NTT #55 would change Dick’s stories and choices….Dick inevitably looks like the one who just…isn’t there for Bruce, makes no effort to be, or just doesn’t care or prioritizes his own anger or guilt or whatever you want to pass that off as. But bottom line is, Dick’s the one inciting conflict, because Bruce has been given a fandom pass on….inciting the conflict. And nobody’s making any effort to factor in that without Bruce hitting Dick and throwing him out…DICK WOULD HAVE BEEN THERE FOR BRUCE AND WITH BRUCE. Like he initially tried to be.

And this is the sort of thing we get in a ton of Good Dad Bruce Wayne fics, even though its the extreme opposite of Caregiver/Substitute Parent Dick Grayson in Bad Dad Bruce Wayne fics.

Its because no matter how much people cite Dick being the heart of the Batfamily…Bruce is still the central pillar everything else revolves around. And the real issue isn’t the extremes for Dick’s character….its the extremes for BRUCE’S character, the sheer scope of the difference between Good Dad Bruce and Bad Dad Bruce…..with everything else rippling out from that.

And Dick, by virtue of being the closest to Bruce in length of history, age, various other ways….will additionally ALWAYS be the one to take the brunt of those ripple effects, for better or worse. Be the most affected, the most changed, by extension of the changes made to Bruce.

Or at least, he SHOULD. Except that’s not how it works out, when people only change Bruce.

So we get all these fics where Bruce is the kind, supportive, understanding dad we WANT him to be, and so choose to write him as….but Dick meanwhile still has his canon Daddy Issues….but now COMPLETELY without cause. When if you think about it, the MORE you change Bruce from his shittier moments in canon, into a better parent, specifically…Dick SHOULD in all respects be perfectly positioned and poised to benefit from that the most….and have a lot of HIS canon issues and insecurities and such….basically negated by Bruce’s positive parenting, in stark contrast to the stories that shaped Dick in so many negative ways.

Le sigh.

Anyway, back to how at the beginning I said yes and no in answer to your question….the no part is that there’s only so much I think its JUST because Dick’s a convenient substitute for parent when Bruce is written as being bad at it in various ways. Part of it I think also just has to do with Dick’s core characterization as being such an empathetic and supporting character for those around him pretty much any time. 

As I’ve mentioned before, there’s a big problem in ALL our media, across the board, with these kinds of character archetypes being taken advantage of for their caregiving tendencies, without reciprocation….because its just in their nature to not demand or make a big deal about not receiving the same care and attention from others in turn……which, if nothing else, saves writers a hell of a lot of story time and space…which they can then devote to even more focus on the characters they’ve chosen to center as more dynamic and essential to the core narrative.

To support my stance on that front…..look at age swap fics in Batfandom. Notice how even in fics where Dick is repositioned to be the ‘baby of the family’ and the one who needs to be protected and cared for…….there’s no real tendency or trend towards making any SPECIFIC one of the older boys responsible for the others in the way Dick is in caregiver/substitute parent type fics? 

Sure, there are a lot of plots about how Damian as the oldest in these fics SHOULD be more responsible for Dick or his younger siblings….but its his failure to do so, specifically, that drives the conflict of a lot of these stories….because in none of them is there ever the implicit understanding that Damian, as the eldest, should be fully capable of stepping in to compensate for Bruce dropping the parenting ball, the way Dick is in the normal dynamics of the family. 

Like, all the age reversal fics I’ve read, yes, all his brothers are shown looking out for Dick at various times and in various ways….but I rarely ever see any single one of them CEMENTED in that stand-in caregiver role, where its EXPECTED of them….the way its frequently expected of Dick in canon.

Because, IMO, there’s this understanding and ACCEPTANCE, that this just isn’t their character type. And rather than address the discrepancies this creates between these fics and ones where Dick is the eldest, per canon, and expected to parent his siblings….people just kinda…roll with it.

And that would be my take on why we so often and so easily see Dick flip-flopped between extremely opposite takes.

[dinomight]

all the stars in all the skies: a playlist for Home and a Half by @echodrops

the chain - fleetwood mac // sorrow - the national // nothing’s gonna hurt you baby - cigarettes after sex // child i will hurt you - crystal castles // constant craving - the cat and owl // run boy run - woodkid // female robbery - the neighbourhood // sleepsong - bastille // small things - ben howard // iron - woodkid // greens of june - neko case // mars - sleeping at last // iscariot - walk the moon // human - daughter // body - mother mother // i come with knives - iamx // all these things that i’ve done - the killers // an angry blade - iron & wine // all the stars - the wailin’ jennys // i’ll be good - jaymes young // slow wake up sunday morning - mountain man // someone to stay - vancouver sleep clinic // it’s alright - mother mother // this is home - cavetown

Song explanations under the cut!

First I’d like to clarify: I’m not insane. I’m just a huge ass dork for this fic. (For a lot of things, really, but irrelevant.) HaaH is one of my favorite written works ever, fanfiction or not, so I really, truly should not have been surprised that this playlist ended up being so much longer than I meant for it to be, and it probably could’ve been even longer if I’d let myself keep going. In my defense, I can’t art, so this is one of my only ways to show my appreciation.

Anyways, I’m not gonna wax poetics about how much I love this story because we would be here all day and this post is too long as it is, so down to business: this playlist is very loosely structured. It’s hard to give the songs a significant order when only a few correspond to specific moments or lines; most of them I chose to focus more on bigger picture themes and concepts from the story. So the order isn’t that important, I just organized them so they’d transition relatively smoothly sound-wise and tried to keep similar concepts together. Additionally, I did use both quotes from the fic and the songs in some of my explanations, so fic quotes are bolded and song lyrics are in italics. Some of these are short, some are a bit longer, some are just the quotes because I didn’t feel the need to explain further, but hopefully all of them give a good idea of why I chose the song. I thought about just posting the playlist by itself, but I felt weird not explaining the thinking behind it, so uh, here it is I guess? 

1) The Chain - Fleetwood Mac: The best song in existence. Objectively speaking, of course. The first time I heard this while thinking of HaaH though, it just fit so well, and I haven’t really been able to un-associate the two since. (Not that I want to lol) It just has such a desert vibe to it that matches with the story, and I think it represents Keith’s desperation to avoid rejection from the team so well. It’s like...if I were to picture a trailer for HaaH, this is the song I would hear in the background, y’know? 

2) Sorrow - The National: This one’s a bit of a weird one because I can’t quite put into words why this is on here. Like, I added it back when I was just throwing some songs together for background atmosphere while reading HaaH, but when I was working to make this into something more thought out, I couldn’t bring myself to take this song off. So here it is, I guess. 

3) Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby - Cigarettes After Sex: This one is here more for its sound and atmosphere, not really the lyrics. It just sounds like...nostalgia, I guess. Like it’s supposed to be reminiscing about something comforting, but it’s not quite there because the pain of the present is keeping you rooted. The way I hear it, it’s like Keith is thinking about his mom and her love and comfort, but it’s tainted by the loss of all of that. (I might be slightly insane. I’ve come to terms with that.) 

4) Child I Will Hurt You - Crystal Castles: I don’t know how else to phrase this so I’m just gonna say it: this song gives me the heebie jeebies, just like Keith’s flashbacks to his earlier times with the Garrison. I swear, every time he says replacement mother or father it gives me chills. Or makes me want to cry a bit. It just feels so wrong, and that’s why I picked this song, ‘cause it gives me the same feeling. The music is so soft, like it was supposed to be a lullaby, but the lyrics and the feeling underneath is...disturbing. Plus, “Hide all that you could / Done for the greater good / It’s later understood” reminds me all too well of the Garrison scientists and what they did to Keith. 

5) Constant Craving - The Cat and Owl: So while I was searching for songs to add, it suddenly occurred to me that despite the fact that one of Keith’s major problems is that he can’t put his thoughts and feelings into words properly, every single song I’d added did exactly that. And so began my search for some instrumental songs that unfortunately only turned up this one, mostly because I realized this playlist was getting far too long lol. Though now that I’ve thought about it, an all instrumental HaaH playlist would be an interesting challenge. Hm. I already knew I wanted to add Constant Craving as a sort of representation for Keith’s own craving for love, acceptance, and family, but when I heard this version I knew it was right. Keith knows he desperately needs all these things, but he can’t put it into words, can’t communicate it right. It’s made even better by how well known the original song is, because you can feel the familiarity in it, feel what’s missing and what should be there, but it’s different at the same time, like that absence has created something strange, something off-kilter from what it should have been. Plus it’s sorta a lullaby version, which I like since Keith’s childhood is an often reoccurring topic. 

6) Run Boy Run - Woodkid: Seems to me like there’s a lot of shit Keith’s been running from. (also...running makes me think of “escaped from the Garrison”. Escaped. Escaped. ESCAPED.)

7) Female Robbery - The Neighbourhood: There’s some really fucked up stuff in Keith’s past in addition to the whole Galra thing, and he really does not want the team to find out any of it. This song makes me think a lot about that. 

8) Sleepsong - Bastille: “You go to sleep on your own / And you wake each day with your thoughts / And it scares you being alone, it's a last resort” & “All you want is someone onto whom you can cling / Your mother warned of strangers and the dangers they may bring / Your dreams and memories are blurring into one / The scenes which hold the waking world slowly come undone.” ...yeah.

9) Small Things - Ben Howard: Another song that’s on here more for the sound than the lyrics, though the lyrics could possibly fit. I just love the dreamy, suspended feeling that this song exudes and how well it fits with the feeling that Keith’s flashbacks and memories give me. 

10) Iron - Woodkid: “But Keith was gone—every reflex retuned for battle, every nerve sparking under his skin, and all there was fight, win, refuse to be killed.“ - “I'm waiting for the call, the hand on the chest / I'm ready for the fight, and fate” So the lyrics don’t *exactly* match up, but the underlying themes are there, I think, and the atmosphere of this one was more important to me anyways. The intensity of it just screams fighting and death and red to me. 

11) Greens of June - Neko Case, k.d. lang, Laura Veirs: “Just in the moment / Everything's changed / My dark disposition / Has been rearranged” The arrival of the kids is certainly not a very happy time considering the circumstances, but it brought a change that Keith desperately needed, one that will hopefully help him actually be happy. (My other reason for choosing this song is, for whatever reason, it also gives me desert vibes.) 

12) Mars - Sleeping at Last: “We let the end goal blind us to the means. We’ll have to re-evaluate before we take on any more missions. If violence is our go-to method of beating the enemy, we’re no better than the empire ourselves.” -  "Lay your weapons down! / They're calling off the war / On account of losing track / Of what we're fighting for." The team has taken up an immense and necessary duty to protect the universe, but that doesn’t mean they don’t get caught up in the grey areas of war, and it doesn’t mean they get to come home without scars. 

13) Iscariot - WALK THE MOON: Broganes, anyone? For real though, this song is about betrayal between two people who are essentially brothers (specifically Jesus and Judas but I didn’t pick it for the religious references). While I don’t think Shiro is gonna see Keith being Galra and hiding it as a personal betrayal, Keith clearly does. “How long did he have left before…Before Lance said he’d known all along there was something wrong with Keith, before Pidge threw his hypocrisy back in his face: no secrets between paladins, huh? Before Allura turned her back on him. Before Shiro couldn’t, and Keith had to meet his eyes, watch betrayal dawn white-star bright and burning.” Ah. That sweet, terrible angst.

14) Human - Daughter: “Underneath the skin there's a human / Buried deep within there's a human / And despite everything I'm still human / But I think I'm dying here.” I think this song works on two levels. One, you can take “human” to be quite literal and interpret it as Keith’s desperation to hide his Galra heritage and keep pretending that he’s entirely human, even though it clearly has awful emotional repercussions for him. Two, you can look at “human” with a metaphorical lens to talk about how even though Keith seems like a cold tough guy on the surface, underneath that is a complicated mess of emotions and trauma, and not being able to properly deal with all of that is killing him. 

15) Body - Mother Mother: One of the things about HaaH that I find most interesting is Keith’s relationship with his body. Between the whole Galra form vs human form, the fact that his human form is not how he was born, and everything that the Garrison did to him...it’s a goddamn mess. Hence, this song. can I please give this boy a hug 

16) I Come With Knives - IAMX: First and foremost, I had to include this song for the irony, because Keith did, in fact, come with a knife. However, I also included it because I really like how on the surface, it can be written off as just another angsty emo song, but if you take the time to really listen to it, it’s filled with genuine emotion and hurt. (Almost like a certain knife-wielding alien boy I know...)

17) All These Things That I’ve Done - The Killers: I have a few different reasons for why this song is here, but the main one is pretty much “I got soul, but I’m not a soldier”. I mean...yeah. That screams Keith to me. He’s driven and angry and passionate and willing to fight so hard to protect the people he loves, but...that doesn’t mean he’s emotionally okay with being a soldier, even if the rest of the team seems to think otherwise.

18) An Angry Blade - Iron & Wine: Another one that immediately earned points for Keith irony in the title. Seriously though, I love the tone of this song for Keith. It’s got desert vibes to it, and maybe it’s just because my hearing isn’t fantastic, but I like that the lyrics are a bit hard to make out. You really have to listen. (Again, almost like...hmm...) Plus: “You’re an angry blade and you’re brave / But you’re all alone”

19) All the Stars - The Wailin’ Jennys: I swear I didn’t just pick this for the title. It was a little bit for the title though, sue me. Nope, it was more for “So open wide your wounded heart / Feel yourself be blown apart” because for the love of god, Keith, please open up a bit more to the people around you. On a more serious note, I was also struck by “You don’t know me / You know one side of a story” because it’s true for both Keith and his mother. The Keith part is obvious--the team, with the exception of Shiro, only really sees the Keith that’s on the surface. But it’s kinda true for Keith and his mom too, right? He’s missing so much information because of his spotty memories. Up until the kids arrived, it seems like he didn’t even consider the idea that she might be, y’know, not evil. So...yeah. Also “All the stars in the sky / Say goodbye say goodbye” because I didn’t need my heart, it’s fine, it’s okay, I’m not crying over a fictional character and the death of his alien mother, there’s just dirt in my eyes--

20) I’ll Be Good - Jaymes Young: “But if there was a way to stop the blood flowing down his glove, the sound a sword made when it struck bone, the way her breath came in pieces between the shocks her sobs, then he definitely would have... “ - “I've been cold, I've been merciless / But the blood on my hands scares me to death / Maybe I'm waking up today”

21) Slow Wake Up Sunday Morning - Mountain Man: “It's lucid dreaming; he knew it wasn't real, not anymore, but still he couldn't focus his eyes, couldn't see past the fall of her hair in the pale morning light...” - “The light / It moves / Across this room / Like it could reach us, honey” & “We are already there, it seems / (I know I can't stay in this place)” I don’t quite know how to explain why I connected this song with this moment beyond the whole early morning thing but...this moment was an especially emotional one for me. It felt like something Keith wanted to hold on to, wanted to go back to, but just like the sun continues rising, the world keeps moving, regardless of whether we want it to or not. 

22) Someone to Stay - Vancouver Sleep Clinic: “You were alone left out in the cold / Clinging to the ruin of your broken home / Too lost and hurting to carry your load / We all need someone to hold” I just...yeah. There’s not much I need to say about this one. Just Keith and the kids, man. 

23) It’s Alright - Mother Mother: Whenever I listen to this song, I feel like I’m getting a hug. Since I cannot project myself into fictional stories and hug the characters myself, I instead gift this song to Keith. Please, someone give this boy more hugs. Please.

24) This is Home - Cavetown: “Get a load of this monster / He doesn't know how to communicate / His mind is in a different place / Will everybody please give him a little bit of space / Get a load of this trainwreck / His hair's a mess and he doesn't know who he is yet / But little do we know the stars welcome him with open arms / Oh / Time is / Slowly / Tracing his face / But strangely he feels at home in this place.” <3

This got way too long, so to anyone who actually made it through all of that, I sincerely apologize. >.<

[smitten-miqitten]

The Begrudging Misadventures of Era Hess and an Arrogant Ascian Ghost, Chapter 2: Reprise

Ao3 link here

……………………………………………….

“You think I haven’t tried? That I’ve been wandering this city to sightsee?! I cannot even remember the majority of my current life, as you well know. If I’m to do this myself, might you have a suggestion or two as to how, if you’re insistent on dogging my footsteps?!” He was right, it was her problem to solve, not his. But Era had already done all she could think of. She had nothing to go off of, no place to start. It was infuriating, to put it mildly.

Hades made to start at her, clearly about to say something unkind, if the look on his face was anything to go by, but was interrupted by the arrival of another

[Perhaps I may be of help?], Said a kindly shade, speaking the Amaurotine tongue.

“Hythlodaeus”, Era said softly, more surprised than anything else. “I thought you’d vanished for good. I’d been looking for you”.

[Alas, dear friend, my capacity to assist you is as limited as my existence. However, with your companion present I can extert myself far more]. He chuckled in his odd Amaurotine way at both hers and Hades’ shock.

[Yes, I can see your current ghostly companion. Mayhap he is stronger than the last, or perhaps it is due to his having created this iteration of me] Hythlodaeus turned to address Hades. [I see you’ve not lost your barbed tongue, friend. You truly needn’t berate her so. It’s always been an unbecoming habit of yours, I must say]

“Bah, I will not be scolded by a shade of my own creation”, Hades muttered in an almost petulant manner, which forced Era to hold back a snicker.

[Might I suggest immersion, as a means to spark her memory?] Hythlodaeus  held out a small bundle, a mask and a robe identical to his own but fitted to one of Era’s stature.

“The robe! The one the attendant at the hall of creation told me to make, before realizing I had no capacity for it.”, she exclaimed, reaching for the bundle. She had actually been a bit dismayed that she wasn’t able to make it, not because it looked particularly fashionable, but because the odd looks her normal attire garnered were becoming tiresome. “Thank you”.

“How odd they even bothered to have you make it at all. You were never actually meant to wear them, the Lightwarden you were supposed to be would have no need of them, though you stubbornly mucked up that plan didn’t you?” Hades said, foul mood starting to lighten somewhat.

It seemed to Era that his moods shifted with little rhyme or reason, and lingered for longer than they ought to. It was nostalgic, somehow.  Find a way to shift the topic without being overt, and his mood will change accordingly, she thought, feeling as if she had employed this tactic many a time before.

[Perhaps you had more faith in her than you realized] Hythlodaeus said sagely. Looking back down at Era, he continued, [I propose that you wear these items as you make your way through the city. Emet-Selch and I will accompany you, and solely speak our tongue. Try and locate your favorite spot. Do not consider it overmuch, but rather let your feet guide you].

“No need for that, I think. We’re already there”, Hades murmured, returning his gaze to the garden before him. It was full of just about every kind of flower one could imagine; his eyes locked on a particular kind of light purple flower.

The garden itself was not overly large, and was hidden from view of the street by surrounding buildings. They had followed a cobblestone path to reach it, unusual in its own right. The garden was on a balcony of sorts, and so overlooked the vast dark depths the various skyscrapers descended into. Several benches were scattered throughout, but there were no statues like were in the Academy. It was being tended to by none other than a shadowy Nu Mou.

Era had finished putting the outfit on, finding the mask uncomfortable. The robe had no place for her ears or tail, and so sat oddly on her frame. Hythlodaeus started to apologize and offered to fix it, but Era declined. The purpose of the garment was to not stand out and distract others from their creations. Ears and a tail would certainly do so.

Era followed Hades’ gaze, and found she could not look away from the Nu Mou that was watering the purple flowers.

[… isn’t it simply adorable?!], a distant voice called out in her mind, causing her head to ache.

She shook her head of the voice and turned her attention to the flowers the Nu Mou was watering. “Lavender”.

[Your favorite, yes? It always is], Hades began, forgetting for a moment his declaration that he would tell her nothing of herself. [Each and every iteration I have encountered has professed the same affection for the color].

“Each iteration?”

Hades paused, realizing now that he had broken his own word but, after a second or two decided to humor the question. [Yes. I have met many, many reincarnations of you, most from the source. Quite a few have been warriors such as yourself, ignorantly opposing us at every turn. Others were unremarkable, leading perfectly ordinary dull lives doing nothing of note. One in particular….oh, I’d say from the first or second astral era… was a noblewoman who was insistent that her clothing be lavender or lilac. Frugal in all other respects, she was adamant on this one point. She was the first fragment of you I can remember meeting]

His words were harsh, but he spoke of this fragment with an odd fondness that did not match. [She cannot have been rejoined but once or twice by then. She posessed many of your traits, the stubbornness, the insatiable will to help others, the great love she bore for those around her… all qualities lessened in comparison to to the original, of course. Well, except for the love. When she was with the children it was almost as if she were whole again]. Hades’ eyes were distant, shrouded in nostalgia. But there was something in the way he said this that rubbed Era the wrong way…

“The children?” She asked, dreading the response.

He sported a devious grin. [ She was a noblewoman after all, most useful for getting a foothold with which to start an empire. Not to mention she was a fragment of you; I very much wanted to see if my presence would serve to jog her memory. So I took her as my wife.]

That was not the response Era had wanted in the slightest. In fact, she felt rather nauseous. While she bore a great deal of affection not entirely her own for the man, it most certainly did not extend to the romantic. If the original had felt that way for him, it was a quality Era did not share.

This much must have shown on what little of her face was visible, as Hades frowned, annoyed. “No need to be rude”, he chastised, accidentally slipping back into Common tongue. “Twas an experiment, nothing more. One which did not bear fruit, mind. She remembered nothing. Absolutely nothing. What’s more, she lost her affection for me quickly  after the children came, seeing that I bore no love for them. Called me heartless, and a liar, and would not suffer my company a moment longer than necessary. Fitting then, that she outlived the majority, stuck with me til the end”. His tone had turned spiteful, but there was a note of hurt underneath.

It was a reoccurring pattern, Era had come to notice. Whenever he spoke of her original,  there was always a conflicting mixture of adoration and loathing she couldn’t quite wrap her head around. How can you both love and despise someone? Shouldn’t it be one or the other?

“I’m sorry she treated you that way. Though I imagine your own behavior played no small part.” Era scolded, doubting very much that he was the sole victim of the arrangement. How must that iteration have felt, to see behind the mask someone entirely different from who she thought she married? To realize that, if he could not love their children, that he likely did not truly love her either?

“Tell me, while you’re so chatty, why there is a Nu Mou here? I didn’t think them as old as Amaurot”. Walking over to it, she reached out to touch the creature, freezing as pain lanced through her skull.

…………………………….

[This is the concept you’ve been holed up in this room perfecting? With all the responsibilities you have as a member of the convocation, I would have thought your time too precious to spend creating helpers], The voice of Hades spoke, coming from a tall figure cloaked in the same robes Era saw on the Amaurotines of the illusory city. He wore the same red mask as the eldritch form she had bested in the Dying Gasp, some locks of white and brown peeking over the top. [Have you even seen sunlight in these past days?]

[Why of course! There are windows here, are there not]? Era, but not Era, replied in a tongue she did not speak. Looking at the window in question, she saw a reflection of an Amarotine woman. She wore a plain white mask no different from the others Era had seen, with tanned skin the same shade as her own and a mess of disheveled white hair peeking out over the mask. Her hood was down, perhaps because there was no one to distract save Hades in the room, and he had only just entered. [Lest you forget, my specialty, in which I gained the recognition that earned me my seat, is creating beings to fill unoccupied niches. What better, for a member of an organization devoted to bettering our society, to create than a being who’s sole purpose is to help people? This is not to be some soulless automata, to answer its master’s every beck and call. No, this being will posses the ability of discernment, and the knowledge of fairness. It will instinctively demand equal payment for services rendered, with the ability to refuse services and the power to leave any situation in which it receives inequitable treatment!] Era but not Era exclaimed, excited at the prospect beyond reason.

The figure of Hades smiled fondly at this display of enthusiasm. [And in what way is your concept better than a ‘soulless automata’? Would a being that can do only as it is told not be of far greater use?] he asked, his only interest being to prompt more of her raving. He already knew he was bound to agree with whatever answer she gave.

[Ah, but that is the problem! All these concepts the others have been submitting are of perfect unquestioning beings, like to us in image. No will of their own by design. But what, do you suppose, will come of that? Those helpers, never argumentative, never troublesome, would become the apple of their masters’ eye. Their owner’s fondness would grow, and they would inevitably begin to project, imagining positive traits in these automata that they do not actually possess. With our magics being as they are, this projection would eventually make itself manifest, imbuing the automata with a personality of its own. And thoughts. All of which it was never designed to have nor handle. Inevitably these enlightened few would realize the unfairness of their lot, and rise against their masters. And so we would regrettably be forced to put them down]. She paused for breath, having said her piece in a rather manic manner. Smirking, she continued, [My concept would have no such issues, equipped from the start to deal with such things. Driven by an innate desire to help, they would offer their services, and by a selfsame desire to be fairly compensated demand payment. No request would be so outlandish or cruel as to drive them to uprising!]

[How then, does this drive to help manifest itself? Duty? A desire for honor, perhaps?] Hades proposed, sensing she had not defined that part clearly enough. Of the two, he was the more pragmatic, far better at understanding what makes people tick. Something so vaguely defined as a ‘desire to help’ would not suffice. A concept such as duty or honor, however, had driven many a person.

[Honor…yes, that would be just the thing, wouldn’t it?! You always know how to fill in the gaps in my thinking, Hades. Whatever would I do without you?] She grasped his arm, drawing him to where she had the notes for her concept laid out. [Come, help me create it. You know the concept well enough].

[But it is your concept. It will not be exactly as you intend if I create it with you, even if I am familiar with the idea.] Hades protested, knowing she would not accept his refusal.

[Isn’t that half the fun? I find perfect beings to be terribly dull.]

She closed her eyes and began to focus her aether, already knowing he would follow suit. Together they channeled their combined energies into the creation of one, singular idea. As their power burst forth, a small being came into existence.

[It’s far smaller than it ought to be. You tried to make it cute, didn’t you?] Hades teased. The doglike creature was far, far too small to be of much use to the comparatively giant Amaurotines.

[Yes, well, I don’t recall the original concept having my skintone, nor a mess of hair] She shot back, grinning. A great member of the convocation, neigh unparalleled in skill, had been distracted by her lack of a hood.

[I suppose if these are to be our great assistants, we will need to try again] Hades muttered, inspecting the creature that was staring back at him with curiosity in its eyes.

[I think I shall keep this one for myself. Perhaps he would like to help me water my garden when I inevitably forget] Era but not Era said, patting its tiny head. [What shall we call them?]

…………………………….

“Nu Mou”, groaned Era, emerging from the memory. “I…We made the Nu Mou”. She choked out, before collapsing to her knees. Looking over at Hades with her blurred vision, she saw on his face a look she had never thought to see the man wear.

Joy.

………………………………………………………….

*sometime midway through the 2nd astral era*

They were holed up in a small, stone cottage, huddled near the fireplace as snow and wind buffeted the walls outside. His wife, as she was begrudgingly called, was sitting in the armchair nearest the fire, bundled in blankets. She had been unwell for some time, susceptible as she was to illness in her advanced age. He had considered using these illnesses as an excuse to be rid of her, flawed, spiteful insult to his friend’s memory that she was. A wife passing at a carefully planned moment could garner pity and support when such things could prove beneficial to his cause. He could never bring himself to do it, however. It was still Her, even as a shallow echo. He listened to yet another one of her coughing fits from across the room, for they rarely could tolerate one another enough to be closer. When it had ceased, she spoke, the first time in ages she had words for him.

“Darling”, she said, no affection behind the word.

“Hm”? He took a seat opposite her, the process taking some time due to his own aged body. Hopefully he would not need to use it too terribly much longer.

Looking at her now, properly in what seemed like months, he saw with some surprise that her time was incredibly short.

“I have borne your secrecy for as long as we have known one another, and kept my peace. Might I ask… *cough cough* …might I ask that you indulge me one question?”

When he did not protest, she continued, “Who is it you were hoping to see whenever you beheld me? Tis apparent that you did not find them.”

He did not respond right away, mulling over the risks, but ultimately deciding there was no harm now, at death’s door as she was.

“I had hoped to see the person you’re meant to be. Alas, you have fallen quite short, though tis through no fault of your own”.

“How lofty your expectations then, of a woman who has done naught but stay dutifully at your side all these years.” She let out a small mirthless chuckle, ending in yet another fit of coughs.“We two never could seem to do right by one another. I pray in the next life we will do better”. With that, she started to stand, straining her body quite beyond its limits.

“Whatever are you doing? You should not be up, ill as you are”, he said with a note of concern that surprised them both.

“I am at my last, and I will not suffer your mockery of my weakness in these final moments”. Standing fully, she made to leave the room but her legs failed her. He caught her as she collapsed, her frail body featherlight.

Disunited though they were and disappointment though she was, he felt a sudden panic at his oncoming loss. Though he could not stand the shadowed existence she led, with her gone he would truly be alone in this world of echoes.

Drawing her close, holding her as gently as he could, he said in a voice so low only she could hear, “There is nothing to mock, my friend”.

She let out a ragged sigh, clutching at his coat as she expired, her soul being torn from him, drawn into the cold clutches of the aetherial sea.

[awfully-sadistic]

Week 1: Oct. 1st

The Adventures of Dottie and Dodger A series of linear prompt one-shots.

 I don’t know what else to say about this series. I’m still working things out halfway, but I think I know where I want this to go. It’s an all original series, I don’t want to really implement anyone from the Family because I’m holding off on that. I want to try to flex my creativity muscles on creating a new world and filling it with characters, hopefully reoccurring characters and characters that are just there to move the plot forward. You know how it is. I just hope it’s not too ambitious. The prompts themselves are supposed to be light and well, in the honor of spooky stuff supposed to have that Halloween feel to it. I hope that I can pull that off, too. I’m nervous about starting this “series” and even more nervous to see if I can work my way through it to the end.

 Before this note gets any longer, because I hate rambling off in the beginning of my stuff, I’ll end this here. I don’t think I’m forgetting anything. Oh, just to say if you like anyone from the series, Dot, you can expect to see them around as soon as I can flesh them out more just the same as my muses are around.

 …That’s not a very good example because you hardly hear from my muses but! I’m just saying, they’re not going to die into oblivion just because the story is over. If that makes sense. OH GOD THIS IS JUST GETTING LONGER—

-x-

The office building had obviously been in use before but how long ago that was remained unknown and perhaps unsolved for the rest of its life. Aside from its massive size housing many personal office rooms, there were cobwebs and dust everywhere and old furniture that the previous tenants had left behind. Whether they didn’t bother to throw it away because it was cursed or because they didn’t feel like it, there was no telling why it remained and ended up their “problem” now. All of it was still covered with white sheets sprinkled as far as the eye can see making the place resemble some sort of discounted winter wonderland where snow had fallen in clumps on just very specific places. In reality, they were probably in place to prevent the furniture from accumulating dust, but it just made the place seem more like a dusty old attic than the future home of Dottie and Dodger, Supernatural Investigations. Dot took one good look at the place and almost walked back out, but her business partner of five years stopped her at the doorway by the shoulders and turned her back around almost immediately.

 “This is the least expensive place they had on the listings. We have to take this or wait another year to get our business off the ground.” Dodger Ainsworth Mac Alister had the no-nonsense type of voice that came along with a very distinct accent one couldn’t place. It sounded like a mix between English and Irish, but Dot could never tell, and Dodger never divulged. For as long as she knew him, however, that was the least eccentric thing about him. To match his strange accent, Dodger’s appearance could also be marked down as usual. The man was very tall but not bulky, he was lean but had muscle mass to him. His skin color was a little darker than a tan one could acquire by staying out in the sunlight, but he didn’t get any darker nor any lighter, aided by the sunlight or not. He was also freakishly strong, but one couldn’t tell by the unassuming demeanor he frequently exhibited. He was the sort to often forget how tall he was and hit his head on the doorframe as soon as he tried to walk into your house.

 His eyes were the oddest shade of amber, growing darker or lighter with his moods and his gaze was always intense. His hair turned different colors in the sunlight, seemingly the hue of spun straw the color of gold one moment and a sort of amber tone in the shade. His hairstyle seemed to match his strange lifestyle; a fringed short cut with wavy hair that sat on top of his head with his curly bangs occasionally getting into his eyes. But the shaved sides should indicate that he could at least keep a little of his life in order.

 Dodger was quite handsome though he didn’t seem to realize it himself or he simply didn’t care. However, his sometimes-disheveled appearance could probably account to not caring. One could assume he didn’t care that his jaw was strong, or his cheekbones high. He was the type to always have his mind on the business at hand, keeping Dot grounded in their dynamic. And as far as she knew, she was the daydreamer.

 And in a lot of ways, his opposite. Dot’s disposition was mostly sunny despite the rare occasions when she hasn’t had her coffee yet. But she was quite the serious person, too, which allowed for the two of them to excel when they put their heads together to sort out a problem. It was one of the reasons they worked so well together. But where Dodger was serious nearly 100% of the time (if not a little absent-minded), Dot liked to fluctuate between the two; serious and carefree. It was only because of Dodger that allowed her to sometimes take an absurd approach and rely on Dodger to help bail her out when plans blew up in her face.

 That’s to say, Dot’s plans didn’t often backfire. But she was grateful that Dodger had been around when they did.

 Much like his opposite, she was shorter than Dodger. When they were first paired together back at the Agency, it had been one of the things that she realized straight off the bat. Dot was taller than the average height of a human woman, but she was beginning to see that a lot of the supernatural were even taller, often towering over the human race. But it puzzled her to learn that Dodger wasn’t supernatural. Everything about him seemed to tell her that he was from his appearance to his strange habits and personality traits but over time, she just realized Dodger, well, was weird.

 But she prided herself on being weird, too, due to her views on controversial subjects when the Supernatural were involved down to her appearance. Always the one at the Agency for the leading trends of fashion, Dot turned heads where ever she went; whether it was bizarre outfits she wore through the day or the way she styled her hair, attention was pulled on her whenever she walked into a room. She had closets full of anything and everything she wanted; clothes shopping was a serious vice and one she was not inclined to fix, ever.

 But she knew the stares were never in a bad way because as often as other people stared, Dodger often told her that she was quite gorgeous and needed to be more aware of it. It was ironic coming from him, but she didn’t tell him that. He argued that he worried about her safety and that it was only because he was around no one did anything weird or attempted anything funny with her. Dot couldn’t believe that no matter how many times other agents at the Agency would ask her out on dates.

 “Another year?” Dot made a face. “Oh no, we don’t have another year. I don’t think I can last running our business out of my house. It’s weird, having people show up there at stupid hours of the day. Especially on my days off. What the fuck is that? I know we left the Agency for a reason but is it too late to go back?”

 Dodger gave her one of his intense stares; he didn’t mean anything by it. He was gauging her reaction, to see if she was serious or not. “…Yes,” he said slowly, “It really is too late to go back. But I’m sure if we beg and grovel, they might let us back in as low-level paper pushers—”

 “I wasn’t serious!” Dot sighed heavily, running a hand through her shortly cropped, curly hair. This time around, she wore it more as a mohawk since that last time as a fauxhawk, she vowed to shave the sides. It was the second-best decision she had ever made after leaving the Agency.

 The Agency is an organization sanctioned by the government that helps Supernatural beings and aspects find their slot in life ran by the human majority. They handle cases for the Supernatural with a mixture of Supernatural and human staff working together to provide an example that they can, indeed, coexist side by side. It’s like a police force but solely for the Supernatural. And like with any organization, they can be corrupt and favor sides especially with the most amount of money in their hands. For the Agency, they started out with good intentions but quickly devolved into seemingly keeping the Supernatural in check rather than help them out, as was their only duty. She didn’t know how anyone could have fucked that up so badly, but Dot didn’t think it was a coincidence that as soon as the newly elected mayor of their town climbed to power, the old Chief of the Agency was forcibly retired and a hand-selected one was put in place by the mayor. Seeing the change take place before her eyes, Dot didn’t like that. Not one bit. But there was only so much she could have done with the lower level ranking she held.

 So, she quit. And started up her own agency. Well, it was more like a private investigation. Still, she and Dodger were licensed and with their connections still in place with the Agency—as long as they avoided the new Chief—they often had the cases no one wanted (or put on the back burner) passed down onto them. It had warmed Dot’s heart to see that her old colleagues at the Agency still did care about doing what was right and often surprised her when a new client would show up saying that so-and-so from The Agency had recommend her and Dodger on the down-low.

 In hindsight, leaving the Agency and starting up Dot and Dodger, Supernatural Investigations seemed like a good idea at first; she got rid of having to go through hoops and red tape and did things the way she wanted (as long as she didn’t get caught by law enforcement) and she didn’t have to report to superiors who didn’t want to do a job well done or their jobs, period, and would rather give her a million excuses as to why she couldn’t be promoted through the ranks but Dot was quickly beginning to learn that starting your own company was terrible in its own way.

 Absolutely terrible.

 There was a lot of paperwork you had to work through—and she hated having to do the paperwork! It was one of the reasons why she left the Agency!—and meetings that didn’t seem to go anywhere. Of course, a lot of those meetings consisted of confronting a real estate agent wanting to sell you a creepy looking warehouse by a stinky body of water that may or may not have been a dumping ground used by the town’s local Mafia organization. However, when Dodger came across this miraculous ad in the newspaper about an absurd amount of office space for terribly cheap, Dot just KNEW  there had to be a reason. But Dodger had somehow convinced her to act on it.

 Without looking over the property first.

 Now, she wished she did.

 “I wasn’t aware we were buying out the Amityville of office spaces, Dodge.”

 Dodger looked around, and thinking he might have been missing something, pulled out his thin framed glasses to settle upon his nose. Once he was done with that, he took a sweeping look around the expanse of the office space. Much like the ad had mentioned, it was gigantic; definitely too big for the two of them. The main room they were standing in could have been a waiting area with covered furniture that were no doubt seats for their future clients. There was a receptionist desk that separated the waiting room from the office rooms just beyond, the space looking as dank and abandoned as that one warehouse they had checked out the night before, but it couldn’t be too farfetched to imagine someone sitting there someday, right?

 “This looks nothing like the Amityville House, love. It had more of a barn-ish appearance, no?”

 Dot’s expression soured as she stared at Dodger, head tilt back and mouth hung open. Yet she had no idea if he was being serious or not. Obviously, she wasn’t. Instead of answering him, she clapped him on the back to help bring him back to the point.

 “Anyway, this place is too big for us. I don’t know what we’ll be doing with the extra rooms—” Dot cut herself off and her eyes lit up, “Oh! I can store all my old clothes in these rooms! Any God out there has been a witness and knows I need the goddamn space.”

 Dodger took his glasses off, replacing them in the inner pocket of his jacket. He sounded distracted as he replied, “That’s true, you do have a lot of clothes.”

 “And I’m proud of that,” Dot pointed out before turning to give the reception and waiting area another look-over. “Well, this part is okay. I can see someone waiting around here. But we have about twenty-four rooms of unused space and I thought I saw a large meeting room …for what exactly?”

 “Brainstorming sessions,” Dodger suggested.

 Dot grinned, “I see. A bigger room for our big ideas.” She pushed past the door that swung open with a creepy creaking sound that she chose to ignore. “I guess I can put all the coffee pots we have ever owned in that room.”

 “How many cups of coffee are you planning on drinking?”

 “Big ideas, Dodge.” Dot called out from behind her shoulder. She could hear the door creak again signaling that Dodger was following her. For a while, they just took in the space that would be their office from now on. It was just as big as the Agency which was saying something but incredibly empty. Yet it filled Dot with some sort of pride, too. Maybe one day, they could be as big as the Agency or reputable at least. Actually, she wasn’t sure what would happen if they “got too big for their britches” as she could imagine the Agency would put it.

 “What do you think would happen if the Agency starts to see us as rivals?” Dot asked, tossing the idea to Dodger for a second opinion. Aside from her own, his was the only one she respected.

 “It’s not like they could fault us for helping. We’re licensed and sanctioned by the same government, after all. If they have a problem with how we’ve been getting cases solved and helping where they fall short, perhaps they should reevaluate themselves.”

 Dot could feel relieved by Dodger’s reasoning; it was sound and logical as far as she could tell. As someone who was wholly opposite in terms of reacting solely on emotion, Dodger’s advice was more often the go-ahead for half of Dot’s schemes. That way, she can claim she looked at it from all angles if anyone ever asked!

 “Right,” Dot nodded, finding her smile again. “Right! And it’s not like we’re newbies starting off with this thing. I’m sure with the amount of work the Agency passes down to us, Chief Aldric has some sort of idea what we’re about. He can’t stop us from doing anything.”

 “Unless it pertains to his cases and jurisdiction.”

 Dot shot a look at Dodger.

 “I mean, you’re right. He can’t stop us from doing anything.”

 Appeased again, Dot took another look at the work ahead of them. Twenty-four rooms were still a huge undertaking and Dot was only partly kidding about finding a new place to keep her out-of-season outfits. At most, they’d likely fill a room or two since Dot found it hard to part with anything of hers in the first place. It would help having clothes at the office to change in case they needed their disguises and proper wear for places with strict dress codes.

 She was pleased to see that past the reception area was a general office space; it looked more like a police station with many desks and cubicles. Tall rectangular sheets in the back had her hopeful that a few of those were filing cabinets; as much as she hated to do the paperwork, she still needed some place to put her files.

 Pulling off the nearest sheet off a piece of furniture, Dot was greeted with a grandfather clock that cleanly towered over her. “Wow, this looks amazing!” she exclaimed happily, running her hand down the smooth, dark wood on its side. “For some reason, I never expected anything like this. I thought all anyone left behind was junk.”

 “Hmm,” came a thoughtful sound from Dodger as he glanced at his watch and then the hands on the old grandfather’s face. He met the glass with a light rap of his knuckles as if testing something. “you’re right, magnificent finish. Sturdy. Could be hundreds of years old for all we know since it was kept so pristine. But seems to run a bit slow.”

 “That’s alright, we don’t need to be on time for every little occasion.” Dot said with a mischievous glint in her eye. Despite how many times Dodger tries to persuade Dot to leave on time, they were always five to ten, even twenty minutes late for something, somewhere.

 So, she didn’t blame him for the dry tone as he replied, “We never really are, love.” Because she knew he meant it with love. And she knew it with certainty. It wasn’t due to how many years they’ve been partnered but for the very real ability Dot had on reading emotion. Can’t really work in the Agency without being something special yourself, after all. Human or Supernatural.

 Before she had a handle on it, his seemingly detached responses bothered the shit out of her. For someone like Dot, who was emotional and not afraid to show her emotions in turn, she thought the Agency had made a huge mistake on partnering her up with someone she had thought had none. It was funny to think back on how differently she had viewed Dodger; she thought him mechanical, detached, methodical. Granted, he was still those things part of the time, but he was not as emotionless as she originally had thought. He had plenty of emotion, but he was just too absent-minded most times to take in the atmosphere around him unless the situation was looking him in the face to deal with it head on. By then, Dot knew he had a whole range of emotions; surprised, sad, angry, upset, happy, ecstatically nerdy—especially when something interested him or his weird range of hobbies.

 “Let’s keep this one,” Dot smiled, looking at Dodger then to the Grandfather clock again. From the way she was standing, it seemed like she was inside the face by the cast of the reflection. “I wonder why it was left behind. If it’s as old as you think, it’s got to be worth something, right?”

 “Their loss,” Dodger stated matter-of-factly. “and if we’re low on cash, we can always pawn it.”

 Dot gasped and reached up to cover the imaginary ears on the side of the Grandfather clock. “Don’t you dare. I like him! He’s staying.”

 “You are aware, my dear, that it is an inanimate object and therefore cannot hear what you are saying.”

 “I’ve already named him! Armand because he seems distinguished like an Armand.”

 “I believe that’s French for Herman.”

 “I DID NOT NAME HIM HERMAN!”

 Dodger laughed in one of the rare times he did. He never really understood how rare it was, either, when pointed out to him. He usually responded with a “I’m sure I laughed that one time” but Dot did understand, and it usually made her feel good when she could accomplish such a thing. But she was still pouting and adamant about standing her ground and making sure Dodger understood how serious she was with her stance with Armand the Grandfather Clock.

 “I mean it, his name is Armand and he’s staying.”

 “As you wish, love.”

 And it also didn’t take long for Dodger to appease Dot by giving into her decisions as easily as he often did. Perhaps it wasn’t a good idea most of the time, but Dodger never really got in the way of Dot’s freedom or her creativity except to put his foot down in mortal danger. He appreciated it, honestly. And he thought most of the things she did was fun. So, he was looking forward to life with Dot and Armand.

 Most times he didn’t need to say these thoughts out loud because they radiated in the soft gaze he gave Dot and in those times, Dot had to look away and question what she was seeing from the man with the usually intense eyes. Emotions don’t lie and she can read them, now, as easily as she can as if someone had verbally said them.

 She cleared her throat, nodded once with a “good!” and did another sweep across the room; seeing without seeing. By then, Dodger had started pulling off sheets of random assortments of furniture revealing tables and chairs that didn’t look any older than the Grandfather clock they had stumbled upon. This was good news. It meant they didn’t need to waste a lot of money furnishing a large space with many rooms they probably wouldn’t ever use. They could probably stash furniture they didn’t even need in one of the many spare spaces and later down the road, sell them if, as Dodger had said, they became hard up for cash.

 Starting your own business could be rewarding, yeah, but that doesn’t always mean the rewards come in the form of cold, hard cash. And as they say, money makes the world go ‘round.

 Soon enough, Dot and Dodger were standing in the middle of their office with a whole ensemble of office chairs, desks, and furniture as spotless as can be for living under an undetermined amount of time under white sheets. All in all, it was a pretty good haul and Dot couldn’t foresee them having to spend any money on furnishing anything except maybe new computers. Dodger was a whiz with computers, and he could surely move their system into their new office with no hitches. Dot was excited to see that they indeed have file cabinets, too! Digital and paper records were good separate but having a back up for your back up never hurt, either. At least, Dodger had insisted.

 Hey, if he wanted to do the filing, she’d let him and she told him, too.

 “We’ll have to hire some people to work for us,” Dodger insisted. “At least a receptionist and they can do the filing.”

 “Okay, we’ll pay them with what?” Dot pointed out, waving the sheet in her hand from the last thing she had pulled off. She seemed to realize it was still in her hand as she gestured and draped it over the back of a newly revealed swivel chair and its matching desk. “Rocks from your rock collection? We spent all we had on this place.”

 Dodger’s eyes widened only a fraction as he stated, “I don’t believe I told you about the rock collection yet.”

 Dot’s eyes widened as well, the gesture obvious. “I was kidding. You started a rock collection?”

 “Yes. From when you suggested it the last time.”

 “It was a joke!” Dot said, incredulously. She remembered saying something along the lines of Dodger starting a rock collection and his weird collecting hobby list would be complete. To date, he collected everything from mundane stamps to back scratchers. She drew the line herself at weird body stuff, like belly button lint. For now, she placed a hand on her forehead and muttered in amazement. “I can’t believe you took me seriously.”

 “We’ve been together for five years and you still utter that.”

 “Because I still can’t believe it!”

 The playful banter would have continued if the lights didn’t suddenly go out. It startled Dot immensely. She jumped, looking around wildly. She wasn’t afraid of the dark, but working with the Supernatural for a long time, mundane things like blackouts reminded her of sinister things.

 “We probably blew a fuse,” Dodger stated, ever the realist.

 “From what?” Dot turned her head up in which she guessed as Dodger’s silhouette. In the dark, the amber hue of his eyes glowed dimly, and she wondered at that. “Nothing else seems to be plugged in to overload it.”

 “Could be a loose wire. This place does seem pretty old.” Dodger reasoned.

 “Greeeeat,” Dot said from within darkness. Her eyes were adjusting now. Everything seemed like a dim outline gently illuminated from sources coming in from the outside through the windows. Some had their blinds drawn and others were wide open. At least they weren’t in complete darkness.

 “I’ll go and check out the circuit breaker—” Dodger was interrupted when something flew across the room and slammed into the wall nearest him with enough force to rattle the windows. Both Dot and Dodger stood very still; this situation wasn’t new to them but what was new was the fact they have never expected to become their first clients since re-opening.

 Dodger was talking again but this time in a low voice. He sounded cautious. “Poltergeist?”

 “…I hope not. They’re pretty nasty.” Dot whispered back.

 Whispering didn’t really help the situation, but it felt like the right thing to do. The two scanned the large space they were occupying and while everything seemed normal enough, they knew better than to let their guard down now. With Poltergeists, one could never tell and Dot didn’t like to assume things especially if it made her look foolish. Usually classified as the spirit of a disgruntled being that had departed and usually in a violent way, they are the Supernatural types that are responsible for moving shit around and generally making pests of themselves often causing harm to humans and other Supernatural beings alike. Oh, and for the popular movies adequately named after them. Man, after that franchise, it was said the Agency had calls four to five times a week with people who claimed they were being haunted by Poltergeists.

 There wasn’t much one could do in terms of Poltergeists. You had to exorcise them if they were attached to a person or find the item they were attached to and destroy it. Finding an item the Poltergeist was attached to was incredibly difficult unless you knew what you were looking for, so it was easier to exorcise one and the space it occupied.

 Dot cursed under her breath, “Shit, we don’t have anything on us equipped to handle a Poltergeist.”

 This much was true. The trip to the new office space was to get their bearings and make plans on how they wanted to operate under a new location. Dot didn’t find the need to take any of their gear if they weren’t going to work that day. Now, she was wishing she had.

 “If it’s not a person, it has to be an item.” Dodger reasoned. “We can at least find it and destroy it.”

 Dot found herself nodding, “Alright. That’s a good idea. How should we do thAT?!” The last word of Dot’s sentence hitched, a high-pitched squeal overtaking her statement at the end as something flew over her head and she ducked as it slammed into another wall. “WOW! I wasn’t STANDING here or anything!”

 “Don’t aggravate it, love.” Dodger whispered, coming over to pull Dot down by the shoulders and they huddled, nearly on their haunches, near the ground. She looked up but all she could see was Dodger’s neck as he peered around them. Taking the lower ground was the best idea when dealing with a Poltergeist since they liked to throw things and since they were tall, they were easier targets most of the time. They both learned that early on.

 “Sorry,” Dot muttered. “I don’t get scared. I get—”

 “Mad, I know.” Dodger looked down and offered her a faint grin. “We’ll have better luck in finding the anchored item if we—”

 “If you say let’s split up, I swear to god.” It was Dot’s turn to interrupt, using her scolding tone and gently mocking his unnamed accent in fake contempt.

 “I do not sound like that,” Dodger stated indignantly but the next instant changed his tone, sounding uncertain. “…Right?”

 “You kind of do,” Dot admitted. Their heads were together now, still semi-whispering despite the situation they were suddenly in. “I’ve been meaning to ask, what kind of accent is that?”

 “Oh, it’s—”

 WHAM!

 A chair lifted off the ground and almost splintered into pieces when it slammed nearby. What Dodger had to say wasn’t as important as the Poltergeist stepping up its game. It seemed intent on scaring them out of their wits and it would have worked on normal people. But Dot and Dodger had been with the Agency for close to ten years now before splitting to deal with these sorts of things on their own. They weren’t amateurs.

 “If we want to stop this poltergeist, we’re going to have to split up.”

 “Goddamn it, Dodge. I said don’t say that!”

 Dodger was already standing up, attempting to veer off into one of the offices. He called over his shoulder, “Remember to look for the signs of resistance. If the Poltergeist puts up more of a fight, you’ve found the room. Then all you have to do is tear it apart.”

 “I know how to do my job!” Dot argued, standing up herself. She had to make a quick duck as a nameplate flew over her head. “GODDAMN IT, SUSAN!”

 From somewhere in another room, Dodger asked, “Please tell me you did not name the Poltergeist.”

 “No, it was the NAMETAG it THREW at me!” Dot argued, looking around. Dodger was already moving to another room and although Dot didn’t like the idea of separating, no matter if the space was large or small, she had to try her best and pull her own weight. She noted Dodger was taking the dangerous route of going further back of the building which allowed her the front rooms to rifle through. She knew he did those sorts of things on purpose—allowed her the easy access of escape, but it didn’t mean shit if he meant to sacrifice himself most times.

 She’d have to scold him for that later. For now, she ducked into one of the side offices and was immediately met with a gust of wind that caused her to rock on her feet and made her eyes water. She squeezed them shut before wiping at them and took a deep breath to steady her nerves. She wasn’t scared, per se, as much as the fact that she wasn’t invincible.

 The point of resistance when coming upon an anchored item was exactly like stepping into a barrier. Normal people and lesser Supernaturals would not be able to discern the difference. To those who were sensitive or trained by the Agency to feel these shifts, the room had a different air somehow and it was where the Poltergeist was strongest; strong enough to lift a grown ass man off the ground and throw them across the room; Dot had to proceed with caution.

 “Dodge! I think I found the room!” she cried out, thrown over her shoulder.

 Another thing about anchored items; they very often do create barriers. Dot’s voice went unheard on the outside. She knew it, too.

 “Shit.” She cursed to herself. There were only two of them and the Poltergeist would have to be guarding this room, no doubt. Even so, Dot wasted no time in tossing it over. White sheets were still draping furniture and boxes of old books and office supplies were arranged unceremoniously across the floor. She could trip if she wasn’t careful. The white sheet she slipped off one of the armchairs made a smooth sliding sound as she pulled it from the leather and tossed it over her shoulder. She could appreciate some of the furniture here given the right circumstances, however, now was not the time. She didn’t seem to be getting anywhere un-sheeting the big stuff; maybe it was in one of the boxes.

 Dot spun around and came face to face with a sheet standing at height, as if concealing a person underneath. It caused her heart to stutter, and she grabbed onto it, yanking it off in a fury. “Goddamn it!” she cursed again, finding nothing underneath. The first time around, dealing with Poltergeists and even demons had scared the shit out of her when they pulled this shit. Now she was more or less used to it—in a way—that she knew it was best to confront these dumb ass pranks first. The real horror, they saved for last.

 She got on her knees and started yanking boxes over, using a long talon nail to cut the tape down the line and whipping open the flaps. She found more books, more pens, more pencils and more paper. At least she knew they wouldn’t be hurting for any of this shit—“Ah! Good shit!” Dot exclaimed once she opened the last box. It was an old typewriter. To the trained eye, like hers, she noted the faint glowing around the item. “Found you!”

 But the Poltergeist wasn’t as happy. As soon as Dot reached in to grab the item around the edges, Dot was lifted off the ground. “FUCK!”

 She hovered there for a good while, slowly turning around in mid-air. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” she started shouting for Dodger despite knowing the barrier wouldn’t carry her voice. She’d have to be outside—and that was exactly what the Poltergeist had in plan for her. Before Dot realized what was happening, she was hurled out of the office.

 Dodger came back into view just in time to see Dot fly out of the office. She was sent hurling towards the Grandfather clock she had named but before impact, she stopped in mid-flight looking as furious at being thrown and as stunned as being caught.

 Dodger rushed over, nearly tripping over furniture and his long limbs in the process. “Are you alright?” he asked, concern clear in his eyes. He stopped short as soon as he realized that Dot had been floating in mid-air and what had been even stranger, saved from being thrown clear across the room. “What… the hell? How did you do that?”

 “Yeah, what the fucking hell! I didn’t do anything!” Dot asked, flapping her arms around. “Am I stuck?!”

 Dodger peered around Dot, seeing that she was inches away from the Grandfather clock. The Poltergeist had clear intent on doing serious harm; there was no telling what would have happened had she actually crashed into the heavy clock. “I… don’t know, to be honest. You seem to be levitating. I mean, in cases of Poltergeists, I suppose this isn’t uncommon, but you would have to be possessed—”

 “I’m sure as fuck not possessed. I’m mad as all hell but I ain’t possessed!”

 “Are you hurt?”

 “What? …Oh, no, I guess not but I’m still mad.”

 “I …didn’t ask that.” Dodger slowly stated as he snapped his gaze up to connect his with Dot. Dot seemed to realize this, too, in her ranting and paled. She started to reach out to Dodger and without hesitation, he met her halfway.

 She swallowed thickly and hated how cliched it sounded but still asked, “…Who asked then?”

 No one said anything else, but Dot could feel herself being righted, her feet touching down on the ground once more as she regained her balance on her own. By then, Dodger had her fully in his grip and he was looking around as if to identify if anyone else was in the room besides a very angry Poltergeist.

 “I did.”

 There was the voice again; soft, almost reserved. No matter where they looked, they couldn’t find any body to which the voice belonged. That was until Dot’s eyes strayed to the Grandfather clock and saw a face peering back at her in the reflection of the glass case.

 “Armand?!” she shrieked in surprise.

 The face smiled. It was kind and Dot could vaguely make out features. She had no idea whether whom she was seeing was either her own reflection or someone else’s. At least, until it made an appearance.

 Something slender and long started to emerge from the Grandfather clock’s casing with flowing white hair that moved like wispy threads of silk and a more ethereal body than physical. Dressed in a simple white gown that might have been a staple for what ghosts had to wear in the afterlife, the figure appeared fully now. Dot could see that the ghost had androgynous features, both masculine and feminine, with full lips and curious eyes. It tilted its head gazing at the two expectantly.

 “Fascinating,” Dodger mused in a quiet tone. He stepped closer, leaning in to get a better look at their new guest. Dot noted now that they stood at nearly the same height. But that might be because the ghost hovered, it might have been shorter as it hunched slightly as if it didn’t want to call attention to itself. That seemed to be true when it shrank back as Dodger took its face between his thumb and forefinger, turning its head from side to side.

 “This is the first time I’m seeing a case like this,” Dodger continued to muse. “cold to the touch. Floats.”

 “I can walk, too.” And as if to prove his claim, the ghost touched down on two feet that seemed to suddenly exist as if it always had it. It also looked solid, like a real person. There was color to its face and all around; a soft, warm color. Sunshine was a term that could be applied to it, Dot thought.

 “Interesting. Also seems to possess a corporeal state. We already know it can emerge through objects. Doesn’t seem to be hostile, a little wimpy, perhaps.”

 “I-I’m not wimpy,” it argued.

 Dot was more prone to gape than analyze like her partner, honestly. But as soon as it protested its wimpy status, she could feel her heart clench in sympathy. “No, of course not.” Dot nodded in agreement and was pleased to see that when the ghost looked over, hope had gathered in its gaze that someone had finally believed that. It urged Dot to continue, “You’re the one that saved me, huh?”

 The ghost nodded, its smile lightening up a touch. That was, until Dodger had to ask, “Why didn’t you make an appearance sooner? And are you aware of the Poltergeist haunting this building? Do you know how long it has been active?”

 The many questions could make anyone’s head spin and it was obvious on the ghost’s face that it had done just that. Dot nudged Dodger and gently scolded him. “Don’t do that. It helped us so the least we can do is not suspect it—” she paused and glanced back at the ghost, “Do you have a name you want us to address you by, dear?”

 There was a pause as a frown overtook its features, “I… forgot my name.”

 Dot placed a hand on her chest, her chest tightening once more. From that simple statement, she could feel the overwhelming emotion of loss and confusion surrounding it. It was almost too much to handle in such a way it emerged; like a wave that had surprised her, appearing overhead in what had once been a sea of calm. If she wasn’t careful and didn’t pay attention, being too caught up in the scenery, she could one day drown.

 Ghosts and their emotions were already strong. No one knew what ghosts were made of and if they were just pure spirit and what that spirit was made of, but emotions are tied strongly in either of them. So, when ghosts felt a range of emotions, empaths were usually taken along for the ride and it could be devastating. Luckily, Dot wasn’t in any risk and she was glad to have a partner like Dodger to explain it for her when she couldn’t.

 “My partner is an empath,” Dodger stated quite cleanly. “Please be aware of what you’re feeling. Sometimes she can feel that tenfold.”

 The surge of emotion coming from the ghost had immediately receded as if catching itself. It looked surprised, casting glances between Dot and Dodger. “Is that why you’re so restrained?”

 Dot had to laugh. Dodger looked more puzzled than insulted. She had never heard anyone refer to Dodger as “restrained” before; cold, perhaps. Unfeeling. Controlled. Sometimes a dick when he spoke bluntly. But the ghost had put it so… politely.

 “Dodge is… Dodge,” she said as if that explained it. Dodger took it that way, at least. The ghost just looked even more confused but smiled.

 “As for what you’re asking, I don’t have a name and I don’t know the Poltergeist personally.” The ghost looked a little lost again, looking around this way and that as if understand its surroundings for the first time. Once content with looking around as Dot and Dodger quietly waited for it to continue, it finally admitted, “I’ve emerged because she needed my help. I was… a little scared before. I’m sorry for that.”

 “Thank you for that,” Dot said again with a wealth of appreciation. “for helping me. You didn’t have to but you did and you did a good thing.” She had to convince herself to turn away from the ghost’s weepy look at being praised to turn to face Dodger and explain, “I happened to find its anchored item and it didn’t like that very much.”

 Dodger looked surprised, “Great work.”

 “Wow, you don’t need to look at me like that. I can accomplish things, too.”

 “No, you misunderstood—” Dodger began to flutter around, looking for a better way to phrase his impression. “I meant, I didn’t expect us to find it that fast. But it’s to be expected you would have.”

 Dot grinned and said playfully, “I was kidding. But thanks for the compliment. Always seem to know how to inflate my ego.” Then she turned back to the ghost who was still looking at her as if she had paid it the greatest of honors by the praise, “And just when I was about to take it out of its dumb little box and smash it on the ground, it thought it might funny and smash me against Armand.”

 The ghost followed Dot’s gaze as she gestured towards the Grandfather clock with her head.

 “Or, em, your home, I guess.” She finished.

 “You named my home?” it asked. Before Dot had the chance to answer, it seemed breaktime was over because the Poltergeist came back with a vengeance. Everything in the main room had started to rattle as if it were threatening to come flying off the ground. Granted the power this Poltergeist had to attempt throw Dot across the room, it could very well start whapping items left and right.

 Case in point, Dodger and Dot ducked just in time as a few pencils from the barrier room came flying at them at high velocity. They went right through the ghost and stuck into the wall behind it.

 The ghost looked surprised, “…Um, was I supposed to duck, too?”

 Dodger replied dryly, “You’re safe. Perhaps safer than both of us.”

 Dot’s eyes widened, “That’s it!” she snapped her fingers, trying to call attention to the ghost without a name. “Augh, Armand, Jr!”

 The ghost cast a surprised glance at her, pointing at himself. He seemed to be on the verge of smiling, “Did… Did I just get named? Is that my name now?”

 “Yes, whatever you like, honey!” Dot said in a hurry, trying to get her point across. She figured she’d sort this out later when ghosts stopped throwing things at them. “You need to go into that room and grab the typewriter! I need you to smash it, break it however you can!”

 Dot’s idea was grand and in no way would any of them get hurt in the process. But she also said her plan aloud and the Poltergeist did not like that one bit. It was funny for how a formless entity who liked to act like the biggest bitch on the planet could also pitch one of the biggest fits when it doesn’t get its way. And that was something Dot was going to put on her report, too.

 Armand, Jr. didn’t need to think over this plan before the place started to lose control. The specter floated across the room, coming face to face with the door slamming shut in front of him. But Armand Jr. was a ghost and could easily pass through said doors. It only seemed to anger the Poltergeist even more.

 If before Dot and Dodger had been unsure whether the Poltergeist could pick up whole pieces of furniture and fling it across the room without a care, they had their proof now. It was like living in a storm. Loose sheets of paper, pens, and pencils twirled around the room in mini-tornados while the bigger pieces of furniture ominously hovered over their heads. At this point, Dot and Dodger had to find refuge under the larger pieces of furniture before they get hit with the other big pieces like a couch from the breakroom waltzing in like it owned the place.

 “Next time, we confer in private about how to destroy Poltergeists,” Dodger commented.

“Does this mean we’re giving this place up?” Dot asked, having to raise her voice over the sudden shriek of what she could only describe as violence overhead.

 “We can’t get a refund. We’re stuck with it.”

 “Well shit. We better hope this works. I’m not staying in here with a fussy Poltergeist!”

 As soon as she said that, all the furniture and miscellaneous shit floating over their heads crashed to the ground like heavy hail. It shook the floor and then, silence. Very slowly, Dot peered out from under a desk while Dodger did the same.

 “Do you think he did it?” Dot asked.

 “The ghost?”

 “Armand, Jr.”

 “Right. Ah, I assume so.” Dodger said, taking a cautious look around. It was eerily quiet. If Armand, Jr. was going to come out of the room, he would have done it by now. And Dot had the same thought. She started to get worried.

 “Crap, do you think something happened to him?”

 “He’s a ghost. What more could possibly happen to him?”

 Dot gestured. Of course, there were many different things that could happen to him but the things she was thinking about required equipment from their previous Agency and a priest. They had neither on the grounds. “What if he fell through the ground?”

 Dodger didn’t look at her as if what she said was silly; he never did. Instead, he met her statement with serious consideration. “If that happened, he would merely float right back up.”

 And that seemed to put Dot at ease, “Oh. Right.”

 “He’s right, you know.” Armand, Jr. spoke from behind Dot, enough to give her a little startled jump. She was so happy to see him, she threw her arms over his shoulders. It was a good thing Armand, Jr. was corporeal at that moment otherwise she would have gone through him.

 “You did it!”

 Dot could feel a feather light touch land on her back. She wasn’t sure what it was but assumed it was his hand. Secondly, she couldn’t believe she was hugging a ghost. But she was just so damn proud; she knew partly it was her own emotion but since her words on Armand, Jr’s ears, his emotion only bolstered hers. He was incredibly susceptible to praise, she was finding out. If anything, it made her want to praise him more but also, protect him from being taken advantage of like he’d most likely be.

 Pulling away, she held Armand, Jr. at arm’s length, “I’ve decided, you’re hired!”

 She could hear both Dodger and Armand, Jr. ask with varying degrees of “What?” both confusion and disbelief. But Dot already made up her mind and it sounded like the best plan for all of them all around.

 “Someone needs to keep an eye on Armand, Jr—whom we’ll just shorten to Armand—but it also gives us our receptionist!”

 “But he’s a ghost…” Dodger pointed out.

 “He has a corporeal form.” Dot counter-argued. “And how was that different from working with the Agency? If we’re not a mix of Supernatural and humans, what’s the point?”

 That was enough for Dodger, apparently.

 “Good point. He also seems willing to do anything for praise.”

 “…Oh, you saw that, too?”

 “Kind of hard not to.”

 “That doesn’t mean you take advantage of him.” Dot scolded. When Dodger didn’t answer, Dot scolded again. “I mean it. Dodge. Dodge.” More silence, “Dodger.”

 “Armand,” Dodger brushed by Dot’s scolding as he usually did in their five years of partnership otherwise, he’d been able to get nothing done if he obediently obeyed her all this time. He was only half-joking when he said, “You’d be a very good boy if you clean up this entire office.”

 Armand, Jr. who had been confused but intently listening suddenly perked up with a newfound energy. Dodger immediately recognized his mistake when he looked at Dot.

 “Guess who’s going to be helping him?”

 Dodger cleared his throat, “Gladly.”

[it-will-not-last-the-night]

Blegh

In terms of Persona 5 I’d been riding high mostly since P5D. I’d been positive mostly over it because P5D and fan-generated content had been lovely overall and really engaging and enjoyable. It had helped me forget that the main game itself seriously does upset me at times and I have a less than ideal opinion of it.

*Sigh*

Now I’m starting to feel like that again. Both announcements of today have left brought back to mind some of my biggest problems with Persona 5 and the way Atlus writes in general. What are they? A bit of a lesson then in me;

For myself there are three events in Persona 5 that I really REALLY just consider outright despicable. In no order they are; 1) Two homosexual adult males being negatively stereotyped as child molesters targeting Ryuji 2) Ryuji’s friends responding to one of the greatest acts of selflessness in the entire story by physically abusing Ryuji and 3) The Valentine’s Day event making Canon that Akira/Ren is horrible, Sojiro is horrible and that Atlus thinks all the girls are vapid idiots. 

‘Magical Valentine’ raises an issue I’ve always had but makes it even more forceful. You see in the game the Valentine’s Event is only ‘optionally’ canon. You can play a canonical run-through and not have it occur. So you can, legitimately, without needing headcanon or fanon, just have your own canon playthrough in which the girls are not vapid idiots. The anime however, now, makes it that, for the Animation, it is canon that Akira/Ren is an awful person and that the girls are vapid idiots. Oh and that Sojiro is just literally the worst like...like he is scum in this event. As bas as Akira/Ren is (and he’s bad in this version!) the bigger problem I think a LOT of people forget about the Valentine’s Harem Route is that it literally casts Sojiro as a Guardian of Futaba who would lie to conceal her boyfriend’s infidelities...even when said infidelities LITERALLY CAUSE FUTABA TO CRY! 

So the animation is now making it canon that; 1) Akira/Ren sees no reason he has to be honest or forthright with any females in his life 2) Sojiro holds such low regard for his daughter he will aide Akira/Ren in an ongoing deception and emotional manipulation of her RIGHT AFTER SHE OVERCAME A SUICIDAL PHASE OF HER LIFE and 3) That Ann, Makoto, Futaba, Haru, Takemi, Kawakami, Ohya, Hifumi and Chihaya all fall in love with the exact same person and are literally when confronted with incontervertible evidence of his infedilities not only tricked into instantly accepting that them all bringing him chocolate on Valentine’s Day was a ‘misunderstanding’ but, in the case of the Phantom Thieves members, this has so little impact on them that mere days later they have no reaction.

AKA the ending Valentine’s Harem Route basically says: “Akira/Ren successfully cheated on all the girls in his life, and is free to continue to do so since they are so stupid that they could be convinced to assume it was a ‘misunderstanding’ even under the most blatantly false of pretext,” the ending basically gives carte blanche to say that Akira/Ren will probably keep cheating on the women in his life because, well, they’re so stupid that even if they all end up right in front of him, confessing their love for him to each other’s faces...they somehow think this was a ‘misunderstanding’?

That’s gonna be canon now for the animation. Not ‘optional’ canon, just...just outright canon. Literally everything in the Canon is soured now. Did you like Ren’s bond with Ann in the foregoing episodes? Well bad news; Ren literally is willing to commit to an intimate relationship with her and then emotionally cheat on her with several different women at once. Did you like how Ren played a pivotal role in building Futaba’s character and helping her grow out of her emotional turmoil? Well sucks for you cause Ren is literally willing to lie to this girl’s face and tell her he loves her whilst carrying on behind her back with numerous other women.

It sort of goes without saying that this kinda wrecks P5A completely since, canonically, Akira/Ren is now just an irredeemable asshole and the female characters are reduced to stock harem-style idiot love interests with basically 0 individuality because everyone has to love the Protagonist (self-insert!).

But when you think about it even in the original game...this was a problem. Sure you could choose not to do it...but you could also choose to do it. This means, technically, as far as Atlus’ writing is concerned, canonically Akira/Ren has it in him to be a complete asshole with no respect for women or his friends...and the females in the game are all vapid idiots. That’s technically canon since that’s required for the Valentine’s Route to work.

Oh, also, that Sojiro is the worst. The worst.

The Valentine’s Harem Event, like the Ryuji abusing event post Shido’s Palace. does irrevocable damage to the characters and the content itself, kinda ruining it since for it to be canon...well it means the characters are terrible people or stupid. Why I sort of have to choose to ignore them to actually like the story.

Of course what does all this writing have in common? It’s a JOKE! Haha! Ryuji’s being abused, isn’t this funny? Haha! The girls are all vapid idiots and Joker’s such a chick magnet they have no varying tastes in partner at all! Haha! Gay men want to force Ryuji to undress for them! 

Isn’t this funny? I mean, no, of course not. In almost all these cases the ‘humour’ is...someone suffering. A common retort I then see is; it’s not canon, its just for a joke.

But the problem is it is, all, strictly canon. I could definitely understand if these things were packaged as clear ‘not canon’ events. 

Here’s an example; the Blazblue game series has ‘joke’ endings which are explicitly not canon but usually feature bizarre or ‘funny’ scenes. One of said scenes is a reoccuring bit in which the protagonist Ragna is made to wear glasses that causes the female cast to all fall in love with him. Putting aside the fact for the moment that, to me, this still isn’t funny since its treating the Mind Rape of the entire female cast as a ‘joke’ the fact remains that it is, however, not canon. The creators make sure that nothing that happens here technically infringes on or diminished the canon character content by making it explicitly non-canon.

Persona 5, both the game and now the Animation, take no such efforts. There are no efforts to make clear that Ryuji being beaten up is a ‘comedic non-canon overreaction’ or that Akira/Ren being a womanizing prick and Sojiro being the WORST are just ‘comedic non-canon skits’ all these are played as explicitly, irrefutably, canon. That is how the characters are, as far as Atlus is concerned. That is their opinions, their beliefs etc.

Is it weird that P5 Dancing has the best, most wholesome, most healthy characterization of the entire Persona 5 Franchise? I suppose maybe the mangas are good to, I must admit I’ve never read any of them since from what I can tell Ryuji is basically ignored in all of them in favour of focus on the girls.

Atlus has a writing problem and that problem is centered I fear on a simple fact; the protagonist is a self-insert who is assumed to be a self-insert for a very specific formula; a young male who sees female characters as things he wishes to collect for himself and wants to feel adored by. Almost all of the major writing problems stem from this; Girls seem exploited or turned into vapid haremettes? Well, obviously, gotta appeal to that ‘chick magnet’ fantasy. Homosexuality is cast as negative or frightning? Well, obviously, the fantasy being appealed to is explicitly heterosexual in nature, everything else is ‘icky’. Other males seem to constantly be the butt of a joke or consistently shown up compared to the protagonist? Naturally since the fantasy is about making the player feel like��‘the man’ and all other men are simply lame by comparison so that the girls will only love the protagonist (the self-insert).

What really bums me out about all of this is that Atlus can write such amazing scenes as Ryuji’s ‘the place I belong is next to you,’ but then in that same game or anime have the Valentine’s Event and the Ship scene. I imagine in part this is due to it being a game first, story second, so they feel there are ‘beats’ that need to be there (the loser must be made fun of, the protagonist must get all the girls) even if, from a storyboarding point of view...it just makes the characters look A) Very inconsistent in personality and attitude (Ren’s infamous standing up for a stranger being assaulted but then instantly refusing to step in to help Ryuji in Shinjuku) or B) Like massive asshats (The entire Valentine’s Event from Ren and Sojiro’s perspectives.

It is just...its sad. I want to like this story because there is legitimately good characters and writing but...in the name of appealing to the lowest common denominator it gets weighted down by stuff which is explicitly canon and makes the characters awful. 

It really makes it tough to like it at times.

*Sigh*

At the end of the day I don’t know how to handle this. Accepting its canon makes a lot of people awful or stupid. Headcanoning it away is fine but...then I gotta accept I don’t like Persona 5 per say, I like what I, or other fans, create from Persona 5.

Also can we please just be able to date Ryuji. Please Atlus. We don’t need another female character to be another fangirl for Joker, to be another vapid idiot who can be duped by the WORST Sojiro, please Atlus, please. Please. There are ENOUGH love interests Atlus, please try perhaps instead stop treating women like little toys for a protagonist to effortlessly collect and dupe. 

Watching all the Persona 5 Girls (sans Sae) in the Valentine’s Event is painful. They are characters I like, many of them have good writing...and then they are reduced to props to make a player feel “Oh yeah! Such a chick magnet! They all want me! Women are simply a commodity by which I inflate my own sense of self-worth since having multiple of them attracted to me and betrayed by me makes me feel as if this is a positive development and not a negative one!”

And I do mean that seriously. Look at most content or statements around the Valentine’s Event. They frame it positively. The ‘harem’ ending, Joker is such a ‘chick magnet’ and so ‘alpha’ etc. etc. 

Terrible emotional betrayal? Deep seated trust issues? Sojiro treating his own daughter like garbage? Ignored because ‘Joker is a PLAYER! WOOO!” And this is overall seen as a positive development. 

By now I’ve rambled on ridiculously long but if I must have a conclusion it is thus; Please give us a Female Protagonist who can date the other boys and stop selling this sexist approach where non-protagonist males and all females serve the same purpose; inflating the ego of the player character. 

[daydreaming-away-reality]

Cyborg [Chapter 3]

Steve Rogers x Reader | ☁️ + 🌠 + ✨ | 1.7k | Cyborg!Reader

[ Cyborg Masterlist ]

Steve had gone to talk with Sam, but you had froze near the entryway. Various alerts about a car chase, the police and accidents were filling your news feed. Through your live satellite feed, you could tell the vehicle belonged to SHIELD.

Judging by the way Director Fury was blocking your contact, you couldn’t help but worry. Could it be that he was driving that vehicle?

The satellite feed made you do a double take - you zoomed in to see a lone figure standing in the path of the vehicle. Connecting to various satellites, you tried to see if you could run recognition on the figure.

Nothing.

“(Y/N)?”

You startled, seeing Steve giving you a look of concern. Beside him, Sam mirrored the same look.

“I’m okay,” you replied cheerfully. Pushing the information all to the back of your mind, you offered them a bright smile. “It’s nice to see you’re doing well, Sam.”

“Yeah, same with you.”

Steve's blue eyes lingered on you, almost as if he could see through your façade.

“Well, I think its time for (Y/N) and I to get going,” Steve announced. “We’ll see you around sometime.”

“Take care, Captain, (Y/N).” Sam said with a wave.

While walking out to his motorcycle, Steve turned back to you. “Sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” you replied, putting on your helmet. Steve always insisted that you wear a helmet, even when he didn’t. “Just getting a lot of information. Don’t worry about it. Where do you want to grab dinner?”

“I saw a diner a while back,” Steve said, thinking back to a place he passed by. “Unless you want to try something else -”

“That sound perfect,” you answered with a smile. “Let’s give it a try, Steve.”

Steve climbed onto the motorcycle and you followed in suit, holding onto Steve’s side. It wasn’t until you felt a slight tug on your wrist that you wrapped your arms around his torso.

“Hold on tight, (Y/N).”

Even though it was because he wanted you to secure on this ride, Steve couldn’t help but feel his heart flutter a bit as you rested your head against his back. Starting up the motorcycle, his mind flickered back to Natasha’s words for a moment.

“(Y/N). I can see the way you look at her, she means the world to you. You're never to busy for her either.”

The red haired spy wasn’t wrong. Steve, like the rest of the Avengers, had grown an attachment to you after getting to know you. Even though you hadn’t been physically present during his initial two years coming back, you always been there for him.

Since New York and you moving in, he couldn’t help but adore you more. His blue eyes would always follow your cheerful figure as you did your best to help him maintain the apartment. You also put up with his night terrors, showing up to wake him from his nightmares and letting him stay in your warm embrace until he could calm down.

You were more than a roommate and an assistant. Close friends almost seemed like an understatement - sometimes you seemed like a younger sister to him. That wasn’t what Steve wanted to label you as though.

Steve wondered if he would have the courage to ask you out one day.

Because seeing you by his side felt right.

It wasn’t long before the two of you showed up at the diner. A friendly waitress greeted you with a warm smile matching the atmosphere of the place.

“Welcome! Table for two?”

“Yes, thank you,” Steve replied.

She guided the two of you to a table and you looked around the diner. It gave off vibes of the “good old days” which made you smile because this definitely seemed like the place Steve would come to.

After ordering your food, you looked up to see Steve’s blue eyes staring into your (E/C) ones. Your heart picked up a little and all those feeds and thoughts in your mind stopped for a moment.

“Thanks for accompanying me around everywhere today,” Steve spoke up softly. “I hope I haven’t troubled you by having you follow me places.”

“I’d follow you anywhere,” you whispered. A faint blush rose to your cheeks and you tried to regulate your heating to stop it. Steve had similar response, but you didn’t notice. Looking down, you clenched your hands into fists. “Have I ever told you about my past?”

Steve shook his head, surprised. You always dropped silent when he asked, becoming super vague and tried to avoid the topic. What made you want to talk about it now?

“I was in an accident - a fatal one,” you murmured just loud enough for Steve to hear. “I was barely a month old back then. I... wasn’t supposed to survive. But my parents did everything they could to keep me alive, including use the material with their lab. It was a miracle that I am still alive.”

You paused, thinking of the reoccurring message you kept getting.

Protect Steve.

Taking a deep breath, you turned your (E/C) eyes back to Steve.

“The world gave me the opportunity to make a difference. That’s what I want to do.”

Hearing the sincerity in your words, Steve nodded. He felt a similar drive keeping him going.

“I believe in you, (Y/N),” Steve said.

Before he could say anything else, the waitress came back to serve your food. The conversation from there became more lighthearted. Steve shared his fond memories with Bucky and you listened enraptured by these adventures.

By the time you finished, Steve, being the gentleman he was, offered pay. The waitress looked between the two of you, a sparkle in her eyes.

“I hope you enjoyed your meal today! I think you two make an adorable couple by the way,” she commented. 

You opened your mouth to protest but she was already going to tend to some new customers.

Steve noticed you and chuckled. “I hope that doesn’t offend you, (Y/N).” 

You shook your head as the two of you left the diner. “Does it bother you?”

“Not at all.”

Heading up the steps of the apartment, you noticed the nurse who lived across the hall from the two of you. She was chatting away on the phone while balancing a basket of laundry. For some reason, she seemed familiar to you, but you couldn’t name why.

Hanging up, she offered Steve a smile. “My aunt, she’s a bit of an insomniac.”

Steve glanced at the basket. “Hey, if you want, if you want, you could use my machine. It might be cheaper than the one in the basement.”

You blinked, looking over at Steve. He just offered you a warm smile and reached over to squeeze your hand. Knowing Steve, he was just trying to be a friendly neighbour.

“Oh yeah, what’s it cost?”

“A cup of coffee,” Steve replied. 

The nurse smiled and looked away, catching sight of your intertwined hands. 

“Thank you, but I already have a load in downstairs, and you really don’t want my scrubs in your machine. I just finished my shift in the in infections and disease warrant.”

“Ah, I’ll keep my distance,” Steve said.

“Hopefully not too far.”

You turned towards Steve’s apartment and noticed sounds coming from within. Letting go of Steve, you stood so your back faced them as you closed your eyes. Almost like flicking through lenses, your eyes glowed blue as you opened them, activating x-ray vision. Someone was in the apartment - someone familiar.

You blinked, letting your eyes go back to their normal (E/C) colour.

“Oh, and I think you left your stereo on.”

“Oh, right. Thank you.”

Steve moved to your side, noticing the music playing within as well.

“(Y/N)?”

“Someone’s inside,” you murmured.

Steve nodded, gently grasping your wrist and pulled you after him to the fire escape. Sneaking along the side of the building, Steve gave you a boost to get through the window before following you in.

Grabbing his shield, Steve gestured for you to follow him. It wasn’t until he spotted Fury that the Captain relaxed slightly.

“I don’t remember giving you a key.”

“You really think I’d need one? My wife kicked me out.”

“Didn’t know you were married.”

Exchanging a look with Steve, you both moved into the living room slowly.

“A lot of things you don’t know about me.”

“I know, that’s the problem.”

When Steve flicked on the light, the sight of Fury’s injuries made you falter but Fury turned the light back off. 

Director Fury typed a message and showed it to you both.

‘EARS EVERYWHERE’

“I’m sorry I had to do this, but I had no place else to crash.”

‘SHIELD COMPROMISED’

“Who else knows about your life?”

‘ONLY US.’

“Just my friends,” Fury replied. 

“Is that what we are?”

“That’s up to you.”

Shoots rang out and Fury fell forward. Steve instinctively pulled you close, protecting you with his shield. Thoughts were flying around your head. Fury was the one in the vehicle attack and was confronted by some sort of metal armed assassin. You could hear the shots, your brain calculating the distance the shots were coming from.

Once the bullets stopped, Steve pulled Fury’s body aside.

Fury handed a USB drive to Steve. 

“Don’t... trust anyone...”

There was banging and the door burst open. You instinctively threw up an electromagnetic shield keep in front of both Steve and you.

“Captain Rogers,” the nurse from next door called out. “I’m Agent Thirteen from SHIELD special service.”

“What?”

“I’ve been assigned to protect you.” Her eyes flickered over to you. “Who are you?”

“His roommate,” you replied. Lowering your own shield, you moved closer to Steve. Using the SHIELD database, you did a quick search for her and found her file - Sharon Carter, great niece of Peggy.

“On whose order?” Steve interrupted.

She looked down at Fury. “His.”

As she reported finding the Director, you nudged Steve, pointing to the flash of movement out the window. Another voice broke the silence.

“Do we have a twenty on the shooter?”

“Tell him, I’m in pursuit.” Steve declared, lifting his shield and jumping out of the window.

Watching Steve take off, you headed towards the front door, making satellite connections. This was finally your chance to be in action.

There was no way you were missing out on it.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

here’s me talking about the month since i was last online

firstly it was/is depressing not to be able to talk with ppl or hear from them. or just to be able to talk somewhere i know people CAN hear. i also mentioned being completely detached from the news. i like to be current about the news. anyways i was like “well not like this is anything new” as its technically unusual for me to NOT be cut off both irl and from the internet. but, shockingly, that doesnt make it not depressing. and having something for even a bit makes it more frustrating to lose it even if its “normal” for you not to have it. also by depressing i mean i was going like hmm i sure am even more tired than usual and i am less interested in my few lingering faint interests. whats up with that! and then i was like oh yeah thats called Even More Depression

it is funny because im someone who has never really had that many friends and when i do we often end up separated one way or another. Very Close friends &/or Very Longtime friends are a foreign concept. basically the heights of my “what i wish it was like” for life involve having a group of friends with whom you can have fun in an empty parking lot in the middle of the night just talking and hanging out and messing around. friends that you feel comfortable being yourself around and like they appreciate you as much as you do them. i do not think this is ever going to happen, but oh well because in reality i can be very picky about people because i am weird, to put it that way for now. my social landscape and language is not always considered normal or even tolerable. and i have a lot of standards for who i want to have around me in terms of traits and personality. theres a lot of things im not interested in. anyways. i also just, in the way things actually are, often prefer to be alone, so that i can be myself and do things i feel like. i dont have to worry about being strange or feeling like i need to please people. anyways. unfortunately i dont ONLY like being alone. i actually really like to be with people and talk with them but i rarely can, and i figure this is bad for me. isolation isnt good for anyone obviously. not being able to be around friends in person depresses me. not being able to talk online either depresses me further.

i think sometimes about how much i dont say. its a funny place to say it, in an overly long text post. but one of the reasons they can be so long is because irl i dont really talk much to people. so it builds up and can come out through writing. sometimes it comes out in talking. i think that in conversations, when i do talk, i talk too much because of this. so one of the reasons i dont talk much is to prevent this, which obviously is like “well that would just cancel out” but there are other reasons i dont talk. but i have loads of thoughts and things to say. i end up keeping so much of it to myself and wonder sometimes if i’ll ever get to say some of it. sometimes i’ll have something to say and bite it back. i’ve been “quiet” all these past twenty some years of talking and i know the reasons i dont talk. i was thinking about the feeling of biting something back in an individual occasion feeling like the cumulation of all the years worth of keeping my own voice running in my head alone. it kind of feels like what you want to say is in your chest and throat and the roof of your mouth.

speaking of the roof of your mouth, theres a weird sensation i can feel sometimes, seemingly at random but mostly in strange times like trying to fall asleep. it is so transient and unlike any actual externally caused sensations that its been difficult to try to get a grasp of how to describe it, but i think i have it thanks to ongoing effort and an unusually long period of it a few days ago during which i was especially alert about it. it’s like having a pressure radiating out from inside your mouth. like an orb pushing outwards against the teeth and roof of the mouth. which i’m fairly sure isn’t anything that would ever happen, so i am assuming its some little neurological hiccup that happens to align every now and then, but maybe a previous life cycle has put something weird in their mouth. or shot into it, because i would be like, well not much has changed.

anyways. words sitting like a pressure in your mouth. i was seeing a thread about how grief is ongoing and reoccurring which also mentioned that people who specialize in knowing how grieving and living with it works often consider it to be a form of grief when someone’s life is affected by something like trauma. they have to grieve themselves because of the possibilities taken away from them. i feel that, sometimes. thinking about how i wish i had a life where i felt free to speak and where my identity mattered and i got to feel like i could be myself and it was important and it was important what i thought and wanted and who i really was. and where i got to have friends and do things and realize what it was to actually feel happy, not try to understand an unhappy existence as what must be okay. its not just what couldve been in the past, but also how that couldve affected the present and future. im not sure who i’d be if my life didnt have to be about survival and escape. i say i never had dreams, which is true, but in retrospect i DO think that when i was fifteen and really bearing down in trying to figure out what i wanted to do, i was already seeing activism as the answer, which made sense why it wouldnt register as a dream or ambition and why it was also impossible to pursue. i still dont think of anything like personal fulfillment through a career/job or anything. but i also dont think of what i want to do as very relevant to anything at all anymore.

anyways. i’m “used” to things, but they still depress and hurt me. i actually have a lot of sadness and anger about some of these things, like never getting to have the friends i wanted or never being able to speak and it not mattering who i really was, and how long it took me to realize this really wasn’t okay and it wasn’t because of some personal deficiency which made me deserve it somehow. also the abuse. i remember i had this how-to book about weaving friendship bracelets which i got sometime in elementary school, and it even supplied some twine and stuff. i had always wanted to have occasion to use it, and i never did, which is just symbolic. the twine/potential friendship bracelets can also be things like positive social connections that feel real and open, or my ability to feel secure in expressing affection because it seems mutual. but anyways. i also just go along.

i was thinking about the Being Gone For A Month thing and the not-talking and holding all my words back even though i think so much about all sorts of junk and thus have too much to say, and about a week ago i just spent like six hours writing about myself. i was debating doing so in the first place because i figured i wouldnt post it. i did write it, but i won’t post it. its just good to talk to myself in the form of writing. getting thoughts into that form requires an extra level of analysis and coherent flow that can help put even things you already knew more in order. so here’s this stuff instead.

there’s not much to say about this past month. the worst of it was that discovering my weird tooth is all janky and broken has made me on edge about teeth. i mean, i’ve already all but stopped worrying about the broke tooth, because i kind of do that sometimes when i can. just worry hard and then stop, because what can you do? might as well try to avoid stressing even worse. and in this case i dont have money and doubt i will ever have a job w dental coverage, so i cant do anything about it. but im always worried about my teeth because, fittingly, my parents dental genes seem to combine into that of a tasmanian devil. i think im in some Dental Report b/c i had this weird situation that needed basically a root canal but it wasnt the normal kind of root canal situation and the dentist said he hadn’t seen it or heard of it even. special. i was horrified about needing the root canal, because of the clichés. but it ended up being fine and i really just sat there for an hour thinking about whatever. dental procedures are truly not what theyre hyped up to be. on account of local anesthetics. anyways. when i left my parents house i was specifically worried about leaving my access to a dentist, but obviously it wouldve been far from worth it. but that doesn’t mean i dont worry about my teeth. so i had these few days where i just had a spontaneously sensitive gum spot and another one which im guessing i caused by jamming corn shards down in there by eating corn on the cob. that happened sort of last year, i got really worried about an angry-looking spot on my gums and finally realized something was just up in there that needed to be flossed out. anyhow. the point is i got overly worried about everything that always worries me even though it used to worry me even before going to the dentist and they’d say the stuff was fine actually. but still. i got

very worried for a minute there and i realized very easily that if i start getting any really serious tooth problems i am out of here. i have no motivation at all to live through it. i don’t want to have to deal with that. it’s way too much. i dont even have motivation to be alive now. but when i was worrying i was thinking about not using my handful of cash to change locations, but instead to get some fancy Dying Equipment. there are still some methods by which im not sure i could try offing myself. but if things got a lot worse, like teeth problems, i could probably lower those standards. i COULD obtain some items for one method, or by necessity do it for free. im less worried about the tooth stuff now. it was just an unfortunate convergence of a couple tiny things. but ive still got a sensitive spot or two, and im always a bit worried. if something bad happens i cant do anything about it except get tf out of this life cycle, right.

there was something else unfortunate i was going to talk about. maybe just the depression.

there were nice, small things. i always knew how to enjoy those kinds of stuff. i like the sky, and i appreciate that its summer. theres a lot of fireflies sometimes and i saw kittens chasing them one day. one of those kittens mightve gotten killed by something since. i got to hear rain on the roof a few times. i like corn on the cob even if it betrayed me. i was wanting some last summer. i also got to make sweet tea and lemonade for the first time in forever. i’d been wanting that for a long time too.

the nicest surprise was that i had been writing extra hard since the start of june. i sort of really pushed at it and got to the dividing point between the section and the next, and i was sure it was shorter than previous sections. but actually it was just over 1000 words short of being 140k, and i’d written it all in about five weeks, and it was abt 22.5% longer than the next longest section i’d written. i’ve since gotten to a point i’ve been writing towards since this whole time, and im right on the verge of another long awaited one right now. it’s nice, but writing has been fun, and i hope i dont get depressed if i hopefully do finish it. i can just write some more, but doing so on my phone isnt the most efficient. it doesnt seem sustainable.

anyways thats it for now before i can think of anything else to say am i right