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mcmoth · 4 years ago

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Dream SMP fandom etiquette

So. This post is probably too little, too late, considering the fandom and the issues I'm about to talk about have existed for so long now, and a lot of the people who need to hear this probably aren't on tumblr anyways, but I just wanted to dedicate a quick post to talk about fandom etiquette. Mostly pertaining to discourse, and interactions with people outside of our circle. These are just going to be my own personal thoughts, of course, but I felt it could be good to bring some of this to attention. So without further introduction:

Where to (not) talk about discourse:

Don't go into other streamer's vods to only focus about a different character. If you want to analyse, for example, c!Techno, do it in Techno's stream. Don't go into unrelated streams, like Tommy's, Tubbo's etc. to do it, even if they were a part of the event in question. This is, of course, with the exception if the character in question didn't stream their own pov. But otherwise, stay in your own space. This is to prevent cluttering a streamer's comments about unrelated discussion. To give further example: Tubbo's vod comments should primarily focus on Tubbo's character. Not Tommy's, Ranboo's, Techno's or whoever else's.

Don't start discourse in the comments of animatics. Seriously, stop that. Animatics aren't discussion boards. The comments are there to analyse and appreciate the video presented, not argue. It's especially rude if you pick a small detail, that wasn't even the focus of the animatic, or even a completely unrelated issue to rant out your frustrations about. To give examples: starting disc discourse in an animatic of Tommy talking to Wilbur, or rambling about how tragic Techno's character is in an animatic focused on clingy duo, etc.

This applies to fan songs as well.

Video essays are the exception to these rules. I think it's safe to say they're the place to bring your hot takes, if you really feel so inclined to argue in youtube comment sections (Though I'd personally advise to still keep the topic relevant).

Keep negativity out of fanfic comments. This isn't nearly as big of an issue as the last points, but I've seen it happen a couple times, so I'm deciding to mention it. Fanfics are written for fun. Even if you disagree with the characterisation or something else, unless the author is clear in accepting critique, keep criticism to yourself. And definitely don't rant about how you dislike a character unrelated to the fanfic. Sharing your thoughts on the fanfic itself is of course fine and welcomed, but when it turns from discussing the author's story to talking about how you dislike a character in canon, that's when it crosses a line. Example: comment talking about what you don't like about c!Tommy on a Bench Trio fanfiction.

When commenting on art, keep the feedback positive. Even if you dislike any presented character, keep that to yourself. Example: Don't say things like "I hate x character, but this art is good". You might think the author would feel honoured, but it's actually just hurtful.

How to deal with discourse:

This is gonna be a shorter section, because I think we all chose to do it in different ways, and that's valid. Also, it's just that I, myself, am still learning how to do this well, but I thought it could be good to try to lay it out anyways.

Try to scroll past takes you disagree with instead of arguing if you don't think you'd be able to keep your cool. Noone likes a random person yelling at them through a screen, and if you rant, you'll get an equally frustrated reply back, and noone will be happy. Either explain your point in a calm manner, or scroll past/ unfollow/block.

On the keeping cool thing, remember to just step away. Take a deep breath and calm yourself down before proceeding. To minimize the frustration you feel on a daily basis, filter tags, block people, avoid videos and youtube comment sections that you know will upset you, and leave certain internet spaces if you find yourself unable to escape negativity even with all those steps. Remember: in the end, it's all a game played by friends, a story, and your enjoyment of it lies in what you take from it. Abandon what makes you unhappy. Marie Kondo your fandom experience.

Also, here's your reminder, to whom this is relevant, to take care of yourself. Hydrate, eat, sleep, clean up, get fresh air, remember the things outside of all this. There's plenty to do outside of this fandom, and what you can do here can wait. There is no pressure, or obligation. Not for the content you create, not for the discussions you bring, not for responding to discourse, not for anything. Fandom is meant purely for fun, so take care <3

Interacting with people outside of the fandom:

This is something that I've seen a bit of talk about, and I thought I'd drop in my own thoughts on this as well. No matter the differences, we're all just trying to vibe, and I think these are important things to keep in mind to leave both sides better off:

Don't interact with hate posts. Just don't. You don't want to see them, they don't want to see you. Even if your response is lighthearted, their animosity is not. They will feel frustrated regardless, and the grudge will only grow. And if they're being agressive, calm discussion most likely won't happen even if you're being polite. Just leave it, please.

Correct misinformation calmly. I completely get how it can be frustrating to see blatant lies and all, but with our reputation, people will not listen if you're being antagonistic. Provide sources, explain, and leave it at that.

Don't be hateful, send death threats, or assume privilege or whatever else. That's stepping into the same shoes of the people you hate. Misunderstandings go both ways, and the fact of the matter is, I think most people who dislike DSMP, even the ones who are agressive about it, don't have their stance rooted in maliciousness. To expand on why the situation became what it is today, taken from a discussion on discord:

I think it's just a combination of Dream growing so insanely quickly + how internet spaces have changed over the years. When ccs like jackstepticeye or pewdiepie etc. grew popular, activism wasn't as prevalent and held to such importance. Now it's thankfully more talked about, but that also leads to Dream being more scrutinized in comparision. Add twitter trends and the general prevalence of the fandom, and you've got everyone feeling tired and frustrated and paranoid. People also tend not to fact check stuff, especially when it comes to celebrities and stuff they're not really interested in, so rumors spread fast.

And actually, I think there's absolutely valid reasons to be made uncomfortable by Dream SMP, either in it's creators, content or fandom, and there is, of course, stuff to criticise in general. The problem is the hate and misinformation and overexposure, but we are not going to solve any of that by being aggressive in return.

(This is, by the way, not talking about more serious cases. Like doxxing, or leaving gore images in hashtags, or similar instances. That's a whole different complicated issue that I don't feel qualified to tackle.)

And finally, don't overwhelm outsiders who merely mention the Dream SMP. Don't send asks asking them to watch it, don't write paragraphs explaining the lore, don't confuse them with inside jokes, just... Don't jump on people like that. Unless they're explicitly clear in wanting interaction and getting into the fandom, that kind of thing will just drive them away. This is in no way exclusive to the Dream SMP fandom, pretty much every fandom has people enthiastic to have more people involved, but since there are so unbelievably many of us, it's especially easy to go overboard with this stuff. Just... be polite, and don't pressure anyone. Be nice, please.

So.... ya! This would be it for this one, I think. Sorry that it's kinda long, thank you if you read it at all. Hope y'all have pleasant days ^^

#dream smp #mcyt #fandom #fandom etiquette #fandom critical #tommyinnit #technoblade #tubbo #dreamwastaken #let me know if i should remove tjose tags - i'm not sure whether it counts as crosstagging or not sorry #long post #my own post

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binder-reviews-by-arden · 2 years ago

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forthem binder review

i just received this binder in the mail, and decided to post a review. details under the cut

i was a size "ethereal" in this brand. First off, can I mention how much I hate the sizing this company uses? “we dont do sizing bc body positivity” honestly id rather be called fat then go through that confusing shit. picking out your body shape was also confusing as hell, none of those looked like my shape at all. in an effort to be body positive, they just ended up being really confusing and honestly a little insulting. like, come on. kindred? ethereal? fire? amethyst? balance? what the hell do those even mean. i get its supposed to be like “omg sizes dont really MEAN anything” but since they GET the sizes from the apex chest measurement, it would make SO MUCH MORE SENSE for the sizes to just have a number that represent that measurement. way easier than taking the stupid fucking customization quiz every time you wanna see your size. if you were so concerned abt people seeing a number associated with their body, then why are you having measurements at all? if you acknowledge that measurements are incredibly important for clothing (which they are), then WHY are you trying so hard to avoid that fact when giving people their sizes. just condescending especially since the person who made the goddamn things LOOKS pretty thin to begin with so like… who is this helping. just feels off to me. does anyone feel GENUINELY better about themselves bc a quiz called them size “fire” instead of a size “40” after their chest measurement?

but back to the actual binder review. The binder was pretty easy to put on, no issues there. The colour I got for "forest green". The fabric feels kind of like thick swimsuit fabric. It pinched a little under my armpits but I'll go into why I don't want to get a bigger size later. This is likely just due to my stupid disproportionately large ribcage than a flaw with the company's sizing. The reversible style of the binder was pretty interesting. It was fairly comfortable to wear.

As for the actual binding quality? Not good, and worse than all of the binders I've previously reviewed. Honestly fits like a sports bra, which is weird because I could feel it compressing: I got that kind of breathless feeling right after I took it off. The compression I could feel was roughly the same feeling I got with my gc2b binder, except the gc2b binder made me considerably flatter. This is likely due to the front panel design, while the forthem binder is just the same all around. This is the reason why I don't want to get a size up, since it would likely be completely useless even as a bra. I was in the middle of the measurement for my size too. The pinching will likely go away when it stretches though, and i remember a similar feeling when wearing my gc2b binder for the first time.

Comparison of my wearing the forthem binder in a tight-ish t shirt vs a regular bra in the same t shirt:

overall, would i recommend this binder? No, it's not worth the price. These binders cost $48, I got mine for a little less because I found a coupon code but that's way too much for what you get. Considering returning it so I can use the money to buy a different binder. It's comfortable but only a little more comfortable than my gc2b binder and that one compresses way better, so I'd just recommend getting a gc2b.

(a side note: im not trans (butch lesbian), but i tagged the post as such so this review would reach people most likely to buy and wear binders so it's as helpful as possible for anyone trying to find good binder brands. just wanted to clear things up in case anyone was wondering, don't want to claim stake within a community im not technically apart of)

#Butch #Cosplay #Binders #Binder review #Trans #Nonbinary #Transmasc #Lesbian #Forthem #Binder

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mochacoffee · 5 years ago

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I created a 3D model and floor plan of Aziraphale’s bookshop in Good Omens!

I really wanted one for reference and it seemed like many others did too, so I put together my best approximation of where everything is. Beneath the color version, you’ll see I’ve included two simplified, labeled versions of the plan. The verbal labels are so you know what the object is. The numerical labels are there to make it easy to find more information about the object. I’ve put a numbered index below the cut that features the relevant reference images I used for each object and some more information about why I put it where I did/why it’s relevant/etc. I want to be very clear that I did not add anything to this from my own imagination; every single item and feature represents something I actually saw in the shop.

If you have any questions or want more information about this, PLEASE do not hesitate to ask! I put so much time into figuring it out and I would be more than happy to be a resource for anyone who needs it. Also, if you notice any errors, let me know and I’ll update the post. I hope this is helpful!

Update: Here’s a link to an interactive view of the shop! It takes a moment to load. You can click the “3D” tab in the top right to view it in first person and walk around inside. Double click a spot on the floor to move there and pan around by clicking and dragging. The oval symbol next to the person walking gives you a birds-eye view.

Update 2: Here’s a higher quality rendering of the first person perspective! Update 3: I made an alternate first person render here complete with a ceiling, light fixtures, and ambient lighting from outside. This one is optimized for making it seem more like you’re actually there, whereas the previous one is for maximum visibility. This render also has some minor accuracy improvements, which are detailed under the cut in the relevant sections. (The first interactive link with the birds-eye view updates automatically.) Update 4: In case you’re interested in Aziraphale’s books specifically, I’ve made a catalogue of those here.

1. Unknown closet

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There is a door behind Gabriel when he talks to Aziraphale in the backroom. So where does it lead? Well. The wall we can see behind Aziraphale when he encounters Shadwell in the shop (see #17: boxes/storage) doesn’t have a door in it. It’s also facing the wrong direction and it’s in the middle of the southwest wall ⁠— we know this because Aziraphale can see Shadwell in the entrance from there. So the wall behind him at that moment is definitely not the wall of the backroom. We’re left with this door and unaccounted-for corner. The only thing that makes sense to me then is that there’s a closet there between the two spaces. My personal theory is that this closet is “the back” that Aziraphale refers to keeping the Châteauneuf-du-Pape in since I didn’t see any other obvious alcohol storage space in the shop. Update: @n0nb1narydemon has suggested this could be a bathroom for guests or because culturally it’s a room you can use to extricate yourself from situations, which is another possibility! They also asked where I think the doors behind object #20 lead, and I thought it would be good to add here that they might lead to the shop next door or to this unknown room. It’s possible the room actually extends further into the next shop and encompasses the part of the wall where the doors are, but I didn’t have concrete evidence to support that idea so I didn’t include it in the floor plan. Update: I was wrong about the Châteauneuf-du-Pape! In the DVD bookshop tour we learn that the cabinet in the top left corner of the backroom is where Aziraphale keeps his alcohol, including that particular wine. I added a reference photo of Neil pointing it out. Thanks to @fuckyeahgoodomens for bringing the existence of this tour to my attention — ya girl got the special edition blu-ray even though I don’t have a blu-ray player yet so I hadn’t actually seen it. Also, there is a chair right next to this cabinet against the wall which I missed in my initial rendering of the shop but have since added.

2. Part of shop next door (top right)

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This was very tricky to figure out because you can see from the exterior of the shop that there is no wall past the back door, but from the interior there is clearly more space there. BUT in a behind the scenes photo of David during the fire scene, you can see on this back wall that there’s actually a nook with two large entryways, similar to the one that makes up the backroom. From the exterior you can see that the area next to the back door is taken up by the window of the next shop, so I concluded that this little square of space was not part of the bookshop’s interior, but the nook did extend further back than where the shop appears to end from the outside. I had to make one bookshelf more nubby than the others to make this work, but after a LOT of trial and error I decided one nubby bookshelf was the only thing that could explain the apparent architecture of the space. Any floor design that accounted for a bookshelf of the same length as the others just did not make sense on a fundamental level.

3. Part of shop next door (bottom left)

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From the exterior of the shop you can see that this window belongs to the adjacent store, as the wall is a different color. Within the bookshop you can also see when Gabriel and Sandalphon enter the backroom, there’s no window behind them; there’s a sink. So it’s definitely not Aziraphale’s window. The wall of the backroom is also further into the shop’s interior than the wall Aziraphale’s desk sits against, so there’s a corner of space inside that’s unaccounted for. At first I assumed it was plumbing from the sink that had been sealed off or something, but when I realized that’s where the window was on the outside, I figured the space is probably part of the next shop over.

4. Aziraphale’s desk

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This is where Aziraphale sits in the shop like 90% of the time. It’s on the Eastern side of the shop because Aziraphale was the guardian of the Eastern gate in Eden and because production designer Michael Ralph is a goddamn genius (source). Shout out to @posted-omens for this fascinating post analyzing the chariot sculpture on his desk. Update: Fun fact, the ladder behind his desk is actually called a library chair, supposedly designed by Benjamin Franklin. It functions as a ladder but you can also fold it into a chair! Neil mentions this in the DVD extra bookshop tour. I added screen caps of it to the reference photos above since I don’t have a specific section for the ladders!

5. Phone Aziraphale calls Crowley from

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I will be honest with you: I think there’s something a little fucked up about this corner. It is my nemesis. I tried so many things to make it work and I just could not get it exactly right, but what you see in the floor plan is my best guess as to what’s going on. The conundrum is that the spot where Aziraphale stands when he’s on the phone with Crowley is definitely closer to the fence around the staircase than it is in my layout. But the table he’s in front of is also clearly against the outside wall of the backroom, and the stairs being where I’ve put them here is the only thing that made sense based on the reference photos. So there’s some weird spacing issue where there’s a little too much room between the fence around the stairs and this phone. If I were to move the walls to close that gap then there would be way too much space in the backroom and way too little space on the southwest side of the shop, so I think the walls are correct as they are. So ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. What I can say for certain is that the phone is there and it’s on a table next to a lamp, and the table is definitely against the wall of the backroom and behind the staircase. The distance between these things doesn’t hold up perfectly, but their arrangement does. On another note, this is one of two phones in the shop. The other is on the table next to the cash register (see #9) which Aziraphale picks up when Crowley calls to say they need to talk about Armageddon. I believe this is the same one he uses to call Adam’s house in episode two, only he moves it from the table by the register to the top of a pile of books (which I’m pretty sure were stacked on the circular table between his desk and the sofa). Update: OKAY SO it turns out in the behind-the-scenes bookshop tour on the DVD we get two more teeny tiny glimpses of this corner! I added them to the reference photo album above. It appears I was right about the lamp, phone, and bookshelf being where they are, except that the bookshelf and table are touching. There’s also a ladder propped against the shelf. I’d say it’s possible there are actually two bookshelves here; based on the parallax in the DVD tour, the one next to the phone didn’t appear to be against the wall, but we know there is a bookshelf against that wall because we see it in the show. (P.S. There’s also another chair against that wall which I didn’t see because Aziraphale was standing in front of it, so I added that too.) This leads me to believe there’s one against the wall and another one further from it next to the table. But that’s just my speculation, so I won’t change the actual floor plan unless I find more evidence.

6. Where they’re drinking when Crowley realizes Adam has named the hellhound

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When Aziraphale sits down at this table, the background is of the same space he refers to as the “backroom” when Gabriel and Sandalphon show up. He’s across the table from Crowley, behind whom you can see a bookshelf, the staircase, and the coat rack. The table is half in the backroom half out, since the room has two large entryways in its wall. Update: I realized the wall behind this table actually dips back further! It is a weirdly-shaped wall! But in the DVD special tour of the bookshop Neil walks past it and there’s clearly an area that recesses even further, so I’ve modified that in the interactive floor plan :)

7. Bench of books that start the fire

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When Shadwell leaves the book shop and slams the door, one of the candles knocks over and rolls into a pile of books and other papers (including the Sound of Music lmao). You can see it’s the same bench the customer is standing in front of when he gives Gabriel a weird look after he yells about pornography. (I love this customer so much because they gave me a super HD shot of this particular area.) The poles of the fence around the bench, the staircase behind it, and the smaller shelves beside it holding Terry Pratchett’s books make it clear that the bench is in that spot in the shop and that it’s the place the fire starts.

8. Coat rack with Terry’s hat on it

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Aziraphale hangs his coat here right before Crowley calls him to say they need to talk about Armageddon. Out of focus in the frame you can see the lion sculpture that sits on the fence surrounding the stairs (see #11) and a bookshelf. The camera pans past the shelf and we see him walk past his desk to pick up the phone by the cash register, which puts that shelf right next to his sitting area. We can also see the coat rack in the background when Crowley realizes Adam has named the hellhound. The coat rack has Terry Pratchett’s hat and scarf on it in his honor (source).

9. Antique cash register

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You can see this register in the background when Crowley is on the couch and when Aziraphale invites Gabriel and Sandalphon into the backroom. I know it’s an antique cash register because it’s photographed and referenced directly on page 79 of the Good Omens TV Companion. It’s a typewriter in my floor plan because the website I used (floorplanner.com), who knows why, did not have a 3D model of a cash register from the early 1900s.

10. Back door

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Thank you so much to @fuckyeahgoodomens for this post where they figured all this out!! Wonderful work! You can see this door from the exterior of the shop and its existence is referenced in the Good Omens script book on page 94. It’s also in the background of a behind the scenes shot of Aziraphale pulling away the carpet so he can contact heaven. Behind him in that shot you can see the bust (which moves around a lot - see #19) and a grandfather clock, and in the show from one of the aerial shots you can see that the carpet is pulled west, further confirming the door’s location.

11. Fence around the stairs

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I have concluded that this is a fence to keep customers from going up to the second floor. It looks to be made of golden pillars with wooden shelving atop them. The fence crosses beneath the staircase on one side and the other side ends about where the stair’s railing does. You can see this fence behind Crowley when he realizes Adam has named the hellhound, behind Aziraphale when he calls Crowley to tell him he knows where the antichrist is, and next to the customer who gives Gabriel a look after he yells “PORNOGRAPHY!” It’s also visible in one of the aerial shots of the shop. Update: In the DVD extra bookshop tour I noticed the lion sculpture on this fence is not just a lion, but a lion with a woman holding its mane. I think it might also be a lamp? In one of the reference photos, the one that looks down from the second floor, it appears there’s a light in the woman’s other hand. I’d be interested to see if we can track down what this particular sculpture is and what it might mean. Update: @cantdewwrite has suggested here that the light/sculpture could be a replica of one of the bronze statues in the Victoria Memorial, which does look quite similar. I’m fairly certain Aziraphale’s sculpture is of a woman, which would make it the figure in the memorial representing peace.

12. Open book of illustrated story of Adam and Eve

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Shout out to @amuseoffyre for this post where she figured out what this was! Update: I’ve determined that this book is The Gospel in the Old Testament: A series of pictures by Harold Copping. The painting is, naturally, by Harold Copping. It’s called “Adam and Eve after the fall.” Unfortunately this book is out of print and I haven’t been able to track down an ebook or scan of it, so I can’t confirm the text just yet. But based on its premise, I think it’s safe to assume that it’s telling the story of Adam and Eve directly. Aziraphale has a second copy of this book visible on the shelf next to the sofa.

13. Antique computer

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This is the computer Aziraphale does his extremely scrupulous taxes with, as confirmed in this ask that @neil-gaiman answered from @prismatic-bell! It’s an Amstrad, according to the bookshop tour in the DVD extras.

14. Spiral staircase

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These stairs are in many shots of the shop so it was pretty obvious where they were.

15. Sink, teapots, etc.

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You can see this wall right before Gabriel walks into the backroom and behind Aziraphale when he’s drinking with Crowley at the end of episode one. It appears he has two hand towels, a ceramic angel soap dish (aw), some teapots, and a decorated box above it, among other things. On the floor beside the sink is what I believe to be a broom handle, though it could be a mop? Next to that is a bronze statue of an angel atop a small table piled with books. On the other side of the sink is an open book on a stand ⁠— it has a fabric bookmark in it with a crucifix at the end, so I’m assuming it’s a bible. Light reading while you make your tea I guess. Update: Thank you so much to @brightwanderer for pointing out in this post that he has four extra angel wing mugs above the sink as well! I couldn’t figure out what they were! Update: Neil said in this ask that you can see an oven by the sink when Gabriel and Sandalphon walk in. Which you can! It’s real small and there’s a little pot on top of it. I’ve added a screencap of it to the images album for this area. Update: I’m donating my heart and soul to @ack-emma for suggesting in the replies to this ask that the central object above the sink is a samovar!! I had never heard of this so I had absolutely no idea what it was, but I think they hit the nail on the head. Y’all Aziraphale really likes tea.

16. Sculpture

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Thank you @ineffable-endearments, @behold-my-squeees, @srebrnafh, @aethelflaedladyofmercia for contributing to this post about the statue and its potential symbolism! Update: @doctorscienceknowsfandom has added some analysis to the post above suggesting that this is a sculpture of Paris, the figure from Greek mythology. I’m inclined to agree! Update: BINGO! @tifaria has found Aziraphale’s exact statue (confirmed Paris!) in this post. Brilliant work!! This community continues to blow me away. Further discussion about the sculpture’s meaning in the context of the show here — be sure to check the notes for further commentary.

17. Boxes/storage

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These boxes and piles of books can be seen behind Aziraphale when he encounters Shadwell in the shop and behind Crowley while he’s rambling drunkenly about why they should stop Armageddon in episode one. They’re in a nook that goes further back than where the shop appears to end from its exterior (see #2 for more info on that!).

18. Stacks of books

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You can see this stack in one of the aerial shots of Shadwell in the shop. I didn’t include most stacks of books in the floor plan because they’re literally everywhere and I had to manually set how high each book would be from the floor, so putting them in piles got tedious very quickly. But I did include a few notable ones, and this is one of those imo because there’s not much else in that area as far as I can tell.

19. Bust

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This little guy moves around quite a bit, unlike most things in the shop. In some photos/scenes it’s where I put it on the floor plan, but in others it’s closer to the northwestern wall and in this 360 video of the shop it’s right between two of the columns. I chose to put it where I did because it’s there in the scene where Crowley is drunkenly rambling about Armageddon, whereas the other locations I’ve seen it in were from behind the scenes shots and stuff. I’m not sure who the bust is of! It appears to have a little ribbon with a medal around its next though. Update: More speculation about the bust here, courtesy of @aethelflaedladyofmercia! Update: @fuckyeahgoodomens has confirmed in this post that the thing around the bust’s neck is the medal given to Aziraphale by Gabriel in this deleted scene!

20. Divider I think?

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Please for the love of god if you know what this thing is, tell me. My best guess is it’s a room divider because what else looks like that?? But I don’t know why you would put a room divider there. And it still doesn’t look exactly like a divider either. But the decorative element at the top and apparent gap between the metal frame and the red bit leads me to believe it’s not furniture or a box. This mystery object is my second nemesis after the weird corner (#5). Update: @brightwanderer has suggested that it might be an embroidered/tapestry draft screen, which I think makes more sense! Update: In the DVD extra bookshop tour I found a very brief image of this item over Neil’s shoulder which I added to the reference photos above. I think by some miracle I was right and it is a divider. It could be a draft screen but at the very least it is shaped like a divider with at least three sections. Wahoo!

21. Record player

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This is the phonograph that’s playing Franz Schubert’s String Quintet in C major (thank you again to @fuckyeahgoodomens for that info) when we first see Aziraphale in the shop. It also plays Queen’s You’re My Best Friend when Crowley runs into the fire.

22. Terry Pratchett’s books

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Another one of the many little Terry easter eggs in the show is this set of his books! @devoursjohnlock made a post highlighting some other specific books you can find in the shop.

23. Chess set

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I saw a post once pointing out this chess set and the implication that Aziraphale and Crowley must play together sometimes, which I thought was a really nice detail to put into the set. But I can’t find the post to credit it! I will update this with a link if I do. Update: Pretty sure this is the post I saw. Thank you to @losyanya for mentioning it :)

24. Circular entryway

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This is one of many circle motifs that production designer Michael Ralph incorporated into the shop. It’s gorgeous. I think there’s actually more room between the archway and the door than I’ve included in this floor plan; Shadwell takes a few steps through it when he runs out of the shop. But I think the fix is just the door being further out from the entryway rather than the entryway being further in. I didn’t want to fuck with the walls to improve this particular area because when I realized the spacing was wrong, I was almost done and would’ve had to manually move each object in the shop over a few inches over. Made more sense to leave the caveat in a footnote. Update: In the DVD extra bookshop tour you get a brief glimpse of something on the inside wall of the entryway. I think it’s a wall sconce or something along those lines. There’s one on either side. I added them to the reference album above! I also figured out how to extend the walls to accommodate some more space there without having to move everything else, so I did that. Update: Here’s a link to some meta discussion about the cupid sculpture in front of this entryway!

25. Sofa Crowley sits on when he suggests they could be godfathers

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You can see that the sofa is next to Aziraphale’s desk and the cash register, and also that there’s a bookshelf behind it. From the entrance to the shop you can see two bookshelves on either side of the central circle, so it was pretty clear that the couch was on the other side of one of those shelves.

26. Wall crucifix

Images

I find it very interesting that Aziraphale has this considering Jesus isn’t a big part of angelic lore or heaven’s general priorities in the show. It would make more sense to me that he has it because it’s another memento of his time with Crowley, sort of like the illustrated story of Adam and Eve by his desk (#12). Also, fun fact, the opposite side of this wall segment is where he put up all his maps and notes about the whereabouts of the Antichrist in episode three.

#good omens #aziraphale's bookshop #good omens reference #floor plan #ref #i hope people see this i posted it at 2am because i was too excited about it to wait until daylight hours #OKAY SO PEOPLE SAW IT THANKS GUYS #check out the tag:#bookshop questions #for follow-up Qs!

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mha-platonic-yanderes · 4 years ago

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Settling In: Parentals

Inspired by @i-cant-sing and their Yandere Todoroki Clan AU

The room is pink. Well, it’s mostly pink. It’s pink with white furniture and embellishments. The closet doors are white and so is the windowsill. The floor is hardwood brown. But everything else is a bubblegum pink.

You’d prefer another color, one that wasn’t so bright and grating to the eyes. But you don’t say that. You just fiddle with your one dufflebag’s handle. This is all you have left, after bouncing around from group home to group home. A year ago—when your parents died—you had thrice as much. Now this and the backpack for schoolwork is all you have left.

“Do you like it?” The mother of this house and wife to the current number one hero, asks you a question. He’s not here; nobody’s here except you two. The house seems too big for three people, but there are pictures on the wall of others. It doesn’t look lived in; there is no semblance of a family. Though, the pictures on the wall show a six person family. It shows that there are four more people here and you get your own room. In a house with now seven people, you get your own room and you aren’t giving it up.

Despite the pink color and the vast emptiness, you answer honestly, “Yeah, I do.” You do like it, even if it's not for the right reasons

Her hands are on your shoulder. You can feel the increased pressure on one side lift up, almost as if she’d been purposefully holding onto you too tight.

“Good. Now, let’s unpack.” She gracefully takes the bag out of your hand, setting it atop the bed. You sit down alongside it, opening your backpack. A couple of notebooks, pencils, and two textbooks sit inside.

You start to stand, heading to take the materials to the desk they’ve provided. Though, whilst holding a pair of pajamas—slightly too little but in [y/f/c]—she takes the books out of your hand.

“Just relax, [Y/N].” Rei replies, “Let me handle it.”

You sit on the bed twiddling with your blouse’s edge. You wore your best outfit, even though it was just your school uniform, without the frumpy sweater.

The bed is insanely soft. With satin sheets, a thick, fluffy comforter, and a healthy amount of pillows, it's easily the softest place you’ve been.

“I’ll have a driver return your school books back to your former school.” Rei replies, on the other side of the room. You shift to look at her, but she has her back turned to you. “I’ll discuss with my husband what school to place you at.”

“Alright.” You’ve had to transfer schools about three times since last year. Moving again isn’t a hassle anymore. You know not to hope you won’t move again. Though. you know not to get attached to anything in case you have to—in case this doesn’t work out.

“We’ll get you a better education than the one you were definitely receiving.” You can hear the gentle thump of one of your textbooks. She heads back to your duffle bag; it’s now half empty. “My eldest three all went to Somei Private Academy for junior high. Two ended up continuing through highschool as well. My eldest went to Shiketsu and my youngest is in Yuuei now.”

You know those schools. They’re expensive, private academies. You’ve only ever been in public schools. The wealth was obvious when you were picked up in a blackened car with a driver. You just didn’t expect them to spend that money on you, a lowly orphan.

“Or we’ll just hire a set of tutors like we did for our youngest before he went to Yuuei.” She decides what to hang up or fold. You’ll have to go through it all later to find everything. Luckily, you don’t own much—or unluckily, depends on how you look at it. But you don’t dwell on the issue long, responding quickly to the lady, “Alright.”

She smiles at you. It’s sincere, motherly. It’s what your mother would’ve done, before the accident. It’s something you sorely missed since then.

“You’re extremely agreeable, aren’t you?” She finishes out the bag, pressing it into the top of your closet. Your backpack gets sat beside the desk. This room is large and your things are set in its appropriate places across from it.

“I guess.”

“That’s a good thing, darling.” She goes to mess with your hair, “Now, for dinner tonight, let's change you into something a bit nicer, yes?”

You pause, looking at your toes in their pristine white socks. You can see her legs as well, considering how close she is to you, “This is the nicest thing I own.”

“That’s fine. We’ll just have to go shopping for some new things.” Rei replies, taking her other hand to your chin, forcing you to look her in the eyes, “Enji and I know what we are getting ourselves into, buying you a whole new wardrobe will be nothing.”

She takes her hands from your head and into your hands, helping you up.

“Where are we going?” She leads you back from your room to the rest of the house.

“Shopping, darling.” Rei replies, “We have five hours to do so, before I must start dinner, that is. Is there anything you want?”

“No, not really.” She’s already planning to drop a substantial amount of money on you and she’s already being incredibly maternal. You aren’t going to stretch that patience thin and have her snap already. You aren’t going to ruin this for yourself.

She smiles at you, “I’ll figure out what you like soon enough.”

===

The shopping mall standing in front of you was not where you usually would’ve gone. A basic department store, maybe a strip mall if you’re lucky would be where you usually shopped. This place however, is at least four stories high standing stark white and black against the almost colorless blue-grey sky. Though, you don’t get to admire it long. Rei quickly pulls you out of the cold outdoors and into the perfectly heated building.

“Now, I say we head to clothing stores first and then to more home goods type stores, so we don’t have to pack the heavy stuff around. Though, if we get too much to carry, we can send it back to the car and then continue shopping.” Rei replies, “Is that alright?”

You nod, still reluctantly going along this whole situation. The car is actually a limo and you have your own room in a massive estate. You have an impossibly nice and maternal caretaker who’s insanely rich. This is your “Annie” moment; this is your fairytale scenario. The shoe has to drop at some point. You aren’t going to be blindsided when it does.

“Good.” She locks arms with you, holding you close. It’s weird, but not entirely uncomfortable. You want to trust her. Your sense of judgement is clouded, knowing that she can’t really be this nice, but you want her to be like this

She leads you into a clothing store, taking you to the brightly colored section. Rei silently holds a peach colored sweater up to you. She grabs an orange skirt, looking at them both together.

“What do you think of this?” She asks, holding them up together. The sweater is thick,

assumedly warm. The skirt however, isn’t,. You tell her that.

“That’s what some white stockings are for [y/n].” She laughs lightly, “and please call me Rei. You don’t have to be so formal.”

“Alright... Rei.” Acclimating to her is easy. At the moment, you don’t care what the rest of her family is like, she’s nice and maternal and everything you miss from your own mother.

She grabs multiple sweater and skirt combinations, not grabbing a single pair of pants for you. This store doesn’t sell tee shirts or blouses, sticking to a younger, but put together catalog. You briefly entertain the idea of them being traditionalists, but you don’t mind that. You’ve lived in worse houses than one with conservative ideals.

And besides, the outfits are cute. You hope you can keep them if everything goes south.

“Put these on.” She hands you the clothing, “and I want to see every outfit you try on. I want to see if it looks good.”

The fitting rooms are nicer than any you’ve ever been to. When checking the price of the items she’s handed to you, you can see why. The least expensive thing is a 10,000 yen skirt. It’s plain blue, just like the 1,500 yen one you have on now. It's obviously of higher quality, but guilt pangs in your chest at the thought of her spending so much money on you. This is at least a dozen items in here.

You slip it on, alongside the white sweater, filled with gold stars. You look at yourself in the mirror, before heading out the door. Rei sits in a chair, looking at you.

“You look absolutely adorable.” Rei comments, “We’re keeping it.”

She doesn’t let you put your input in. But she’s paying for it, so you don’t complain.

Five more times, you come out in sweater and skirt combinations. She has nothing but praise for each outfit. It’s refreshing. Your last home was less than pleasant.

Rei leaves you to change back into your uniform. All six outfits are bought and placed into two bags, both on her arm away from you. She wraps her other arm into the crook of your arm.

“Onto the next store we go.”

As you all head to a different floor of the mall, you voice concerns you originally had back in the dressing room, “You know… you don’t have to spend so much money on me.” You tell her, then backtrack, “Not that I’m not grateful! I am really! It’s just that I don’t need stuff this fancy, you know?”

“[Y/N], I am your mother now. It’s my duty to get you clothes and stuff.” She says it with a certainty that is oddly comforting. Everything about her is that way, from her soft, smooth skin to her warm, grey eyes to her bright, white smile. She’s intensely maternal, something that you didn’t realize you wanted anymore, until today, “and we must keep you up to the Todoroki standard. After all, you’re going to be one of us for now on.”

Being one of them. You don’t know of any Todorokis; you’ve never been a huge fan of heroes like some of your peers. But belonging, that’s something you’ve craved since it was ripped away from you. A family—that’s what you’ve always wanted.

“All right.”

“Chin up, shoulders back.” She tells you, “You’re new life begins tonight.”

===

Rei never let you carry a single bag throughout your trip. She also wouldn’t let you see any of the receipts or let you have a final word on anything you got. But, you got all nice things—all things you like. So, you don’t mind.

“Change into the white dress with the red and pink roses.” She instructs, “And redo your hair. First impressions are important, after all.”

You haven’t met her husband, nor any of her children. But, as the pictures on the wall show, her husband is Endeavor, the number one hero. Usually you’d meet the person fostering you beforehand, but with his affluence, there needed to be no meetings beforehand.

Following her instructions, you rifle through the bags, finding the dress she wanted you to wear. Slipping out of your old clothes and into the cold, expensive dress is a quick process. Doing your hair to a standard that would make her proud, is not. Eventually you get it right.

Unlike earlier, you take the time to unbag your stuff. You mimic what Rei did in your closet. Shirts, sweaters and dresses are hung up. Skirts, leggings, and stockings are folded in the dresser. The shoes are placed on the inside of your closet. The few decorations you got are placed so that they don’t move what Rei and her husband already got you. She’s extremely peculiar about order. You won’t break that order.

“[Y/N].” She knocks on the door that doesn’t lock, “What’s taking you so long. Do you need help?”

You open the door for her, “I was just putting everything away, Rei.”

She comes in, looking at the room. She pulls the draws out and reopens the closet door, looking inside them. It’s an inspection, to see if everything is up to code.

Rei pinches your cheek, “ It’s perfect, exactly how I imagined it.”

Perfect. She’s praising your work. The word warms your heart, bringing a smile to your face. You haven’t gotten enough praise in your life, clearly.

“Thank you.”

“Now come on.” She tugs at your wrist, “Enji will be here any moment and I need help plating the table. Usually Fuyumi would do it, but you’ll meet my other children at a later date. Tonight is just about you, me, and Enji.”

“Alright.” Relief settles from your scrunched up soldiers. You only have to meet one new person, not five like you assumed. One person is better than five people—even if he is the #1 Hero.

You’re led back through the sitting room and into the dining room. It’s nice, well lit. It’s low to the ground and cushioned. You’ve expected this from this house. Every room besides your own is extremely traditional. You expected the whole house to be like this, once you walked through the doors.

“The plates and cups are in the left cabinet, do be careful with them.” Rei points to a side room, at the back of the dining room, “I’ll bring in the cutlery. Enji should be here soon.”

As if on cue, you hear the front door being opened. A low voice calls out, “Rei, darling? [Y/N]?”

You freeze, plates and cups in hand. Something about the number one hero calling out of your name unsettles you. Though, somehow immediately aware of your apprehension, Rei places a cold hand against your back. You can feel it through the dress, which isn’t surprising, considering how thin it is.

“We’re in the dining room, honey.” Rei takes the plates and cups from your hands, placing them down and simultaneously leading you to your seat. You sit, legs together and bent to the side. You sit currently in the seat to the left of the table’s end.

The number one hero—Rei’s husband—kisses her cheek. He towers over her. She was waiting for him at the entrance. You try not to make any noise; you try not to interrupt them.

She heads to the seat across from you, leaving Endeavor to sit at the head of the table. You aren’t surprised; this family gives of very traditional vibes. He radiates heat to your right, still aflame, showing off his powerful quirk.

The food is already on the table. It’s more than enough for the three people here, possibly more than enough for the six people in the photos—plus yourself. You make your own plate, only getting what you know you’ll eat. You don’t want to take too much, you don’t want to be greedy.

“Make sure you actually get full, [Y/N].” Rei smiles at you. It’s warm and soft.

“I am, Miss.” You can feel Endeavor staring at you, but you don’t look at him. You shift your head down, looking at the plate in front of you. You don’t grab more; you don’t want to ruin their hospitality with your selfishness.

Rei and Endeavor talk to themselves, mostly about work. They occasionally talk about three other people—Shoto, Fuyumi, and Natsuo. There are four children in the photos on the wall; it’s a family of six. Though, you don’t ask about the unnamed child, it isn’t your place to do so.

You finish your food fairly quickly, but so do the other two. You look up at Endeavor for the first time tonight, asking, “Can I be excused, sir.”

“No.” He replies, “We have things to discuss.”

“Oh… alright.” You fiddle with the hem of your dress underneath the table, “What do you want to discuss, sir?”

“I’ll take the dirty dishes and excess food.” Rei smiles at you, “You’ll be fine, [Y/N]. Pass me your plate.”

Endeavor waits for Rei to leave to start talking. You are acutely aware of how hot it is now, without Rei’s cooling, calming effect.

“How was your day today?” He starts the conversation off decently well. You look him in the eye, “Good.” You were taught manners growing up; you know how to hold a conversation, no matter how intimidating the person you’re talking to is.

“That is a pretty dress on you, [Y/N].”

“Thank you.”

“Now then. While you are here, there shall be rules you will follow. Rei and I have devised a fair list and she’ll go over them with you extensively in the morning.” He tells you, “Though, the ones concerning you tonight are: no technology post-dinner and that you shall be in bed by ten o’clock. Rei shall wake you up at seven am tomorrow.”

“Alright.” Those aren’t too harsh rules; other homes have had worst lists. Though, you won’t make a final decision on that until tomorrow. You tentatively ask another question, “Uhhh, sir. Rei mentioned other children. If you don’t mind me asking, where are they?”

“Shoto goes to U.A. They have dorms now and are forced to stay there. Fuyumi and Natsuo have since moved out, but visit occasionally. You’ll meet them when it is appropriate.” Endeavor tells you, “And [Y/N], call me Enji. You are now dismissed.”

“Alright, Enji.” As you stand to leave, you use his name, “Thank you.”

#yandere todoroki clan #yandere todoroki family #yandere mha #yandere bnha #yandere #mha #bnha #platonic yandere #yandere enji todoroki #yandere rei todoroki #enji todoroki #rei todoroki #canon? what canon?#who was going to tell me that my line breaks dont transfer over to tumblr like they do to ao3

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gatecoeur · 4 years ago

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jel’s how-to guide on finding and/or making accessible themes

So, you’re a blogger or a theme designer who cares about accessibility. Good - it’s a positive step forward. However, maybe you’re not exactly sure how to do that. Well, have no fear, as I, your local design major who took courses on User Experience, am here to help.

I’m going to cover the biggest issues I’ve seen across many blog themes. If you are guilty of any of these, don’t worry, we’re here to fix that. I’m even guilty of some of these design sins.

1. Font Size and Type

This is easily the BIGGEST hinderance I’ve seen on this site in regards to accessible themes, especially in recent years. If you want your theme to be accessible, you HAVE to have decently sized and decently spaced font - this is completely non-debatable. My recommended font size tbh is 12 and above, with 1.15 spacing at the very least. You could maybe get away with 11px or 10px font, depending on the font type you pick, but anything below that and it’s pretty much guaranteed that anyone with visual impairments reading your blog is going to have a bad time.

Also, font type matters, especially for those with dyslexia. There is a font type that was specifically designed for dyslexics called OpenDyslexic, but if you wanna use a different font type, that’s perfectly fine. Just don’t use any cursive or all-caps font types, as those are MUCH harder for dyslexics to read. If you want further details on which font types are best, I would HIGHLY recommend you check out this link.

2. Colour Contrast

Look, I get it - maybe there’s a certain colour scheme that you REALLY like, but not every colour scheme is going to help those with reading difficulties or visual impairments. I’m gonna be talking more so on colour pairs than colour schemes, but in general, you’re better off using a darker background colour with a lighter font colour. This helps prevent eye strain, especially if you expect people to be looking through your blog for extended periods of time.

There’s plenty of sources online that can help you figure out which colours have the best contrast with each other, but here’s a post that does a generally good job of giving a quick guide for people to use.

Except for white font on a yellow background. For the love of God, please DO NOT. Also I think this just might be me, but I’m really not a fan of maroon font on a black or grey background, especially if the font type is thin.

3. Hyperlink Responsiveness

This one is more so on theme designers than bloggers, though I am BEGGING bloggers to please keep an eye out for this when you’re looking for themes. Hyperlink responsiveness simply means that when your cursor hovers over a hyperlink, such as tags, the reblog button, the like button and/or the next page button on your theme, it should have a clear visual change.

Maybe the hyperlink text and/or symbol grows or shrinks in size. Maybe it fades or darkens into a different colour when you hover over it. Hell, it could be a combination of both, but viewers should have SOME visible way to tell them that yes, that is a link that will bring you somewhere else than where you currently are and yes, that link works. It’s such a simple thing, and trust me, I know it’s probably not the easiest thing to code, but it makes SUCH a big difference in the user’s experience I promise.

4. Obvious Symbology and/or Symbols with Supporting Text

Everyone knows that an image of a house means Home. Everyone knows that the image of two intertwined chains means links. Everyone knows that an arrow pointing to the right means next page and an arrow pointing to the left means previous page. These symbols are pretty much universal and can be left alone for people to look at and intuitively understand what they’re seeing, no problem.

Obviously though, not all symbols are universal, and if that’s the case, a symbol should either have accompanying text to explain it (either in immediate view or in a hover box), or should just be replaced with text all together. The symbol should also be very obvious and easy to spot. Lemme explain what I mean by using a theme designed by one of my favourite blog theme makers on this site, @seyche.

If I were to cover up the texts accompanying those symbols, I’m pretty sure that the very least that people would get confused between the about page and the rules page. This is honestly my preferred style of links, but of course having just the words without the symbols would work just fine to.

Recommendations

All of this would be pointless if I didn’t give my advice for bloggers and theme makers alike on who to check out or what to look for if you’re either looking for a theme to use or an example to help you better understand good design practices for themes. In general, if you see ANY themes that promote responsiveness, chances are it was designed with most if not all of the design principles I mentioned in mind.

As for who to check out specifically, I highly recommend @seyche and well as @eggdesign. Both of these designers have done FANTASTIC work in making themes that are both very much accessible and aesthetically pleasing. There’s likely more out there, but these two definitely are on the top of my list.

#acessibility #accessible themes #themes #tumblr theme #tumblr themes #theme advice #themes advice #;long post #;pasdepoutine #(( i really don't expect this post to gain much traction tbh ))#(( but it's important enough to me that i get at least one person to think about this ))#(( that even that one person making their blog more accessible counts to me as a success ))

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babyybitchhh · 4 years ago

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Law x Reader 18+

Rating: Explicit/R-18+

Words: 6,653

Warnings: sexual roleplay, sex work, excessive/rough breast play, vaginal sex, creampie, set in Wano but honestly I just took advantage of that unknown period when they first arrived, chubby reader

A/N: It's okay, Law doesn't need to use condoms. He's a doctor. : )

♥♥♥♥

“Well, how do I look?”

Head coming up, Law glances over from his spot on the tatami and ire immediately flashes through stormy gray eyes. But you pretend not to notice as you turn in the doorway, letting him see the back of your kimono with its neatly tied bow and the flowing long sleeves that had delighted you when you’d first glimpsed the style of dress in this country.

Truth be told, you were really quite pleased with yourself.

Particularly after Kinemon had assured you it was a lovely choice for the role you were to take in Wano; that of a maid servant working at the finest brothel in the capital where you were sure to overhear plenty of hush hush information the others might not likewise be privy to. The place was frequented by big wig politicians, powerful samurai and members of the ruling Kurozumi faction, according to him, which meant you would be playing an integral part in the plan going forward.

You were glad for it, eager to be of some use in the coming battle to overthrow the shogunate since such an opportunity very rarely presented itself to non combatants like you.

But when you turn back around, beaming expectantly only to find Law glaring across the room, your shoulders quickly droop in defeat. “What? You don’t like it?”

Rather than directly answering the question, he scoffs and looks away. “You’re supposed to be blending in with the people of this country, not standing out like a sore thumb.”

You guffaw, glancing down at yourself. “What do you mean? Everyone’s wearing clothes like this!”

“That’s not the problem.”

“Then what is?”

Try as you might, you just couldn’t figure out what he was finding issue with here. The rich silk print wrapped around your body was understated, not nearly as intricate or attention grabbing as those of the oiran you would soon be waiting on, but that didn’t make it any less elegant. In fact, you’d thought for sure he would like it for just that reason.

The monochrome base with its bursts of color in the form of vibrant, blooming red and pink chrysanthemums had struck you as something he would appreciate for its simple yet undeniable beauty. He’d picked out his own clothes in similar fashion, going with a basic black and white kimono and a relatively plain yet stylish jittoko to wear over top so you weren’t really sure what made your outfit any different.

They were practically one and the same - and you tell him as much when you step across the room, fully prepared to fight him on this.

But as soon as you're close enough, Law reaches out to snag your wrist and he yanks you down on the floor with him. You draw a sharp breath as your knees hit the woven mat, quickly jerking your attention up only to choke on whatever you were going to say when he crowds into your space with that steely eyed frown he was known for.

“W - what?”

“It’s not the same.” He intones, low and unamused. “I’m going to be playing a traveling monk with my face covered. You’ll be working in the red light district. There’s a world of difference here.”

You start to ask him to elaborate, because you just weren’t seeing it, but stop yourself short when the answer abruptly clicks into place.

Oh.

So it was like that.

“Could it be … you’re feeling a little possessive, maybe?”

Law barks out a quick laugh, making your cheeks warm. “And why would that be?”

“I don’t know!” You blurt, embarrassed. “Even if you’re not serious about this - about us, I just thought you might be getting sort of ... jealous, thinking about other men looking at me that way. I guess.”

“You’re not mine to feel possessive about, sweetheart. You know that.”

Too well, in fact; you think as you turn your face away to hide the hurt you were sure he’d find staring back at him.

He's quick to reach out and grab under your chin though, manually turning you back around. “Don’t pout. You volunteered for this job.”

“I just wanted to be useful …”

“You are useful.” He murmurs, the pitch of his voice dropping an octave, intentionally or not, to send static racing down your spine. “Don’t you worry about that. I have a solution that I think will satisfy both of us, though.”

“O - oh?”

Without missing a beat, Law snakes his arm behind him, grabs the tengai sitting at his knee and brings it forward so he can unceremoniously plop it down on top of your head. You squawk, hands flying up to grab the hat which basically amounted to little more than a straw basket and, therefore, should have been easy to remove. But the hand he still had resting on top of the damned thing kept it firmly in place no matter how you pushed at it and you outright seethe when you catch the slightly muffled sound of his smug, snickering laughter.

“Law, you ass! Stop!”

He hadn’t even had the decency to put it on the right way! The slats were facing out at the back of your skull and you couldn’t see anything except warm light bleeding in through the woven textiles.

“But if you wear this,” he tells you in a sobered yet no less amused tone. “I won’t have to worry about horny old perverts looking at you too much.”

“I swear I’m gonna’ - -“ You stammer to a halt, suddenly realizing what he’d said. “So you are jealous that other men might look at me!”

“Mm. Jealous isn’t the word I would use, personally.”

“Oh, then what hell would - -“

You cut yourself off with a flustered gasp when his unoccupied hand abruptly winds around your waist and finds the bow Kinemon had tirelessly struggled to fasten your obi in. He tugs at it, gently at first, and then more forcefully when it doesn’t give. With a click of his tongue, so close to your basketed head that you couldn’t miss it, Law adjusts his grip and feels around for the weak point in the knot. Once located, his long, dexterous fingers make quick work of loosening it with a soft slither of silk that makes you shudder for him and lean into the heat of his body.

The amount of sway he held over you just wasn’t fair.

“Do we really have to do this … with the hat on?”

Obi successfully undone, he starts to unwind it from around your waist one slow loop at a time.

“If I have it my way,” he says quietly. “This is the closest you’ll ever get to having anonymous sex. So the answer is, yes.”

The implication of what he was saying had you running hot, and not just in arousal. “I won’t sleep with any of the men at the brothel, you know.” You tell him tersely.

“I’m sure you won’t, but just in case you ever wonder what it would be like …”

His hand finds your shoulder as soon as the ridiculously long band of fabric is pooled between both of your laps; gentle but commanding in the way he pushes you down to lay out on the floor. You comply, though not without a soft whimper at the uniquely strange pitter patter in your suddenly tight chest.

It’s not that you didn’t understand what he was doing here.

Giving you a taste of what it would be like on the off chance hearing the girlish moans in the next room over ever sparked your interest, so you’d think back on this moment and remember how good he was at fucking you into a blissed out stupor. As if you could ever forget.

But, still, it seemed he wanted you to go into this with that knowledge fresh in your mind. And if it was the thrill of anonymity you wanted, he was clearly happy to oblige in that too. The fact he cared about something so silly, enough to remind you with a hands on demonstration, warmed you from the inside out in a way that little else ever had. He may not have admitted it in quite so many words, but this was possessive behavior if you’d ever seen it.

Admittedly pleased by this turn of events, you lay back with your arms splayed across the tatami mats and feel him move close to hover over you. Bracing a hand on the floor, he begins to carefully part the layers of your kimono with the other, one at a time, while you stare up at the inside of his tengai. You badly wanted to reach up and slip it off your head, or at least spin it around the right way so you could glimpse him through the slats, but you choose to refrain. If not because you were sure he’d just find a way to secure it until he was finished making his point then certainly because you were curious to see how far he would take this.

Law clearly felt something more towards you than just baser lust and general irritation, and that excited you almost as much as his hands on you did.

“To answer your earlier question,” he drawls, gently nudging you back into the here and now. “You look good in these clothes. Almost frustratingly so, actually.”

You gulp down the butterflies dancing in your throat and try your hardest not to smile, even though he couldn’t see it either way. “Really?”

“I wouldn’t have said it otherwise, silly girl.” His long fingers finally find the nagajuban, the last flimsy barrier separating you from him, and Law noises a brief sound of anticipation as he descends upon it.

A sedate shudder ripples down your spine while he makes casual work of spreading the robe open around you, your nipples immediately puckering when the cool air hits them. It makes you twitch and arch for him, squirming fitfully on your impromptu bed of silk; but he doesn’t stop long enough to pay it any mind and you have to bite back a groan when he somewhat callously palms your breasts with broad hands.

He isn’t as soft with you as he usually is. Not quite so preoccupied with prioritizing your pleasure over his own, and the almost greedy way he kneads at your chest serves its purpose in making you feel like a properly casual encounter. Something to vent his frustrations and nothing more.

You’d like to say it was off putting and that you didn’t like being handled so indifferently, but that would have been a bold faced lie. You were rapidly growing hot under his attention - tipping your head back inside the tengai to mewl out a whine when he bends down and eagerly seals his mouth around one stiff nipple without any of the slow buildup you were accustomed to. You were entirely at his mercy like this, in this particular role, and Law’s affinity for your breasts quickly makes itself known in the form of rough, enthusiastic sucking and nibbling that was perhaps just a little too sharply applied for it to be pleasurable.

But it wasn’t for you that he was doing this, so he takes his time indulgently suckling at the teat in his mouth until you finally whimper and twist underneath him. He comes up at the noise, leaving the tip of your breast feeling sore and unbearably coiled in the scant space that separates the shallow rise and fall of your chest from his. The tight bud gives a muted throb in the aftermath, the ache of it just edging your peripheral, and he chuckles when you squeeze doughy thighs together, rubbing them.

“Oh? You like that, do you?”

You can practically hear the roguish smirk in his tone, and your face goes hot behind the woven barrier. He knew your body well enough to recognize a sound of genuine pleasure from one of tender pain, but you don’t get the chance to correct him before the rough pad of his finger abruptly swipes over the swell of your breast. Sure and steady, it follows the natural curve of it right up to the straining nipple in the center which he delivers a sharp flick to, making you twitch and whine. The heat pooling in your gut seemed to suggest it wasn’t entirely disagreeable but you weren’t used to such indelicate treatment, not from him, and you positively writhe when he palms the weight of it in his hand again.

“My, what a sensitive little minx I’ve invited into my bed. I can already tell you’re going to be worth every penny.”

Understanding immediately dawns and you bite down on your lower lip to keep quiet as he switches his attention to the opposite tit, pinching the meat of it firmly enough to make pliable flesh spill out between his fingers. You shudder at the way he guides the puckered tip to his mouth with a sense of slow, savory anticipation, warm breath wafting against your skin moments before his lips close around it. Issuing a hazy groan, you curl your hands into the fabric laid out underneath you and arch, pushing your chest up to meet him halfway. If it was a sweetly compliant mistress of the night he expected you to play, then that was what you were going to give him.

“Mmm, you’re good at this, mister.” You murmur softly, still embarrassed to be saying it even with your resolve, and he snorts.

“Yeah? Don’t try to flatter me, sweetheart, I’m sure you say that to all the John’s.”

He goes up then and sits back on his knees, both arms stretched out across your body to cup and fondle the weight of your breasts with that same intense focus as before. A puff of air stutters out of you when he slowly drags the blunt of his thumbs over stiff points, making your pussy clench with a sympathetic flutter. Everything felt somehow that much more intense without the use of your sight and it takes every ounce of willpower you possess not to reach up and grab ahold of his bony wrists when he finally pinches one tightly coiled bud between two of his fingers.

“Nggh, w - … wait!” You mewl, your breath coming quicker when even something as simple as that makes your gut twist hard enough to leave you aching for him.

Chidingly tutting at you, Law makes a casual show of teasing your swollen nipple to straining attention while his other hand kneads the opposite breast like a happy feline earnestly fluffing it’s favorite pillow. That is to say, rather aggressively.

“Sorry, but you don’t get to tell a paying customer what to do. That’s part of the deal,” he informs you politely enough, but the reprimand itself as well as the pressure on your tit still makes you wince. “You’re mine for the night, so we’re going to do whatever it is I want. That’s what we agreed on, isn’t it?”

“... yes.”

“Good girl.” He breathes out, palming both of your tits now to squeeze them. “Stay nice and sweet for me, and I just might leave you a handsome tip when I’m done. How’s that sound, hm?”

You give your head a stilted nod before recalling that he probably couldn’t see it. “I … I’d like that very much, mister.”

“Then you had better make sure you behave yourself. I won’t give you anything extra if I don’t think you deserve it. You need to earn it. Do you understand?”

“Mm, yes … yes, I understand.”

“Good to hear.”

Giving the swell of your tits a bitingly rough pinch, Law slowly drags his palms down so that rough calluses scrape over your sensitized nipples. You can’t quite stop from crying out when the two buds give meaty little jostles in the wake of his hands, so puffy and engorged now that they felt achingly tender to the touch. He seems satisfied by the lack of protest though, and he pauses long enough to give them both another taunting tweak before trailing lower, sharp fingertips dancing across your stomach.

“You have the perfect body for this, you know.” He says, almost casually offhand. “Soft in all the right places and so very inviting. The kind of body anyone could lose themselves in, if given the chance. I’m sure you’re quite popular.”

“Mm’ not …”

Scoffing quietly, he splays his hands wide across your stomach and rubs the soft pudge there before dragging them around to squeeze at plushy lovehandles that seem to mold into his palms. You whimper at the avid attention to your body, even though you really should have been used to it by now, but he doesn’t say anything to scold you for it like some men otherwise might have. Law was more inclined to showing rather than telling, after all, and he responds instead by bringing his hands forward so he can press your thighs open for him to settle between.

“You know I don’t buy that, sweetheart. How could anyone with a working cock pass up the chance to have a pretty little pussy like this all to themselves, huh? You look like you’d just suck me right in.”

His spindly fingers dip into the space between your legs and find plump, velvety lips, slowly pressing in and spreading them apart so he can get a good, long look at you. Choking at the sensation, your thighs tense and flex as if to close him out but you stop yourself from acting on the urge with a tiny, faltering mewl. Your face is on fire behind his hat while you make do with twisting on the floor instead - your hands balling into tight little fists with layers of kimono clenched in them as you try to decide if you should happily offer him your cunt or tell him to stop. It was a surprisingly hard choice to make when he had you so vulnerably exposed like this.

“M - mister … please, you’re embarrassing me!”

“Am I now?” He chuckles faintly, making you flush even hotter. “We’ll just have to fix that then, won’t we?”

Your breath catches in your throat when you feel Law sit back on his haunches again, those long fingers of his still keeping you spread open for him. Trying to brace for what was coming next quickly proves to be an effort in futility when he crowds his other hand in with the first and presses down on your clit with expert precision, rubbing smooth little circles into it. A startled sound of pleasure erupts out of you even as your body goes ramrod stiff, the sensitive nub giving a receptive throb under featherlight pressure which prompts you to angle your hips up in search of more.

He laughs in response to the needy display, unhurriedly adjusting the position of his hand so he can flick at your clit with a slow, steady back and forth of his finger until you finally twitch and writhe, just as he wanted.

“Hmph. Pretty girl. You look good when you squirm for me like that, but I’m sure you’ll look even better when you’re squirming on my cock here in a minute.”

You let out a frazzled, sucker punched sound and twist on the floor, making your heavy tits bounce and jiggle with the jerky motion. “Please … I want it!”

“What do you want, sweetheart? Tell me.”

“N - ngh … I want - want your cock …”

Humming faintly, Law picks up the pace of his finger, battering your clit from both sides, and you almost come up off the floor with a strangled, gasping wheeze. “I didn’t quite catch that, I’m afraid. Would you like to try again?”

“Your cock! I want your cock, La - - haah, m - mister! Please put it in …”

“You’ll have to be a bit more specific. Do you want it in your mouth? Or perhaps your ass …”

You shake your head so wildly that the tengai slips up just enough for you to feel a rush of fresh air assaulting the lower half of your face, but you hardly think anything of it in your quickly mounting desperation. You didn’t need to see - you needed to feel him inside you, stretching your guts to capacity.

“No, no please, mister, not there! I want it in my pussy! Please stick it in my pussy and fuck me stupid with your cock! I p - promise I’ll be good!”

At that Law sucks in a sharp, heated breath, letting it back out in a rumbling low groan as his finger drops away from your clit to swipe through the copious slick oozing out of you, testing your wetness.

“Ooh, what a damn good girl you are. You’ll have me coming back for more, if you’re not careful. Would you like that? Do you want to share my bed again?”

“Yuh - yes! I want you to fuck me lots and lots …”

A mildly flustered sigh slips out of him, sending a brief touch of ghostly fingertips across your inflamed skin to make you tremble and shake, still so sensitive even now. “How could I ever say ‘no’ to that, huh? You’ll gladly be the ruin of me at this rate …”

He leans all the way back then, big hands retreating from your body with a deliberate sense of action. You’re left flushed and sprawled out on the floor, dizzily blinking through the needy haze that’s come over your punch drunk mind when you catch the sound of rustling fabric directly in front of you. You think to tip your head down, peering along the length of your nose, and a certain amount of surprise washes over you when you realize you can see something other than just the inside of the basket.

Past the shallow rise and fall of your chest and the soft swell of your stomach, you catch a glimpse of him moving between your bent and splayed legs. He was already naked, his borrowed kimono shrugged off and discarded; sizable cock jutting proudly into the space between you two and leaking a glistening bead of precum. You still couldn’t see Law’s face when the rim of the woven hat was taking up a good majority of your line of sight - just up to about the midway point of his waist - but that only seemed to heighten the feigned sense of anonymity in this situation.

Choking down a much needed gulp of air, you watch as if in a trance while he finishes getting himself situated and reaches out to hook his hands under your knees. Spreading them further apart and then folding them towards your chest allows him to shuffle even closer and settle the fronts of his thighs against your upturned ass, tilting your pelvis up at him in the process. He lets one leg settle beside his narrow hip so he can snake a hand into the now scant space between you two where he gives himself a few savory pumps before guiding the glans to your waiting cunt.

“L - Law!” You gasp, close to delirious at the feverish scene unfolding right in front of you.

“Hmm? Am I not ‘mister’ anymore?” He teases, slowly drawing the head of his cock up and down your slit to coat it in sticky arousal, the soft nudge against your clit on every steady stroke making your hips twitch in anticipation. “I kind of liked the sound of it, to be honest with you. Maybe I should have you call me that more often.”

In a daze, you reach down as if to grab for him but stop yourself short at the last second when you abruptly recall your assigned role here. Fingers twisting in frustration, you ball them up into fists against your lower stomach only to blush red hot at the way he chuckles, faintly laughing at you. You have to fight to keep your eyes open when you want nothing more than to screw them shut, embarrassed, and a quiet whine rises in the back of your throat as you watch Law purposefully guide himself to your entrance. He applies just enough pressure for you to feel the blunt head pressing into you, barely, but not enough to sink in yet, and your toes excitedly curl in the air, eager for the sear of penetration.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” He murmurs, drawing your attention away from what’s going on between your legs. “You don’t have to hold back. I doubt you’ll be able to keep it up, anyway.”

You don’t need to be told twice, and you quickly snag your fingers around his wrists as he latches on to your other leg again, digging his fingers into pillowy soft flesh to keep them spread. Noticeably holding the air in his lungs now, Law leans his weight into you and the glans slowly breaches the first ring of muscle with an intoxicatingly delicious rush of friction that has you instantly shaking for him.

He pushes in deeper and deeper, ever so slowly, making sure you feel each individual inch that penetrates you at that tortuously staggered pace. Your eyes start to roll back before he’s even fully seated inside you, and you eventually let out some sort of desperate, wounded animal noise when he finally slides home a small eternity later.

He lets out the breath he’d been holding in a stuttering rush and it seems to rattle through his narrow chest while he takes his time grinding the sharp planes of his pelvis into the plushy give of yours. The coarse but neat thatch of curls at the base of him scratches and tickles, leaving a burning trail in their wake as you gratefully jut your cunt up into the pressure, plaintively asking for more. He felt so good inside you. He always felt so good.

“Nngh … please, Law! Please make me cum on - on your cock, please … I’ve been good …”

“You have.” He agrees, at last angling his hips back until you fear he would slip right out only to push inside again at that same frustratingly slow pace. “You’re a good girl, when you want to be. You know I’ll always reward you for a job well done, don’t you?”

You offer a quick nod, breathless, as you try to crane your neck up to get a better look at where his cock was sedately gliding in and out of you, but it only makes the tengai slide back down into place. Realizing you were once again without sight, you screw your eyes shut and groan bitterly as you toss your head back.

“T - that’s why I wanted to be useful for you …!”

Feeling him hunch over you, and rather suddenly at that, you tense when the slight change in position increases the pressure of him inside your guts. Your mouth warbles open as if to groan but nothing comes out, and genuine surprise rapidly floods the forefront of your mind when he grabs the top of the hat and pulls it off, making you blink owlishly in the suddenly bright room.

“I figured as much when you volunteered for a role as risky as it is potentially invaluable. You’re not a fighter, so it was fairly obvious you had a motive.” Fixing you with a sly smirk, he tosses the tengai aside and settles more squarely on his knees. Picking up the force behind his thrusts, now perfectly angled to drive into your upper wall and attack the tightly clustered nerves on the other side, Law clutches at you all the more fervently until you’re positive you’ll find bruises in the morning. “But I trust you … I know you’ll do a good job, sweetheart. You always do.”

Letting out a series of whimpering groans, you push up on your elbows so you can flick your attention between his glistening wet cock as it drives into you and his handsomely pinched face. “Then w - aah - what was all that b - before … you ass?”

He offers you a tersely clipped laugh. “Just a bit of fun, mostly.”

“Such a … nngh, such a jerk …”

Chuckling under his breath, Law lets up his hold on your legs in favor of sliding broad palms across your stomach, calluses scraping, to get a good grip on plushy hips. You respond with a low groan as you struggle upright so you can get your hands under you and push up, slanting your pelvis down to meet his leisurely thrusts tit for tat. The hushed sound of skin meeting skin picks up in the old room, otherwise silent besides the soft moans and faltering breaths coming from the two of you.

It was unexpectedly nice, given the circumstances.

“Yes, right t - there … haah, so good, you feel so good, Law. God, don’t stop …”

“You know I won’t,” he rumbles, possessively squeezing your sides in a pinching tight grip so he can guide you into a more energetic bouncing motion that has your heavy tits bouncing for him. “But I meant what I said earlier … any man would be a fool to pass up a night with you. I’m sure you’ll be quite popular in the brothel.”

You shake your head, sucking in a faltering gasp. “I don’t c - care … I only want you …”

“How reassuring …”

A shaky groan puffs out of him and the sound races straight to your cunt, making you clench around the stiff cock relentlessly carving out a space within you. Your subconscious reaction only seems to make him dig up into your sweet spot all the more insistently and, seething, you close your eyes, dropping your chin to your chest. You could feel the coil inside you slowly tightening just that little bit more each time he slid up inside you, making your toes curl while you struggled just to keep up with the pace he wanted.

Your legs and arms were quickly growing tired though and, with a soft, whining plea, you lift one of your hands to reach for him. Law catches on quick as usual, immediately letting go of your hips so he can curl one arm under your armpit and across your shoulder blades. With very little effort on his part, he hauls you up against him and locks the other arm behind your back so he can hold you in his lap.

“You like it better this way, sweetheart?” He murmurs, bracing his scruffy chin on the center of your chest with his head tilted back to look up at you.

“Ahh - mm, mhm!”

Clinging to his broad shoulders, you adjust the positioning of your feet and bounce on his cock a little more smoothly now. He seemed to hit even deeper than before, knocking something inside of you that made every inch of your body feel like it was on fire. You could hardly breathe through it, sucking in one haggard gasp after another while you continued to work yourself over until you felt near delirious with the need to cum.

You weren’t quite there yet though and you curl yourself around him, tucking your face into the crook of his shoulder so you can inhale the smell of him into your contracting lungs. Pinewood and ozone, the faintest note of antiseptic. You could even make out a faint trace of the dark, heady cologne he hardly ever bothered to put on. It was indescribably intoxicating, and you couldn’t take much more of it.

“Wanna’ cum …” you mewl against his collarbone, feeling like you were moments away from drooling all down the front of him. Your mind was a cotton stuffed mess.

Turning his head, Law presses his mouth to your hair and gently kisses you. “Are you starting to get tired?”

“Yuh - yeah …”

He tsks at that, the sound warm and comforting in your ear.

You suddenly choke on a sharp inhale when he tightens his arms around you without so much as missing a beat, hauling you up even closer to him and prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist with a light jostle. Crossing your ankles behind his back, you hang on for dear life as he somewhat awkwardly goes up on his knees, adjusts the grip he has on you - all without dislodging himself from your pulpy cunt - and then pivots his hips forward to test the angle.

The action rocks you in his arms, increasing the pressure on the downward slide when your soft ass paps against the fronts of his thighs. It knocks the air right out of you and you jolt, lifting your face from his shoulder so you can keen in frazzled, almost hysterical pleasure. You sounded like something wild and mindless.

“Is that better?” He whispers, his tone much too smug for him not to already know the answer.

Law doesn’t even give you a chance to respond before he does it again though, more forcefully this time, and you practically shriek in wordless delight. The momentum of his gravity assisted thrusts builds into the next, and then the next until he was fucking into you at such an enthusiastic pace that you couldn’t even begin to keep up with it.

Your mind completely blank now, you let your mouth hang open in doped out bliss while you freely moan and squeal in pleasure; the sticky wet squelching between your bodies and the sharp smack of skin on skin serving as an all too appropriate backdrop for the sounds you were making. The coil inside you was quickly reaching its breaking point and all you could do anymore was clutch at him, digging your nails into his back while he relentlessly slammed into you.

His straining grunts, so hot and heavy in your ear, had you vibrating like a wound up ball of static electricity and you hung there on the precipice for a horribly long beat, silently praying for the pin to drop. You weren’t sure how much more your aching cunt could take at this level of intensity - and then, so abruptly it almost startles you, he turns his head so he can shove his mouth against your neck and kiss you again.

It was, embarrassingly enough, the abrasive burn of his chin scruff that finally shoves you over the edge.

Toes curling to the point of genuine discomfort, you jerk in his hold so violently that it nearly tips the both of you over onto the ground. Law is quick to steady himself though and he crushes you against the front of him with a rumbling groan while your cunt spasms and tries to strangle his cock in a chokehold. You were far too caught up in the wild, full bodied tremors that were wracking through you to complain about the creaking ache in your ribs from where he was holding on to you so tight, but you also didn’t really care.

You were floating somewhere far above the physical realm, your flesh and blood body little more than an afterthought at that point.

Finally, you come back to earth with a strangled, heaving gasp, hands scrabbling against Law’s sweaty back as you writhe in his arms like you were something feral and untamed. He wasn’t about to let you go anywhere just yet though, and he rocks forward on his knees so that your back hits the rumpled layers of your kimono again. Keeping his arms locked around your quaking frame, he settles close enough to rest the fronts of his thighs on the backs of yours and pin them to the floor underneath him.

The vigorous pounding that follows seems to drag out your soul shattering orgasm to the point of real discomfort and it very nearly sends you spiraling into another. Your legs were flexing in the air, jerking with each powerful thrust of his narrow hips, but he was chasing his own high now and he couldn’t be bothered to stop long enough to pay attention to your desperate bleating. For a brief moment in time, he was a man well and truly possessed.

“Oooh, fuck, you get so tight when you cum, sweetheart, hng - haahn, your pussy’s so good to me, you know that? I’m gonna’ fill you up, baby, you ready? It’s coming …”

You jerk your head in a disoriented nod and Law drops his face to your shoulder, his slender frame shaking uncontrollably with the intensity of his fast approaching release. The obscenely loud, sticky wet squelching that noises between the two of you only seems to highlight the rough, primal quality of the seething grunts and groans that slip through his clenched teeth, rattling around inside your otherwise empty skull. You were starting to ache, in earnest this time, and reflexive tears sting at the corners of your eyes while you fervently cling to him, brokenly moaning at each desperate stroke of his cock.

For better or worse, it only takes a few minutes of this brutal pace to have Law’s hips stuttering and losing their rhythm, his thrusts gradually turning sloppy and uneven before grinding to a complete stop. Heaving, he puts the whole weight of his body into it and slams himself inside the mess he’s made of your cunt, mercilessly rocking you back against the floor once, twice, three times. On the fourth plunge, he suddenly freezes on top of you, lurching with the loss of momentum, and a powerful shudder races down his spine while he sensitively twitches and paints your guts white.

You let out a flustered groan at the sensation, delighting in the way the warmth of his release settles and spreads through you, coating your palpitating walls in creamy discharge. It was enough to send a fresh wave of tremors racing up your legs and the two of you groan in near perfect unison as you both go limp, struggling to catch your breath.

He recovers somewhat quicker than you do, eventually pushing his weight up and slipping out from between your legs so he can tiredly roll over onto his side next to you. You’re still panting when he turns you to face him, gently drawing you up against his shallowly contracting chest so you can nuzzle your nose into the thin patch of hair there. You could still smell him, a faint comfort, through the faint musk and various bodily fluids now sticking to your skin, and you were content to enjoy it for just a little bit longer.

His hand slides around to rub across your back while you both work at coming the rest of the way down from your peaks, a true feat after that unexpectedly intense session, and he lets you press in close until it was hard to tell where one of you stopped and the other began. If asked prior to this, you wouldn’t have thought you’d be all that into role playing in the bedroom but, somehow, it was actually kind of fun with him.

Law did often seem to have that effect on you.

“Hey,” he says at last, bringing his hand up and around to gently brush the hair back from your temple. “You hungry?”

Still thrumming, you give yourself a moment to think about that. “Mm, I could eat.” You murmur even as you contentedly snuggle somehow even deeper into Law’s chest, getting comfortable.

He gives an amused snort and drags his rough palm down along your side, delivering a sharp pinch to the meat of your ass to make you jolt.

“Come on, let’s go see what kind of food we can get in Wano. I’m sure we’ll find something good, or at least something edible.” Pausing, he dips his face close and presses his mouth to the top of your head, speaking into your hair. “And when we get back maybe I’ll eat you next.”

#trafalgar law #law x reader #one piece #self insert bullshit #my writing

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writersrealmbts · 4 years ago

Text

Diamond Tears and Little Wings: Part 5

Description: You’re a fairy, taken in by BTS. You need lots of love and care, otherwise your light will fade and you turn to stone. Between the seven of them, you should never feel unloved. Right?

Warnings: N/A

Posted: 02/11/2021

Tags: bts x reader, ot7

Angst/Fluff/Angst: 3,846 words

A/N: Okay, I told you guys that I would be alternating between DTLW and Clearwater Springs, so here’s the proof. Anyway, two more parts after this!

Your fourth home in five years is what they told you this was. But you couldn’t remember any but this one.

So your heart was aching, and you always wanted to cry, but you never dared to do so. Something, someone’s, words, telling you that crying in front of strangers was dangerous kept echoing in your head. So you blinked away any tears that came, hugged your stuffed animal, and studied the area you would lived in.

It was a little cold, so you hugged your coat tighter to you. You’d been told by the other fairies that your coat was special, because it appeared to be designed exactly for your wings, which was rare. But none of them seemed to have any idea why you would have such a special coat, excepting the fact that maybe in the country you came from it was more normalized to have custom wing-slits.

It was completely normal to come away from a home with a stuffed animal, and clothing and jewelry that could shrink down. People liked dressing up fairies.

You played with your bracelet as you examined the cement floor, and the plain white walls, and the windows that weren’t quiet fully insulated but were full east and full west, respectively, and provided quite a bit of natural lighting. You had your own bathroom and kitchen area, and the laundry room was in the basement. The bed was a bit creaky, but the mattress seemed decent. You had a cute lamp on the side table, and they had a few books for you on a bookshelf that had the bottom shelf broken beside the side table.

There was shoebox bedroom on one of the shelves as well, very simple, with just a bed in it, but it was decorated carefully—though perhaps by their daughter. There was felt covering the floor and back wall, which would provide a little insulation for you. The outside was colored on, but you didn’t have a problem with that.

There was an old rug rolled off to one side that they said you could use, and a bar with some hangers already hanging on it and plastic drawers they said you could used for your clothing.

You looked at your suitcase, which was resting on the bed, then set your dog on top of it while you got the rug, unrolling it and placing it near your bed.

Your job there was to do their laundry and take care of the cat that their daughter wouldn’t let them get rid of, and to entertain their daughter now and then, and when you weren’t delivering the clean laundry or entertaining their daughter you were to stay in the basement bedroom. Simple enough.

The cat was a sweetheart and the laundry was quite simple with only three people to wash for. Laundry was tossed down the shoot daily and every Monday and Thursday you were to deliver their clean laundry before they awoke.

They weren’t cruel, or strict, just very structured and busy.

She was very kind and brought you groceries, even getting you exactly what you requested. You just had to leave a list with her laundry on Mondays, because Mondays were grocery days. She even spontaneously bought you a cake, and when you told her that the basement was a little cold for you, she found a nice heater for you that greatly improved things, and found some more blankets around the house for you. They were generally gone over the weekends, visiting a different set of grandparents each weekend, which left you and Cupcake, the cat, alone in the house to do as you pleased.

Those were the days you ventured down to the fairy market, which was a safe space for fairies and since you did get an allowance for doing the laundry, you could sometimes buy some special treats or things that you needed.

You weren’t a fan of the husband, which was fine, because he only seemed to come downstairs if he needed to check the water-heater (they were having issues with it and he was too stubborn to call whoever it was that professionally dealt with those things), or to ask you to do an emergency clean on a shirt or tie or slacks. It wasn’t that he was mean, or sleazy, or that he gave you bad vibes, he was just very grumpy and brisk. Cold.

And he hated the cat.

Plus you had the distinct feeling that if he found out about your diamond tears it would be a very bad thing. He was a greedy man, raising a greedy daughter.

But you had a CD player now, and you could find CD’s now and then at the fairy market, and the wife said you could use any CD’s you found in the basement.

Which was how you found your current favorite CD. You weren’t certain who the artists were because the disc hadn’t been in it’s proper case, but their songs were so nice. And you loved the one song.

So some days, when you had nothing to do but give the cat all the love it wanted, you just listened to that CD on repeat, singing words as though you’d known them before.

You did different crafts, and solved some of the abandoned puzzles from the storage room.

You improved your shoe-box, replacing the bed (it was a sponge, hard and weird to lay on) with a carefully arranged nest of fabrics and stuffing. Sometimes you stuck your stuffed dog into the shoebox and snuggled into that. The smells on it so familiar and foreign that it made you cry.

Which meant you had to find a place to hide your tears. Normally you just saved them and exchanged them at the fairy market—where the currency exchange fairy, Heidrun, just discretely nodded and added their value to your shopping card balance.

But one day she stopped you before you could leave, holding your hands. “You don’t look well, dear.”

“Fourth home,” You told her simply, shrugging. “It’s more of a job than a home. But I’m not…I’m not suffering. She always makes sure I have what I need and allows me a lot of freedom. I have the whole basement to myself, and I’m allowed in the side-yard at all times. She even encourages me to come here. And I have music to listen to. Actually, I found a CD I really like, but I don’t know what band they are because it doesn’t say on the disc.”

“Try Magnus, he knows everything going on in the music scene,” She told you, squeezing your hands. “And trying to hold onto whatever love you’ve got and are getting. It’s not healthy for our kind to go unloved.”

You nodded. “I’ll do that.”

Magnus did help you, granted, you had to sing a couple of the songs for him to find the right group, but once he did, he sent to you over to Frida with a request for BTS albums.

Frida nodded, pulling out several book-like things. “They’re super popular, but they’re also in a ton a magazines right now. They lost their fairy because of some scandal, and now they’re in a slump, but they’re also going on a world tour, so it can’t be that much of a slump. They’re actually coming to our stadium for a concert, which is cool. They’ve started putting up the posters already.”

You looked at the books, confused. “I thought you said they were albums?”

“They are. The CD’s are accompanied by a booklet of photos and the lyrics, photocards, and usually a poster.”

You blinked then picked up the biggest one, concerned and confused. “It’s…huge…and a box?”

She just snorted. “You want that one? It’s one of their more recent ones. Don’t have their newest yet, but I can see if I can get one for you.”

You nodded. “That’d be nice, but sure, I’ll…take this one for now.”

She nodded and swiped your card. “All yours, sweet-cheeks. Now, tell me how you get your hair that shiny.”

You grabbed your hair and shrugged. “I don’t know. I just wash it.”

“Not even fair,” She muttered, then turned to a new customer.

You went home after hitting a few more stalls, getting more craft things and some stuff for the kitty, hugging the album and wondering what awaited you inside.

Cupcake was waiting for you on your bed, sitting up and meowing loudly, stretching out a paw for you to take (which you did because why else teach him that trick) and then purring and arching into your hand.

“I know, I was gone for forever,” You scooped him up after successfully setting everything else down. “I bought some new music for us. You need a better name. A masculine name. You don’t respond to Cupcake anyway—not that I blame you. It’s a rather poor choice of a name for a cat, much less a tom.”

He just purred, climbing up onto your shoulders and riding there while you put away the few food items you had purchased and hopping onto the fridge while you started cooking your dinner.

You hummed as you tried to think of a different name for him, but after a moment you paused, wondering what song it was you were humming and why it was so familiar and yet so distant. So easy, but you couldn’t remember. You couldn’t remember the moment you stopped singing what the words were or how the song went, despite having reached the chorus. You could only remember the last words you sang.

You shook your head and went over, quickly opening the box to where the disc was in the album without seeing any sign of the pictures (Maybe a poster?) and then popping it into the player.

But it was worse than the first one, because you swore you knew each song. You had vague images in your head of people performing the songs. It hurt. It hurt to hear these songs because they were too familiar. Too familiar and yet so completely foreign that it was unfair.

The first one wasn’t too bad, but the second started really getting to you.

By the third song you were in tears.

By the chorus of the fourth song you were full-on sobbing on the bed.

The fifth song clashed so much with the sentiments of the previous two that it just broke you down further, and you had to turn it off before you started screaming at the empty space where the music should have come from.

You grabbed the photos from the album box after you had calmed down enough. Not bothering to try and remove the sticker, you slide the photos out and started flipping through the pages, horrified at the fact that they looked so achingly familiar and yet you had no idea who they were.

You tossed them back in the box and slammed it shut, eyes filled with tears.

But you must not have woken when someone came into the basement, because three days later the man was demanding to know where you got so many diamonds.

And fairies can’t lie.

Five days later you were staring out the window, a place you couldn’t go until you filled the box on your small counter space with diamonds. It wasn’t too large, but it was large enough that you were worried about whether you would ever fill it.

So you turned on the disc again, and cried. Cried until you were sick, and then collapsed into your bed. Exhaustedly petting the cat until you fell asleep, only to repeat it the next day. And the next.

When you finally filled it, you went straight to the market just to get some time away from the basement.

The shopkeepers from your regular stops came rushing up when they saw you, even Heidrun, all asking where you’d been and if you were okay and before you knew it you were sitting at one of the picnic tables with some soup and some tea and a bunch of worried fairies fussing over you.

Frida sat silently across from you, looking concerned but ultimately staring at the table.

Or so you thought, because she suddenly reached across the table and grabbed your bracelet. “Where did you get this?”

You blinked and tried to recoil, but couldn’t. “I don’t remember. I just figured it was from one of my previous homes.

Magnus frowned, looking at it. “It looks a lot like the one that…”

She nodded. “There’s something etched onto them. Fairy craftsmanship. Come over to my shop. Come on.”

You followed her, curious, and not wanting to let something you had a very strong attachment to out of your sight.

First she tried a jeweler’s eye loupe, then she wrinkled her nose and grabbed a flashlight, shining it through the gems and onto the table.

You stared down at it, confused.

“Something tells me your family didn’t give you up willingly,” Magnus said, voice a little tense.

Frida looked at you, as though she couldn’t believe it. “You’re the fairy that was taken away from BTS?”

You just looked back at her. “Um…is that what all of that means?”

“How did you like that album you bought?” She asked, eyes narrowed to slits.

You shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to think about how much you had used it to make yourself cry, because if you did then you knew she was right. And if she was right, then it would be even sadder.

“Weren’t the one that said that they couldn’t have been too sad about losing their fairy to be going on a world tour? Why would I want to be her?”

“No, they talked about it…it’s because they’re trying to find her. Find you. They didn’t say it explicitly because they could get in trouble for that, but they’ve hinted at it and there are tons of reports and pictures of them visiting every fairy sanctuary they could without compromising their performances. It just took a while for it to hit the news for us. Y/n, they’re looking for you. And if this is any proof, I think they love you and you need love. You look like a skeleton with skin.”

Heidrun gently pulled you into her arms. “What changed? You were doing alright and then you were gone and you come back looking like a ghost.”

“They found my tears,” You whispered.

She inhaled sharply, not quite a gasp, and held you tighter. “You can’t stay there.”

“I can’t leave there either. Where would I go? I would just get arrested and brought back to them.”

Frida folded her arms. “Leave it to me. You go back, lay low. Maybe try to appeal to the lady of the house. I’ll have you out of there as soon as I can. In the meantime….”

“I’ve still got a backlog of your diamonds, come get them just in case he asks again.” Your arm was gently pulled toward the currency exchange station.

You took the bag, and the treats most of them packed up for you. If the love of other fairies was enough to sustain you, you never would have been in this mess. But fairies, while kind and caring, didn’t have enough love for other fairies to keep them alive, especially once exposed to the love of a family. Fairies were good, and kind, and helpful, but also emotionally unstable which made it hard to focus enough love into one another without a consistent source of outside love.

It was a miracle your species had survived as long as it had.

Cupcake greeted you, meowing pathetically and hopping into your arms.

You sat down on your bed with him. “Let’s think of a new name for you.”

Eventually you settled on Keyowo, which was close to his current name but meant friend and was just…it was better.

You then set to deep cleaning over the next week, shrinking your things and tucking them into your suitcase to keep them out of sight.

On Tuesday he beat you to tears because you weren’t producing tears fast enough.

The album caught your eye again on the next Friday.

You picked up, tracing the seven on the cover, and then opening it. You pulled out the poster and unfolded it.

They were in white, with feathers floating down and a hole in the floor. They all looked so good.

You touched the one on the far left, wearing the sweater. Slightly cat-like facial features. You felt like you knew what his hands looked like, even though you couldn’t see much of them in the picture. Slightly calloused, bony, but gentle and careful. Caring for everyone.

“Yoongi,” You whispered, choking up. Tearing up.

Your fingers traced over each of them, names a whisper in your mind. A whisper that turned into shouts, memories flooding your mind of each and every one of them. Your mind screaming for them because your throat was too tight to even whisper.

They were your boys.

They had to let you go.

You weren’t supposed to remember them.

They weren’t supposed to try and find you.

The next day you shoved everything into your bag, tucked the cat into your coat, left a note for the missus and headed straight back to the fairy market.

Frida looked surprised when she saw you. “Whoa, what happened? Is this the kitty your were telling me about?”

“They’re gone for the weekend, that means even if I stay nearby they’ll think I’ve had two days to run out on them. I need you to help me get me back to my family.” You teared up. “I need to find them.”

Frida nodded, glancing around and closing her shop. “Come on. You can stay with me.”

Frida’s family consisted of a pair of siblings.

The sister, Alena, was a fairy rights activist in her spare time, which is why Frida had so much freedom, and a huge music fan. She had a whole wall of CD’s and albums and posters. Stacks of magazines featuring musicians.

The brother, Agnar, was quiet, “just an accountant”, and very kind. And very affectionate toward Frida.

Frida was equally affectionate toward him, bringing a fake gag from Alena.

They helped you find an outfit that hid your fairy-ness, and he got you tickets to the concert, all of you hoping that it would get you close enough for them to see you and recognize that you were there. Also, it would help you health-wise to see them in person and the rush from the concert would be overwhelming, but also might revitalize you.

Then Alena forced you to sit in the bathroom with her while she applied a cloth to your face with epsom salts to try and reduce the bruising and swelling on your face. She told you about the fairy abuse responders, and how she would call them in the morning and tell them about your family.

Agnar totally stole your cat.

Frida let you sleep in her fairy-home (because it definitely wasn’t a dollhouse and it was awesome, of course).

Four days later, you were at the concert venue with Alena, taking a seat and soaking in the atmosphere. People were talking all around and some people were chanting the boys’ names. Another group was starting to sing the songs.

You listened nervously, wondering whether it was true or not that they were looking for you. What if they were just making a fuss to get back at the company a bit? What if the media was making things up? It wouldn’t be the first time a story was fabricated for magazines.

Then the concert started and you and Alena were cheering for your boys, but you wondered why you ever thought they’d be able to see you in this mess.

It wasn’t until the second half of the concert that you had hope.

The boys were in more casual outfits, having more fun.

And they were all wearing the jewelry that Namjoon had made from your diamonds.

Jimin was the one who saw you first, though he looked right over you and then seemed to try and pinpoint you again, but was unable to in the crowd. He stood there with a smile plastered on his face, acting as though he was studying each Army’s face when you knew he was searching for you.

So you stood still in the writhing mass that of the crowd, and studied him.

He had lost weight, and if it hadn’t been for the makeup, you bet he’d look fairly wrung-out.

All of them looked like they’d been sick enough to lose weight.

Taehyung came over and practically dragged him away (making it look playful).

But Jimin said something to Jin and Jungkook.

Jungkook was over there as casually as he could, totally looking at the camera and doing ‘fanservice’. But he obviously didn’t spot you.

Jin didn’t either.

But Yoongi did during the very last song and he stopped, staring, then he was crouched, hand over his mouth, just staring in your direction.

You waved, wondering if he actually was staring at you.

He smiled, but it also looked like he wanted to cry. He waved as well, then cautiously moved off, still keeping an eye on you.

You bit your lip, smiling.

Alena squealed and grabbed onto you, and the two of you did your best to fit in with the rest of the crowd.

Both of you lingered as long as you could afterward, her extremely hyped from the whole concert and talking a mile a minute, while you were feeling…exhausted? All of the emotions around you and finally seeing your boys again….

But you had no idea how you were going to get to them, or how they were going to get to you.

Until you saw Sejin, scanning the crowd.

The likelihood of him being on the side of the boys was pretty good.

You tugged on Alena’s arm, pulling her to a stop.

Sejin locked onto you and started moving, coming your way, waiting until the straggling fans that had been around you were gone before telling security to let you through.

You dipped your head to the security guards, then bowed slightly to Sejin. “Hello.”

Sejin smiled. “Hello, y/n.”

You bit your lip. “I remembered.”

He nodded. “I figured. We all figured. They’re waiting. They’re all waiting.”

You were practically vibrating.

“Come on, let’s get you back to them. Your friend can come but she needs to wait in the hallway for…security purposes.”

You nodded and relayed the information to Alena, then both of you were following back to the waiting room.

Sejin stopped by the waiting room. “Go on in.”

You nodded, putting your hand on the doorknob and then turning it and going in.

–

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Masterlist - ot7 Masterpost

Tagging: @alex–awesome–22, @bryvada, @missmoxxiesworld @subzerobts @forvever-ddaeng @vividwoosan @mischiefmakerliesmith5 @beach-bitch-bitch-beach @minmeowmeowcuddles @kpopfictrash @castlewolfsbane @scatkpoptrash @knjhe @i-dont-even-know-fck @soulphoenix1618 @kerikaaria @sea-nevermind-enthusiast @reinaxans

If you would like to be tagged: DTLW Taglist (please make sure you can be tagged, I’m no longer hunting people down)

#fairy au #bts fic #bts ot7 #bts ot7 x reader #ot7 #ot7 x reader #fairy!reader #namjoon #jin #seokjin #yoongi #suga #hoseok #jhope #jimin #taehyung #v #jungkook

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ashbrea381writings · 4 years ago

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Fractals and Feathers: Chapter two, Information

“Colored cracks may appear in cases where a soulmate dies and is subsequently resuscitated.” Tim quoted as he sat back from the computer. “This happens frequently with heart patients and those in bad motor accidents.”

“Yes, but these are a lot of them… And they’re gold.” Damian commented with a sigh. “And Kent has mostly gold with a few red ones. It shouldn’t be possible for someone to die and be resuscitated that many times!” He began pacing around behind Tim, muttering. “There must be some kind of magic involved here, perhaps Mother is behind this, Grandfather always hated my wings, it could be some sort of magic they’re using to try and make me think my soulmate is dead, but it didn’t work right.”

“Baby Bird, that doesn’t explain Jon’s wings.” Dick commented as he walked in, removing his mask and wiping some sweat from his forehead. “Besides, I did some recon too, it seems like a few people who’s soulmates are in Paris have experienced the same thing. When they called their soulmates in a panic over the cracks that had appeared, they were told that there is a new set of Supers in Paris. And one of them has the power to reverse all the damage done by the Villain… Including death.”

Tim gave a groan, typing furiously as he tried to get past the firewall that kept rewriting itself. “I can’t get any info out of Paris. I even set my VPN to and address in Paris, but it somehow keeps blocking me.” He growled in frustration as a window opened on the screen previously just covered with code, showing a young woman with dark, blue-black hair in a high ponytail and a red and black mask over eyes that practically glowed blue.

“Will you stop that?!” She snarled in heavily accented English. “I don’t care who you are, but you need to keep your noses out of our business.”

Thankfully, Tim and Damian were still masked up, and Dick was able to turn around before the video fully opened. “We work with the Justice League, if people are dying repeatedly and are only brought back by magic it IS our business.” Nightwing responded in his best Batman impression as he turned around with his mask back in place. “I’m assuming that would be you who does this?”

“Yes, it is, and I would appreciate it if you and your superpowered friends stayed away from my city.” She seemed to set whatever the camera was attached to on a ledge, showing a stunning view of Paris behind her. “We have it handled here and we don’t need any of your friends making our jobs harder.”

“Isn’t your job to protect the citizens of Paris?!” Robin growled, stalking up to the screen and glaring behind his mask. “Yet somehow, those who we know have soulmates in Paris are suffering with the knowledge that their soulmates keep dying only to be brought back by some magic that might just stop working one day!”

“I don’t get a choice.” She responded, crossing her arms. “Hawkmoth won’t stop until he gets what he wants and I don’t feel like letting the world potentially end, thank you. We are working on his identity, but it’s difficult with the magics involved-such as the one that alerted me to your intrusion and prevents you from finding what you want.”

“And how are we supposed to trust you?” Red Robin asked, almost too casually for Robin’s preference, if the way his shoulders stiffened was any indication. “See, we have a couple people we know personally whose wings are covered in gold and red fractal patterns, and we’re awfully worried about people who have to sacrifice themselves that much. Especially since it obviously sticks long enough to make a mark, AND they all showed up within the last couple of weeks.”

“One of my team members is able to rewind time for a maximum of 5 minutes at a time, this allows the possibility of thousands of different aborted timelines, hence why the lines might show up multiple at a time. Because they might have died in a couple dozen of the timelines before we finally had a solution.” She sighed and pinched her nose. “We are up against a madman with a magic item that allows him to use negative emotions against us and make his victims do the dirty work for him.”

“Dirty work? What kind of dirty work?” Nightwing asked, frowning and crossing his arms in turn. “What does he want, exactly? And how does that potentially end the world?”

“He wants the magic items that myself and my partner use. The ones our team uses and that Hawkmoth and his partner use are from a set of them, I won’t tell you how many. Each has a different power, and the one’s my partner and I use happen to be the two most powerful, using the power of creation…” She paused and gestured to herself, glancing off screen for a moment. “And destruction, respectively.” She stepped to one side to reveal a young man in armored leather with cat ears on his head.

“When you combine them, you are able to make a wish. Would you trust the man who is willing to destroy Paris with such a wish?” The young man asked, his black and acid green wings flaring out as though in a threat display. “Or being able to use someone like Superman as a weapon?”

“How would that be possible?” Nightwing asked, “Also, since we will apparently be having a longer conversation than I expected, I’m Nightwing. These are Robin and Red Robin.” He added, pointing to them. “We would like to offer aid if we can, even from a distance if we needed to. I’m assuming that since you could connect to our computer with the magic you’re using, you could also exempt it from the magic.”

“That’s a bold assumption. I’m Ladybug, and this is my partner Chat Noir. While I could let you guys have an exception, I’m afraid I don’t see why I should trust you.” Her wings were also bristling, the red-and-black spots clearly caused by the magic they used just as Chat’s coloration obviously wasn’t natural.

“We are known for being detectives above all else. We don’t have powers, and one or two of us are even mentally well-adjusted enough that we could probably come to you guys without risking whatever happens with your villain.” Nightwing insisted.

“How about we come to you? Give us a place to meet with you in your city, we have a way to transport ourselves. I’d like to size you up before I give you any more information.” Ladybug countered, moving her hands to her hips. “I don’t trust that you’re nearly as well adjusted as you claim, I’m one of the most positive people on the face of the earth and even I have had to force myself out of mindsets that nearly got me Akumatized. It’s not as easy to avoid as you think.”

“What was that word? Akumatized?” Red Robin asked, frowning as he tried and failed to translate the word.

“It’s what we call it when someone has been taken over by Hawkmoth. He sends out a butterfly corrupted by magic and turns normal people into a villain. Once the Akuma -the butterfly- is purified the victim does not remember any of what happened while they were Akumatized.” The Bug and Cat pair exchanged a glance, making frustrated faces at each other.

“What was that look?” Robin asked, still angry that they weren’t giving him what he wanted. “The look you two had just now?”

“We… We’ll tell you after we decide if we want help from you.” Ladybug sighed. “I’ve added a way for you to message me on my device I’m using to talk to you, it’ll show up as an app on your computer. Don’t use it for trivial matters or I’ll just lock you out. Give me a time and place to meet, using my timezone preferably, and I will do my best to have both me and Chat be there to discuss matters further.” With those last, brisk words, Ladybug reached for her device and cut the call.

“Well, that was rude.” Red Robin huffed, picking up his phone to show Batman’s face in a video call there. “Did you hear all that, B?”

“I heard. Send coordinates for the top of Wayne Enterprises, for 9:00 pm Paris time tomorrow.” He instructed, sighing from his seat in the Batmobile. “We will all meet them there, let her know that myself and the three of you will be there.”

“Copy that, B. Sending the information now.” The young man typed quickly, double-checking what time that would be for them. “That’s the middle of the afternoon, are you sure?”

“Yeah, nobody has anything scheduled for tomorrow, and she sounded about the same age as Robin. With all that considered, I don’t know if they DO have civilian plans early the next day, so I’d rather err towards them having more time to sleep.”

Reading the return message, Red Robin began to chuckle. “They want to meet us at 4am Paris Time, as they already get up that early to do other things and missing half an hour or so wouldn’t be an issue.”

“Very well, if that’s part of their routine, we can handle that.” Batman answered, seeming interested to know what the heck had them up that early.

#mgi trope tussle #maribat #daminette #dc #miraculous ladybug #wing au #soulmate

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axwalker · 4 years ago

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If The World Was Ending: Even if he was wicked

Synopsis: When Bianca leaves her son without looking back, Drake has to live on the streets until he finds a home with Angelica Ortiz--Lexie’s grandmother and a foster mom. With the Ortiz, Drake finds a family and falls madly in love, until a tragic night changes everything, threatening the life Drake fought so hard to get.

To catch up (HERE)

Pairing: Drake Walker x Lexie O’Brien (MC) The Royal Romance.

A/N: This will be a very angsty, full of drama, small town romance.

Words: 4,120

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Pixelberry, except for Lexie’s grandmother and mother.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Child neglect, abandonment, sexual assault, prison and a very entitled, “evil” Liam

Due to the several trigger warnings and some of the subjects I’ll be dealing with, I will only tag people who actively asked for it. If you want to be tagged in the following chapters --or untagged, please leave a comment.

Drake

2008

When I was 12 years old, my mother took off with my little sister leaving me in Cordonia with my father's best friend. I reminded her too much of my father, too much of a life she would do anything to forget. That "anything" included abandoning her oldest son. I'd like to say I was surprised, but the truth is I wasn't. Bianca Walker had never been a motherly woman. The only reason she had taken Savannah with her was that my Aunt Leona adored her. I was sure my mother would dump my little sister on her and never look back. I hoped that was the case, Leona despised me, but she was great to Savannah.

A short time after that, Bastien passed away and my mother was nowhere to be found. That's when I started to go from one home to another. The first year and a half were the hardest ones. I lived with four different families, each one worse than the last. First, the Lockes, where the family barely talked to me. Then, the Ruiz that made me take cold showers and sleep on the floor. The Godwins where the “mother” used the check the state gave her to buy alcohol instead of groceries. And finally the worse, the Fields. They seemed nice enough when I met them. Not kind but polite. The first few weeks everything seemed normal. Then one day, I got in trouble at school, and Mr. Fields --the pastor of his community, beat me up to “teach me some manners.” His punishments became a usual thing after that.

Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore, so I escaped. Better to be on my own than believe some family was going to love or adopt me. Obviously, there was something very wrong with me. My own mother had left me, and I had never found my place anywhere else.

I lived on the streets for 6 months. I did all kinds of jobs. Not a lot of them were legal but there were few opportunities for a 14-year-old runaway kid. The most money I got was when I stole car parts that I got to resell to a gang called the Mercy Park Crew. The boss, Mr. Kaneko was fair and paid well enough. I could’ve kept living by myself if something hadn’t got terribly wrong at my last job. One of the boys from a rival gang decided to teach me a lesson and I ended up in the hospital with a concussion. A nurse called social services so here I am in a car with another social worker on the way for another foster home. It doesn’t matter, I know it won’t last anyway.

When you’ve been in the system as long as I had, you learned to look for certain warning signs when placed in a new home. Drugs, ulterior motives, threatening fathers, drinking mothers. After an hour, we drove through a town looking like something straight out of a movie. Valtoria. I’d heard of it before. The family my dad had been protecting when he died lived there. The house we pulled up to, was a large two-story construction with dark brown siding and an immaculate green lawn.

Joelle, my new caseworker had popped up out of nowhere in the hospital and told me I was coming with her. Just like that. From the way Joelle talked about the new place, I figured it was some sort of transitional home for rejects like me. Too old to get adopted and too troubled for anyone to voluntarily take on. I didn’t ask her anything else because I knew I didn’t have a fucking choice. Besides, I knew words don’t mean anything. I was a kid in the system. I went where they took me. Sometimes, I hated it. Sometimes, I really hated it. This time was different. In more ways than one. Usually, I was dropped off by my caseworker, and the people receiving me were about as excited as they were about junk mail. No one has ever come out to greet me before. As long as the woman at the door wasn’t sizing me up for a skin suit, it didn’t matter.

The social worker got out of the car as I grabbed the trash bag that I used to carry my shit around. She rang the bell, and a small, older woman opened the door. Joelle had told me in the car that the woman fostered several boys and I knew what that meant. She wanted the money the government gave her for keeping us. Well, I wasn’t going to make it easy for her. If she wanted to cash a check at the end of the month it was going to cost her. I’d make sure of it.

I had seen it all, but I still was caught by surprise when the tiny woman opened her arms at me and gave me a one-sided hug. A fucking hug.

“I’m very happy to meet you, mijo,” she said in a strong accent. “My name is Angelica Ortiz but everyone here calls me Abuela. Grandma in Spanish.”

The woman was deluded if she thought I’d call her grandma. She was obviously trying to impress the social worker with her fake kindness, hugs, and stupid names. I wasn’t going to be fooled that easily.

I didn’t even answer her as we stepped into the house. Another woman, a younger version of the one staring at me was waiting for us in the living room.

“Hi, you must be Drake. I’m Elena. Welcome.” She gave me a smile. Fake, I was sure but at least she hadn't tried to hug me. The older woman was talking to Joelle about me. Probably about my problems with authority, anger issues, and lack of communication skills. I knew my file by heart.

I barely nodded at Elena, and the three women exchanged a look. “Let me take you to your room, Drake. You’ll be sharing it with Maxwell. He’s doing his homework with my daughter in our house across the street. You’ll get to meet all the boys and my daughter Lexie tonight.”

She walked me to a room on the second floor of the house. It seemed clean and comfortable. Another ploy for the social worker. Two bunker beds with blue blankets and a wooden desk full of books were the biggest pieces of furniture. The left side of the room was covered in posters of who I figured were famous boy bands. There were a few of David Beckham, the only guy I recognized. Other than that there were clothes everywhere. That Maxwell dude was a fucking slob. Great.

“I told Max to take down some posters so you can decorate half of the room to your liking; This is your room as much as it is his. He's usually much more organized than this." I notice she speaks with a sort of fondness. "It was picture day for the school yearbook and he took hours getting ready. ”

I shrugged. I wasn’t planning to stay long anyway. I couldn’t care less if that Max kid left his posters on the walls or not.

She glanced at my garbage bag. “Are those your clothes, mijo?”

I scowled at her. I knew what mijo meant and I was nobody’s son. “My name is Drake.”

She smiled. “Of course, Drake. So, are they?”

I didn’t bother with an answer. A nod was enough.

“I cleared you this part of the closet, so you can keep them there. When you’re ready come downstairs; my mom and I will show you the rest of the house. The boys are out but we’ll all diner together tonight. Do you like Mexican food?”

I shrugged.

The woman smiled. “Shrugging is not an answer, mij- Drake. Either you like it, you don’t, or you haven’t tasted it in which case I can tell you, you’re missing out. Especially when mami cooks.” She winked at me as if we were friends or something. The woman was insane. “So, what is it, Drake?”

I’d never had it before, but she wasn’t going to tell me how to answer a damn question. “I hate it.”

She frowned --clearly disappointed, and I almost felt bad for her. Almost. “I’m very sorry to hear that. We already made Enchiladas for tonight and we don’t waste food. You can tell us your favorite dish though so we can make it for you.”

I shrugged again. Generally, that's when the person talking to me loses her patience but Elena Ortiz only smiled at me again. “Think about it. Every Sunday night, we pick someone’s favorite and cook it. It’s really fun. Next Sunday will be your first here, so you get to pick. Mami is a great cook and she can make anything from a mean chocolate cake to the best cheese pizza. See you downstairs, honey.”

Great. I’ve only been in this house for a few minutes, and I already hated it. The only thing worse than a home where you were beaten up as a welcome was a home where people pretended to care. My third foster home had been like that. Ms. Godwin had been all kind and nice at first. I almost felt like she cared about us. A week later, she had gotten drunk. For two days, neither I or the two girls she fostered had anything to eat because she hadn’t bought any groceries. I had to steal a twenty euro bill from her purse to buy food. She got angry and called the social worker who had come for me and taken me to the Fields. The worst home I ever lived in.

I wasn’t going to go downstairs but I decided that if I wanted a chance to escape it was better if I knew the house. Before I could explore a little, I heard my name from what I assumed was the kitchen.

Elena was crouching in front of the oven. “Drake has such sad eyes, mami. He’s only 14.”

The woman that had asked me to call her abuela, answered as she chopped an onion. “This boy has been living in the streets for more than a year. Do you realize it? Pobre angelito. So young and he has already seen more horrors than most people see in a lifetime.”

“Joelle told me that he had escaped from his last foster home.”

The older woman scoffed. “Home? If that’s how you call people that foster kids only for the money, they get in exchange. I don’t want to imagine why he fled those places." She turned to her daughter who had finished whatever she was doing in the oven and was drinking a bottle of water. "Stop watching me work, Elena and help me with diner, por Dios.”

Why was she pretending she didn’t care about the money? It was obvious. No one did anything for free. There was always a catch.

“Dónde está mi venadito?”

“Lexie and Max are at our house doing homework, mami. Be careful, though, if Lexie hears you calling her “your little deer” she’ll kill you. The boys called her Bambi for months after they heard you the last time.”

“Nonsense. She’s my venadito and that’s that. You two will come to eat here tonight. I want Drake to meet everyone.”

Elena rolled her eyes but patted her mom on the back. “Yes mami. Lexie is dying to meet him, she and Max made a chocolate cake for him. I’ll call her in a minute. Where are the boys by the way?”

“Bertie is trying to teach Leo how to drive. Poor boy, I hope he makes it alive.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure Leo will be careful. Bertrand will be fine.”

“Oh, it’s not Bertie I’m worried about, it’s Leo. Bartie has no patience with him.”

I left the kitchen before they said anything else. I was sure I was going to hate this stupid place. I was angry. More than angry. Furious. After a year of successfully running away, I was back in the damn system. Back in yet another home where people seemed to care about me in front of the social worker just to ignore me –or worse, once she left. I had to admit that my new foster “moms” played their part better than most. The old one had hugged me and the other one had given me a smile that seemed real. But I knew better. No one really cared for me. No one gave a shit where I slept, what I ate, or if I was ill or scared. Not that I was ever scared. I had seen everything.

The front door was locked so I went to the backyard. I saw a small wooden house on top of one of the trees. I decided it was a good place to hide and be myself.

I sat there for a few moments when I heard someone climbing the tree.

“Hi!”

I looked up and saw a girl a couple of years younger than me. She had the biggest pair of brown eyes I’ve ever seen and was smiling at me as if I was her best friend.

“I’m Lexie! I live across the street. I’m Angelica’s granddaughter. You’re Drake, right?” I didn’t think it was possible to smile more but the girl proved me wrong when her grin widened. I simply nodded.

“Welcome! I know that it must be hard for you to feel at home because you like just arrived but you’ll love it here. I promise. Valtoria is great. We have lakes and the mountains and when it’s warm enough we can go camping all night. You’ll love the house too. I mean between you and me the boys are kind of a pain in the ass but they’re pretty great when they want to. Or when they're not teasing me. Especially Leo and Maxie. Bertrand is a know-it-all. He thinks because he’s sixteen he knows everything." She rolled her eyes clearly offended by the idea that someone could know more than her. "Abuela, that how we all call her because she’s Mexican and would murder us if we call her grandma, is amazing. I mean don’t get me wrong, she's super strict, and as my mom says the woman is never wrong but she’s the best person I know.”

I blinked. I didn’t know a person could talk that much without taking a single breath.

“Do you camp?” She asked as she folded her legs in front of her.

I did before. Before my dad died and my whole life blew up in a million pieces. Not that I would explain any of that to the chatty girl, so I just nodded again.

“Great! It’s getting warmer and Leo wants to go to a new camping site next weekend. Don’t tell him I said this but he’s like the worst camper ever. I have to double-check everything he does but I don’t tell him anymore because my mom said it wasn’t nice.”

I wondered how could someone carry a whole conversation by herself. I hadn’t pronounced a single word since the girl had shown up.

“I want to be your friend but I can see we’re about to have our first fight.” She told me in a teasing tone. “You’re wearing a Liverpool t-shirt. We worship Barcelona in this house. Well, Abuela, Leo and I do. The others couldn’t care less about soccer.”

I looked at the shirt she was wearing. It read "If they don't have soccer in heaven, I'm not going."

She noticed I was looking at her shirt and beamed. "Abue said my shirt was disrespectful to God but mom thought that was dumb and bought it for me anyway."

"Do you like soccer?" I finally asked.

“Like it? I love it! Did abuela saw your shirt? She hates European teams. She thinks Tigres is the best.”

“Tirgues?”

She laughed, and the sound of it did something weird to my stomach. “Tigres. It’s a Mexican team. She goes crazy when they play.”

“What team you like?”

“Barcelona, obviously.”

“Liverpool made it to the finals of the last Champion’s league.” I pointed out.

She shrugged. “They lost so it doesn’t count. Do you play?”

“Sometimes.” I tried not to show how much I loved it. It was something else my dad and I shared that had stopped when he died.

“I play too. How old are you?”

“Fourteen.”

“I'm twelve. Well, almost thirteen, my birthday is in May.”

I frowned. “It’s November.”

“I know. I’m almost there.” She beamed. "I'm almost closer to thirteen than twelve anyway."

“Do you always talk this much?”

She laughed and my belly did that weird thing again. “My mom says I was a parrot in another life. I talk more when I’m nervous.”

“You're nervous?” I liked that I could make her nervous but I didn't know why.

She blushed and I liked it too. “A little. What happened to your eye?”

“I got into a fight.”

“Wow. You can’t do that here. Leo is always getting into fights and abuela has to ground him.”

She sure mentioned that Leo guy a lot. “Is Leo your boyfriend?”

“Gross!! Leo’s is like my brother. He, Bertie, and Max live with abuela. We’re a family. You’re family too.”

Fuck that. No matter if the girl was sort of cute. I didn’t have a family. “No, I’m not. I’m not staying.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I don’t belong here.”

“Yes, you do; I swear. Plus, I need someone to coach me, so I can get into the school team next year. Leo promised he would, but he never has time.”

“I suck.”

She shook her head and smiled at me again. “Somehow I don’t think you do.” Then she gave me a conspiratorial look as she pulled out something from her jacket pocket. "You can't tell my mom about this but I took this from her room." It was a white iPod. After scrolling a little through the screen she settled on The Beach Boys. She couldn't possibly know it but they were my dad's favorites. She passed me an earbud and we didn’t talk after that. We just sat together for a while hearing music until we heard our names being called.

“That’s abuela. We should go. She hates to wait. Plus, I'm starving and we're having enchiladas. You'll love them.”

Lexie ran to her house to --as she put it-- 'hide the evidence.' I went back to her grandma's house and stepped into the kitchen.

“Drake, pass me the salt, mijo. It’s next to you on the counter,” Angelica said as she kept on turning the sauce she was making. “You like enchiladas?”

What was with all these women asking me what I liked to eat? I leaned against the black counter while she opened the lid of another steaming pot on the stove, and stirred its contents with a long wooden spoon. I shrugged. I didn’t know if I liked it. But it smelled better than anything I ever tasted, so it couldn’t be all that bad. My mouth started watering, and my stomach growled. Come to think of it, it had been a while since I’d last eaten.

“You know, I know you feel weird now. And you don’t like to talk a lot. Soon, you’ll learn that this is a safe place. We aren’t gonna judge a single word that comes out of your mouth or any of them that don’t.”

I suddenly felt like I owed her a verbal response in exchange for her kindness. Fake or not. Besides, I just knew the chatty girl I’ve just met wouldn’t be happy if I was rude to her grandmother. “Yes, ma’am.”

She smiled at my verbal response. “But just so you know. We do have a few rules in this house.”

Here it comes. The catch. Angelica put the lid back on the pot and leaned over the counter on her elbows. “You just need to go to school, find a hobby or sport you like, don't swear, respect the curfew and keep your room clean. Every child in this house has chores but it’s too soon to figure out yours. For now, you only have to get to know us.” Her eyes crinkled as she smiled at me. At that moment the timer of the oven rang and Angelica took a huge dish out of it. She covered it with more steamy, tomato sauce, sour cream, and grated cheese and put it back in the oven. At least, I might get some good food while I figured what I was going to do next. Because no matter how nice and kind everybody acted, I was not going back to school. I used to be good at it without much effort; I had friends and a soccer team. But I had missed a lot in the last two years. I felt dumb and stupid.

Suddenly, the front door slammed open. “Cuidado muchachos! Be careful with that door against the wall, or you’re going be spackling and repainting this entire house,” Angelica yelled out. Three teenage boys filed into the house, followed by just as many apologies.

“Sorry.” “Oops.” “It was Max’s fault.” “

“These are Maxwell, Leo and Bertie,” Angelica introduced. “Boys, this is Drake.”

“Hi, man!” The blond one said with a shit-eating grin. “Abuela, Lena, you guys didn’t tell me you were buying a Liverpool fan.”

“Adoption is not a purchase of people, Leo” the oldest one --Bertrand, corrected.

“Yeah, cause if it was, then you got Leo from the clearance rack,” the youngest one joked, checking his reflection in the hallway mirror, smoothing back an out-of-place dark hair. “I hope you kept your receipt.”

“Fuck, off,” the blond one replied with a middle finger.

“Watch it, Leo,” Angelica warned. “Boys.”

Max kissed her on the cheek. “Sorry, abue.” She forgave him with a smile, then swatted at his hand with her spoon when he dipped his finger into the pot.

“I’m glad you’re here, bro” Leo said. I stood, and he gave me a fist bump without touching my hand.

“Me too! And we’re going to be roomies,” the kid named Max said. He grabbed a stack of plates from the counter. I followed him over to the long dining room table and helped set the table for seven people.

2020

I lost count of how many days I’ve been in the hole. It wasn’t my first time in here and it sure as hell it wouldn’t be the last. It was always the same routine. Days and nights blended into one making it impossible to know what day it was or how much time I had been in here.

I have been in jail for six excrutiating years. I had known from the day I heard the sentencing that the only way I was going to survive was if I didn’t think about her. It was the hardest thing I had to do but after a while, my routine was running smoothly and when my head hit the pillow at night, I was too fucking exhausted. She haunted my dreams and my nightmares, but I didn’t think of her beyond that. Except for the hole. Locked up there, cold, hungry, and utterly alone her face, my memories of her were the only thing that helped me go on.

I replayed in my head our first encounter, our first kiss, our first time. I obsessed about her full lips, her expressive brown eyes, her gorgeous smile. I could spend hours picturing every single corner of her soft delicate curves. Sometimes, I wondered if --maybe, I didn’t start fights in the hope of being sent to the hole where I could spend my time fantasizing about her. It was pure torture, but I couldn’t help myself. The memories I had of her, of us and our short time together were the only light in my otherwise bleak life.

She still wrote me every week but I hadn’t open any single one of her letters. I didn’t want to know if she was moving on with her life or worst if she was waiting for me. Because that was what Lexie didn’t understand. Even if nothing happened and I was released in one year, I would never be that boy again. The Drake Walker she had known and loved was dead and she wasn’t going to like the man that had been left in his place. I was damn sure about that.

Tagging:

@mskaneko

@burnsoslow

@kingliam2019

@kat-tia801

@petiteboheme

@tinkie1973

@twinkle-320

@thegreentwin

@forallthatitsworth

@marshmallowsandfire

@marshmallowsaremyfavorite

@princessleac1

@lilacsandwhiskey

@lovingchoices14

@nomadics-stuff

#tw child neglect #tw child abandonment #tw children #tw child labor #axwalker writes #drake walker #drake walker fanfic #drake x mc #drake x lexie #trr fanfic #trr au fanfic

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not-a-coral-snake · 4 years ago

Text

for @lamenweek Day 8 prompt: “It was one kingdom once”

"Their support is . . . tennous," Berenger says. He shifts his weight. "Your majesty, if I may be so bold . . . You retain their support because they think you are young and tractable. They think they can sway you, if not into abandoning the alliance with Akielos entirely, into minimizing its priority. If you proceed as you plan, you will lose their support entirely."

It’s like this sometimes. His nobles, or Damianos’s, dangling promises of support before them, of difficulties that could be amicably smoothed over, if only the king would be reasonable. The three nobles Berenger is referring to today hold between them a significant portion of Toutaine, rich in timber and mineral resources, and in Lord Mitry’s case, along a strategically-important stretch of the border with Vask. Appease them, and Laurent will have a significant amount more funds and men for fighting the more directly-belligerent of his uncle’s remaining supporters and pursuing the various domestic projects he has planned. Refuse, and Laurent will be likely be faced with years of delayed and short tax payments, a haven for smugglers that will sharply reduce tariff revenue from Vaskian goods, perhaps even a breeding ground for more direct rebellion.

It comes as little surprise. Laurent knows it would be difficult to find broad support for his plans with Akielos even if he had political capital to spare. Knows how little political capital surviving his uncle's court has left him. Knows whatever tolerance, whatever grudging deference, he has wrangled out of his court by virtue of their nearly executing him on false charges is fleeting.

“Invite the Toutainais nobles to court for the snowmelt festivities,” Laurent says. “We can give them an opportunity to attempt to convince me of the wisdom of their position. It will be as much a chance for me to reassure them of the logic of mine.”

Berenger nods, jots down a note. “Shall I delay the announcement of the new trade policy with Akielos until after their visit, then?” he says.

Laurent pauses, shakes his head. There is only so much to be gained by stringing the Toutainais nobles along for a few weeks longer. “We cannot allow the reservations of a handful of northern lords to dictate our policies for the nation,” he says. “Announce the trade policy as planned.”

* * *

It had been an impulsive proposal, uniting the kingdoms, born out of high emotion rather than logic. Laurent is reminded of this every time he is faced with its costs. He had been dehydrated, had not slept in thirty hours. Damianos had lost rather a lot of blood. It was one kingdom once.

They do not plan to unite it into one kingdom again immediately or all at once. They had announced, in those early days in Ios, simply an alliance. In the negotiations that followed, they had laid out a stronger, more intimate alliance than was usual. They plan, over the next several years, to strengthen the terms of the alliance still further, the alliance’s existing success hopefully serving as an argument in favor of further entanglement.

In the meantime, they plan to harmonize the workings of their respective governments, to increase trade and cultural exchange. They will join the kingdoms later, when Akielons and Veretians are no longer strangers to each other, when laws and governments can be joined without friction, when trades and interdeallings have grown to a point that union seems more natural than not.

Moving the capital of each kingdom to Marlas has been an early success. Veretians are proud to once again rule over Delfeur, and see the court at Marlas as a literal and obvious symbol of their reign. Akielons, aware that Veretians possesses the province on paper, are glad of the new capital as evidence that Akielos still, in the ways that matter, holds Delpha.

Damen smiles fondly at the gracefully shifting narratives Laurent employs when speaking of the two countries’ decision to form a court at Marlas, the flexible, carefully-chosen explanations he uses that allow everyone, Veretian or Akielon, to view the new capital as a win for their side. Laurent, for his part, never denies outright that greater unity with Akielos was his main goal in moving the capital.

* * *

There are costs for Damen too, among the kyroi and the powerful noble families of the Akielon court.

Even with the lingering doubts and resentment left in the wake of Kastor’s coup, Damen’s position in his own court upon taking the throne was stronger than Laurent’s was. The rumors meant to delegitimize Damen after his return from Vere had never really had time to take root, and few of Kastor’s supporters had been truly loyal to Kastor himself, rather than Theomedes’s bloodline. Damen is a beloved warrior, a hero, triumphantly returned from supposed death to claim his rightful throne. He has the support of his people for whatever grand and improbable project he might wish to take on.

The first grand and improbably project Damen takes on, however, is ending slavery. He and Laurent agree: ending slavery as early in Damen’s reign as possible is a moral imperative, as well as a practical one. Whatever chance there is of winning broad acceptance in Akielos to ending slavery, it will be the greatest while the knowledge of the king of Akielo’s time as a slave is still a raw wound, while that king’s survival and seeming return from death still seems like a miracle. In the days of still-unsettled emotion at the beginning of Damen’s reign, ending slavery becomes a way of channeling the people’s fervor, allowing all the shock and outrage and gratitude and shame the people feel upon learning his story to be converted into action.

It is also probably for the best that the people of Akielos do not associate the end of slavery with growing Veretian influence in Akielon affairs.

When the project to end slavery succeeds, it is in the eyes of both kings a monumental triumph. If I do nothing else of worth during my reign, Damen thinks, I can nonetheless be proud of my achievements, having accomplished this.

As things stand, though, Damen has other plans as well. And as he begins the process of moving Akielos towards unification with Vere, he finds he has a steeper uphill battle ahead of him now than before. There is talk that the young king is trying to change too much, too fast. Overconfident, perhaps. There are enough of Kastor’s more subtle supporters left at court to become a focus point for the murmurs of discontent that arise. Damen’s throne is hardly in danger, but building support for his policies is increasingly a matter of strategic effort rather than easy assurance.

Unfortunately, Laurent’s presence at court has a tendency to exacerbate these weaknesses. When Laurent attends meetings with the kyroi, he becomes a proxy for criticism the kyroi would not dare direct at Damen himself. In one meeting concerning defense against Vaskian raids, the pace of the meeting slows to a crawl as the kyroi present Laurent with objection after objection. They argue with Laurent, try to pick open holes in his logic, even ask for confirmation his sources of information are reliable and his calculations correct. Damen would be outraged on Laurent’s behalf, except that Laurent is clearly unbothered by their rudeness. He seems to be enjoying himself even, sidestepping their traps easily and demolishing each objection almost as quickly as it’s raised. He’s anticipated nearly every one of the arguments the kyroi fling at him, Damen notices. So instead, Damen sits back and watches appreciatively as Laurent wins endless battles of words.

In private, after the meeting ends, Nikandros is livid. “They have no business speaking to a king like that,” he says. “Even a foreign one. To ask you if you were certain about the timing—they had no place—”

Laurent is silent for a while, reassessing, as Nikandros paces the room. “That wasn’t normal political discourse, then,” he says finally. “Akielon protocol does not allow for direct critique of a king’s line of reasoning.”

“You let people speak to you that way in your own country?” Nikandros says, amazed.

Laurent shrugs noncommittally, but Damen has attended enough meetings with the Veretian council and nobility to know that yes, this sort of back-and-forth is relatively common in Vere. And not merely a product of Laurent’s previously-tarnished reputation with the court, but instead a result of the different ways Veretians demonstrate power and deference.

But later, after Nikandros has left, Laurent says, “I am a weakness to you here in more ways than I thought.” He bites his lip.

“I did not think you minded their questioning,” Damen says.

Laurent says, “I knew, being here, that more people would claim that I wield undue influence over you. That some would dismiss our ideas as too Veretian, that some would whisper that you were thinking with your cock. But most of those people would be saying as much anyway even if I were not in Ios in person.

“But by being here, in person, I have become a proxy for all the criticism they would make of you, and cannot. They can criticize me, and in criticizing me they can make you appear weak. Perhaps I should return to Marlas.”

There is a truth to Laurent’s words, for all that Damen’s mind rebels against it. Knowing now the typical deference afforded a king in policy meetings, Laurent can adjust his own behavior. Damen knows without any doubt that Laurent, if he wanted to, could make any man who questions him instantly regret being born.

But he will be a proxy for criticism not just in meetings, where he is present to defend himself, but in every conversation resentful nobles have with each other. Kastor’s former supporters will complain of Laurent, instead of Damen, and nobles who would never dare criticize Damen will feel comfortable joining in. The more Laurent is present in Ios, the more he is seen to have a direct hand in any particular issue, the more policies the court will find it safe to disparage.

Damen could agree, could let Laurent return to Marlas and remain in Ios alone. They could correspond by letter, could still shape policy together at a distance. It could work that way. It might even work better that way. And yet—

“You should stay,” Damen says. Whatever the tradeoffs, it’s worth it to have Laurent here, to have Laurent in meetings observing the kyroi’s behavior himself, to be able to consult with him every day, to be able to spend evenings together making plans and picking their way through problems.

Laurent raises an eyebrow, but some of the tension is already leaving his shoulders. “I work better when you’re here,” Damen says. “The kyroi will have to get used to you.”

* * *

There is a set of reasons Laurent uses with the Veretian court to argue in favor of alliance: easier and more lucrative trade, a relaxing of border defenses that allows greater resource use elsewhere, cultural exchange that will improve Veretian knowledge of medicine, engineering, crafts. And it is true that there are indeed advantages of unification for Vere. But Laurent sees on the faces of the Council and the more politically-inclined nobility, at times, that they know, as Laurent himself does, that these advantages are not great enough to justify gambling on such a radical change. It is the same, Damen tells him, with the kyroi.

With the common people of the two kingdoms, the kings take a different approach. An unlikely romance between enemy princes makes for a good story, and tales spread across the countryside with little effort on Damen and Laurent’s part. Before long, seemingly every village poet and traveling minstrel has their own version of the story, all of them full of battles and adventure and heart-wrenching sentimentality. The common people of Akielos and Vere know the truth: the kings are bringing the kingdoms together out of love. It’s easy to become invested in their love story. It’s easy to hope for it to have a happy ending. In the north of Vere and the south of Akielos, where the common people can safely assume alliance will have little effect on their own lives, that’s for the most part enough to build broad support for the kings’ plans.

For the people who live near the border, things are a lot less abstract. The border people have the strongest opinions, both in favor of the alliance and against it. Some are very glad of the chance of a lasting peace. Some are very, very nationalist. But the people of the border are also the closest to the court at Marlas, and thus have the greatest opportunity to see the alliance working, the joint court working. Laurent and Damen are optimistic that distrust and resentment are declining in Delfeur, that casual interactions between Akielons and Veretians are on the rise.

It will be difficult to build enthusiasm among the nobility for full unification, Laurent knows. He considers, some days, whether it was a mistake to attempt to present them with compelling practical reasons. There is no logic-based way to convince them, because unification is not, at its heart, a decision rooted in logic. He imagines sometimes what it would be like, to tell the court that he is going to unite Vere and Akielos because he is madly in love. The idea is amusing, and in equal parts frightening and tempting in its vague transgressiveness. He’s not really sure he can carry off such a thing convincingly, for all that it is the truth: he has not yet lost his reputation as icy-blooded. And if he could convince them, well. He has only barely lost his reputation as petty and selfish. He would not like to give the court reason to once again heed his uncle’s words.

Still, he and Damen have undeniably learned the importance of emotion in politics. When it comes time to transition from alliance to unification, they plan to draw upon the reservoirs of nationalist and expansionist fervor that had persisted in Akielos and Vere for centuries and had been cultivated so strongly by Theomedes and Aleron. The dream of empire still sleeps in each court. Damen and Laurent plan to wake that dream, to persuade their people that in unifying with their historic enemy, they are not losing their national identity but becoming part of something greater. Returning to a former greatness that was always their destiny.

“And then some meddlesome baron will probably come up and start lecturing you that restoring the Artesian Empire for the first time in a thousand years is increasing the incidental expenses of tax collection by six and a half percent,” Damen says, trying to hide his smile.

“And it would serve me right, too, I suppose you mean,” Laurent says, smiling too.

* * *

“A trying day, love?” Damen asks when Laurent enters their chambers one night, as Laurent had somehow known he would. Laurent’s posture, he fancies, is straight-backed as ever, but Damen can always spot the tension Laurent tries not to show.

“Lords Becquet and Merault and Lady Daumont still oppose the new legal code,” he says, hand absentmindedly beginning work loosening the laces on one sleeve. Damen has crossed the room already, is starting work undoing the laces on the back of Laurent’s jacket. “They’ve got the ear of Councillor Mahiet, and I fear they may convince her to change her mind again and withdraw her support.” As king, Laurent no longer requires the Council to approve his actions, but their support is still important to lend his policies an air of legitimacy.

“Their objection was that there was too large a difference in penalty for violent and non-violent offenses?” Damen says, and Laurent sighs.

“So they claim. I met with Merault and Daumont today to discuss their objections, and they have little real interest in amendments or adjustments. Their real objection, I suspect, is that the proposed system is too Akielon.” It’s a setback, and against the background of the ongoing situation with the Toutainais nobles, a disappointing one.

The proposed legal code is, by design, neither excessively Akielon nor excessively Veretian. In cases where Veretian and Akielon laws had been too disparate to be blended smoothly and retain any kind of internally-consistent logic, there are sections with distinctly more influence from one country or the other. But care had been taken, both by the kings and their advisors in drafting the overall structure of the code and the bureaucrats who had written the actual language, to create a system that prioritized neither country’s existing laws.

They had also sought to create a system that was more modern, easier to understand, and more just than the existing systems, with the unfortunate result that some new policies originating from neither Akielon nor Veretian law were occasionally mistaken for additional foreign influence.

“Too Akielon,” Damen repeats. “If only my nobles felt the same way.” Laurent lets out a sigh that is half laugh.

“It’s a thornier problem to solve,” Laurent says. The legal code needs broad support in order to succeed, from the thousands of nobles, mayors, town headsmen, and bailiffs who will be responsible for following it as they mete out justice across two kingdoms. “For many of my nobles, any Akielon influence is too much, and no amount of reasoning will convince them that I am not being somehow taken advantage of.”

“The problem is not that the code is too Akielon-influenced, only that they perceive it to be so,” Damen says, musing. He lifts the open jacket from Laurent’s shoulders.

“You want to make a spurious proposal so that I can publicly shoot you down?” Laurent guesses. They’ve used this maneuver and its inverse before.

“It’s worked pretty well in the past.”

“We need Akielon nobles to support and enforce the new laws too.”

“Yes, but the code seems more popular there at the moment. The nobility appreciate the simplified approach to entail and inheritance laws. And Veretian influence in the new code has effectively lowered Akielon agricultural taxes.”

“Yes, I suppose if your spurious proposal is an attempt to keep your nobles’ taxes high, avarice will temper their resentment of me somewhat,” Laurent says. A pause. “It may still make you look weak at your own court, for a time.” It’s becoming easier for Laurent, to admit his own weaknesses, to ask for help, but it’s always hardest when that help comes at a cost for Damen.

“I’m not worried about that at the moment, not so soon after destroying that pirate haven that was menacing Isthima.”

Laurent is silent for a while, considering. “Well then, I will await your proposed changes with pleasure and profound skepticism,” Laurent says. Damen laughs, and they continue getting ready for bed.

“And Damen?” Laurent says, after they’re tucked under the blankets together. “Thank you.”

* * *

Laurent does lose the support of the Toutainais nobles. Damen loses the support of the kyros of Kesus and much of the nobility from Aegina. Sometimes almost as concerning as the supporters they lose is the supporters that they do have. They each have untrustworthy allies—people whose power at court they would very much rather minimize, but who throw themselves into organizing support for the alliance in order to try to make themselves essential. Chelaut, who is far less innocent of the regent’s plans than he would have the court believe, retains his council seat by making himself one of the earliest and most vocal supporters of the alliance. In the same way, Damen finds himself publicly overlooking Heston’s former support for Kastor’s faction after Heston begins work organizing support for stronger ties with Vere.

For each mote of progress they make towards unification, it sometimes seems, there is another trade-off or setback. Mostly they weather the challenges well together. Often, the challenges bring them even closer together. They learn more about each other’s strengths and weaknesses and manners of thinking, grow to appreciate each other more, learn to rely upon each other without question. But there are nonetheless times when they struggle to understand each other’s point of view, days when they bicker constantly about one policy or another, days when they fight bitterly about them.

Worst is when distance or work has kept them from really seeing each other for days or weeks, and then a fight ruins the long-anticipated time they do have to see each other. On days like that, Laurent hates the unification project for stealing so much of the time he and Damen might have spent together, and then poisoning what time they have left.

There are times when Laurent has been alone in Arles or Marlas for so many weeks or months he finds himself settling into routine, finds himself growing half-convinced that he could be content like this: Ruling alone. Living a quiet, useful life, returning each night to empty rooms with a book for company.

And sometimes, Laurent finds himself thinking that if this could be enough on its own, maybe unification won’t be worth it. Maybe it would be better to leave things as they are, the kingdoms apart but at peace. For him and Damen to rule their separate courts, lives simpler without the constant uphill struggles that come from strengthening the alliance. To use the leisure that uncomplicated reigns would bring to see each other a few times each year, their time together limited by distance but unmarred by stressful days and fights over policies and strategy. Perhaps that could be enough. Perhaps that would be for the best.

And then he sees Damen again, and knows that this is worth it. A lantern may be considered bright in the darkness, Laurent thinks, but it would never compare to the sun. The contentment he might have had with an easier reign alone is nothing compared to the happiness he has ruling alongside Damen. Anyway, it’s not in his nature or in Damen’s to turn their back on a commitment once made or a challenge once taken on.

In the darkness of the Ios palace baths, sleep deprived and dehydrated and losing blood, Laurent and Damen had made a choice. Now, with ample time to consider, in the comfort of study and council chamber and throne room, they make it again and again and again. It will be one kingdom, someday.

#captive prince #Lamen Week #Lamen Week 2021 #this was supposed to be a one shot #and then I kept coming up with more politics to add #and that's why it's two weeks late lol #my post

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azucanela · 5 years ago

Text

[HOME] IS WHERE THE SHIP IS [PT.2]

HOME MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: in which a lot of doors are slammed, because zuko is an angsty mess. but it’s okay, because at least he has Y/N by his side as everything becomes a big mess.

WORD COUNT: 7.1k

WARNINGS: mentions of death, threats

A/N: sorry this took so long! i hope you all like it! also im at 400 followers wow klasdkhkhaks idk why haha, anyways remember to drink water my friends

This shouldn’t be possible.

Staring at the young boy in wonder, Y/N can’t help it as her mouth gapes open. He’s Airbending. Making him the last Airbender, making him the Avatar. The issue, Y/N L/N is the Avatar. Or at least, she thought she was. Maybe she was just a cheap knock off? So many thoughts circled through her mind as her brows furrowed, the Southern Water Tribe was the last place she would’ve expected someone who was well over a century old to be hiding out. Though the ‘old’ man, appeared to be younger than Y/N.

Regardless, from the look in Zuko’s eyes as he took the young boy into custody, he had hope that they could return home without Y/N arriving in a pair of cuffs and immediately being sentenced to either death or life in prison.

It was nice to see him happy again.

Ever since they’d discovered her ability to Waterbend, making their search for the Avatar pointless, Zuko’s small sliver of hope to return to the Fire Nation had diminished. Iroh had noticed this sudden change in attitude, and made several attempts to brighten the young boy’s mood to no avail, though he had no idea about the major issue the pair was dealing with. Or perhaps he did, Iroh was a mysterious man, with a mysterious amount of information. Y/N had contemplated asking him for information in regards to the possibility of two Avatars several times, though she elected not to, fearing she would arouse suspicion.

Then again, who would Iroh tell? He clearly wasn’t fond of his brother, and it appeared his loyalty lied with tea, pai cho, and Zuko, who had no intentions of allowing Y/N to fall into Fire Nation hands, but Zuko didn’t like the idea of living in a ship for the rest of his life.

At this point, home is where the ship is.

Y/N found herself staring at the child capable of Airbending as they took him to the brig, a wave of sadness washing over her. He was a kid, he didn’t deserve this, he had done nothing wrong other than exist. Now that she followed the guards as the placed him in one of the cells in the brig, Y/N wondered what would become of him if he was ever in the Fire Lord’s presence, she tried to shake off these thoughts though, sighing as she turned away. He was probably just as confused as she was, well maybe not as confused, he was blissfully unaware of the second potential Avatar on the boat.

“Get some food, I’ll watch over him for now.”

The two guards that had escorted him here alongside her exchanged looks, before turning back to her, “are you sure, ma’am?”

It was easy to forget that Y/N was basically a guard as well, a glorified one, but a guard nonetheless. Being Zuko’s right hand had come with a lot of responsibilities when they were in the Fire Nation, and keeping him alive had been one of them. It had obviously come with several benefits as well, but Y/N tended to forget in recent times.

“Yeah, go on ahead. Just don’t leave me for too long, eh?” She waved them off. Given Zuko’s attitude, one of them had to maintain good rapport with the other members of the ship, otherwise they likely would’ve revolted a while ago. It was a job for two, one that her and Iroh shared. Regardless of rapport and general kindness, Y/N wanted a moment alone with the young Avatar, she had questions. Lots of them.

It appeared he did too as he looked at her, she’d sat herself across from his cell, sword strung over her lap. “So..” Y/N began, “where have you been the past century?”

He looked up at her, head tilting, likely in confusion as he responded. “In an iceberg. I kinda went into hibernation I guess, to keep myself from dying during a storm.” He plopped down onto the floor of the cell, “what happened the past century?” The boy asked in turn, looking at Y/N curiously, his hands bound in chains.

With a frown, Y/N replied, “nothing good.” She stared at her hands, feeling shame flood her. Her nation’s actions had never been... good. And she didn’t want to be the one to tell the young boy about the genocide of his people, but it had to be done, “in case you haven’t heard, the Air Nomads were... eradicated. The Fire Nation is now striving towards world domination.” It was the truth, the sad truth, the Fire Nation had been working towards the goal of world domination for quite some time now, and it seemed they might be successful.

This boy could ruin all of that.

His face visibly darkened at this explanation, looking away, his voice seemed to harden, “yeah. I heard.” There wasn’t really much else to explain, the war had been the only constant in all this time, Y/N couldn’t find a way to see the brightside, probably because there wasn’t one. Just a side filled with incredibly bright flames that would likely lead to the end of the world.

Swallowing nervously, Y/N’s lips formed a tight smile, “I’m Y/N. By the way.” Maybe it was weird, but Y/N wanted to form a friendship with this kid, something about him felt different, and she wanted to understand what exactly that was.

A small smile found it’s way onto his face, though the remnants of what was likely anger, sadness, and confusion were still evident on his face as he replied, “I’m Aang.”

It felt odd, sitting across from him as their eyes met. Like there was something buzzing in the air, like something was wrong. The hairs on the back of Y/N neck rose, and she felt goosebumps form on her skin as she gave the young boy a smile as well. His mouth seemed to gape open, brows furrowing in confusion as he prepared to speak.

“Miss L/N.” Called out one of the guards, earning both the attention of Aang and Y/N, who had been mesmerized by the mysterious feeling in the air. “I came to relieve you of guard duty.”

Y/N’s smile remained as she turned to the guard, “thank you.” Though she wished she had more time to speak with Aang, it was clear he’d felt whatever it was as well. Not that she could ask him about it with anyone else around, though she’d been on the ship for years now, her lack of trust in the crew remained the same.

Inhaling deeply, she stood, and she could feel the gaze of Aang on her as she walked away, the odd feeling slowly dissipating the further she got from him. Now, a new feeling filled her, guilt. They’d locked away a child who awoke in an entirely new world, only to find that his entire civilization was dead.

Frustrated, Y/N brought a hand to her temple and sighed as she made her way to her room. She opened the door, and went to slam it, except her hand never touched the door, though she did fly against the wall on the opposite side of the room as she did slam the door.

With a gust of wind.

That’s new.

Y/N cursed, shaking her hand aggressively as she glared at it, she sat up from her position on the floor, her room now in disarray thanks to the random gust of wind. Y/N moved to pick up one of many things that fell on the floor when her door swung open, a million different excuses for the mess were suddenly running through her mind as she tried to think of one that actually made sense. Opening her mouth as she looked up at the intruder she realized it was none other than Prince Zuko, who tackled her in a hug.

None of this made sense.

Her arms slowly wrapped around him as her brows furrowed, confusion flooding her as Zuko spoke, “we did it!” Listening to his words, she realized that she hadn’t heard his voice sound that happy in a while, and Y/N couldn’t stop herself from smiling momentarily. Key word being momentarily, as she soon recalled that it was a literal child that would be their ticket back to the Fire Nation, guilt consumed her.

Y/N did not support this, and despite the way Zuko smiled for the first time in forever, she contemplated releasing the Avatar once she got the chance, for a variety of reasons. Not that Zuko needed to know that as she replied softly, “yeah, we did.”

“We can go home, Y/N.” He released her from the hug to look her in the eyes, his hands remaining on her shoulders.

Raising a brow, she teased him, “I thought I was your home.” A light pink dusted Zuko’s cheeks at her comment as she continued, recalling that day, “didn’t you even say I was your girlfrie-”

“What happened to your room?” He asked in an attempt to change the subject, finally beginning to look around, his brows furrowed.

Y/N hollowed out her cheeks as she gave him a sheepish smile, “raccoons.”

Yeah, that was the worst excuse on her list. It was better than nothing though, stressing Zuko was the last thing she wanted to do, and an accidental Airbending incident while the last Airbender was on board the ship would probably stress him out.

Zuko opened his mouth, likely to tell her how stupid that sounded, though he was interrupted by another person shoving Y/N’s door open, “Y/N, we have a proble-” Upon seeing Zuko, the guard froze, pausing his sentence. Y/N already knew the news must’ve been bad if the guard had wanted to come to her first, likely expecting Zuko’s reaction be rather explosive. It was well known on board the ship that the only person capable of minimizing Zuko’s temper was Y/N, which is why most bad news tended to come from her, after another crew member told her. This seemed to be one of those instances, though it had gone wrong seeing as Zuko was in her room.

The guard’s eyes met Y/N’s momentarily as she nodded for him to continue. Zuko simply rose a brow at this interaction. “The Avatar has escaped.”

Everything went downhill from there.

The attempt to recapture the Avatar went rather poorly, and Y/N hadn’t really done much in assistance if she was honest. The boy had started glowing, that wasn’t something normal people did, then again he was the Avatar. Y/N couldn’t help but wonder if she could glow as well, even as Zuko questioned her lack of action.

Due to his failure to recapture the Avatar, Zuko’s mood seemed to worsen immediately, and his anger was mostly directed at Y/N. She was a talented Firebender who had done little to help recapture him, partially because she was focusing on ensuring half the crew didn’t die of frostbite. Not that Zuko was taking this into consideration during his bout of rage.

Had Y/N been more focused on him, she probably would’ve knocked some sense into him, but she figured Iroh had it handled as she handed the final crew member a blanket before returning to her incredibly messy room. Serving only as a reminder of another one of her problems.

One, the only Airbender in the world had just disappeared, shortly after she discovered she could Airbend, leaving her without someone to teach her. Two, this probably would’ve happened regardless since Y/N really didn’t want to sentence a child to death at the hands of Fire Lord Ozai. Three, Y/N had no choice but to figure out how to control all her abilities, or else another accident could occur and she’d expose herself to someone who wouldn’t be as merciful as Zuko.

She’d mastered Firebending and Waterbending for the most part, though it was difficult without a master, she’d managed to teach herself just fine. Y/N wouldn’t deny that training in secret was difficult, with only an old Waterbending scroll to aid her, but something was better than nothing. And she was doing better than the Waterbender from the Water Tribe, so that was good news she supposed.

Zuko had been helpful, nobody questioned it when he ordered a random stop on the coast and they’d disappear for hours at a time. He’d been supportive of her endeavors to learn how to control her abilities, training alongside her, Y/N had noticed the way he was slowly incorporating Waterbending movements into his own Firebending, though he’d deny it if she pointed it out.

There were peaceful moments on the beaches they practiced on, ones that reminded her why she’d joined Zuko in banishment, why she cared for him.

Right now was not one of these moments.

As Y/N picked up a book that had fallen onto the floor due to her Airbending incident, placing it on her desk, the door swung open for the third time that day, hitting the side of the wall. This action knocked down her book, and Y/N didn’t need to turn around to know who it was as she extended her arm outward to signal for Zuko to remain silent as she inhaled deeply, trying to maintain patience.

“Reconsider whatever you are going to say.” Y/N began, closing her eyes, “because I am this,” she puts her fingers ridiculously close together, “close to ending your life.”

He rolled his eyes at her words, but closed the door more gently and leaned down to place the book back on the desk before speaking, “why didn’t you do anything to help against the Avatar?” When they’d discussed it earlier, she hadn’t given him an answer, mostly because she was busy melting the other Firebenders out of the ice that had entrapped them during the fight with the Avatar and his new friends. But Zuko sounded calmer than he had earlier, which meant he'd taken her threat seriously.

Good.

“He’s a kid, Zuko.” Y/N replied incredulously, continuing to go about cleaning her room. She bit her tongue as she contemplated pointing out that they were kids too, they shouldn’t be dealing with this. “And he’s the only person who could possibly understand what I’m going through.” Her voice is quieter as she says this, as though there’s someone else in the room who could hear her. Despite the fact that she’d been training with Waterbending, they had tried their hardest to avoid discussing the fact that she was the Avatar. Or, kind of the Avatar.

Zuko grimaces at her comments, looking away from her awkwardly, “we deserve to be living in a palace.” Y/N swallows nervously, his words only serving as a remind of their past, her past.

“You didn’t seem to mind leaving that behind when we found out what I could do.” Y/N retorted, staring at him as he desperately tried to avoid her piercing gaze.

These words seemed to strike a chord in him, and all the unspoken words from the day they found out seemed to be revealing themselves as they spoke, “because we had no other choice!” Zuko exclaimed, gesturing wildly, “now, we have a chance at returning to the Fire Nation.”

Picking up a small box, she placed it onto her desk alongside several of her things, “what if we just didn’t go back?” Y/N proposed quietly, staring at the small figurine. She’d had the thought multiple times, maybe it would’ve been easier to convince Zuko before they’d found another Avatar. Prior to discovering the Airbender, there had been no point in searching the world for the Avatar, and settling down somewhere would’ve been far more ideal than living on a ship for the rest of her life. Iroh had expressed similar feelings despite his blissful ignorance of the Avatar living alongside him, though he supported his nephew’s endeavors, “what if we ran away from all this Zuko? Your Uncle has always wanted to start a tea shop we could-”

“Are you crazy?” Zuko asked, “Y/N we are so close. If we find him again then my father will restore my honor. “ He insisted, and the desperation, the pain in his voice almost hurt Y/N as well, the fact that he still believed in his dreadful father. Y/N opened up her mouth to respond, only for Zuko to continue, “don’t you care?”

Y/N wanted to scoff at this comment, and couldn’t help the way her fists balled up as she felt anger consume her. Did she care? She had gone to banishment with him despite the protests of the Fire Lord himself, and he was wondering if she cared? After everything Y/N had done for him? She couldn’t help but feel bitter as his words washed over her and suddenly, all the things she’s done for his sake came to her attention. Oh god, if only he knew what she did.

He’d probably kill her.

Y/N quickly shook away those thoughts as she responded, “I refuse to condemn a child to the likes of your father.” Zuko wouldn’t acknowledge it, even after 3 years, but his father was horrible. Y/N knew from experience how far his ambition went, she knew how much he was willing to give up for power. Y/N tries to ignore those memories as she exhales sharply before replying, “we've both seen what he’s done to his own children.”

Zuko is silent at this comment, his eyes narrow at her and Y/N quickly realized she struck a nerve, grimacing as she mutters, “I need... to go see Iroh.” She’s grappling for any excuse to escape this conversation. And Y/N supposed this was better than the raccoon excuse she had used earlier.

Y/N quickly decided that she could apologize later as she made her way to her door, sparing Zuko a glance to see that he was staring at a painting that had fallen during her Airbending incident, one of Y/N, him and Iroh. The glass of the framed image had cracked, and Y/N couldn’t help but wonder if that was a sign. Her secrets were piling up, and today only made it worse. From Airbending to the... interesting connection Y/N seemed to have with Aang. She couldn’t let him get into Fire Lord Ozai’s hands at least until she had a better understanding of this connection, for all she knew, if Aang died, she would too.

Heading over to Iroh’s room had once been an excuse, but now she had a mission, she was going to ask him about the possibility of two Avatars. And perhaps drink some tea for the sake of calming down, though her fight with Zuko hadn’t gotten too heated, she knew the tension between them would remain for days to come. Though they had no choice but to get over it, the two worked side by side each day, and they both needed a clear head to get through each painstaking day on the ship without complications.

If Y/N had an attitude like Zuko’s, the crew might just abandon ship.

Coming upon Iroh’s door, Y/N begins to reconsider her decision, maybe he was napping, or busy in some other way. Perhaps, this wasn’t the best idea, and consulting with Zuko before doing something so drastic would be better. Then again, she wasn’t really on speaking terms with him at the moment, so she summoned her courage and knocked on Iroh’s door, a small part of her hoping that he wouldn’t open it.

Y/N’s wish didn’t come true as a smiling Iroh opened his door, “Y/N, welcome.” He greeted. Iroh’s room smelt of tea and candles, and looking at it now, Y/N realized he was a rather organized person with very few belongings. Though, the things he carried with him clearly had sentimental value. “What can I do for you?”

“Do I have to need something to come see you?” She asks playfully, Iroh had always been someone pleasant to converse with, even before banishment. Though these years traveling together had certainly brought them closer together, bonding over Zuko was a common pass time, though their friendship had long since expanded into other topics of conversation.

Iroh hummed in response, sitting down in front of his tea kettle, “so you don’t need anything?” He begins to boil the water, retrieving some tea leaves from a cabinet that Y/N is sure has an endless supply.

“I do have a question.” Comes her reply, taking a seat across from him. “About the Avatar, and such.”

Taking two teacups, Iroh looks to her curiously, “there are a few things we could discuss in regards to the Avatar.”

Y/N considered how she could word this without sounding suspicious, and she quickly realized that her options were rather limited as she opened her mouth, “I was wondering what the other Avatar sightings could’ve been, if.. this kid is the real Avatar.” What she said wasn’t a lie, there had been dozens of sightings of other people bending more than one element. And from the research she’d done, most of the people who were allegedly capable of bending more than one element died at a young age.

Iroh hummed in understanding, pouring the tea into the cups he’d set out for the two of them, “do you know what a Dualbender is?” He asks, looking to her.

Y/N nods slowly, “I’ve heard the myths, but I don’t know much. Some question if they are just that, myths.” She’d considered the possibility that she was a dualbender, and made an attempt to research the topic, but there wasn’t much information since it was rather rare. That and the fact that the name ‘Dualbender’ implied the capability of bending two elements, and Y/N could evidently bend three.

“Well, the Fire Nation has encountered a few in the past.” Iroh explains, “Dualbenders are born when the Avatar experiences near-death.” He blows on his tea, staring into the dark liquid, and Y/N follows suit. “To put it simply, they’re mistakes. A failed attempt to continue the Avatar cycle because the Avatar at the time doesn’t actually die.”

Y/N’s brows draw together at his words, a mistake? She decides that’s a lovely way to regard herself as she speaks, “the Avatar said he was frozen in an iceberg all that time he was gone.” Iroh doesn’t question how she attained this information, simply nodding along to her words, “would that qualify as near-death?” Aang had referred to it as a state of hibernation, and Y/N wondered if this could explain her existence. Regardless, this meant that she wasn’t the Avatar, or an Avatar. She was a mistake. If Y/N had to guess, she wasn’t capable of bending Earth, and given how long the Avatar had been in his state of hibernation, that’s the only reason she was capable of bending three elements of four in the first place.

“Yes, I believe it would.” His eyes fell onto the small circular window of his room, looking outside it at the crashing waves. “There are likely several dualbenders out there. Or...” Iroh paused, likely considering his next words as he turned back to Y/N, “an incredibly powerful one.” Y/N couldn’t help but curse Iroh for his mysterious way with words, though he likely knew nothing of her little secret, it sure felt like he did as his eyes pierced into her very soul.

“Interesting.” Y/N said, trying to seem disinterested, sipping her tea nonchalantly.

Iroh raised a brow, “speaking of the Avatar. What are you going to do now that we’ve actually found him?” Y/N wanted to laugh at this statement, nobody had expected to actually find the Avatar when they set out on this trip.

“What do you mean?” She asked, tilting her head at him in confusion.

Exhaling deeply, Iroh sighed, “should my nephew successfully bring the Avatar back to the Fire Nation, you’re going to a have a problem.” Understanding washed over her as she met Iroh’s eyes.

Y/N’s face darkened at his comment, “I’ve tried to convince him not to go back, to abandon this.”

“But he refused.” Iroh said knowingly, his nephew was certainly set in his ways. Regardless of how many times both Iroh and Y/N had broached the topic of giving up on the search for the Avatar, he’d always rejected the possibility. Though Y/N had never managed to actually have a discussion with him about it until today since she never thought that they’d see the day that they actually found the Avatar and had a chance to go home. She thought she had time.

Iroh shook his head, “Y/N, you need to tell him.”

Her timeline had just been moved up.

Scowling at the reminder, Y/N turned to Iroh, “I don’t regret it.” She affirms, placing her tea down to face him, she says this mainly to convince herself, not Iroh. Though she appreciates him and all that he has done, confrontations like these are less than favorable.

With a shrug, Iroh replies, “I didn’t ask if you did.”

“You didn’t need to.” Y/N grumbled, her mood souring. This day had been horrid thus far, and Iroh was not helping.

Picking up her up to take another sip of her tea, Y/N jumped at the door slamming open, exhaling deeply in an attempt to calm herself. She already knew who it was, only one person on the ship had that bad habit.

“Uncle, I need-” Zuko paused upon noticing Y/N.

“Thank you for the tea, Iroh.” Y/N spoke with a tight lipped smile, before giving Zuko an empty look and sitting up, “I was just leaving. Have fun.” Stepping past Zuko, Y/N contemplates bumping shoulders with him, but ultimately decides against the petty action as she gently closes the door behind her.

She doesn’t notice the way Zuko reaches out for her as she exits, or the way he groans in annoyance as he brings his hands to his face.

Iroh gave the young prince a look, “what did you do?” He asks, putting away Y/N’s cup of tea, and bringing an empty cup down for Zuko as he gestured to the now empty spot in front of him.

“Hey, it wasn’t just me!” Zuko exclaimed, plopping down on the floor across from his Uncle, watching him pour a cup of tea before taking it begrudgingly.

Iroh hummed in response, “then it sounds like you need to have a conversation with Y/N. Not me.” He pointed out. It wasn’t the first time they’d both come to him after a fight, Iroh was aware of the bond the two shared, and the mutual denial of how extensive it was. But recently, things seemed to have changed, and he wasn’t sure if it was for the better or not.

Zuko scoffed, sipping his tea, “she’s being mean.” He almost scowled at how childish his words sounded, but her reference to his father had caught him off guard. Then again, he’d insinuated that she didn’t care, even though she had traveled the world in search of someone they thought didn’t exist.

Okay, they’d both said things they regretted.

Maybe Zuko was right, maybe Y/N was being mean, but that was mainly because she had bigger problems than capturing the Avatar, Zuko only knew about... some of those problems.

Entering her room, Y/N sighed, looking around to see it was now clean. Likely a courtesy of Zuko. Actions speak louder than words, and Zuko wouldn’t be the one to apologize verbally, she knew that much. Making her way to her bed, Y/N collapsed into it, this day had been longer than she’d expected.

Sleep sounded nice right about now.

Y/N opened her eyes to see she was in the air, rain pouring violently down onto the saddle she was seated in. Thunder rattled above her, and she could see a flash of lightning strike down into the water, spinning around, she noticed that all she could see for miles was water, the ocean seemed endless.

Moving to look over the saddle, Y/N saw fur, quickly realizing that she was on Aang’s Sky Bison, her mouth gaped open in shock, turning to the front of the animal where a panicked Avatar sat, attempting to steer the creature to safety.

Scrambling towards the front of the Sky Bison to try and speak with Aang, Y/N extended her hand, only to see that she wasn’t wearing traditional Fire Nation clothing, instead her clothes left her arms exposed. A tattoo of two dragons snaking around her arm, one colored white and the other colored black, the image leaving Y/N’s brows furrowing in confusion.

She didn’t have a tattoo.

Shaking off the confusion, she quickly realized there were bigger problems at hand than a mysterious tattoo before grabbing Aang’s shoulder. He turned to look back at her, eyes red due to the tears streaming down his face and mixing with the water pouring down on them, panic clear in his face, though his eyes seemed to widen in shock at the sight of her.

Y/N wondered who would’ve spoke first had they not begun to fall towards the water, quickly getting sucked in by the current. Sstruggled to keep control of her body, and though her vision was blurry, and her eyes stung due to the sea water, she could make out Aang and the Sky Bison in the water, swimming towards them despite the burning sensation in her lungs.

She reached for him, preparing to swim upwards as quickly as she could to ensure they both survived, but he began to glow, causing her to falter. Though Y/N quickly realized she had no choice but to grab him or they’d both die, and her hand shot out to grab his arm.

Once she’d made contact with her, the tattoo snaking up her arm began to glow as well, and she felt panic flood her.

Everything went white as they were encased in ice.

Shooting up from her bed, Y/N gasped out for air, as though she’d actually been drowning, her hand coming to her neck. The shock of the dream almost distracted her from the rapid series of knocks coming from her door, her head whipping towards it as she blinked, once, twice, before sitting up from her bed and shakily making her way towards it. Y/N opened the door, to see Zuko’s hand preparing to ram against her face now that the door no longer stood in his way, along with several other crew members standing behind him.

They were all in sleepwear, and Y/N suddenly realized she’d fell asleep in her Fire Nation armor, looking to them for answers as to why they’d gathered in front of her door. There was a panicked look on Zuko’s face as one of the crew members that had noticed her confusion explained awkwardly, “you were screaming, Miss L/N.”

Oh.

Y/N let out a small laugh of embarrassment, her hand coming to her neck, “sorry about that guys. Bad dream.” She looked away from them, trying to determine what to say next.

Zuko spoke first, turning back to the crew, “you heard her.” When they did nothing, he continued, more frustrated, “leave!” He exclaimed, as though it was obvious, and the crew members that were there suddenly nodded rapidly, saluting the two of them before returning to their quarters.

Zuko turned back to Y/N, his face red as he sighed, “are you okay?” He grumbled out.

Y/N nodded slowly, bringing her arm up as she recalled the tattoo from her dreams, sliding up the sleeve to see that her arm remained free of a tattoo.

It was just a dream.

“Yeah.” She mumbled, inhaling deeply. “Sorry to wake you.”

He’s still staring at her as he repeats, “you were screaming.”

“Apparently.” Comes her response, but looking at him, Y/N realizes he was more worried than he’d let on. “You wanna come in?” She asks, opening her door wider.

Wordlessly, he enters, slipping past her and into the room. Zuko immediately looks to her bed, the sheets are messily tossed across it, spilling onto the floor. Some of her pillows had also found their way onto the floor as well. The thin layer of frost that coats her wall reminds Y/N of what Aang had told her earlier.

He’d gone into a state of hibernation within an iceberg, after a storm.

She had just witnessed the day the Avatar went missing. In her dreams. Or maybe it wasn’t her dreams, how could she dream such a thing up, and so vividly?

It felt like she had been there.

Y/N realized her list of problems was growing rather rapidly at this point as she looked up at Zuko, who had already been staring at her, opening and closing his mouth as he searched for the best words before he finally said, “you wanna talk about it?”

He’d never been good at comfort, Y/N knew this, and the fact that he was even offering brought on a new wave of emotions for Y/N as she extended her arms outward, hoping he’d understand.

Zuko’s cheeks flushed, and he made his way towards her, allowing Y/N to wrap her arms around his neck as his came around her waist. He was stiff in the hug, and Y/N wasn’t shocked by this, though she was shocked he agreed to a hug in the first place.

She found comfort in the warmth of his arms as she spoke, “I’m fine.”

And maybe those words provided comfort for the both of them.

But her mind was swirling with thoughts, and Y/N can’t help but feel distressed as she realizes her list of problems won’t stop growing. She’d have to deal with mastering Airbending now, though the entire culture was wiped out, and most valuable artifacts had long since been stolen from the Air Temples and sold for who knew how much. The only other person who could teach her Airbending was the enemy, and someone she’d have to chase down.

That someone being Aang, who she appeared to have some odd connection with, one that Y/N couldn’t understand at all. For some reason, his past was appearing in her head, and she didn’t know what to do about it.

Then there was the fact that she might have to worry about returning to the Fire Nation should they actually manage to capture Aang, years ahead of schedule. And if they did return to the Fire Nation, Y/N would have a lot of explaining to do. Even if Y/N wouldn’t die at the hands of the Fire Lord, she might die by Zuko’s hand instead.

Her final problem was Zuko.

Yeah. He was a big problem. In more ways than one.

Y/N was only reminded of this fact as she was practically dragged out of bed the following morning to help handle the ship repairs that were very necessary given how much damage the ship had taken during the skirmish with the Avatar. Zuko had barged into her room, and Y/N wondered when he left last night, as he was now fully dressed and the sun was out. Neither of them mentioned this though, and nobody on board mentioned her little incident, thankfully. Though Y/N had a feeling that was because Zuko had threatened them, she didn’t approve of this possibility, but for once, she was grateful for it.

With a sigh, she descended down the ramp of the ship, heading towards Iroh. Y/N couldn’t help but feel worried that Zuko wasn’t in sight, he had a tendency to make poor decisions, considering the fact that Y/N was pretty much his impulse control.

“Good morning, Y/N.” Iroh greeted, beaming at her. “Lovely day isn’t it?”

Thus far, her day had gone pretty bad, considering she had woken up screaming, but Y/N nodded in agreement nonetheless, “yeah. This port seems to have a lot to offer. I might go shopping a bit.” Though this didn’t sound very ideal as she recalled what had happened the last time she’d visited a port market. Being held at knife point was not one of her favorite memories, nor was the fear that had swallowed her whole that day for several reasons.

Y/N had tried to avoid markets since then.

“Sounds like a good idea.” Comes a voice from beside her, in the corner of her eye Y/N can make out the figure of someone in Fire Nation garments. Turning, she quickly realizes who it is. General Zhao, one of the higher ranking members within the Fire Nation.

Y/N hated him.

He made his way over to her and Iroh, and bowed his head to the older man, “the Dragon of the West. An honor to meet you.” Though, as he speaks these words, Y/N has a feeling that he doesn’t truly mean them, given his rather condescending tone. Iroh regards him with a more respectful tone, his brow raised on the man’s sudden appearance.

Maybe murder is the answer.

General Zhao turned to her, “Miss L/N, correct?”

Y/N nodded, a tight lipped smile on her face, “yes. You’re General Zhao, no?”

He returned her smile, which she suspected was as fake as hers, before responding, “that would be me. I believe I recall your strategies helping us win a few battles.”

“Actually, her strategies have helped the Fire Nation win dozens.” Y/N sighs as she realizes Zuko has arrived, and the look on the General’s face makes her wonder what he’s hiding. “Y/N is a valuable asset.”

The General raises a brow at Zuko’s words, “then why isn’t she in the famed War Room at the palace?”

It’s a silent reference to Zuko’s banishment, and everyone knows it. “As Prince Zuko’s right hand, I’ve joined him in the...” Y/N faked a grimace as she tried to diffuse the situation, “unsuccessful hunt for the Avatar.”

This seems to satisfy the General, the fact that Zuko has failed, but Y/N had a feeling Zuko was glad she had lied in regards to the Avatar as his hand comes to the small of her back. “If you’ll be excusing us, we have repairs to tend to.”

“Yes.. might I ask what could have caused that damage?”

Y/N was starting to wonder if she should write out an actual list of excuses, such a thing would be helpful for moments like this, “we ran into a glacier in the South Pole.” Zuko explained nonchalantly.

“Why don’t you join me on my ship while you wait? We could have a nice cup of tea.” The General suggested, though Y/N already knew he was baiting both Zuko and Iroh.

The way Iroh lit up at the mention of tea was rather obvious, and he quickly exclaimed, “sounds like a wonderful idea!” Though Y/N appreciated the action, since Zuko was acting rather suspicious.

Y/N wasn’t shocked when the General found out they’d discovered the Avatar, and she wasn’t shocked when Zuko challenged him to an Agni Kai, just disappointed. But Y/N was definitely angry when her own name was mentioned in the Agni Kai.

The two stood across from each other as General Zhao spoke, “when I win, I will be taking Miss L/N, and the rest of your crew. Along with any information you have in regards to the Avatar.”

If looks could kill, Y/N would’ve ended the lives of both the General and Zuko as she glared at them, though her attention was mostly on Zuko, who stood in front of her. “You can’t just bet me like I’m some sort of object.” She hissed at him, “if you lose-”

“I’m not losing you.” He responded, and Y/N doesn’t miss the way his cheeks flush as he clears his throat when he realizes what the sentence sounds like. Y/N found it funny that he still found time to be embarrassed despite the violent situation at hand. “Or the crew.” He adds, though the look from his Uncle causes him to look away.

Y/N scoffs in response, trying to ignore the burning in her own cheeks, “I’ll kill you if he doesn’t.” She grumbles, leaning against the railing of the ship. But it’s an empty threat, they both know this, they also both know that Y/N is very capable of killing him.

When the fight begins. Y/N wouldn’t deny that she was shocked when she’d actually witnessed how much Zuko had improved in the past few years, under Iroh’s guidance. Though the General was certainly talented, Zuko skillfully dodged his blasts of fire, leaving Y/N to wonder how much Zuko could’ve possessed had he always been under Iroh’s charge.

Life would’ve been very different.

It doesn’t last as long as she anticipated, and Y/N wouldn’t deny that she didn’t think the odds were in Zuko’s favor, even as he dealt the final strike. Y/N was sure Iroh was practically beaming with pride as he watched his nephew win the Agni Kai, that and since he’d spared Zhao’s life.

She certainly wouldn’t have.

And the way he turns around to strike Zuko, even after losing, makes Y/N wish she had been the one in the Agni Kai in the first place as she steps in front of the blast. She parts her hands, directing the fire in opposite directions before a sword of fire is clear in her hands, the tip held against the General’s throat. Iroh had pushed Zuko behind him protectively, and Y/N stared down Zhao, though she can’t see Zuko, she can practically feel his anxiety.

The General has been bested, and yet he’s grinning at her as he says, “so you are as good as they say.”

Y/N decides she doesn’t really want to know what they say as she responds, “stay down. Or you’re dead.” The sword of fire dissipates into the air, and Y/N begins to walk towards Zuko and Iroh.

“Your talent is being wasted.” He calls out as she leaves, but Y/N ignored him, smacking Zuko upside the head as she moves ahead of him, though she remains alert.

Zuko can’t help but feel as though the man is right.

A/N: everytime i start a multipart fic i always gotta write a really short part one because its like the pilot but then part two is like hi im too many words

anyways i hope you all enjoyed it! im trying here lol its 4AM, who needs sleep, i do my best work sleep deprived.

PART 3

taglists[lmk if you want to be added or removed via comments or askbox]

home: @toobsessedsstuff @x-a-delama-x @haylaansmi @a-hopeless-fan @danicalifxrnia

zuko: @outerxorbit @shawni-h @lil-lex1 @boxofteenageideas @izzieserra @eridanuswave @bigbuckyenergy @celamoon @savemesteeb @shephard17895 @ijustwannabecanadian

atla: @bubblebars @jada-cleo @Art-flirt @the-deli-meat

#zuko x reader #prince zuko x reader #zuko x you #prince zuko x you #atla #avatar the last airbender #lok #legend of korra #atla zuko x reader #zuko atla x reader #atla prince zuko x reader #prince zuko atla x reader #home pt2

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jinmindeulle · 4 years ago

Text

hot chocolate | jyh (1)

part 1/3

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 jeong yunho x reader, yang hongseok x reader

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 2.4 k

𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆 angst, fluff / enemies to lovers au, tv news au, newsanchor!yunho x newsanchor!reader

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 mentions of sex and cursing

main masterlist | ateez masterlist

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ 　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　 ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚

“Taeki is retiring”

Y/n snapped her head towards her co-worker, choking a little with the last bite of her lunch “Are you serious?”

“Yep” Minsoo nodded “They are even throwing him a surprise farewell party or something like that. Hyunsung is sending everyone a message, so you’ll probably receive one”

Just as she finished her sentence, y/n’s phone vibrated in her pocket, signalling she had indeed received one “You’re right” she responded, staring at the invitation like it was a lottery winning ticket “And who is replacing him?”

“No idea, but I guess we’ll know in a few hours” she shrugged, and finished her sandwich “Ready to go back?”

Standing up from her seat, y/n followed Minsoo out of the restaurant, continuing their conversation about how insufferable their boss had been the last month because of that new forecast lady who was still adapting to the Seoul Morning News. But her mind was elsewhere now.

She had always dreamt about being a news anchor. Ever since she was little, she admired those people on the T.V. who knew a lot about what was going on, and was fascinated with how fast they talked and never messed up. She had always enjoyed watching the same beautiful lady sitting on her fancy desk, wearing trendy clothing and styling her hair accordingly. Her make up was always on point and the smile that she wore on her face made little y/n feel as happy as she (supposedly) was.

So hearing that there was a vacant for the job of her dreams was something to be excited for. It was not like she didn’t like her current job, of course not. Developing the stories that Taeki presented every morning was a big deal. She liked to do her research and bring the public different views about diverse topics, stories that could make them reflect on their own lives, or just to make them aware of crucial matters like climate change, her latest report. But that didn’t change the fact that she was made to be in front of the camera. Her bright smile and outgoing personality made it clear from the start, and every co-worker of hers knew that sooner or later, she would end up being the morning news’ anchor.

“As you may have already heard, our news anchor Taeki is about to retire”

Every Friday, Mr. Jung held a meeting in the conference room with every department. Even though the Seoul Morning News had always worked well and rarely gone through rating issues, Mr. Jung believed that with no unity, the programme would rapidly fall from grace. These recurrent reunions were basically to inform everyone about what was going on in their own department and what was about to happen the following week in terms of interviews, reports and mini-documentaries.

“Next week is his last one here, so naturally we are looking for a replacement”

Y/n felt how Minsoo’s elbow pocked her side with enthusiasm, and she looked at the woman with wide eyes to make her stop.

“Sorry” she whispered “It’s just that Jaehyun is looking at you again. I think he fell in love” Minsoo giggled.

Y/n wished he just stopped for once and for all. Yeah, it had been a fantastic experience. Nothing would make her forget how good she had felt under his gorgeous body, under his hot touch and sweet scent. But it had been just that, a one-night-thing only. And she didn’t do one-night-things more than once with the same man, except for Hongseok. She would never get tired of him. But Jaehyun was another matter, and apparently he didn’t understand it, or maybe he didn’t want to understand it.

“…that’s why I have decided to propose the job to some of you whom I believe would be the best replacement. Of course you will have some tasks to develop, as well as some interviews and you’ll be tried”

Y/n quickly forgot about the burning look that Jaehyun was giving her upon hearing her boss’ announcement. Her heart started pounding on her ears, and her hands felt sweaty in a matter of seconds.

“Every director of each department have proposed candidates for the job and two names were always included in those lists. I know you all, and I am aware of who has potential for this job. That’s why I have decided to give the opportunity to both of them”

Her heart sunk. Her chance of being one of those two candidates was too slim. The number of people working for the Seoul Morning News was abominable, and off the top of her head she could name at least twenty people who would fit the job perfectly.

“I don’t want to waste more time. Jeong Yunho, from the Sports Department. Lee Y/n, from the Daily Reports Department. You are our candidates. May the best win” Mr. Jung grinned.

The girl’s eyes watered as soon as she heard her name leave her boss’ lips. Her surroundings felt like being on slow-motion. Some of her friends in other departments cheered for her from afar, clapping with passion and waving at her. Those who were around her congratulated her with smiles, some of them with envious eyes. It was too much for her to process. But that was not the whole issue.

She was competing against Jeong Yunho. The it boy from Sports, the man that every one loved and admired because of his intelligence, his fresh, easy-going personality, his perfect, bright smile and beautiful eyes. Jeong Yunho, her eternal enemy, who was looking at her from his seat with a lopsided grin and mocking eyes.

“So that’s why you were so eager to see me, huh?”

“I needed to celebrate” she giggled, making herself comfortable against Hongseok’s warm, naked chest.

“I always knew you were going to be the next Seoul Morning News’ anchor” he responded with a hoarse mumble, bringing her closer to his body and letting her tangle her legs with his.

“I’m not it yet” she sighed, drawing circles on Hongseok’s pectoral with her index finger.

“But you will be” he kissed her temple.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about it, Hong. You know Jeong Yunho. He’s going to try to destroy me if that gets him the job. He was always like that on college, especially when we were competing”

Hongseok stayed silent for a while, and if he hadn’t kept caressing her exposed lower back she would have thought he had fallen asleep “But you are as good as he is, if not better. I know him, yes, but I also know you. You are the perfect person for that job and your boss knows it. So don’t doubt yourself, okay, Y/n? Just trust the process and you’ll see”

“Can I kiss you for that?” she lifted her head from his chest and smirked at Hongseok, who quickly brought her head closer with his arm and sealed their lips together.

“I will never understand how you go about your life like that knowing that you can have Hongseok as more than just a hook-up but you don’t do anything about it” Minsoo murmured to y/n right after waving Hongseok goodbye.

Y/n shrugged, fixing her already messy bangs “I guess I am not used to commitment. I mean, we see each other more than I see my family really. But you know that I don’t just do sex with him, right?”

“What? Do you go on dates and kiss each other goodnight with your friend-with-benefits?” Minsoo chuckled, stopping by the elevator and waiting for it to come.

“I wouldn’t call them dates, but we do kiss” y/n mumbled, playing with the end of her red dress.

“You kiss Ho-?!” her friend screamed, and y/n had to put her hand over Minsoo’s mouth to shush her before he could hear them from her apartment “Friends with benefits don’t do that, y/n!” now inside the elevator and all alone, she could yell all she wanted.

“We do” y/n giggled, and turned around to fix her lipstick “And it’s not weird, you know. He sleeps with other people and I also do. It’s just that I like the way he makes me feel. It’s like having a boyfriend that doesn’t care about whether you fuck other guys or not”

“Is that an open relationship, then?”

“Maybe. I dunno. But I like how it is now and I wouldn’t change what I have with him for any other man”

Twenty minutes or so later, y/n and Minsoo walked out of the taxi right into the party hall. Most of their co-workers were there already, drinking and conversing with one another. Taeki hadn’t arrived yet, so for their luck, they were on time.

“Wow, look at you, doll”

“And that’s my cue to leave you alone now” Minsoo smirked, waving at Hyunsung, the party host, and running away from the scene as fast as she could.

“Fuck me” y/n mumbled, closing her eyes shut. She plastered a fake smile on her face and turned around, meeting Jaehyun’s stunning face. “Hi there”

“I didn’t know you were coming. I would have given you a ride” he smiled, shoving his hands inside his pockets.

“Yeah, Hyunsung was kind enough to invite me. And it’s alright, my friend brought me and Minsoo” y/n lied, trying to bring Hongseok up as her only way to get away from his offers.

“Oh, you mean the guy that you are seeing?” Jaehyun cocked his head, suddenly interested in y/n’s love life, like he always was.

“Yeah, that guy” she enthusiastically nodded “He’s picking me up later as well” she mentally slapped herself, because she knew that Jaehyun would be around the whole night, and of course he would see how she called a taxi when she decided to leave. Besides, Hongseok was covering a co-worker of his and had to be on the Night Show’s building until 2 a.m. at least.

“Well, if that is not the case you know I can always take you home” he smirked, licking his lips.

“Thank you, Jaehyun, I re-”

“Excuse me! Hi, I’m Jeong Yunho from the Sports Department, how are you doing? Can I take her from you just a little bit? Okay, thank you!”

The tall boy didn’t even bother to hear an answer from Jaehyun and simply took her by her arm, brining her to the other side of the room.

“What the hell was that?!” she asked him, looking at his hand that was still holding her arm hostage.

“Oh, sorry” Yunho released her from his strong grip and crossed his arms over his chest “I just wanted to congratulate you. It’s a big thing what you are doing” he grinned. But y/n knew that grin, and it didn’t entail pure intentions.

“Oh, yeah? Are you, Jeong Yunho, congratulating me, out of all people?” she scrunched up her face, demonstrating how suspicious he was appearing to her.

“Why not?” he scowled.

“C’mon, Yunho. You’ve always disliked me. Since when do you talk to me? I don’t recall a single civil conversation with you, even in college” she imitated his pose, folding her arms “And back then, we just talked when professors paired us up to work on assignments”

“Because you would always be around Yang Hongseok, and I never liked that guy” disgust was evident on this face, a rare sight to see. None of the people around them had seen Yunho like y/n had in all those years of sharing not only every single class, but also the same workplace for almost two years. He was not the angel he pretended to be.

“Then you wouldn’t want to know that I still hang out with him”

Yunho stayed silent, just looking at her with an unreadable expression. Y/n quickly realized that the boy was trying to mess up with her right from the beginning, playing all friendly and stuff so that he could get the position in the blink of an eye.

“I know what you are tying to do here, Jeong. You have always wanted that spot but you are not the only one. So I’m sorry to crush your dreams, but I’m fighting for it too. Just don’t play dirty. You deserve to be the next news’ anchor? Then show it”

“I’ll play fair. Just remember that I always won back then” he smirked, his eyes shining with greediness.

“Get over college, Yunho” she grinned, tiptoeing so she could whisper in his ear “And never underestimate me”

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insufferablelust · 5 years ago

Note

Hi, I hope you're having a great day! I was wondering if you could write something for Hotch where the reader is one of the younger members and he always wants to protect her. She messes up on a case and Strauss yells at her and she ends up crying and Hotch takes care of her. Thank you so much, and it is okay if you don't want to write it!

Hi! i’m so sorry it took me awhile to write your piece but i hope this is worth it! and i also changed it a bit so i hope you don’t mind, but if you have any specific ideas just let me know! anyways thank you so much for requesting and waiting! much love!

This is an Aaron Hotchner x SA!Reader Blurb.

Warnings : Fluffs, angst, Mean!Strauss, Hotch is like your caregiver in a professional way like he guides you through the cases and help you etc because you’re new and young, Mention of Guns, Blood, Supportive!BAU, Mental disorder, and Abductions.

this blurb also have a special meaning to me since i’m diagnosed with the same Disorder the unsub has in this so i’m sorry if the descriptions are a bit too detailed. i still hope you like it and give me feedbacks or constructive criticisms thank you for reading❤️

———————

Being the youngest in every field has its own disadvantages, when you were at school, being the youngest would get you picked at, but you shut them up quickly with your bravery. When you were in college, most people doubted you even your professors, but you also managed to make them stare in awe when you became the top student of your criminal psychology class. When you were training in the academy, many underestimate you, but again— you came out on top, trainee with the highest score amongst others. So you never thought about being the youngest much,

No, not until you actually work— by work i mean becoming a part of BAU, Special Agent Y/n Y/l/n. It was easy at first, you received such a warm welcome from your new teammates that you already thought that this is going to be easy enough. The first time you met them were at the bullpen, they were all lounging and talking about a recent case as you stepped in nervously yet you put a stern smile. The first person who approached you was the wonderful Miss Penelope Garcia, who happens to be your friend, and then you shook hands with David Rossi, Jennifer Jareau, Aaron Hotchner, Dr. Spencer Reid, Emily Prentiss, and got a flirty remark from none other than Derek Morgan— who you scoffed at and said “not going to work on me pal, Garcia has told me aaaall about it” which drew laughter.

Your assignments were quite easy at first, you were always the one to be confident, top of your class and all— so on your first day you got your first assignment with the team, a case in Virginia. You were told to follow Agent Hotchner, and you have to be honest that it couldn’t be any more easier for you. He showed you the ropes, how to analyze certain behaviors, even let you interview the family alone. He made you feel safe and comfortable to do this job, and you couldn’t be more grateful.

Now that you’ve gotten to several cases, you’ve felt like you earned your place here, not just as the new girl, but a profiler, an agent, and you couldn’t be more prouder— and you can’t help but to thank Aaron for it, he always guides you through all the horrible things that you just feel content to work on cases with him. Your teammates joked about it sometimes, saying how close you two have gotten, they noticed how Hotch never raised his voice with you, not once, it’s either you’re that good or as Prentiss likes to call it “He has a soft spot for you (Y/n)”

But not all paths are smooth paths, it was sunday afternoon, you were lounging with Emily, Garcia, and Sergio when you heard the call coming from Garcia’s phone. Upon seeing “HOTCHER” as the called id, you and Prentiss sigh deeply before preparing your go bag not even bothering for Garcia to finish the phone call.

Turns out it was a child abduction case, and the first thing to note about this is that time is of the essence and every second counts. The first abduction started in Virginia a month ago, where it was handled by the local police— but then the same type of M.O and Victimology appeared in some abduction cases all over the country, the most recent one is Los Angeles. So off to LA you goes with the team, only thing different this time is that JJ and Hotch was staying behind to talk to the police in Virginia—it’s your first ever case without his guidance and you haven’t decided if you like it or hate it.

———————————

12 hours into the abduction, and Y/n has messed up bad, bad enough that it put her own life in jeopardy. Y/n had gone to follow a lead, that she received from the hotline tip, she debated at first.. on telling the others about the call she received, all her training would told her to tell someone, you can’t go alone but the caller insist that you go alone. Something about this man is not right, you can feel it in your guts. But you know that if you were about to tell the others- they wouldn’t let you pursue, not because you’re incapable but because its not right to go alone, but you took the risk to save these children— the caller did mentioned you only have 10 minutes to drive to his address and if you don’t show up alone, the children will be killed— and you can’t let that happen. So you told the tip responder that you have told your team and that you’re under pursue before sprinting out of the LAPD.

When the team realized that Y/n was gone, it was an hour after she actually left. The second they found out about her whereabouts, they rushed to the location— already hoping that you and the kids are still alive. To their relief, you were found alive, but you were tied to a chair, face bloodied and its clear that you took some harsh beating. The unsub was holding one of the child, threatening to kill him.

He was a man who has Abandonment issues with severe borderline personality disorder, the reason why he abducts children is because he hated his childhood— he hated himself for being a fuck up, so he took the perfect children according to his judgment and kept them— it’s masochistic, he kept them as a reminder for himself of how worthless he is.

“Put the gun down, and let the boy go” Morgan’s voice rang through the abandoned building, causing the unsub to panic and move backwards “No! stay there! c-come any closer and i’ll blow his perfect fucking face off” He snarled, before you gained all the energy you have left and speak up,

“Adam, let him go please. I know how you feel, and let me show you that you are none of those things your mind is telling you. You’re not worthless and you deserve to be loved, a- a mother’s love.. don’t you missed it? Come here, i- i can give it to you” You coughed up blood as your vision gets blurry, The team gasped as the unsub let the boy go.. all of them and kneeled next to you, gun still in hand as he untied you, then lay his head on your thighs. Your fingers shakily move, to ran through his hair, and inching to get the gun from here.

“Shh, shh Mama’s here, give me the toy.. I’ll let you play w-with it later” You said holding back the tears as he slowly handed you the loaded gun before you tossed it and the team cuffed him.

You cried hard as you fell to your knees on the floor, the last thing you heard was Prentiss’s voice calling for medic and then you black out.

——————-

Its been a few days after the incident, you’re on your way back to Quantico. Some of the bruisings are gone but there are some scars that will be there forever, and honestly you don’t worry about it all— the only thing you worry about is what your superior is going to do with you. You knew you messed up bad and it doesn’t matter that you are the reason that those kids are free, you should’ve told your team. When Emily asked you why, you said it’s just gut feeling em. And when Spencer asked you how’d you know?

you told him, that The unsub told you about his young mother, the same exact age as your age, your hair color, and around your height. Thats why he wanted you to come, and the pieces clicked, All of the hesitancy to kill, He liked the pain, not inflicting it to others if not necessary but to himself. That’s how you know. Your answer seemed to please the young doctor as he smiled and whispered a small “Great job, Agent.”

All of them were understanding on why you did it, except Morgan because he’s like your big brother but he did said something along the lines of “You’re a damn good profiler but you’re still stupid” but the worst had to come from your superior; Erin Strauss.

As soon as you landed in Quantico, Hotch was there waiting for you, then escort you to his room, where Strauss was there also. You were nervous not because you’re wrong but because you knew you could’ve done better and it’s against the regulations.

Hotch had said to you during a phone call that he “understands why you did what you did but it certainly doesnt justify it.” The way he spoke those words calmed you down up until now.. standing in front of Strauss herself.

“Agent Y/n, sit down.” You sat down in front of her with Hotch leaning against his desk, you put on a smile as you keep eye contact with her, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling fine, Ma’am. Thank you for asking—i’ve completed the psych evals too and-“

“What you did was reckless and stupid, Agent. You put your own life in danger as well as your teammates. You let your own ambition to lead you into this mess—“

Taken aback at her words, you quickly replied, “Excuse me Ma’am, with all due respect i never have any intention other than saving the boys from the unsub. So i don’t understand how my ‘ambition’ led me.”

“Agent, you will not interrupt me. Must i remind you that you’re an intelligent, bright, and exceptionally young with a lot of great potentials but let me ask you this, Are you too immature that your ambition on becoming the one who caught the unsub is your top priority? The Director agreed that maybe you should take another year of training to successfully complete mature so you dont make mistakes like this.” and at that your eyes brimmed with tears, How could she? how could she compared your age to how you do your job? You were trying to save the kids and you did. Your age has no connection to any of this and certainly not to your abilities. You were about to say something when Hotch stand and put a finger up signaling you to hold it.

“Ma’am I know what Y/n did is incredibly reckless but she only did that because the unsub specifically asked for her— she reminded him of his young mother, their features are the same. Agent Y/n, does know the regulations and protocols, and she knows that if she tells anyone the risk of those boys dying is greater than any other. So with all due respect Ma’am, As her direct superior in this case, i’m asking you to back up and let me handle her penalty according to my professional judgment as someone who has seen her incredible work and sacrifices.” His voice is loud, ringing on your ears like you’re the only thing that mattered. It left you speechless as he give you the tissue box and then waiting for Erin’s reply.

To your surprise she didn’t say anything before leaving his office. You broke down once again, gasping for air as you feel the pain now, the ache on your shoulder and wrists, the dull pain on your face, the cuts and bruises on your stomach. You are exhausted, and It seemed that Hotch knows it too.

He sit besides you as he gently placed your head on his shoulder, so you can cry with a shoulder to support you. You were so exhausted, that you dont even care if this is breaking any rules or protocols. You just want to save people, you just want to be with your team.

“She won’t do anything, I promise you that ill protect and guides you, so hang onto my words.” He said, rubbing the back of your neck and shoulders as you let out tiny gasps, trying to form a sentence.

“T-thank- y-you, Aaron.” is the only thing you managed to speak before the exhaustion wipes you out, the last thing you heard was his voice, “Anytime Y/n, Sleep well.”

——————

Feel free to send me blurb ideas! give this a like and reblog, thank you!

#aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds fluff #insufferableblurb

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stxleslyds · 4 years ago

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MY TOUGHTS ON PART TWO OF RED HOOD BY CHIP ZDARSKY :)

A DC BOOK THAT TASTES LIKE MARVEL.

You know when you are reading a book and you feel like the story you are reading seems familiar but not really within the context you are reading it at the moment? If you can’t shake the wrong sense of familiarity you search for what it probably the biggest give away, the author.

Here it’s something like that; I have read other pieces of Chip Zdarsky’s work, namely Daredevil. While I could tell you the familiarity is there, in the subject of guilt after taking the life of another person, the reality is that this book doesn’t taste like Daredevil, it tastes like Marvel.

That can be either an excellent thing (because Marvel has amazing books) or something terrible (because DC isn’t Marvel and they don’t work the same way).

As of now I can’t really tell if this Red Hood story is going to be one or the other, but I can tell you that it feels out of place in the DC universe, or at least that’s how I see it. I will explore this particular thought later, I just thought this was a nice way to open this post.

If you would like to read the first post I made about this book I will leave the link here!

Now…let’s begin.

Part two picks up exactly where part one left off, we see Jason calling Oracle so she can bring the police to the place where Jason killed Andy a.ka. that gigantic piece of shit.

Jason is having some thoughts, ones that I think are important.

“I have taken lives before, a lot of them. I have killed guys knowing nothing about them except that they had guns and murder in their hearts. Those ones are easy; I don’t have to think of their mothers getting the news or of kids being...”

Jason is troubled. He is now in front of a reality that he never truly thought about but to be honest with you I strongly believe that nobody in the DC universe thinks beyond what happens in front of them, that’s just how fictional comic worlds are designed.

Anyway, there is a little something that bothers me in this inner monologue of his, like since when have “murderers” been Jason’s actual target? Like Joker was his target but he didn’t kill him, the base of Jason’s morals when it comes to killing has always been drugs, most importantly if you sell drugs to kids. So unless he is saying “murderers” because they were selling drugs that caused people (especially kids) to overdose then I don’t really get what is going on.

Another thing that I also talked about in the first post is that Jason hasn’t killed in a very long time, this man has been sticking to the Bats rule for so long that it’s actually unreal. Even when he shot the penguin and Batman proceeded to almost beat Jason to death the penguin hadn’t died. So once again I am thinking that Zdarsky has some info that he is not sharing right now or maybe he just didn’t read Lobdell's run (in which case, can you really blame him?)

Now let me talk about the other part of his monologue “…I don’t have to think of their mothers getting the news or of kids being...” This is something that I haven’t seen in DC, direct consequences after a hero/vigilante does something, and let me tell you it feels out of place. Is it a good or bad thing? I don’t really know but I have some thoughts on the subject.

I think it's unfair to put a comic character in that situation or dilemma. Jason has basically three reactions to the same situation and they are all valid, but can this situation be handled by a fictional person in a fictional world? Because to be fair I could also ask about the criminals that are put in hospitals after they are beat up by heroes, what if they die in the hospital? Is the hero a killer or does it fall on the hospital? If a criminal cannot pay for the attention given to them in hospitals and they immediately go back to criminal activity to pay for those things, are heroes a good thing? If the Joker bombs a hospital for the third time in four months and Batman does the same thing (take joker to Arkham) only for Joker to escape and do it again, is Batman as guilty as the Joker for the deaths of innocent people or not?

As I wrote it and as I read it again I see that it is a crazy thought because you can simply add more depth to the characters decisions and the consequences that would ensue because of them, but Gotham is a fictional city created to establish that crime is off the charts and that they need Batman because no amount of resources will be able to fix this city’s problems. So putting Jason in this position is new to me…but only in DC (more of this particular thought below).

Going back to the comic in question, I feel like Jason had the answers and the ideas all in his head. In this issue alone he basically says that if the mother does not pull through the boy will be alone, but alone means going into the system (a horrible system that Jason does not trust and needs improvement), but also, Jason recognizes that if the mother died and the father was left alive then that man would have done horrendous stuff. I just simply wouldn't believe that a man that gave drugs to both his wife and son so they wouldn't bother him is just going to change after realizing that his wife died because of him. Even less believable is him becoming an amazing father.

In the big scheme of things, Jason has killed people who fitted very certain characteristics, never innocents (bye, Morrison). What happens after the killing is done? We don’t know because past stories have never focused on that (criminals in comics are by default one dimensional, villains are not)

But here is the thing, Zdarsky is a Marvel writer and Marvel has gone in depth within those situations (like what happens after heroes commit mistakes or kill someone) mostly with Civil War by Mark Millar and more recently in Daredevil written by Chip Zdarsky, but DC hasn't and DC has been plain for a long time, DC doesn't really explain how batman hurts people severely and nothing happens beyond that.

What I am trying to say is that Zdarsky is going for a different and unique route for Jason here but I think the story is out of place in the DC universe.

I promise I am done with those thoughts, they were really difficult to put on paper and to make them make sense, so I apologize if I only confused you, sorry!

Anyway! After the monologue is done we have a flashback where little Jason is being told by his mother to go buy bread (the only thing they can afford) but she is also making him leave so he doesn’t have to be present when Robby (a friend if you ask Jason’s mom, a drug dealer if you ask Jason) comes to the apartment to help her.

Sadly as Jason is leaving Robby is walking up the stairs, now not to copy little Jason but fuck Robby. Jason’s issues with drugs, drug dealing and overdosing is once again shown here but what is also shown is the violence that comes with it. Jason being terrified for himself (and his mother) as Robby pulls a knife on him broke my heart and as he is left there in the corridor to his apartment all we can see is a defeated little boy and that shit hurts a lot.

After that we jump back to the future with none other than Batgod…I mean Batman. Batman is following a man called Sydney and apparently he disappointed Batman because B told him to stop being a criminal, like come on man if I ask nicely or if I break both of your arms you will surely stop, right? Yeah, no.

I feel like I mentioned something about this while my brain decided that DC never usually explains what happens with criminals after they get caught or killed and now here we are. Consequences. Batman scares a man off of working for Scarecrow but the man still needs to work (does he have a family to provide for? We don’t know. Does he do it because it’s the only job he can get? We don’t know.)

This Batman intermission ends up with Oracle telling him that Jason might be in trouble.

So we find ourselves back with Jason and Tyler in his safe house, Zdarsky does not hesitate and first thing he does is give us a couple of very angsty panels.

I love the way it hurts.

Jason honey, my sweet chonky boy…what are you doing?

Well at least I am not the only one asking that because Jason is having a moment to reflect about what has happened, what is happening and what could happen in the future. In this monologue he says the following:

“Dammit, Jason, what the hell are you doing? You can’t take care of this kid! But you can’t put him in the system either! Just waiting for some obsessed militaristic billionaire to adopt him? Dammit. His dad was scum, he hurt Tyler, he hurt his mom. But if Tyler’s mom doesn’t pull through…I just made this kid an orphan. He is my responsibility, he is too young to really see what he’s gone through, he can still be saved…unlike…”

Yeah that’s some really angsty thoughts, he is really going through it and I understand it. He lost his cool after what that horrible human being said he did and killed him and now he has to face the consequences of his actions, he recognizes that if the boy is left truly alone he will have to step up…but here is the thing, does Jason really want that? It seems to me like Jason is deeply against the idea of children working as heroes, and here he is as an adult that is a vigilante with an impressionable child that sees the Red Hood as his hero, I don’t know, it looks like the perfect recipe for a disaster.

But we don’t get to see what Jason does right away because its flashback time.

Jason only moved from his spot in the corridor of his apartment door to get the bread but as Robby comes out of said door Jason is there waiting. Robby teases that he and Jason’s mom ended up sharing the “medicine” and that she will be sleeping for a long time, and that seems to be it for Jason because next thing you know Robby is falling down the stairs.

Aw, shit.

Jason from the future continues his monologue while he remembers what happened on those stairs.

“I never had a chance, not for one second. But he does, Tyler has a chance. I can help him, help him be okay. This doesn’t…what I did…what his parents did, it doesn’t have to define him.”

So Jason wants to make things right for Tyler so he doesn’t become like Jason. Now I don’t truly know what Zdarsky is going for but I will go for the unconscious route, little Jason pushed Robby (that fucker) down the stairs and he was left unconscious there.

In Jason’s eyes Tyler is still a good kid that deserves only the best (like you Jason, please don’t think so low about yourself) and that can be saved from a life of vengeance, justice and trauma. But whatever Jason was going to actually say to Tyler we don’t know because Tyler informs Jason that through the Red Hood mask there is someone telling him that Batman is coming.

Batman appears out of nowhere as he does and starts talking shit.

Honestly Batman what is with that “not my town” bullshit? Baby this isn’t the medieval times, you are not a king and as far as I know not only is Lucius Fox richer than you but so is Dick so sit your ass down and shut the fuck up.

Luckily Jason is giving the outstanding amount of zero fucks and tells Batman exactly what he needs to be told, sadly Jason’s big brain time doesn’t last long because he absolutely loses his cool and starts a fight. So you know what that means, monologue time!

“This was a mistake, but I can’t help myself, he gets under my skin. His sanctimony, he acts like he’s God, all knowing, all seeing when really…he’s just another failed parent.”

Amen. Jason knows many languages but he chose to speak facts.

As the monologue ends Batman is standing over Jason like he is about to murder him but no such thing happens because Tyler, who was quietly watching them fight, jumps in to protect Jason. Yep, there goes my heart, goodbye.

And this is it. The issue ends with Tyler putting an end to the fight and telling batman that he has to leave the Red Hood alone because he is a good guy. Jason of course is thankful and promises that everything is fine.

I don’t know about you guys but so far I can’t say if I like the book or not. Both parts left me with mixed feelings. I obviously want to see how it ends but I honestly think that there is only one way this story can end with a happy ending, which I think it would be Tyler going back to his mom and Jason somehow working to help her with her drug addiction, maybe even have Dick involved so he can help them economically.

Things that I surely do not want to see are Jason backing down again and limiting himself to the Bats rules. I also absolutely don’t want Zdarsky to go all Geoff Johns on us and make Jason think that he should give up the Red Hood mantle.

Jason really needs to gain his confidence back, he was smart, calculated and strategic and now they have taken those things away to accentuate his “daddy issues” and “inferiority complex”. Why the quotation marks you ask? Oh, because those things are bullshit and there is no room for those things in Jason’s characterization other than to add more angst to the plot.

Let me know how you felt about the issue and my review! Are you excited about what the four next issues are going to bring to the story?

Also if you read Marvel, did this issue taste like Marvel to you too or am I going crazy?

#Jason Todd #red hood #red hood outlaw #batman: urban legends #batman urban legends #infinite frontier #DC comics #robin

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