#who knows if even 1 person reads these then i'll do them where i deem necessary
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About "Jack Hughe's Guide To Falling In Love" Chapter 1.
Hello there :) Please proceed with caution, this will contain spoilers for the new chapter. If you want to turn back, click here for the prologue, or here for the chapter. Happy reading!
Okay so first of all: I hope you enjoyed.
Now that that is out of the way: I need to talk about 1. you and 2. the flashback.
Reader: I feel like some of you might be thinking "is she stupid? there is no way she doesn't realise she is half in love with that dude" which. yes. that is half the point. I, personally feel like if you liked someone, especially a friend for a time (bonus points if it's when you first met) then when you do get over them & fall for them again it takes you a lot longer to figure that out because you have felt like this before. This oblivious state will not be forever, dw, but that's just the way it is for now.
The Flashback: after a lot (and I do mean a lot) of back and forth I've decided to include it but I'm not 100% satisfied with it. First of all I just wanna remind you that they were younger back then and teenagers are a little more dramatic, especially in their heads. (You rlly gotta love hormones huh) Both have grown as people, as will be seen. Okay, continuing on: I just needed to give a little more insight to what you felt like back then and what he didn't. It's vital to the story that they never got together, that they never would have worked out back then. (ex: you thinking you could change him, be the exception bestie be fr) You are aware of it now, even if you weren't when you were younger. You liked him a lot more than he did which is just not what I was going for here. Hence the flashback that I still hate lol
Yeah. I think that's about it, but we will see (I might do these a few times but feel free to ignore them! They are in no way necessary to understanding the story, but I do feel that they add some depth.) Hope you enjoyed my insights & come talk to me about it if you have any questions/comments. I'm always happy to hear from you <3
#ame.txt#jhgtfil#i feel like no one does stuff like this about reader inserts but uhhh#i've gotten into the habit when i wrote fics so here you go#who knows if even 1 person reads these then i'll do them where i deem necessary#muah love you <3
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A Strange Sort of Family
hi, resident evil fandom, i'd like to throw my hat in the ring
look, i don't even really go here, the fandom mold just got into my brain and would not fucking leave. this is my first time writing any of these characters so if they feel a bit rocky, please forgive me. my media analysis brain has been spinning nonstop since we started the resident evil brain rot and ho boy would I love to sink my teeth into a proper horror fic but! i don't know if i'm there yet so i figured i'd start a bit easier for me :)
also--we all know there's no way ethan's just gone from the franchise now, right? like, sure, he's dead, but he died like 30 minutes into re7 and that didn't fucking stop him
ALSO also big shoutout to @dragonsareaqueerthing and @greenninjagal-blog for the encouragement to actaully make the words go :) hopefully i'll be spending more time in this fandom now that I've got that ball rolling
Read on Ao3
Warnings: talk about events of shadows of rose dlc, nothing explicit, bullying
Pairings: implied ethan/mia/chris, but Ethan & Rose is the focus
Word Count: 10,919
You'd think after about 16 years of being treated like a child and the most powerful bioweapon the world has ever seen, you might get used to it.
Nope!
Not even slightly.
Sometimes a family is a molded bioweapon, a traumatized agent, a former bioterrorist, and a series of golden, sparkly words. Sometimes family is decorating your room with your mother, sometimes family is hugging a pillow because your dad isn't here anymore. Sometimes family is training too hard and going out for ice cream, sometimes family is a dinner where your parents won't stop teasing you.
Or, five times Ethan Winters was there for his daughter, and one time Rosemary Winters was there for her father.
1.
You'd think after about 16 years of being treated like a child and the most powerful bioweapon the world has ever seen, you might get used to it.
Nope!
Not even slightly.
Okay, well, maybe slightly, but only in the way she's able to shake off some of the lesser things that would've made her really upset before. She's no longer threatening the lives of the agents that call her Eveline, to her face or behind her back when they think she can't hear them. Even when she really, really wants to. Small victories.
But despite her best efforts, she still returns to the cell block of a room—Chris had been so insistent that it wasn't a cell, but it was all concrete walls and a tiny window and a camera that she knows is in the corner—and curls up on her bed, jamming her headphones in and refusing to engage with the outside world until she could summon up the resolve to impersonate a normal person again.
Today had been no exception.
Rose throws her backpack onto her desk chair and slings her hat over the hook, kicking her shoes off and collapsing face-first onto the bed with a groan. More tests today, always more fucking tests. Didn't they have every inch of her shitty, moldy body cataloged by now? She has half a mind to start making shit up when they ask her the same stupid questions. 'How are you feeling today, Rose?' Oh, you know, just getting stuck with more needles than a fucking porcupine, how do you fucking think I'm feeling? Yeah, no, no homicidal instincts yet, just had one murderous thought the other day when I was imagining mold eating the bitch who called me a charity case. Although I did go to the park after I snuck away from that asshole you have tailing me on Tuesdays to see if I could amass a mushroom army, how was your day?
A small laugh leaves her throat at the thought of the doctor's face if she actually did say that, but then she'd probably have two assholes tailing her until they deemed her 'no longer a risk.' God, they were supposed to be these super highly trained agents, then why the fuck do they suck ass at being subtle?
Turns out, even having mold superpowers means she still has to breathe like a normal person, so she drags her face up from the bed and doesn't even bother to fully get up to inchworm up to the pillows. She mashes her face against the slightly cold surface—honestly, the best part about this prison-cell-ass room was that the air conditioning was always on Arctic, so her pillows were always cold—and grabs her phone, squinting at the notifications.
One from school saying her group project deadline was coming up…something from some shopping website she'd logged onto out of pure boredom three weeks ago…and a text from Chris.
Rose sits up a little more and opens the text. "Overseas this week…sorry I'll miss the—you fucking dick!"
Of course Chris is working this weekend, of course he's not gonna be fucking here to take her to the cemetery—great, that means another two hours of bus rides until she can actually go see her dad. She swears he does this on purpose sometimes, how often does he actually need to go overseas for 'work?' And it's not like anyone else here would be able to take her, she's learned her fucking lesson about asking them for anything more than more fucking food. Not bothering to stifle her groan, she flops back onto the bed, only for her phone to clatter out of her hand and onto the floor.
Great. Now she has to move again to pick it up.
She decides that moving is actually not what she's going to do right now, letting one arm hang over the edge of the bed, her cheek scrunched awkwardly against the lip of the mattress. She tucks her face against the collar of her jacket and rubs her thumb against the ring on her finger.
"Sorry it's gonna take me longer," she mumbles, "I really wanted to spend longer with you this time."
Her eyes widen when gold sparkling words appear on the floor next to her phone.
it's okay
"What the—" she whips around to look at the door, closed tightly, and jerks back— "how—"
The words are still there. The words are still etched into the floor, right next to her phone. She should check if they're on the camera—no, they can fucking hack into her phone whenever they want, and she doesn't—she can't—if this really is—
Rose swallows the lump in her throat as the words shift and change.
you ok?
"I—what—how are—" she swallows again, camera in the corner of the room, "uh, M-Michael?"
A pause as the words reform: sure
"I mean, I—I know," she says quickly, "I know what—I know what this is, I…I remember, it's just…"
camera, I know
"How is this possible?" she whispers, not daring to move from her haphazard scramble up the bed, "I thought you were—I mean, at the end, when we, uh, did the thing, it seemed like you were…that you were going again."
The words sparkle again as she grips the sleeve of her jacket—his jacket.
apparently i'm bad at it
"Bad at what?"
staying dead
Another laugh chokes its way out of her throat and she reaches out without thinking about it, just to touch the words. They glow a little bit brighter as she touches them and the tips of her fingers glow. Almost as an afterthought, she grabs her phone and shoves it behind her, hopefully muffling the microphone and at the very least, getting its cameras away from her dad.
Her dad. Those are her dad's words, that's her dad, he's here, he's here.
"Are you—is this…are you really here?"
sort of, as the golden words swirl around, part of you
"What do you mean, 'part of me?'"
not a scientist
"You're the only other m—person like me I know, I'm sure it'll be fine." She can almost hear the little huff of laughter as the golden sparkles swirl again. It seems like it's the same as it was when she was in there, with her dad only able to say a few words at a time.
i'm part of the mold, just like you, we're sharing a part right now
"Are you always sharing a part with me?"
i wish i could, and she feels her chest hurt a little bit, takes energy
"I guess that makes sense." Her arm begins to ache from being so stretched out. "I really miss you."
i miss you too sweetie
Fuck, she's 16, she should not be getting this choked up over her dad calling her 'sweetie,' but fuck it, she's a mold person and her dad's dead, she's allowed to sniffle a little when those words glow warmly under her fingers. Some hysterical part of her wonders if he'd be able to give her a tissue or a hanky the way he gave her guns and chem fluid in there, but she scrubs at her nose with her sleeve and decides that it's enough right now that he's here, in her room, still calling her sweetie.
***
2.
She almost recognizes it the second time, a tug in her gut. Given that she's got her hands over her face and is currently doing a fabulous impression of an angry seal, it'd be harder for her to see it. Still, she can't help the dumb smile on her face when she rolls over.
bad day?
"Oh, you know," she mumbles, "just your average day of being a human guinea pig."
ew
She snorts, clapping a hand over her mouth to muffle it. "You know I get a look at their notes sometimes? That's what they call you, just your initials."
surprised they're still talking about me
"What do you mean? Of course they're still talking about you, you're the—" she cuts herself off. The golden sparkles swirl.
i'm the what?
"Never mind."
The floorboards wait expectantly, but she twists the ring around her finger, chewing on her lip. After another moment, new words appear.
can i help?
"With what? With the tests?"
with you
Another tug in her gut, this time at the fact that she can't actually remember the last time someone asked after her, not their biggest liability or their most dangerous weapon. She props herself up on the cold pillows—thank you, government AC—and sighs. "I'm just really tired."
i bet
"Like—are they bored? What do they get out of sticking me with the same needle fifty different times? And it's not like they talk to me about anything, they just look at each other and then fake-smile at me and they tell me 'you're doing great,' like I'm supposed to know what that means. And the other people aren't any better! They keep trying to train me how to do a thing but they're not—it's not like they tell me why we're doing something or what I'm supposed to be doing instead, they just tell me I'm wrong and that's it."
that sucks
She huffs. "You have no idea."
After a moment, though, she realizes that might not actually be true. From what little she's actually managed to get Chris to tell her, and what she can learn from Mom, they were both held in BSAA's quarantine for ages before they moved over to Romania. And if Mom knew about Dad's…not-aliveness way before he did, then they must've done some sort of tests on him too.
"Can I ask you something?"
anything
"Did they, um, did they test you too?"
The floorboards stay empty for a minute, but it feels more like he's thinking than it does him avoiding the question. Sure enough, after another moment, words start appearing again.
they did, they didn't tell me anything either, just that i was lucky
"Lucky how?"
to have made it, even when i didn't
"You did, though," she mumbles, fiddling with the ring again, "you—this part of you made it. Chris told me, Mom told me. You…even after you were…gone the first time, you…you came back. The important parts of you, they came back."
and i'm grateful for it, for you
"You're gonna make me cry," she mutters, scrunching up a little tighter.
i love you Rosie
"Shut up." It's empty and they both know it. A few extra sparkles swirl around and she could swear he's laughing. "I love you too."
Sunlight streams in through her tiny window and she finds herself looking at the way the leaves on the tree dapple the shadow across the floor. Part of her dad's words are still glowing. She looks at the nightstand, bare except for her charger and alarm clock, then over at the desk where her school stuff is, then at the dresser. She reaches out and touches the metal bedframe. It's cold underneath her fingers.
what's wrong?
"Nothing." The words remain and she sighs. "I'm just being mopey."
you're allowed to mope
"Someone at school said something today," she says before she can think better of it, and she winces at how young she sounds.
bullies?
"Not really, it wasn't even really about me, I just—it's stupid."
if you're upset it's not stupid
"They were just talking about this thing they got for their room, okay?" Embarrassment makes her curl her fingers into the loose fabric of her jacket. "It's this mirror thing that hooks up to your phone and lets you play music and stuff from there. They were just talking about it and I thought—see, I told you it was stupid."
There's another pause. The breeze rustles the leaves outside. The shadows dance over the walls.
do you want it?
"Not really…I don't like mirrors that much anyway. And it's not like they'd let me just have another thing that connects to the Internet in here." She glances at the alarm clock. "I barely got them to let me get a laptop for school stuff. I don't think they've got a 'Mold Bioweapon Allowance' in their budget."
The silence grows thoughtful. She turns her head to look at the floorboards again, watching the few sparkles there swirl around.
it's your room, they say finally, it should feel like it
Rose scoffs. "What am I supposed to do, walk up and ask them to sponsor a shopping trip?"
why not?
"They're not gonna do that. They're just gonna brush me off again or tell me they're busy."
you've tried?
"I told you, I barely managed to get a laptop, which is something I need to be able to do schoolwork or anything, even have a taste of what being normal is like. And even then I had to argue for like, ages, and I had to get one of my teachers to write an email saying that it's necessary." She swats the white pillowcase, bitterness seeping into her words. "Everything else isn't necessary. They're all about practicality, like I'm just some other expense they have to deal with."
what about Chris? or Mom?
"Chris isn't here. He's always off somewhere doing something or he's here glaring at me like I'm some stupid new recruit that he doesn't want to have to train. And Mom's…I don't want to bother her, you know? She's got her own life now."
she's your mom, come the words almost before she's done speaking, she'd want to know
Rose sighs, sitting up to lean against the headboard. She twists the ring around and around her finger, chewing on her lip. "I don't know. Sometimes it feels like she's…like she doesn't want to know."
Another pause. What her dad had said before, about them sharing a part of the mold—she can feel something in her chest. An emotion that isn't quite hers, something like a deep and exasperated sadness. It's faint, not quite enough to put words there, but she can tell when she needs to look back down at the floor.
she does love you, let her
"Okay. I'll try."
thank you
"Would you come shopping with me?" she asks, even when she knows the answer. "If you could?"
The room gets a little happier as the sparkles swirl around.
i'd spend all day with you
"What did you want to have in your room? When you were my age?"
telescope
"A telescope?" She laughs. "Did you want to be an astronaut?"
astronaut ew
She laughs again and the sunlight seems a little brighter.
***
3.
She meets Mom at a coffee shop near the big bookstore downtown. She's not wearing Dad's jacket—it still feels weird to do, even after Mom's said it's fine—but she has his ring on a necklace under her shirt. Mom waves her over to a table in the corner, nodding to the smoothie already waiting.
"Pineapple mango," she says as Rose sits down, "your favorite."
"Thanks, Mom." She takes a big drink, savoring the weird feeling the pineapple leaves on her tongue. "How're you?"
"I'm okay. Work's been getting busy again recently with the month's end rush." Mom swirls her straw around her coffee. "Did I tell you about this new thing our boss is trying to make us do?"
"No, what?"
"Apparently some young CEO in the area made it big on corporate social media about 'team building exercises,'" and Rose is already groaning in sympathy, "so he sent out this survey this past week about what activity we'd rather do."
"What were the options?"
"This group painting class thing, where we all paint the same picture—"
"Like in kindergarten?"
"Like in kindergarten," Mom agrees, "there's a bar-arcade place that's just opened up on the West Side that does private events, and then there's a good old-fashioned work dinner."
Rose makes a face. "That's it? No, like, crazy obstacle courses, or escape rooms, or anything?"
"We barely had the budget for the normal year-end stuff."
"So what did you vote for?"
"I ended up voting for the painting, actually—"
"What? Mom, that's so lame."
"Hey!" She jokingly flicks a napkin at Rose. "Lamer than the most awkward dinner you can imagine or sitting and drinking for a whole evening?"
"Isn't that what adults do? You sit and drink and talk?"
Mom sighs, shaking her head as they both laugh. "Yeah, well, I figured it might be better if we tried to do something that wasn't just sitting and drinking."
"I guess."
"Besides, I'm still missing something for the bathroom upstairs. Maybe I'll hang up whatever I manage to make there," she adds, winking at Rose.
It's supposed to be a joke at how bad at art she is—really, even Chris looked at her stick figures and struggled to find something nice to say, and Mom just laughed it off—but Rose's smile fades and she shuffles a little in the chair. She drinks more of her smoothie. Dad's words turn over and over in her head.
"Hey, Mom?"
"Mm?"
"Would you…" She fights the urge to reach for the ring. "Would you help me decorate my room?"
Mom's brow furrows. "At my house?"
"N-no, my…my room at the compound. It's stupid, never mind."
"It's not stupid, Rose," Mom says, picking up her coffee, "I'm just—I guess I'm just surprised. Most teens don't really want their parents anywhere near their rooms."
"Yeah, well, forget it."
A car drives by. Despite herself, she reaches for the ring anyway. Something warm pulses in her chest.
"It's just," she manages, "I don't really have anything in there. It's just the military stuff."
Mom's coffee cup hits the table with a thud. "What do you mean you don't have anything in there?"
"I mean, there's just a dresser, a desk, and a bed. And my little side table thing. They didn't really give me any—"
"How much time do you have?"
Rose blinks. "Huh?"
"How much time before you have to get back?" Mom's already getting up and putting the lid back on her coffee. "We're not that far from the big stores and I have my car."
"I, uh, I think I have a few hours, so—" she scrambles up too, reaching to grab Mom's arm— "wait, you're really okay with doing this?"
Mom pauses for a moment, then reaches out and covers Rose's hand with hers. "You're my daughter, Rosie, I'd love to help you decorate your room."
A lump appears in her throat and she swallows it down. "Thank you."
"Come on," Mom grins, "what are you thinking you want?"
"Uh, I was thinking maybe like a whiteboard? That way I could write down stuff that I might forget? Or like—a magnetic one so I could stick stuff to it?" She gets into Mom's car and they start driving. "Or a corkboard—I've seen a lot of people pin like, pictures and stuff to a corkboard on their walls."
"What if you get both? A corkboard to put pictures and cute stuff and then a whiteboard to write on?"
"I also want a lamp. The normal lights just make my head hurt. And they buzz, you know?"
"Oh, I know exactly what you're talking about. It's like the world's most annoying crickets, isn't it?"
"And there's no, like, in between! It's either no light at all or—"
"Or my eyes are being scorched out, that's right."
They pull into the parking lot of the store and get out, still bouncing ideas back and forth. Mom grabs a cart and they head straight for the stationary section and they spend about five minutes talking about the different corkboards and whiteboards. Then Rose decides she wants magnets so she can stick stuff to the whiteboard, then Mom spots a cute set of push pins, and then another mom and daughter walk by with one of those fancy photo printers that print out pictures from your phone like Polaroids, and they just have to get Rose one of those.
As they pick out lamps and wall decor and sheets that actually have some color, she's struck by how normal this is. She's with her mom. They're shopping for stuff for her room. They're freaking out over the pillows that have little penguins on them. She's actually smiling and laughing and she's excited. She can't wait to get back and put all this stuff in her room.
She just…wishes Dad could be here too.
"I think I'd prefer the yellow lampshade, but it's up to you." Mom looks up from the shelf to notice she's gone quiet. "Hey, what's going on?"
"Nothing, nothing," she says quickly, wiping surreptitiously at her face, "…just…I kinda wish Dad was here too."
Mom's fingers stutter on the box and for a moment, she thinks she's going to see those walls go up again, the ones that always go up when she tries to talk about Dad, but then Mom puts the box down and rubs at her wedding ring. She still wears it sometimes. Rose reaches for Dad's, under her shirt.
"I wish he was here too, Rosie," Mom says quietly, "he'd be so proud of you."
Rose swallows, and her eyes catch on a tiny monkey LED lamp further down the shelf. She picks it up. "I think he'd vote for this one, don't you?"
A hint of fond exasperation comes to Mom's face. "God, did I ever tell you what happened when he found out that you loved that little monkey you got when you were still a baby? He tried to buy everything monkey-themed he could find because he thought you might like it."
"Wait, really?"
"I had to get Chris to help me talk him out of buying an entire monkey crib for you."
Rose puts the monkey lamp in the cart. Mom smiles and they keep walking. They end up spending way more than she thought they'd be and sheepishly tries to put some stuff back, but Mom won't hear a word of it and bags everything up.
"Chris can help cover the cost if he's so worried about it," she declares as they pull back up to the meeting spot where the car is supposed to take Rose back to the compound, "anyway, all of this should have been done years ago."
"Thanks, Mom," Rose says, "I had fun."
"We should definitely do it again. I'll help you decorate your college dorm too."
Rose smiles and gets out of the car. It fades a bit when she sees Paul again, leaning against the side of the van with his arms crossed. She turns her back deliberately on him and goes to help Mom get all the bags out of the trunk.
"You're late," Paul says, like he has any right to sound like a smug, condescending asshole.
"By like five minutes. Open the trunk."
"What's all that?"
"Stuff. For my room."
"Well, I—hey!" Paul finally moves when Mom just opens the trunk and starts putting the bags inside.
"You must be the agent Rose told me about," Mom says, her voice saccharine as she dusts off her hands, "is that right, honey?"
"Yeah," she mumbles, "that's him."
"Paul," he says, "Ms. Winters."
"Mia." Mom holds out her hand and he takes it, Rose peering at them from under the brim of her hat. Her eyes widen when Mom yanks Paul closer to her, her smile fading as she hisses in his ear. "Call my daughter Eveline again and I'll break your nose, are we clear?"
Paul jerks in surprise, before turning his head slightly. "Stand down, it's fine, I can handle it."
"You can't afford to make a scene in such a public place," Mom says, her voice still perfectly even, "and Chris won't risk harming me or Rose. So you can start treating my daughter like a person or I can break your nose right now and Chris can clean up your mess."
Rose can't stop her snort as Paul sheepishly walks back to the front of the car and gets in. Mom watches him go before she turns around and says, loud enough for him to hear, "Make sure you send me pictures when you get it the way you want it, okay?"
"I will."
"And if you decide you want anything else, we'll get it next time."
"Thanks, Mom. I love you."
"I love you too, Rosie." She glares once more in Paul's direction before she walks back to her car.
Rose doesn't stop smirking as Paul drives them back to the compound. He slinks off with his tail between his legs after helping her get all her stuff into her room. She can't cover up the camera—and let them know she knows about it—but she can play her music out loud as she decorates, hanging up the little plants they found and pinning a few photos to her new corkboard. It still strikes her how normal all of this is, dancing to her music and putting up all of her new things, finally collapsing onto her now-colorful blankets with a laugh.
She texts a few photos to Mom, who responds with gushing reviews and excited emojis, before she rolls onto her side to look at the floor.
"What do you think?"
The words only take a second to appear.
it's beautiful, sweetie
"You were right," she murmurs, "it was really nice to let Mom take care of me a bit."
i'm glad
"Oh! I forgot to show you the best part!" Rose jumps off the bed and goes over to the far wall, switching on the fairy lights she hung from the ceiling amidst a bunch of fake vines. "Now the camera will just think the glowing is from the lights!"
Golden sparkles swirl beneath the soft glow.
you're so smart
"I mean," she blusters, trying not to show how pleased she is, "I was just tired of lying down to talk to you all the time."
i see, still clever
"Thanks." After a moment, she reaches over and picks up the little monkey lamp and her stuffed monkey, safely hidden beneath her pillows. "Mom told me you wanted to buy a monkey crib for me."
it would go with the onesie
"You got me a monkey onesie?"
mom has pictures
"I'll have to ask her next time." She chews on her lip, running her fingers over the seams of the monkey's ear. "I wish you could've been there."
me too
"Mom threatened to break Paul's nose if he was rude to me again." The light swirls as Dad laughs and she laughs too. "I'd kick him in the nuts too."
that's my girl
***
4.
"Stupid fucking dickhead," she spits as she slams the door, throwing her backpack onto the chair so hard it scrapes across the floor. "Fucking asshole! I'll fucking rip his head off, the fucking bastard!"
Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a tiny sparkle from the floorboards, and she stomps over to the lights, turning them on. Almost immediately, golden words swirl up.
what happened?
"Your buddy Chris fucking happened!" Rose throws herself onto the bed and punches the pillow. "He keeps treating me like I'm some—some fucking gun that only he knows how to fire and I'm fucking sick of it!"
It had been especially bad today, too. Chris apparently woke up and decided yeah, today's the day I'm gonna be a total fucking asshole for no goddamn reason. He started them out sparring, which he never does, he always has them warm up first because it's important not to strain yourself, except apparently not today when she was thrown against the fucking ground three times before she could even open her mouth long enough to say hi.
Or maybe ask what the hell crawled up his ass that morning.
And then he kept fucking looking at her like he was disappointed! Like it was her fault she wasn't expecting to be slammed up against the wall or pinned to the ground by a man fucking three times her size and then grunted at when she winced in pain because that fucking hurt, you asshole! And he kept on saying these stupid little comments that just made her angrier and angrier and then he had the gall to be like hey, you need to get a handle on your emotions like he wasn't pushing every single fucking button he knew she had!
You need to be sharper, he'd said like he had any right to try and be reasonable as he almost dislocated her fucking shoulder, emotions make you sloppy.
Yeah, well, he could try being sharper when he was being bullied for no fucking reason.
And when she'd finally screamed at him that she was done, that she didn't want to fucking do this anymore, he had the fucking audacity, the nerve to scoff and cross his arms and tell her that no, she wasn't done, she was only done when he said she was done. And yeah, she hadn't really made the decision to rush at him after that, her body did that on its own, but he literally just tossed her aside like a fucking doll and then said she wasn't leaving until she could do the fucking stupid thing he wanted her to.
She tried. She really fucking did.
But she couldn't do it.
And Chris kept refusing to help, saying he'd been training her for so long already, that he'd wash her out if she were any other recruit—to which she'd screamed that she wasn't, so why the fuck was he being like this? And he didn't fucking answer! He just told her to try it again and he kept making her angrier and angrier and she could tell Chris was getting angry too which just made hers worse because what fucking right did he have to be mad at her? What the fuck did she do to him?
It ended really badly. She'd gotten so mad she'd thrown herself at him again, not caring about proper technique or what was smart or anything, she just went for him. He grappled her, obviously, and that was supposed to be their tap-out, fight's-over thing, but she hadn't stopped. She'd scratched him and punched him and kicked him even when he growled at her to yield, and when that didn't work, she'd bit him.
Chris fucking wrenched her off of him and threw her across the room and she heard three guns click.
They'd glared at each other, Chris holding his arm like it was a fucking biohazard, and then he'd stalked off without a word while agents forcibly shoved her back to her room.
She's panting by the time she finishes, glaring a hole in the wall right below where the words normally appear. Her hands still tingle from where she'd hit the walls and the pillows. She looks up when she sees the familiar swirl.
you shouldn't have bitten him
The anger surges up her arms and she clenches her fists. "That's all you have to say? No 'I'm sorry he was such a dick, Rose?' 'You didn't deserve that?' You're fucking defending him?"
i didn't say that
"I just told you that your friend, the person you told to watch over me and keep me safe was fucking bullying me for no goddamn reason and the only thing you can say is that I shouldn't have defended myself?" Betrayal steeps vehemence into her words. Her nails bite into her palms. "I'm fucking glad I bit him!"
he's trying to help
"How in the fuck is he trying to help," she cries, "by being as bad as the bullies in school? By treating me like a freak that needs to be kept muzzled and on a leash?"
you did bite him
She picks up one of the pillows and hurls it at the wall. It hits with a pathetic thwap and falls limply to the floor. It only makes her angrier when she sees the words calm down when the lights stop shaking.
"Don't fucking tell me to calm down! You're supposed to be on my side!"
i am
She barks out a humorless laugh and picks up the pillow, throwing it back on the bed. "You're not on my side, you're on his. I don't need you lecturing me too. Just leave me alone."
More golden words swirl as she turns away, throwing herself onto the bed and curling up tightly around her stuffed monkey. She chokes around the lump in her throat and wills herself not to cry. She'd almost cried in front of Chris today already, she won't give either of them the satisfaction of seeing her cry now. She won't, she won't, she won't! It's not fucking fair that Chris did that. It's not fucking fair that he gets to act however the fuck he wants and then she's the only one punished for it. He gets to go all over the fucking world and only see her when it's convenient to him and he gets to be an asshole about it.
Dad's not even alive.
A sob chokes out before she can stop it, and then it's too late. She's blubbering like she's a stupid fucking baby again and she can hear the echoes of their voices in her ears. All alone, poor freak Rose, crying like a baby who doesn't get her way. She's so weird, she's so stupid, she can't do it. She's useless, she's not strong enough. Just go away. No one wants you here. No one wants you. No matter how hard she presses her hands to her ears, they won't fucking shut up!
Maybe she should've fucking kept the purifying crystal. Maybe she should've left with no powers and had a normal fucking life. Maybe she should've just left her dad to—
As soon as the thought threatens to cross her mind, she recoils from it. Guilt and anger war in her gut as she nearly grows sick. How could she fucking think that? After all he'd done to save her, protect her, how could she think about something like that, even if it was in a fit of rage?
A strangled noise escapes her throat and the bruises and injuries from her humiliating 'sparring session' abruptly make themselves known. Her body screams in pain; her shoulders ache, the bruise on her ribs throbs, and her jaw feels like it's about to explode. She has the hysterical impulse to bite herself and she wonders if it would hurt more than everything else. Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpses a glow coming from the floorboards now and she curls up tighter, burying her face in the monkey's tummy. Fuck it, she's been called overly emotional and childish enough times already, she may as well throw her tantrum properly.
It's like falling into the Megamycete again; she has no idea how long she lies there, wallowing in her own emotional turmoil. Flashes of the bullies, of Chris's stupid fucking face, of watching herself get tossed around and left behind…even stranger things like massive castles filled with screams and horror, creepy old houses that just feel like tombs, deep water and clanking metal, all filled with whispers of freak, dangerous, stupid child, not good enough. Everything is too loud and too quiet and she just wants it to be over.
When she finally manages to rouse herself from whatever malaise she'd fallen into, the sun has long set. Her clock shows that it's close to 10—that would explain why her stomach is trying to dig a hole in her intestines. The anger fled unknown hours ago, leaving her weary and wrung out. In its absence, she no longer feels like the bioweapon that she's supposed to be, only the scared and lonely child. It's cold. She's hungry.
There's still a soft golden glow coming from over the side of the bed.
Her lip wobbles. She doesn't want to face the consequences of yelling at her dad and throwing a pillow at him, but she can't stop the blooming warmth that he didn't leave. She crawls to the edge of the bed and peeks over.
i'm sorry Rose
She sniffles and rubs her cheek on the sheets. "'M sorry too."
you were right, i should've been on your side
"You're always on my side," she mumbles, "I know you are."
still
She sniffles again and tucks the monkey under her chin. "Why was Chris so mean today? Did I do something wrong?"
i don't think so, sometimes he's just like that
"Why?" She's ignoring how much she sounds like a baby, thank you. "It's not fair."
no it's not sweetie
Rose closes her eyes, basking in the soft glow of her dad's comfort. "Was he ever mean to you when you were training?"
yeah
"What did you do?"
broke his nose once
It startles a laugh out of her. "You what? Wait, what happened?"
he was being an asshole, so i punched him
She giggles again, both at the image of Chris's surprised face with a broken nose and at the fact that her dad got so angry with Chris that he punched him hard enough. A few more golden sparkles surround the words before they change again.
you shouldn't try it though
"Aw," she complains, mostly for show, "but you did it."
do as i say not as i do
She's quiet. After a moment, she lets her arm hang down to touch the words again. They glow gently. "I don't like fighting with you."
me neither
"I'm sorry. I was being a brat."
The words swirl up quicker than she's ever seen.
you were upset at something unfair, not a being a brat
She sniffles again, reaching over to grab a hanky and blow her nose with a sharp honk. She throws it over to the laundry basket and lies back down. The words have changed.
if you need to hear it, i forgive you
"I forgive you too."
rest
She nestles up against the pillows. "Will you stay until I go to sleep?"
of course sweetie, i love you
***
5.
Mostly Rose doesn't dream. She'll close her eyes and open them again and it will be hours later and it's time to get up. Most of the time when she does dream, it's weird half-memories that aren't hers mixed with something she does actually remember. She has dreams of a house with a red chimney being taken apart by little robotic goats, or of a crocodile swimming through a swamp filled with dead crows, or of bugs crawling over test tubes and dirty flasks. Some of them make sense when she digs into the files she's not really supposed to have access to, some of them don't.
On rare, awful occasions, she has nightmares.
She's been curled up and unmoving for who knows how long, desperately trying to feign sleep. The mold in her keeps prickling like there's something else in the room, watching her, just waiting for a sign that she's awake to pounce. Her white-knuckled grip hasn't wavered either. She dares hardly breathe; even though her rational brain knows there's nothing there, there can't be anything there, her entire body is screaming. She can feel the milky sweat beginning to ooze from her palms.
Something creaks.
She goes stiff as a board.
A creak, a groan, a rumble as the air conditioning turns on and she forces herself to relax, cracking open one eye to see that yes, this is just her room, there's nothing to be afraid of here, she's fine.
Her eyes land on the switch to the fairy lights.
The small and whimpering part of her lunges for them, for the warm glow of the light, her dad's words, in lieu of running to her parents' bed to be comforted. The other part hisses that the second she moves, whatever's lurking in the dark will strike. The monkey wheezes as she tightens her grip, staring at the innocuous plastic box hanging against the wall.
With a sudden burst, she launches herself from the bed, slapping the button, and curling back up beneath the safety of the blankets.
Immediately, the soft warm light chases away the worst of the shadows and she can peek over her shoulder to assure herself that yes, nothing is there, she's safe in her room, everything's okay. Golden sparkles are already swirling, a quiet inquisitiveness filling that one empty part in her chest as she lies back down. He's rotated his words so she can read them easily.
what's the matter, sweetie?
"Nightmare," she whispers, more into her pillow than anything else.
i'm sorry
She curls up tighter, trying to pull the blankets up almost over her head. The sweat's almost ruined her monkey—she's going to have to wash it again—and she wipes her hands on the sheet. The absence of it hits the cold air and she shivers, hunching tighter in the covers and sniffling. A sudden and sharp ache sears through her chest and she shudders, harder this time, only the top of her nose peeking out over the comforter. She's so cold. Not in the way where she can pile more blankets on and it'll go away—she could put the whole world on top of her and she would still be cold. This horrible, achy, exhausting cold that seeps into her bones and makes her want to cry.
what can i do?
"You said in your—in your letter," she hiccups, "that you'd hold me when I had nightmares, and—and sing to me until I went back to sleep."
But the words on her wall are just words and words can't hold anybody.
She wants a fucking hug, goddamnit. No one touches her anymore, not unless they're running some stupid test, or sparring, or escorting her roughly down the hallway like some—some prisoner. The last time someone touched her and it wasn't that it was Mom, telling her she'd help decorate her room and that was so long ago, everyone else just—just—
"I want to go home," she sobs and it lands like a dead weight in the still room.
what do you mean?
"I want to go home, I want to go back to that house you showed—showed me when I was in there, where you—where your memories are and I can actually h-hear you and it's warm an'—an' safe, and you love me," she cries, not caring that it's the middle of the night and she's talking to a wall, "no one here loves me. No one loves me, the doctors think I'm some—some experiment that's run too—too long and the agents all think I'm a l-liability and Mom's not here because she gave me up and Chris h-hates me."
he doesn't hate you sweetie
"He does! He does, he does, I can feel it." She hugs her monkey tightly to her chest. "He h-hates me for being the reason you're not—you're not here anymore and he hates me for reminding him that you're dead and he hates me for—for being like this and—and—and—!"
shh…shh…shh…
But he's not here and she can't hear him shushing her and she's all alone in her cold, dark room and she wants to go home.
don't cry, Rosie, it's gonna be okay sweetie
"It's not. 'S not okay."
The wall doesn't move for a moment, then it swirls again.
scoot back, i'm going to try something
Frowning, she does, shuffling awkwardly back until she's on the far side of the bed. The golden light swirls around for another second, before it writes itself on one of the pillows.
hug me
"D—Michael?"
i'm right here sweetie, i love you so much
With trembling fingers, she reaches for the pillow, touching the words with a soft gasp as they glow warmly against her still-slick palms. A sob of disbelief leaves her throat and she bundles it to her chest, burying her face in it. A soft scratching and buzzing fills her ears as more words write themselves across the pillow, but she doesn't pull her face away to read them. Not when this is the closest thing to hugging her dad she's been since she was in the deepest stratum of the Megamycete, crying over his dying body. Not when she's still so cold and the words are so, so warm. She tucks her face into the crook of the pillow's embrace and she cries.
The words don't stop writing themselves over and over and if she focuses hard enough, it almost sounds like her dad is humming.
She falls into a light sleep, not willing to miss a moment of actually being so close to her dad, soothed by his presence. Soon, light has begun to break through the window, the auto timer on the lights long since activated to switch them off. The pillow is all gross from a mixture of drool, snot, and tears, and she sheepishly tries to wipe it away when a small glow comes from underneath.
it's okay
"It's kinda gross."
my privilege, i'm your dad
"Still."
ew, remember?
A watery smile. "Thanks."
i love you so much, i'm so proud of you
"I love you too," she mumbles back, curling her arms around the pillow. Another set of words writes itself and she leans back.
do you really think Chris hates you?
"I don't know. He…he looks at me like he can't sometimes. Or like he's waiting for me to…I don't know, turn crazy or bad or like he's waiting for me to turn into you, almost." She rubs her fingers over the pillowcase. "He used to be nicer."
have you spoken since?
She doesn't need to ask what he's talking about. "No. He's been out of town again. He's supposed to be back, um…"
She leans over to check her phone, eyes widening when she sees the date.
"Uh, today. Shit, I actually think we're supposed to have a training thing today."
Before more words can write themselves, there's a knock on her door. She freezes, phone still in her hand, pillow clutched close.
"Rose?" Fuck. "It's Chris. Can I come in?"
be brave, says the last flutter of words before her dad vanishes, i love you
"…yeah."
Chris opens the door. Rose tugs on her dad's jacket over her pajamas and clutches the pillow in her lap. She doesn't look at him. He moves around a little in the doorway before he shuts it with a click. After a moment, the bed dips and groans under his weight and she sneaks a glance at his arm. Her bite mark is still there.
"Surprised they let you walk around before that healed."
"You didn't even break the skin."
It's probably meant to come off in a way that means she doesn't have to worry about it, but it stings anyway. She turns away again.
A car drives by outside.
"I owe you an apology," Chris says finally, his voice low and gruff, "I shouldn't have been so harsh. I'm sorry."
She doesn't reply, but she shifts to face the window instead of the wall.
"There's been talk of getting you moved to another squad," he continues, and her stomach drops—is Chris leaving too?— "and I thought…if I could prove that you were good with us, that we had it all under control, then they'd drop it. Leave you alone."
At the rustle as he shifts, she glances over at him. His jaw works and his hand twitches on his knee.
"I thought…" He trails off, then scoffs at himself, shaking his head. "I don't know what I thought."
He turns to meet her gaze and her gut clenches at the obvious guilt and remorse she can see there. She swallows.
"You were mean." Her voice comes out a lot smaller than she'd hoped. She swallows and tries again. "I thought you hated me."
"I don't hate you, Rose," he says in a rush, turning to face her, "please don't think that."
"So you're not trying to get rid of me?"
"Shit, Rose, no, I'm not trying to get rid of you. You're—I think Mia'd kill me if I tried, no, I'm just—" he takes a breath— "I'm just trying to keep you safe, okay?"
"Then you should've said something! I would've trained harder if I knew—we could've—I would've done something else, did I do something wrong?"
"No," he insists, shaking his head, "no, you didn't do anything wrong."
Relief begins to pool warily in her chest. Her grip on the pillow loosens and she scoots a little closer. "I'm sorry I bit you."
He shakes his head again. "It's fine. You, uh, you have good bite strength."
"Good bite strength?"
"Yeah. Your contact's really good." He gestures to the bite mark on his arm. "Got all of them in there too."
"Thanks," she says, laughing a little. Chris smiles and it's a bit easier to breathe. She gives herself a shake. "So, what's today? Weapons, sparring, how to punch boulders?"
"Actually, I, uh, thought we'd go get ice cream."
Rose pauses, looking up at him, blinking as if she'd heard wrong. "Ice cream?"
"Weather's gonna get cold soon, the good place around the corner's gonna close." He shrugs. "Been craving it."
"Yeah…yeah, ice cream sounds good."
"Great."
And before she can think too much of it, she throws herself at him and hugs him for all she's worth. She feels him stutter, not quite sure what to do, and then his arms slowly wrap around her, holding her just as tightly. And oh, she's on fire, Chris is big and warm and solid and he's holding her like she's something special and she's gonna fucking cry her eyes out if she stays here a moment longer and she's gonna die if she lets go. Chris lets out a noise of dismay when she sniffles and scoops her up, like she's a little kid again, holding her in his lap and now she's making a mess of his shoulder too.
She could swear she feels Dad smile.
***
+1.
"I'm telling you," Rose says as she lounges on her bed, "you're wrong about the cover. It's actually pretty good."
i like the classics
"Yeah, well, you're old and boring, so that makes sense."
:(
The sight of the old-fashioned emoticon frowny face makes her burst out laughing. "Oh my god, that's so lame. I don't think I've seen someone use that in years."
it's a classic!
"You gotta get with the times!"
totes dope fam
Rose winces at the immense amount of psychic damage those three words dealt, her neck protesting as she almost cringes it out of alignment. "No, D—Michael, just no."
lol
She tosses the pillow playfully at the wall again, laughing when another frowny face appears on both it and the wall. "Aww, okay, I'm sorry, here."
She picks it up and cuddles it and the frowny face turns to a smiley face. Lying back down, grin still on her face, she toys with his ring. It's gotten shinier from all the rubbing, except where she ties the cord around it so she can wear it as a necklace. She turns it this way and that, watching the sunlight glint off of it. As she does, she catches sight of the engraving on the inside.
Always and forever.
"Do you want me to tell Mom and Chris about you?"
The words swirl for a moment.
up to you
She pushes herself to sit up, propped on one elbow. The ring glistens as she slides it back onto her finger, turning it to and fro. "I don't know. It feels bad keeping something like this from them, but I want to be selfish about it too, you know? I kind of like having you all to myself."
it's not selfish
"And what if Chris thinks it's bad?" She twists the ring harder. "What if he tries to take you away from me?"
i won't let that happen
Her shoulders drop a little and she picks up the pillow again, cuddling into it. A few words write themselves across it just so she can feel their warmth and she rubs her cheek against it. "Don't you miss them?"
all the time
A melancholy that isn't hers hangs in her chest and she squeezes the pillow again. "Then should I? They miss you too, you know. I think they'd be happy to, you know, hear from you again."
The words fade and the wall glows again as he thinks. She lets him have his time, rubbing the ring back and forth, listening to the slight rattle it makes as it spins around her too-small finger. When she hears the familiar soft scratch again, she looks up.
they're happy now, i don't want to ruin that
"They're not happy," she can't help but say, "they still miss you."
content, then
"You wouldn't be ruining anything," she argues, "I thought—I thought I'd never get to see you again after I got out of there. The day I heard you again? That was the happiest moment of my life."
mine too sweetie, or my un-life i guess
The words glow brighter as her fingertips glow too. She gets up and lays her hand against the wall, smiling as their powers dance together. "I really think they'd be happy."
A pulse of warmth runs up her arm to her chest as the words shift once more.
when you think the time is right
"I'll tell you, I promise."
i'm so proud of you, Rose, i love you so much
"I love you too."
That time doesn't come on their terms, though, because that would be easy. No, instead it's when she and Chris are over at Mom's house for dinner and Chris asks a question out of nowhere that almost makes her spit all over the table.
"What?" Mom asks as Rose glares a hole in Chris's stupid forehead.
"I said," Chris says like an unrepentant asshole, "who's Michael?"
"Michael?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Rose mutters, staring down at her lap.
"I was coming to get you for training last week and you were talking to someone called Michael." Chris takes a bite of steak and talks with his mouth full, like an asshole. "So who is he?"
Mom elbows her, winking. "Someone you like?"
"What? Ew, gross, no!"
Chris and Mom just laugh and Mom elbows her again. "Don't worry, I was your age once too. That's how I reacted when my mom asked me about my crush."
"Michael isn't my crush!"
"Boyfriend, then?"
"No, he's not my—" she covers her face and sighs. "He's not my boyfriend, he's not my crush, he's not someone from school, happy?"
"So who is he?"
Well, fuck it, no time like the present. She pushes back from the table, muttering about using the bathroom. They wait until she's halfway up the stairs to start talking again, their voices low in that way where she knows they're still talking about her, but she pays them no mind as she goes into the bathroom and shuts the door. She braces her hands on either side of the sink and takes a deep breath.
"I'm guessing you heard all that."
The words swirl up right below the mirror.
yeah
"I mean, it's not like we'll get a better opportunity."
probably not
"Are you ready?"
are you?
She rubs at the chip in the linoleum and turns on the cold water, just to make sure there's no milky sweat on her hands. "I'm nervous."
me too
"No matter what happens," she says firmly, "no matter what they do or say, I'm here for you, okay? I've got your back. I love you."
i'm so proud of you, sweetie, i love you too
The words glow cheerfully against the weird tile pattern and she reaches out to touch them. They share a moment before the words fade and she takes a deep breath, squaring her shoulders in the mirror and nodding to herself. "Right. Let's do this."
She marches back downstairs and Mom and Chris do a horrible job of pretending not to be nosy and expectant. She sits back down and folds her hands in her lap.
"I'll tell you who Michael is," she begins, "but you have to promise not to tell anyone else."
"I promise, honey," Mom says, miming zipping her lips shut.
"Chris, you promise too."
Chris looks at her for a moment like he's going to disagree, then he winces as Mom kicks him under the table. "I promise too."
"Good." She takes another breath and reaches for the ring around her neck. The second she brings it out from under her shirt, Chris's silverware clatters against the plate and Mom inhales sharply.
"Rose," she says shakily, "where did you get that?"
"Before I said yes to joining you," Rose says, "I met K outside the lab. He told me there might be a way to get rid of my powers for good."
Chris frowns. "K never said anything like that to me, what do you—"
"I'm getting there. He took me to the lab where there was a piece of the Megamycete, and said that—"
"He what?"
"Will you both just listen to me?" The two of them quiet down. "Thank you. So, like I was saying, he took me to see the piece of it and said that there was a purifying crystal that Miranda discovered that could take the mold out of someone. All I had to do was look through the Megamycete's index of consciousness to see if I could find it."
"That's incredibly dangerous, Rose," Mom says quietly, and Chris looks like he's trying to strangle his fork. "Please tell me you didn't—"
"I wanted them gone," she interrupts, looking at her Mom, "they were—I was just a freak with no friends. Someone offered me the chance to be normal, are you telling me you wouldn't have done the same thing if you were a teenager?"
Mom looks at her for a long moment, but she doesn't disagree. Rose squeezes the ring and keeps going.
"It wasn't that easy, obviously. It was…really hard. And really scary. I had to fight my way through these, like, twisted versions of the places in Miranda's village, like that big castle and the creepy doll house, and there were all these versions of me that kept getting killed and tortured, I fought a version of Eveline too—"
"Rose," Chris tries to say but she doesn't let him.
"—but I had help," she continues. "There was something helping me. It helped me figure out where to go, what to do, gave me a gun and taught me how to use it. There were these glowing words that would appear when I needed them most and it…it was like having a guardian angel."
"Michael," Chris says, and she nods.
"Yeah, I called him Michael. He—he kept trying to get me to leave, said that it wasn't safe, but I wanted to find the crystal and so he helped me. And then we found out K wasn't actually K and it was all a trap set by Miranda—"
"It was what?"
Chris is already getting up. "Is she still in there? Do we need to—"
"Sit down, Chris, it's fine, we beat her. She's dead now, like, really, actually dead. She crystalized and turned to dust, I saw it."
His face still looks like he ate a lemon, but Chris sits slowly back down. He exchanges a worried look with Mom and she puts her hand on Rose's shoulder. "You said 'we?'"
"Me and Michael." She looks down at the ring and turns it over in her hand. "Until I found out who he really was."
Mom gasps, a small and shuddery thing. She holds her hand over her mouth and stares at Rose. "Ethan."
Chris makes a noise too as Rose nods. "Yeah. It was him the whole time. He…he protected me. From Miranda, from Eveline, from everything."
"He loved you so much, honey," Mom whispers, her eyes growing wet, "he never stopped loving you."
"He showed me our house in Romania," and to her horror, she can feel her voice growing thick too, "with all his memories. I heard his voice, Mom, he—he wrote me a letter, did you know?"
"Yes," Mom says, trying not to sob, clutching her shoulder, "yeah, honey, I know. He cried so much while he was writing it, he wanted you to get old enough to read it with him, oh, Rose…"
She swipes a hand under her nose and turns to Chris, who's doing that big, tough, I'm-too-manly-for-my-emotions-right-now thing and reaches for him too. After a moment, his hand turns and covers hers. He's trembling. "He taught me how to fight, Chris. We—we fought together. He shot the monsters in the face with a shotgun and gave me his power so I could kill Miranda, once and for all."
Chris swallows heavily. "Your dad was…he was one of the best men I've ever known, Rosie. He would be so proud of you." He sniffs. "You said he shot them in the face with a shotgun?"
"Mhm."
"Yeah, that sounds like Ethan, alright." Mom laughs and it sort of sounds like a sob but she and Chris are smiling now, so it's okay. Chris looks back at her and nods a few times. "So you were talking to him, then?"
"Yeah. When you walked by on Tuesday, I think it was…yeah, we were arguing about whether the original Blade Runner was better than 2049." She wrinkles her nose. "He said the original was better but I like the remake."
Chris frowns. "What do you mean, he said—"
The words scrawl over Mom's dining table, illuminating their faces.
i like the classics, that's all
Rose would laugh at the way Chris almost falls out of his chair if his hand and Mom's weren't trembling. She looks at Mom, who stares at the glowing words, and at Chris, who looks like he's about to be sick.
Mom breaks the silence first. "…Ethan?"
The words move, now right next to her forgotten plate.
hi honey
"You're—you're—"
bad at staying dead?
Mom's breath leaves her like she's been punched in the gut. "Oh, Ethan, I—I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry—"
breathe, it's okay
She squeezes Mom's hand as she takes a few shaky breaths. "What—how is this possible?"
rose
"We're both part of the mold," Rose says when Mom looks to her, "he's…he's using my part right now, we're sort of sharing it."
told her i'm not a scientist, figured you'd get it :)
"No one uses those anymore," Mom mumbles and Rose whispers a quiet told you so! as the smiley turns to a frowny for a moment, before the words change again.
i know it's been hard, i'll always love you
"Oh, Ethan," Mom whispers, reaching out to touch the words. She gasps as a flicker of warmth pulses through them and Rose squeezes her hand again. "I miss you."
i miss you too
Another glow flickers up next to Chris, who startles and stares down at the words in shock.
you too
"E-Ethan, I—" he cuts himself off as the words swirl again.
thank you for taking care of my daughter
Chris swallows heavily. "She's incredible, Ethan. You should be proud of her."
always am
"I'm sorry," Chris whispers, and something in Rose's gut clenches at how close to tears he looks too, "if I'd been faster, we could've gotten you out of there, we could've…"
it's okay, Chris, we're all okay
"You're dead."
i died in 2017, doing pretty well considering
"He is really bad at staying dead," Rose adds, "Miranda said so too. You should've seen her, she was so mad at us."
Chris looks like he's having a hard time deciding whether he wants to laugh or cry. The sparkles swirl again.
she's a fighter, she gets that from you too
His free hand jerks and Rose squeezes the one in hers. "You can touch, Chris, he won't bite. That's my thing."
it won't hurt, promise
Chris takes a deep breath and slowly touches the words. His breath leaves him in a rush as they glow warmly under his fingers. Rose smiles as she feels the mold connect all of them there, in that moment, through her and Ethan. Some part of her clicks into place. As if he can feel it too, which he probably can, another set of words appears in front of her.
we're so proud of you, Rosie
"Yeah, yeah," she mumbles as she feels heat rush to her cheeks, "shut up."
no :)
Mom laughs. "We finally have all three of us together again and you want us to not tell you how proud we are of you?"
"They've got a point, Rosie."
"I'll break your nose!"
"No, no," Mom says as Chris squawks, even though she's still smiling, "no breaking Chris's nose."
even if he deserves it
"Hey!"
As they all laugh together, Ethan's words still glowing in the warm, quiet house, Rose sits back in her chair and twists her dad's ring around her finger. Sure, being a mold bioweapon teenager was weird, but if this is the family she gets to have because of it, it can't be all bad.
#dragonbabbles#fic#resident evil#resident evil 7#resident evil 8#resident evil biohazard#resident evil village#resident evil shadows of rose#rosemary winters#ethan winters#mia winters#chris redfield
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Last Breath (Bucky/Reader) ♥️
Summary: Bucky wasn't sure what to expect from a first date after months of mindless flirting, but he knew what needed to be done once he learned more about them.
Rating: Teen
First peak is below, due to the type of content!
Tw for mentions of past assault, abuse, and PTSD.
Ideally, this isn’t something you would want to have a conversation about. It’s awkward. Telling another human being why you do things the way you do. The reasons why you act a certain way. To have to explain the flinching, the occasional nightmares, and unbridled fear of being touched? Not something any of us ever want to deal with.
But when they brought up the conversation, crammed in a small corner booth of a random coffee shop, the dim lighting couldn’t hide from the looks that cascaded into different emotions. They tried their best to get through more or less of the worst experiences, with the least amount of emotion as every word trickled into a steady stream of trauma, spanning the last few years.
Bucky's eyes widened with the stories told, a sense of sympathy emanating from his guarded stature. Not only did he not expect the amount of their horrifying experiences to be recalled with such accuracy, but the way in which they left their mouth, a numbness that could not be replicated.
And suddenly, the drinks in front of the two of them didn’t seem to exist anymore.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/56981824
Hey everyone.
So this is where I get a little more personal than usual. Not many of you know this but I have quite the bad history when it comes to abuse. I've seen and been through enough, and have been lucky to pull myself out of the hole it had put me in for years. It took a lot, but I like to think I made it out.
The next few fanfics I'll be posting are from that era. From when I needed support and didn't know where to turn to, so I turned to my emotional favorites. In return, I decided to put these out, for those who see themself in my work, and put out some links for support resources. Maybe I would've struggled less had I reached out. I hope this list helps, even if just one person. That would be enough for me to deem this worthy.
Thank you for reading and here are some resources for sexual related trauma as well as abuse in general:
National Domestic Violence Hotline - (800) 799-7233 or Text BEGIN to 88788
RAINN - https://www.rainn.org/ - 1 800-656-4673
VA - https://www.mentalhealth.va.gov/ptsd/next-step.asp
If anyone has any reputable sources they would like to add, please let me know! And ultimately, stay safe. 💖
#marvel#marvel cinematic universe#bucky barnes#bucky/reader#gender neutral reader#fanfiction#ao3#archiveofourown#tw mentions of assault#tw mentions of abuse#james buchanan barnes
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Jeff Satur song theory
So there's something I noticed in listening to Jeff's English songs after Dum Dum came out last week. And it's just a theory, but it honestly was so interesting my brain just latched on and wouldn't let go.
For some caveats, I'm only counting songs he released in English that aren't related to tv shows, aren't collabs. So that means Fade, Hide, and Dum Dum. I'm specifying them having an English version, because there's not always full clarity with translated lyrics. With English releases I know that Jeff consciously chose the wording to evoke certain ideas/emotions, even if it may not be a direct translation to the original Thai.
So here's my theory...THE STAGES OF GRIEF.
The reason I thought about this was is interview with Woody where he talked about writing more melancholy music because he'd not had a successful relationship yet. Meaning for whatever reason they broke up, whether it was mutual isn't really the point, and honestly, the man is 28 (I think, I can't be bothered to Google) so in a decade I'd imagine he's had at least a few longer term relationships. But his songs that he writes are about his feelings after those 'failed' relationships. (I don't love the term failed, bc often it's not really anyone's direct fault, but I digress.)
But anyway, listening to Dum Dum, that's anger, 100% .
The lyrics scream anger and frustration, the aggression in the melody of the song, in the music video. It's all that white hot heat, and I think if you also look at the concept of there being two Jeff's in the video--there's a pretty common idea about anger turning someone into a different person. I've also seen people referencing the video in regards to Jeff kind of stepping back into the shoes of Kim almost in reference to what could Kim have been like if he lost Chay, or if he never found him, if he never became WiK, and I can definitely see that was well. In all of those scenarios, it's a Kim who's in mourning. A Kim who's grieving the loss of his true love, his first love, his chance at love. Grieving the loss of a future he decided for himself. There's a lot of possible subtext to read there. And all of this is what sparked the idea of grief and our human reactions to it as a possible theme of Jeff's music recently.
Going back and looking at the previous releases, we start with Hide, which was released in May of 2022. The lyrics, tone, feeling of the song, the say denial to me.
This idea of going to the places that remind him of their relationship. Asking to sing them one more song. Asking why they don't truly believe in his love for them. It also to me gives a feeling of maybe the relationship ending because they weren't in the same place as far as readiness for something public, serious, exclusive, there's quite a few reads here (which is why it's interesting). If you want to read it through a queer lens, as though one party was not ready to be out yet. I'm not here to speculate specifically on Jeff's sexuality, and honestly as a lyricist and composer, I don't think he needs to have direct 1:1 experience to be able to address that idea or include that as a facet of his lyrics.
The last song to go over is Fade. Fade to me brings to mind the bargaining stage, but in a little bit of a different way.
Normally with bargaining in regards to grief, it's very connected to denial, it's this concept of "if I had had done something different...", "if I made different choices...", "if I was a better person...". The music video offers the idea of his love interest dying, but this is of course applicable to just the idea of the 'death of a relationship'. It also relates to the story of the M/V on the level of "if I do better this life, maybe I wont lose them, maybe I'll be deemed worthy of more time with them..." Looking at the lyrics alone, without the context of the video, they can be seen as bargaining with the memory of the person. It's this exhaustion of being continuously reminded of a person, which makes you experience that grief over and over again. Our minds can't maintain that, regardless of the relationship you're grieving or the way in which that relationship ended.
In another aspect, not inline with this discussion, but certainly related in terms of this being a deep dive into his lyrics and concepts of his songs. I like that Jeff references crying. There's the overarching reason of it's important for boys and men to understand that crying is an acceptable reaction to grief and sadness. I think it really does matter, even with this not being the main point of the songs, it's still there, so it's still affecting listeners, it's still encouraging the idea of not being afraid of tears as a man, or as a human.
The lyrics of Fade say "crying but my eyes both have not been dry for days". He's deep in the grief still. Then in Dum Dum, "I used to cry but the tears is dry". He's starting to move on a little. I would say, based on the anger of Dum Dum, it's a mix of moving on and masking your pain with anger. I've said it before on here I'm sure, but it was pointed out by a therapist that anger is a secondary emotion. It's a reaction to something else, like frustration, like disappointment, and of course like grief or sadness. We bring anger to the forefront because it doesn't allow for too much analysis, and it also takes a lot of energy, which can help put you in a state where your mind becomes exhausted enough to rest. It's a similar idea to working out or doing activities you find physically exhausting in order to tire out your body.
Anyway, I don't know if any of you might have found this specifically accurate, relevant, interesting, but it's something that I just couldn't put away once I had sort of made the connection. In know they're loose connections, very much so, but I also don't think they're wild leaps.
I appreciation for reading all of this...if you did...enjoy yet another hot ass picture of Jeff:
#Jeff Satur#Jeff Satur Hide#Jeff Satur Fade#Jeff Satur Dum Dum#Studio Saturn#Studio on Saturn#Just a totally normal deep dive into his lyrics#nothing weird here
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A BEAUTIFUL MESS
Get to Know Me (Following in the footsteps of @talesofadragon because I thought her "Get to Know the Blog" was a cool idea!):
What inspired you to start this blog? I used to post fanfiction when I was 14 (it was all pure ANGST), but as I got older I posted less because I reached a point where my writing looked so lame every time I wrote anything because I started holding myself to a higher standard. I eventually decided if there were people who enjoyed my fiction when I was younger (what I deemed the worst of my work), I could surely post again knowing it was for the sake of myself; as an added bonus, I get to make people smile!
How did you come up with the name "A Heckin' Mess"? Honestly, I wanted to choose a name that didn't tie me to one fandom because my hyper-fixations tend to last for years, but they still revolve. "A Heckin' Mess" just seemed to fit with the chaotic manner in which I write for different fandoms.
Who is your favorite character to write about? As it stands, my favorite characters to write about are Shouta Aizawa and Enji Todoroki (both from My Hero Academia). Aizawa has always been my favorite character in the series, with Enji being a close second. I feel like they both hold more depth than a lot of people give them credit for (especially Enji), and I enjoy bringing that to life when I write for them.
Which of your works was your favorite to write? Most challenging? Least favorite? Favorite: Hollow Harmony (very therapeutic for me) & Cursed, Not Cute (It was fun writing Sukuna's inner turmoil); Most Challenging: Chapter 3 of Apricity (It just wasn't speaking to me for a while) & Chapter 1 of Cursed, Not Cute (Getting into Sukuna's mindset to keep him in character was a fun time); Least Favorite: Mind Over Mischief (I wanted to write Denki because I really enjoy his character, but it just doesn't feel like my best work).
What do you find most rewarding about sharing your stories? I've always found the joy my writing gives others to be the most rewarding part of sharing them. Even when people write nasty comments or harshly criticize my work, I'm soothed knowing I choose to use it to make my writing better because I know that somewhere out there a person is relating to and/or smiling at that same story. They're using it as a safe place to land from the harsh falls of reality.
Are there any specific messages or themes you hope readers take away from your stories? 1. Write the story you want to write, even if it doesn't follow the general flow of the fandom. 2. Be compassionate but not complacent.
Can you share a memorable interaction you’ve had with a reader or follower? Back around the end of high school, someone on DeviantArt who followed my Dad!Loki x Child!Reader series at the time actually drew fanart for it because she enjoyed it so much. I think that was when I realized that my writing truly had an impact.
Will you be exploring new characters/fandoms? Without a doubt. I'm still viciously maintaining my hyperfocus on My Hero Academia right now, but that certainly won't stop me from writing other things! Recently, I've gotten into Jujutsu Kaisen.
What surprised you the most during your writing journey on here? A lot more people see your posts than you think. I get - on average, not counting my more popular works - about 3-5 notes? But whenever I post a poll, I'll get anywhere from 65-120 votes. It gives me encouragement that even if people may be too shy or uncomfortable interacting with my posts as far as liking or commenting, they're still getting to read it. And it makes me smile knowing that so many people are getting joy from it!
Do you have any unpublished works or ideas that you’re excited to share in the future? Yes! I currently have 300+ prompts that I've written summaries for already (they're just not written), and around 100+ ideas that I've added since watching Jujutsu Kaisen. In addition to that, I'm most excited because I have 5 fanfictions that I'm outlining...so I'm super excited for those!!
Thank you so much for reading! I hope you have a magical day!
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Sad that the internet is so hostile to women and cis women. Like tumblr at least does the thing where you get to choose (imagine!) what you want to see while everywhere else you are subjected to the metaphorical screams of people who think women are aliens or something.
Meanwhile you'll see idiots proudly declare that in spain we are so very tolerant of trans people, yes we are. Nevermind that the difference between not being transphobic and answering a poll saying that "you agree that trans people exist" as the highest possible level of support to count is massive.
I've been grinding poe for a while and occassionally I'll have the global chat active for hardcore reasons and read what people are saying.
Not like many people play ruthless hcssf in the first place, even less talk in chat. But I've had to ignore certain players because they'll repeatedly type the most insane shit.
The kind of stuff that I'd expect an edgy teenager to say for shock value, but for real.
For me to acknowledge someone's existence they must:
Understand that women are people. Seems simple. It is. Low bar. Yet. If someone talks about women as if they are another species, or inferior to men, or objects; that person is beneath me. They don't exist. Like reverse solipsism. Men who think themselves inferior to women can be tolerated as long as they understand the point.
Understand that LGBT people are people. A bit more complex. Lesbians are not for men to lust after[1]. Gays are not just a part of a joke or an insult. Bisexual people exist in their many flavours; a bi woman dating a woman is still bi, if she were dating a man she'd still be bi, you get the point, and viceversa, and all the colours you can think of[2]. Trans people exist and they'd like to exist in peace[3].
Understand that the us is not the whole world. If an usamerican talks about their experiences as if they are universal they must hold their breath for 1 hour. I wish not to care about what goes on that shithole but unfortunately many of their laws have effects on the internet I use thus it is every usamerican's duty to make the world a better place one frag at a time. They can start with themselves or the nearest billionaire.
Understand that anime/manga/novels and any other form of media that they did not grow up with is not inherently bad. Disliking anime because of a few tropes that some series have and generalizing it to and entire medium is racist. Using the word degenerate[4] to refer to yourself or others is insulting. Thinking that japanese people[5] are inherently pedophilic/incestous/rapey because of a few tropes is racist. Thinking that Japan is some magical place where they have unique values/better culture is still racist.
Understand that sex acts between consenting people[6] are none of anyone else's concern. Consenting people doing nasty things in their house? Cool. Consenting people doing disgusting things in some hotel/bathroom/alley? Cool. Consenting people doing kinky things in public? Cool. I'd personally find it distasteful, but still. People wearing revealing clothes, showing their bare chest or genitals, wearing collars or anything else deemed "fetish gear"? Cool. A society where consenting adults can do whatever harmless thing they want to do is what I want.
Understand that water, food, housing, clothing, education, entertainment, healthcare and others (!!!) are things that should be available for everyone for free inconditionally. Working together so that we can achieve these is the bare minimum that humanity should reach. If someone disagrees with this, or has some conditions, or some prerequisites to access them, or wants to play devils advocate for the many groups whose interests align against these: stick your head underwater and take a deep, deep breath.
Those are the very, very simple and easy facts[7] that I expect other humans that try to communicate with me to understand.
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[1] Identity stuff is complicated. We know who I am referring to here. Default characters. Cis white straight males. If someone identifies as a guy and gets with lesbians and everyone is happy, good for them.
[2] Identity Sexuality stuff is complicated. Can't really include enbys and other genders because it'd get long. Same for other sexualities. You get the idea.
[3] I do not speak for other trans people. But I echo what I've seen others say.
[4] Please it is on wikipedia for fucks sake. Not one to police how others use words but come on. The only acceptable use of degen is when talking about negative regeneration.
[5] Should say asians but I think in this particular instance it will stay like that. It applies to a lot of manhwa and manhua too. Could include a bit about hentai but I think that'd be its own post.
[6] Consenting adults with consenting adults. Consenting teenagers with consenting teenagers. Pretending it doesn't happen will not make it stop happening.
[7] Could also include other facts about skin colour (I'm white btw), religion (no thoughts head empty), sinophobia (China ok) and others that don't come to mind atm but I'm tired so good night.
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How I think the characters will react to Byler when it is officially officially confirmed in the show:
El: once El realizes she doesn't romantically love Mike, she will become an avid byler protector.
El is a badass independent woman with a pure heart of gold. She cares deeply for Mike because he was the first person to show her any sort of compassion, so she will want him to be happy, and after she grows closer to Will, she will want Will to be happy too. El won't understand the societal stigmas around Mike and Will liking each other, since she was raised in a lab away from society and then lived isolated in Hopper's cabin, she has no knowledge of what society deems right from wrong surrounding sexuality and love. She will think other people thinking Mike and Will's relationship is 'wrong' or 'unnatural' is utter bullshit and completely stupid, as she should!
Jonathan: he will be 100% supportive. He knows how Lonnie tormented Will and made homophobic remarks about Will being gay when he was younger. He has always encouraged Will to be himself and ignore what others say, especially what Lonnie says. Jonathan will also be a byler protector.
Jonathan knows Will isn't "normal", he even said Will was "good at hiding" in s1 which has several meanings, and he probably already knows Will likes Mike because of how he immediately turns to look at Will after Mike blurts out he loves El in s3 in Hopper's cabin.
s1 ep. 2: "He's trying to force you to like normal things, and you shouldn't like things because people tell you you're supposed too."
s2 ep. 1: "No I'm serious. You're a freak. But what? Do you want to be normal? Do you wanna be just like everybody else? Being a freak is the best. I'm a freak. Who would you rather be friends with? Bowie or Kenny Rogers? Exactly. It's no contest. The thing is, nobody normal ever accomplished anything meaningful in this world. You got it?"
------(Some subtle queer coding there with the Bowie reference; David Bowie was a bisexual musician, and he also sings the original version of the song "Heroes" that plays after Will's fake body is found in s1, and the lines that play while Mike cries and hugs his Mom are extremely queer coded: "And we kiss as though nothing could fall. And the shame.")
Nancy: It's implied Nancy and Mike are pretty close, and honestly I think she has always suspected that Mike has a little thing for Will. From the look on Nancy’s face when he blurts out he loves El, it kind of reads as like she doesn’t believe him, because she knows something.
s1 ep.7: "I knew you were acting weird, I just, I thought it was beause of Will"
Joyce: will be 100% supportive, and a protective mama bear of Will as always, but also for Mike. Joyce will join the club of avid byler protectors along with Jonathan and El.
Dustin: avid byler supporter. I think he's picked up on how much Mike cares for Will, how Will cares for Mike, and has probably suspected at least something this whole time. Dustin doesn't care about being considered cool he cares about doing what he likes and being true to himself, and that belief for sure translates into how he views his friends as well. He will absolutely support Mike and Will and treat them normally.
s3 ep.3: "Instead of dating somebody because you think it's gonna make you cooler, why not date somebody you actually enjoy being around?" s1 ep.6: "Sometimes your total obliviousness just blows my mind"
Max: She seems pretty perceptive, so she's probably picked up on Mike and Will's 'special dynamics' by now, and we know she's definitely sick of how Mike treated El. She will be supportive of Will and Mike, but mostly she will just be glad Mike isn't with El anymore LOL.
Lucas: I think he definitely notices Mike seems to reallllyyyy care for Will, and that Mike doesn't act the same about El, although he claims too. I think Lucas sees through Mike's bullshit. Look at his smirking face and crossed arms when Mike frantically asks where Will is in s2:
and how he reacts the same way to Mike blurting out he loves El and "can't lose her again" in s3:
Hopper: he will probably want to kill Mike again.
"wait what?! so.. let me get this straight...all that time you were making out with my daughter, you were just...pretending to love her? You lied to her the whole time you two 'dated' yeah? And now you're dating your best friend. Oh god wait, I watched you tell him that asking him to be your friend was the best thing you ever did that night in the shed... Oh you little asshole!"
I can't imagine Hopper being homophobic towards Will and Mike, but I don't see him jumping up and down for them either. He will mainly be upset that Mike dated El when he was actually in love with Will, and not care so much that Mike is in love with another boy, just another person. But once he processes that El is actually okay, he will be fine with it.
Lonnie: is the literal scum of the earth! Obviously Lonnie will hate that Will is gay and dating another man. He will probably make some comments about how he "always knew it" and call Will and Mike homophobic slurs, probably at Will's birthday.
s1 ep.1: "He used to say he was queer, called him a f*g"
Steve: "Oh you two little shits are dating now? But I thought he was into the psionic chick? No? Okay, alright cool. Uh hey have you guys met Robin yet? I think you would get along, you know what I'll introduce you." Steve was so accepting of Robin coming out to him, there's no way he won't have the same kind of reaction for Mike and Will.
Robin: once she gets to actually know them and spend time with them, she will adopt Mike and Will as her gay sons and inspire them to be themselves and help them out whenever they need it. She will also pick up on the fact that they like each other immediately. If we don't get this pairing in s4 because of location logistics, I really hope we get it in s5!!!
Erica: she won't be homophobic, but she just won't care too much.
Karen: will encourage Mike to follow his heart, and like whoever he likes, because a relationship needs real love to survive, and she knows all too well what it is like to be stuck in a relationship with no love, and she doesn't want that for her kids, she wants better for them. She wants Mike to be truly happy no matter what, and she doesn't want to see him repeat her mistakes. Karen will be very supportive of Mike, and probably defend him to Ted.
s1 ep.2: "All this that’s been going on with Will, I can’t imagine what it’s been like for you. I just…I want you to feel like you can talk to me. I never want you to feel like you have to hide anything from me. I’m here for you okay?”
Ted: he won't be as much of an asshole as Lonnie will be about it, but he will probably make some snarky comments.
s1 ep.7: “our son with a girl? *scoffing*”
#byler#byler rights#byler is real#byler is canon#byler obsessed#byler is endgame#byler analysis#byler depression#byler proof#byler theory#byeler#strangers things#stranger things 4#stranger things four#stranger things obsessed#stranger things speculation#st4#st4 speculation#st4 theory#byler meta#stranger things meta#byler speculation#byler forever#will byers#mike wheeler#joyce byers#jonathan byers#eleven#lonnie byers#karen wheeler
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My Hero Academia is the far or alternate future of X-Men
My personal theory
Short disclaimer: I'd like to state this theory might have a lot of holes seeing as I'm more a follower of the films and what I've researched online than being an avid comic reader (I just don't know where to start with them but I'll get on some soon). Also I've never made a theory post before so this'll be kinda sloppy.
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Horikoshi
Horikoshi is known to be a Marvel fan. It's present in some of his characters' design motifs and their names. Quirks aren't just "superpowers" they usually have a scientific explanation (fake or no, its scientific) for mutations that vary in genetics or mental abilities (Ex: Ashido isnt just pink for funsies her skin is like that as a result of her body mutating to adjust to the toxins she releases). Much like how powers work in X-Men. Bringing me to the next theory.
The beginning of Quirks and metahuman society
It's established that this has gone on for maybe hundreds or so years. The theory is that it likely started somewhere in the 2010s and the era we see atm is in the 4th generation, somehere in 2300. (That's a hole considering X-Men has established mutations were likely before even the force was established and so on but hear me out).
I think back to the movie X-Men (2000), when there was a cure being given out for mutants to rid them of their mutations. There was a whole line of otherwise regular looking people, some homeless and some not, probably with nonvisible mutations. Indicating mutant population is more prevalent in society than we thought.
Discrimination in Metahumans and human society
Discrimination is present everywhere - yes, even amongst the metahuman. Quirkless discrimination and human discrimination is a common theme in both the X-Men and MHA franchise. But I feel a lot of people overlook that as long as your deemed "less powerful", people will pick on you either way.
In X-Men there are Mutant Supremacists, mutants that think some mutants are better than others and despise humans completely. Back to the point with the X-Men movies, more specifically X-Men: First Class. I don't have enough evidence to put Magneto up here but I do have the example of Astrid Bloom and likely Sebastian Shaw (I mean, he was a N*zi so...)
Even in a world where the parties both "peacefully" coexist, there's bound to be infighting on who's the most powerful. AFO or ReDestro might be the closest example to a Quirk or Mutant Supremacist; seeing certain people below them and wanting a society in which the ones with absolute power rule and those that crush the weak determines your status. Bakugou is a tamer version of this, personal or current growth aside, he was very adamant on establishing he was the best back in junior high and the only person he looked to surpass was All Might, who he considered not just super cool but super powerful.
Selling a Hero IRL
Ok hold out for me here cus this is half of where my theory began to grow.
(Art credit to Keiid Aka Mya on Twitter)
Check the poster in Shinsou's room. That isn't just some cool girl the artist made for his room, Karma is an actual character in Marvel canon (this is probably obvious for y'all who actually read comics 😅). But you might be thinking, "Ok cool but that's just crossover fanart ain't it?" Yes but actually no.
It's shown in a translation that Sero is a fan of an American Hero. It's Spider-Man, let's not beat around the bush, his tape power is influenced from his webslinging abilities as well. Some might think the heroes of the Marvel universe are fiction in their universe and maybe so, but I can counter this.
In the beginning of the manga, Volume 1 Chapter 1, silhouettes are shown of mostly Marvel heroes, one of them being Wolverine from... oh take a guess! The lines on the panel was also "fiction became reality."
In Logan, Laura points out that "Wolverine" had saved many people in the comics, that she has possession of. He tells her that some of that was real but a lot was also overexaggerated for media. Meaning while they and their adventures were real, their images were also used as a source of entertainment for nonmutants. It's the same as celebrities appearing on TV and in commercials with their signature looks. They're a brand. Heroes in MHA do the same, with merchandising and otherwise. At least those non-underground.
Conclusion
I don't really know how to make a conclusion, since these are all a bunch of my half-baked theories stitched together. Like I said, comics probably counter this a ton. But it's not like I don't read comics at ALL, at this point with how much I've come across, some comics nowadays have proven to be officialized fanfiction. Anything goes as long as you can write or don't try to contradict the old rules I guess.
Plus there are so many universes for futures I can't even count on my fingers, so My Hero might as well be one of them.
#mha#my hero academia#mha theory#my hero academia theory#xmen#x men#marvel theories#marvel comics#manga#anime#not art#kuro talks
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long live the king
pairing: mage!hueningkai x noble!reader
tags: fluff, royalty au, friends to lovers, hueningkai can do magic
word count: 3.3k
prompts:
011: "May I have this dance?"
019: "I don't think anyone could ever be as lovely as you."
020: "You look incredible in that."
Tonight had been advertised as the night to end all nights— a masquerade ball held by the king at the palace, and a brightly lit ballroom decorated with gold and the continent's finest silk, adorning the kingdom's rose insignia. Entertainers and musicians positioned around the vicinity to perform their best acts and tunes, and the gates were left wide open to welcome everyone who wanted to join in, given that they tried their best to dress for the occasion.
Today was an event open to all the kingdom's citizens, from high seated nobles to common men by the streets, everyone was welcome to participate in the king's annual ball. However, that fact didn't matter for a family such as yours. Your father was the Marquess, which meant that you were invited to every single ball or gathering held by the nobility for the nobility. At least, that was how it had been until the incident.
The peering eyes of both the nobles and commoners alike have left you frozen on your spot by the pillar. Your bright red ball gown, although beautiful, was not helping you hide away from the eyes of the crowd. It was evident they were all thinking the same thing.
The unfortunate daughter of a fallen marquess.
News had gotten out about your family's crisis and had spread to the public like a disease. The Grand Marquess losing money, property, and power: The fall of a great noble. The story made headlines for weeks on end— rumors mixing in with the truth, and eventually, everyone had drawn the same conclusion. Pitiful.
You worry about your parents at the other end of the room, doing their best to mingle with the other nobles. The heavy atmosphere was weighing down on your chest.
Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, you try to think of the things that calmed you down: the rustic smell of old books at the public library, the warm feeling you'd get when the rays of sunlight touch your skin as you sit by the window with your face buried deep into your favorite classic, the bright smile the common mage boy would give you everytime you crossed paths—
"Wow."
A familiar voice brings you back from your thoughts.
"You look incredible in that." The same bright smile you'd envisioned earlier now stood in front of you.
You gaze in awe at the man before you, dressed in what you could only describe as the most beautiful and elegant ensemble you'd seen tonight. The way the white suit hugged his waist left little room for the imagination. You doubt even the king himself could top this off.
"Lady Y/N. I believe fate must have brought us together in this fine evening." The man gently bends down, taking your hand and planting a kiss so fleeting that you barely felt it. Even with the golden mask on, you could easily tell who it was.
"Kai.."
"Ah, and here I was hoping I'd be a little more mysterious tonight." Kai holds back his laughter as he gazed upon you once more. You can't help but do the same.
Tonight, he looked nothing of a common mage but that of a king himself. If you hadn't known him beforehand, you would've mistaken him as so, especially with tonight's main event— the reveal of the king's successor. But alas, what the mage boy had going on for him was merely for appearances. A commoner like him could never be king in a world where even dreaming of becoming one was considered to be of highest absurdity.
"I thought you said you weren't attending?"
Kai shrugs, folding his hands behind his back. "And refuse my lady when you so graciously asked me out?"
His response catches you off guard. "I don't recall ever asking you anything of that sort."
"You asked if I'd attend."
"And that counts as asking you out?"
Kai chuckles. "When you asked me with such a cute look on your face, it was difficult to think you weren't looking forward to me being here."
And he was right. Given your circumstances, Kai being here with you was like a breath of fresh air. You'd been praying all night that he'd magically arrive to help you take your mind off of things, and you felt like crying out in joy when he actually did.
Kai looks around, seemingly getting a sense of the pressure you were in. "Shall we take a stroll around the garden, my lady?"
You follow his line of sight and spot the royal garden just outside the window. "I'll let you accompany me if you drop the whole my lady business."
Kai purses his lips as he takes your hand in his. "Can't you let me be fancy for one night?"
Every moment you'd spent with Kai up until this point had been the highlight of your days. As the daughter of the Marquess, you'd spent most of your time holed up inside your manor. Women barely got any education aside from the usual classes on manners and societal etiquette, and that included nobles as well. But that never stopped you. Once a week, when the guards changed shifts by the gate, and the maids and butlers were all busy with the weekly general cleaning, you'd take the opportunity to slip out in disguise, undetected by anyone. The main goal was to get to the public library and obtain access to educational material— ones that didn't involve any prim and proper rubbish that you've read over a thousand times.
The first time outside was rather difficult. You barely managed to get inside the library's more educational section while passing as a man. However, every succeeding attempt became easier and easier until coming out in secret and gaining access didn't seem like that much of a hassle anymore.
At the library, you were free to read any book you want, and used this opportunity to brush up on some business and economics as well as some of the basic sciences. You spent the first few months stocking up on knowledge until you felt it fine to relax a little and start reading novels to pass the time without the help of a disguise.
There was a section in the library that you hadn't checked; one that you'd deemed unnecessary as it only contained children's literature. It wasn't until you'd heard the sound of a man's voice followed by children's laughter that you felt compelled enough to take a peek.
"And then, the dragon swooped down onto the village and attacked the innocent villagers! ROARRR. Breathing fire as hot as, well, uh— FIRE!"
You slipped up and giggled at the young man's amusing narration, piping down a bit after realizing that he had noticed you from behind the shelves, throwing a knowing smirk your way.
It was then that he pulled down his cloak. Wavy brown locks gracefully reaching the back of his neck, bright eyes that could make any person let their guard down— he looked around your age which made you feel more at ease.
The young man steps back, dramatically breathing fire out of his mouth as the children cheered. Some were yelling at him to continue until only smoke came out, and you swore you heard one of them ask if he could make the fire turn green. Ridiculous, you think. But you were no different from these children, only being able to stand there in awe at the young man's trick. Perhaps turning the fire green wasn't such a terrible idea.
You've heard of mages among the commoners before, and had met a few that visited your manor but this was the first time you'd seen one in action. The flames that came out of his mouth looked awfully hot but the young man didn't even blink or showed any signs of pain.
He stops the fire and clears his throat, now kneeling down to face the children. "The villagers were worried sick! What would happen to their crops, their produce, their livelihood? If only a hero would come along and save them!" He makes an overly exaggerated wail before gasping.
"Well, who do we have here? A warrior has come to save the villagers!" The young man points at your direction and you feel your blood run cold as all the children in the room had turned their attention towards you, hopeful.
"A young maiden has arrived to slay the evil dragon!"
You quickly shake your head at his statement, holding your arms out in a cross. "No, kids. Don't believe what this man says. I am not a warrior, and I'm certainly not here to slay any dragons"
The young man raises a brow, getting up from his spot. "Then why do you have the magical sword that was forged to slay the mighty dragon?"
"What sword?"
The young man snaps his fingers. "That sword."
The weight on your hips dip on one side and you couldn't believe your eyes as a sheathed sword had magically manifested beside your waist out of thin air. "How did you— wait, is this a real sword?! You can't play around with real swords in front of children!"
The children turn towards the young man in confusion.
"Well, kids. Do you want the kind lady to slay the dragon with a real sword?"
"YES!" The children cheered.
The young man turns to you with a smile. "You gotta give the kids what they want, Miss."
An exasperated expression makes its way to your face. "I am not slaying any made up dragons!"
"Now, what's all this talk about slaying dragons?"
Taehyun, one of the stricter librarians, had come out of nowhere, surprising everyone. His eyes scan the room and quickly notices three things: (1) the dangerous sword hanging on your waist, (2) the excessive amount of children in the room when the sign on the way in definitely mentioned a capacity of only five, and (3) someone let the mage boy inside the library again. The culprit was evident.
"Jung Kai, I swear to the heavens I will—"
"Alright kids, time to go! We'll end the story next time!" The young man, Kai, rushes the disappointed children out of the section before they heard something they shouldn't.
You were about to walk away yourself but was quickly stopped by Taehyun's hand blocking your path. "Kai, didn't I tell you that you're not allowed to perform magic inside the library? And seriously," He confiscates the sword on your waist, holding it up in the air. "Violence?"
Kai looks at you and grins. "I suppose we could've gone with a more romantic ending. Something like the warrior's kiss saving the dragon from his curse, and he turns back into this super handsome, super cute, and super macho mage."
The way he shamelessly described himself left you speechless, and you steal a glance at the librarian who looked as equally disgusted as you are.
"Just clean up the mess before you leave. And that means you too, Miss Dragon Slayer."
"But I didn't even—" You cut yourself off after Taehyun dismisses himself from the room.
The section falls silent and Kai walks up to you, a smile ever present in his face. "I'm guessing this is the start of our new friendship?"
And that was what started it all. Everytime you'd visit the library after that, you seemed to bump into Kai more often than you liked. He saw through the disguise the first time he saw you wearing it and had promised to not utter a single word to anyone. The mage boy was much more reliable than he seemed to be, often helping you in your studies and teaching you more than the books ever could. Sometimes, he'd convince you to take a stroll around town and had shown you sights and wonders you wouldn't have expected to see inside the kingdom.
Before you knew it, Kai had become someone you'd cherished, and someone whose company you genuinely appreciated. He was patient and understanding as your makeshift mentor, and was this fun and outgoing guy whenever you two were out together. Kai became the first friend you'd made on your own regardless of status and the only friend you wished to keep by your side.
"I take it that the people in the ballroom were too much?" Kai speaks the moment arrived at the garden.
"Please. I couldn't even breathe in there." You play it off with a chuckle but thoughts of worry still plague your mind. "I'm guessing you probably know by now."
"About what? The fact that you're the daughter of the Marquess or that the Marquess has been in a crisis for a while?"
"Both."
Kai reaches for your hand, holding it reassuringly. "I've known for a while but that doesn't change anything now, does it? We became friends without the burden of our status, and we'll stay as friends regardless."
You hated this, hated how he always knew exactly what to say. The heat rushes up to your face and you squeeze his hand tighter, avoiding eye contact. "Thank you."
But truthfully, there was a little voice in Kai's head that wished you could be something more. Not after you'd shared those intimate moments alone at the library at dusk, not after he rushed in to catch you in his arms when you fell while shelving a book on the top shelves, and especially not after you almost shared a kiss after saying goodbye that night he'd helped you sneak back in.
Even now, as he lovingly gazed at your silhouette beneath the moonlight, he'd hoped that he'd have the chance to tell you how he felt. But then again, the chance could be right now at this very moment. The two of you were, afterall, at the king's ball.
"So, how were the gentlemen earlier?"
"What?" You raise your head to face Kai.
"I've no doubt that hundreds of people had been lining up to dance with you all evening." Kai grins as he gently lets go of your hand.
"Please, I haven't danced at all tonight."
"I find that quite hard to believe."
You sigh, recalling the events from earlier. "No one would want to be seen dancing with a fallen Marquess' daughter now would they?"
"Not when you look this beautiful?" Kai jokingly walks around you and you shy away from his gaze.
"You know I never say things I don't mean, Y/N." Kai bends down and holds your hands in his. "And believe me, I don't think anyone could ever be as lovely as you."
"Is flattery your main personality trait now?" You say as an attempt to not let his compliment affect you any further than it should but fail miserably so.
Kai stands before you with an unreadable expression. You'd argue this was the most serious look he's ever had since you'd met him.
"Care to dance?" Kai asks, leaning in closer, your faces merely inches apart. You feel your heart beating loudly in your chest, and you're almost afraid he might hear.
The moonlight casts a shadow on Kai's face, and despite the darkness, his eyes glistened, reflecting your own as you stared into his. You've never seen anyone look so beautiful. And here he was, telling you that you're the loveliest person he's ever known.
"Right now?"
Kai nods, taking off his mask and tossing it over to the side. "And I'd like it if we could dance without our masks too. I've been wanting to get a good look at your face all night."
You chuckle, removing your mask and tossing it to to the ground next to his. "And how do you suppose we dance without music? My reputation's already dirt at this point and I do not want to be branded as the crazy noble dancing at the royal garden in complete silence."
Kai fails to suppress his laughter, holding on to your shoulder to maintain himself upright. "Well, I wouldn't want to let my dear lady look crazy now would I?"
"And what are you planning to do?"
"Well, I am a mage." Kai smirks as he manifests a scepter out of thin air, leaving a trail of golden dust flurrying down.
This was the first time you've ever seen it in person. Kai had mentioned how he needed the aid of his scepter to perform high level magic, but he'd never taken it out in front of you until now. One look at the scepter and anyone could tell not just any old mage owned the darn thing. It looked majestic by all means, intricately decorated with gold and topped off with a brightly colored red gemstone you couldn't seem to identify. You'd heard that mages often created their own unique gemstones as a manifestation of their mana but for Kai's to be red, which had been said to be a quite powerful variant, made you wonder just how powerful your friend had been.
"And here we go." Kai takes the scepter in his hand and drives it into the ground. The impact causes a wave of light to burst from the scepter and spread throughout the reaches of garden. In a split-second, the wave of light rushes back into its source, compressing into a huge orb of light lifting up into the sky, rivaling the moon with its glow. The orb splits into smaller pieces and starts to dance around the garden, leaving you in awe at the spectacle.
Kai finds himself grinning from ear to ear at your reaction. He'd studied magic as an expression of rebellion against his father but now, he'd found another purpose to perform these little tricks of his. He places his hand on your waist and pulls you closer. "Wait for it."
The orbs of light find their places around you, slowly taking the shape of various instruments you've seen inside the ballroom, from strings to percussions, and even wind instruments. Smaller pieces of light continued to hover the surroundings, resembling glowing fireflies in the dark.
"Kai, this is beautiful." You look up at the young man, and he steps away, bowing his head as he plants yet another kiss on the back of your hand.
"May I have this dance?"
His eyes meet yours and you feel your heart skip a beat. It was rather difficult to explain. The Kai in front of you right now had been the same Kai you've always known, but somehow.. different.
You raise your hand for him to take, guiding your other hand to find perch on his shoulder, and his finding its place on your waist. With the first step, the instruments started playing. It's a piece you've heard before, one that Kai had fondly hummed nearly everytime you were together at the library.
It was as if the world had faded into the distance, and at this moment, there was only you and him, dancing alone in the garden. He pulls you close, his hold gentle and warm. Kai spins you around. The heel of your shoe collides with a rock, and you nearly stumble back until Kai manages to grab you by the waist on time, pulling you back into his arms.
You spot the smirk on his face under the moonlight, and you press a finger against his lips. "Not one word."
"I wasn't going to say anything." Kai lets you go, and you quickly grab a hold of his arms to find balance.
"Of course you weren't."
"Well, I do have something I have to tell you. A few things, actually."
You cock a brow at him, and he steps forward. "I'll tell you the most important part first."
"And that is?"
Kai reaches out to cup your cheeks, gazing into your eyes as if asking permission. You didn't need to say anything for him to understand, and he closes the gap between you, pressing his lips against yours. The feeling was foreign but certainly welcome, and you soon close your eyes and reciprocate, wanting to feel more of his soft lips, and wanting to hold him closer and closer.
For long had you held out on this, on actually acknowledging your growing feelings for the lad in fear of having to live with the thought of him not feeling the same. But in this moment, you felt a heavy burden being lifted from your shoulders.
"Kai, I.."
The light from the orbs dim down and soon dissipates. Kai pulls away, gazing upon your flushed face. "You mean the world to me, Y/N. I don't think my life would ever be the same without you."
The trumpets blare in the ballroom, a signal that the new king was to make an appearance soon. You feel Kai's hand around yours. "As for my other confession, I think it's best we head back first."
He leads you back into the ballroom, and disappears the moment you find your parents in the crowd. You join them in the center as everyone gathers to get a glimpse at the new king.
The herald makes his way beside the grand staircase, straightening himself up to make the announcement that every citizen had been waiting to hear all evening.
"Presenting the next in line to the throne, to rule the vast lands of our esteemed nation, and lead us into a continuing era of prosperity! Our future King, His Royal Highness, Kai Kamal Huening!"
The doors open, revealing Kai, your Kai, adorned in the royal family's crest, robes, and jewelries as he made himself known to his loyal subjects.
Behind him was public librarian, Kang Taehyun, who had been revealed to be serving as one oc the King's advisors, and now, for the new monarch.
"Long live the King!"
Kai could pick out your from the crowd in a heartbeat, hos gaze meeting yours as he flashes you his signature smile. You couldn't believe what was happening— Kai, your best friend in the whole world, had just confessed his love to you. And now, that same Kai had revealed to you and to the public that he had been the future ruler of the country all along. The crowds cheered.
"Long live the King!"
"Long live the King." You whisper to yourself, wondering what the future has in store for you.
#txt#tomorrow x together#txt imagines#txt scenarios#txt x reader#txt fic#hueningkai x reader#hueningkai imagines#huening kai x reader#huening kai imagines#hueningkai scenarios#hueningkai fluff#.reqs
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That post about "I'll keep reading a fic that mischaracterizes Dick even if it angers me because the plot is interesting" but with Scott McCall. I'll come across genuinely interesting concepts and plots and power through for that even when Scott is portrayed negatively in the story, he's there at least and it's either that or wading through 99% of fic which centers Stiles/Sterek and the most common Scott tag being "Scott's a bad friend" ya know?
Honestly, what is it about Scott McCall and Dick Grayson that gets them (mis)treated so similarly by their respective fandoms?
Oh yeah, definitely. Tbh, part of why I’m so loud and obnoxious in Batfandom is because in TW fandom it eventually got to the point where I just had to stop reading fic completely, because I wasn’t finding anything that was Scott-friendly outside of the handful of writers I was already friends with and I just got fed up. And I’m too stubborn to do the same thing twice in two separate fandoms so I just....refuse to give up on DG fic by way of a rousing morning “Not today Satan” pep talk. fhslakhfkal
But honestly, the parallels, there are more than a few:
1) Obviously I do think the racism element has plenty to do with it. Especially in the way “is Scott really even Latino on the show though, I mean did they ever actually SAY it” arguments could be swapped out almost word for word with the “is Dick really even Romani in the comics though, I mean it was just a retcon” arguments. With the primary aim of arguments against this being a factor focusing on just invalidating the idea that either are characters of color in the first place, rather than examining the way people engage with these characters for signs of racism. Instead of trying to refute that there’s anything wrong with certain ways people interact with these characters, people jump right into “well there can’t be racism if the character in question isn’t even REALLY a character of color, y’know not like, a board-certified one with proper accreditation and everything.”
But its definitely interesting when you look at how Dick Grayson’s been perceived by fandom overall, like, in terms of looking back over the years. As someone who’s been in and out of DC fandoms to various degrees since the late 90s, as in before Dick was retconned as being Romani in the first place, and as I’ve said before, he used to be a LOT more popular and forgiven for stuff in the past in fandom.....like, I maintain that if you look back at the early 2000s-2010, aka when that retcon was not just written, but gradually and more fully spread into the fandom’s overall awareness and perception of the character....you can almost like, SEE the empathy gap suddenly click into place once he was more fully solidified as a character of color in a lot of fans’ minds. Even if they won’t admit it because that would require admitting to the racism that then began to seep into how they interacted with this character now, compared to how they’d interacted with this character in the past.
And I think the empathy gap - and the complete refusal to admit that’s even a thing, because its not like these are REALLY characters of color so why would it even apply - like, I think that goes a long way to explaining the way both Scott and Dick consistently have their traumas invalidated and ignored by large parts of their fandoms, with the focus always being shifted to how bad things that happen to them are really MORE bad for how they affect the people around them, etc.
2) It also I think has a lot to do with their personalities and the archetypes they both embody as empathetic caregiver types. I think I described it pretty well here in my BUABS fic:
“What do you know about Impostor Syndrome?"
"It's a term sometimes used to describe over-achievers who have trouble internalizing their accomplishments. Perfectionists who think they're frauds because they don't know how to take credit for their own achievements and say its because of luck or timing or something other people did," Dick frowned, puzzling through both the question and the aim of it. He raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't sound like something that applies to someone as arrogant as me."
"Don't be a little shit, Dick," Dinah said with small smirk. "And you're right, I don't think any of that applies to you. However, it's also used in another capacity, to describe trauma survivors who are unable to internalize their own trauma. Who deflect from it, or mitigate it, treat it as less than it is on the basis that it wasn't as bad as what's happened to someone else. It's especially common in trauma survivors who are noted for being especially empathetic or who have caregiver personality types. People who are so used to self-identifying as someone whose role or purpose is in helping others, that they find themselves unable to identify as traumatized because it might shift the focus to themselves instead of people they feel need it more. Does that behavior sound a little more familiar?"
(For the record, that fic is set in the YJ universe, not the comics, and I go with the approach that Dick and Bruce have a much better relationship there than they do in the comics, and thus overall Dick’s mental health and self-esteem are better than in the comics, generally speaking. I only mention this as a tangent, but like....I think Impostor Syndrome as an issue for perfectionists and over-achievers with low self-esteem DOES pertain to comic book Dick Grayson as well as its trauma interpretation. But anyway).
But point is, I think that describes both Dick and Scott, and their respective approaches to dealing (or not dealing) with their personal traumas. This isn’t a problem in and of itself, as its a valid survivor reaction and issue plenty of people deal with....the problem lies in the willingness of fans to capitalize on the OPPORTUNITIES this presents, as fans of other characters, to keep the focus trained on the characters around these two, and THEIR issues, even at the expense of these two.
Basically, its not in either of their natures to ASK for help and forcefully DRAG focus and awareness to themselves and their issues, for a number of reasons including the fact that I don’t think either character feels they ‘deserve’ that focus or need that help more than other people need theirs.
And because these characters are the empathetic caregiver archetypes in their respective ensembles, ie the ones who usually take the lead in reaching out to even characters who don’t normally ask for help themselves....there’s often no one else immediately popping up in reader awareness as like, a likely candidate to extend that same awareness and offer of aid to Dick and Scott even without them actually asking for it.
(Which, is a large part of my commitment to the theme “Stop assembling your ensembles with just ONE of each archetype, mix and match more, or like....use more hybrid archetypes so you don’t HAVE this problem, and also, stop limiting characters to JUST their archetypes, three-dimensional people aren’t confined to only acting upon a limited menu of actions and impulses, and neither should three-dimensional characters be.”)
And then of course there’s the additional component, linked to point #1, that a lot of people refuse to write other characters seeing their need for help or support or offering it even when they do see it, simply because like....they don’t WANT these characters to HAVE help or support.
3) The Intelligence Factor - as in, do they really have it? Both Scott McCall and Dick Grayson are repeatedly and consistently established in their respective canons as being extremely intelligent, and no, not JUST in emotional intelligence. I don’t like sounding like I’m undervaluing that particular form of intelligence, I’m just really irritated by the way people go about saying “oh I do admit they have very high emotional intelligence” like they’re throwing them some kind of a bone. LMAO. No. They both have high emotional intelligence, true, but they’re also extremely intelligent across the board in all other ways. Both are excellent strategists, quick-thinking and repeatedly out-maneuvering even other noted strategists, both display a quick grasp of new information and an ability to see how and where and when to PUT that information to use in practical applications, etc. These are not dumb characters, at ALL.
But fandoms have this weird committment to the idea that only the Smartest Person In The Room REALLY matters, and like, there can only be one of those per room, or like, at most two, so that they can be a matched pair and make kissing noises and then very smart babies, or like, they can be the doting (smart) father and his adored (smartest) son, all others can go home now.
Like, no, that’s not how that works. A room full of geniuses does not suddenly become a room full of ONE genius and a bunch of random and irrelevant cuz they’re dumb non-geniuses the second someone deemed King of the Smarties enters the room. That’s not a thing. Stop acting like that’s a thing, fandoms. Nobody’s intelligence is actually threatened by the presence of more than one character with notable intelligence. Also fuck off with the adoration of notable intelligence like people have more value the more decimal points of pi they can recite off the top of their head. That’s not a more evolved human being, that’s just a nerd. Nerds have value but no more than people who like, chose other life pursuits aside from nerddom.
(Not actually intended as a slight against nerds, just for the record. I say that as both a self-described nerd and also a self-loathing nerd and also lol I’m not a nerd. Look, I’m a very nuanced person okay. I put the complex in complex organism).
But the point here is not just that people are weird about there only being one true genius allowed per ensemble, its that people are WEIRD about how in order to ACTUALLY be smart, you need to like.....accurately match the factory specs for “this is how a smart person looks and behaves.”
And Scott and Dick do not look and behave that way. The sheer number of times - and similar ways - people try to completely discredit the idea they have more than one brain cell by pointing to times they’re being INTENTIONALLY goofy and being like “oh yeah, would a smart person do THAT, hmmmm”.....
Its like...yes? LOL. There is no law that says that a smart person can not be a goofball, or that they are no longer smart if they fulfill a certain quota of actions deemed ‘dopey’ by the official arbiters of smartness.
Similarly the way people like to point at stuff like “my mom buys the groceries” when the writers BEHIND the characters were intentionally trying to play up a comedic moment rather than make a sealed declaration of IQ, and be like, “see, would a smart person be THAT dumb, hmmm?”
First of all, yes, even going off the same canon people try and cite as proof Scott and Dick are too dumb to actually be smart.....you can literally find similarly ‘dumb’ moments for every other TW character....the Sheriff expressed incredulity that Stiles didn’t know what a pendant was, and Lydia was like wtf how are you this dumb at Stiles when he asked if she read the movie the Little Mermaid because he didn’t know there was also a book.....Allison made the same mistake about bestiary as Scott did because the writers were so impressed by that joke they literally had to do it twice....and do not get me STARTED on the number of moments I can point to in comics AND movies AND cartoons where everyone from Bruce to Tim to Jason to Damian and more, like, make utter bonehead moves or utter completely bonehead sentences.
Despite what rumors of my being an ancient eldritch being might have some believe, I did not actually know Albert Einstein personally, but I can still with complete confidence say I GUARANTEE that at more than one point in his life, even he did things that might have been pointed at by time-travelers on vacay as evidence that geez, old-timey smart people were really dumb, huh.
And I think we would all agree that Albert Einstein was actually a very smart man.
But yeah, point is, both Scott and Dick are very smart characters who for a lot of reasons - including personal choice, as in, they don’t really see the appeal in conforming to standards of what a smart person is SUPPOSED to be like (especially when those standards have a weird amount in common with tendencies often described as elitist or condescending or like, having or pertaining to the qualities of an asshole) - like, they just don’t typically behave or conduct themselves in ways that match up with a lot of the assumptions people have for what ‘makes’ a genius or what that’s supposed to look or sound like.
And because they don’t SEEM like they’re that smart, a lot of effort then gets put into insisting that they’re definitely not, and they can’t be, because see look how dumb here and here and here.....which then leeches over into other aspects of the characters and their stories and dynamics, and then combines with the issues resulting from Point 1 and Point 2 and probably two more I’m not thinking of at the moment but are definitely there so that by their powers combined.....fandom summons Captain Dumbass to take over most interactions with these particular characters. And thus repeatedly and insistently engages with these two and their stories only in very dumb, very limited, and VERY annoying ways.
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A Year in the Countryside
Chapter 1: Alone At Last
Full story on ao3.
Hermione Granger has had enough of Rita Skeeter and the rest of Wizarding London watching her every move. The Wizarding world's sweetheart packs up her things and relocates to a tiny town in the Cotswolds in order to escape prying eyes. She's ready to embrace a year living a quiet life of reading her favourite books, making friends with her neighbours, and most importantly, not running into anyone she knows.
She is only two days into her new, quiet, very normal life when she finds herself face to face with the very last person she ever thought she'd see at a farmer's market: Draco Malfoy.
Chaos, calamity and general hilarity ensue!
“Here’s the key, dear. Now, remember that you have to turn the lock twice to deadbolt the door. Make sure you do. It’s a safe town but you’re a young girl. Better to be safe.”
Hermione accepted the key to her new apartment, smiling at the landlady. She was going to perform several security spells as soon as she was alone but thought that assuaging the old lady’s concerns was a small price to pay for such a beautiful home.
“Thank you, Mrs Llewellyn, I'll be very careful.”
“I’ve left a lemon cake on the kitchen bench for you, dear, and there’s bread, a pint of milk and some eggs in the fridge. I didn’t know if you would have the energy to go shopping this evening, so I thought it would be best to keep some things for you.”
“Oh, you really didn’t have to, ma’am, I wo—,”
“Nonsense. It’s my pleasure. I’ve got to go now, my husband’s waiting for me at the town hall for bingo.”
“Thank you for everything. I really appreciate it.” Hermione walked Mrs Llewellyn to the door and waved as she went down the stairs. Shutting the door and dead-bolting the lock, she turned and sighed with relief. Even though she hadn’t yet removed her furniture from her purse, the small apartment was hers. Her home. A one-bedroom home, with a living and kitchen area, and best of all, a window seat looking out over the road.
Hermione got to work setting up the furniture she needed. Up until recently, the apartment had been a storage space for the bakery downstairs. When the baker’s wife, Mrs Llewellyn, had finally thrown out all of their unnecessary junk, she cleaned up the rooms nicely and advertised it on the local bulletin board a week prior. Hermione, who had been hopping around the little towns in the area, had snatched up the offer and eagerly contacted the Llewellyns to let them know she was a responsible adult who didn’t smoke.
At the time, Hermione didn’t know why she was so keen on renting an apartment in a village in the Cotswolds, but now, she breathed a sigh of relief. Churchbury was a sleepy town, with beautiful flowers and its namesake church sitting in the middle of the town centre. Everyone knew everyone and no-one was magical, as far as she could tell. At the end of the day, she wasn’t in Wizarding London, thankfully. In the months following the war, she had been swamped by adoring fans and crazed reporters, trying to get the scoop on her life. It turned out that, while Ron and Harry were also fair game, no-one really cared about what her two best friends were wearing, or what restaurants they went to. It was “Hermione Granger this” and “Hermione Granger that” and it was maddening. She had had enough by the time winter had rolled by and spring offered her the chance to travel the world. She told Rita Skeeter, in an effort to satisfy her, that her travels would be to get to know different cultures more intimately. However, she had lied. As soon as Skeeter had published an extremely exaggerated article stating that Hermione would spend the next six months with her secret Veela fiancé in Paris, Hermione Apparated to the English countryside to clear her head. No-one would know her there, and when she saw the advertisement for the apartment while walking past the town hall, she knew this would be a good hideout.
Hermione’s parents, now back in London and with fully restored memories, were happy that their daughter was going somewhere they deemed safe, especially after fighting in a bloody war. Her father had insisted that he teach his daughter some basic tips, like using a screwdriver and how to kill spiders. She didn’t have the heart to explain that her wand served as her tool for all such tasks, and let him spend an afternoon showing her how to hammer a nail and find the stud in a wall. Her mother was excited to visit and Hermione promised they could come and stay when she was settled. Harry and Ron had both expressed their confusion at her wanting to leave London for an extended time, but after she had assured them of her safety and gotten Ministry permission to have a Floo connection in her new home, they seemed okay with the idea.
“Promise us that you’ll visit for dinner often.” Harry said as he hugged her goodbye. He gave her a framed photograph of him, her and Ron smiling at the camera. It was the only Muggle photograph they had ever taken together. Ron handed her a large cake, most definitely from his mother, and kissed her on the cheek.
“I’ll miss you, Hermione, but at least it’s only a year. Don’t forget to owl whenever you can.” Thankfully he hadn’t tried to kiss her on the mouth. She had gently told him that she wasn’t interested in being more than friends after the war, and he had begrudgingly accepted that it was for the best.
Ginny had been the most excited about Hermione’s decision. She thought it would be a good way for Hermione to meet men. Tourists, she had reasoned, would pass through the area frequently. Male tourists, Ginny had said, winking.
“Be safe! Come back home whenever you’d like. We’ll be here, waiting for you.” She pushed a little figurine into Hermione’s hands. It was a wooden carving of two little girls, standing hand in hand.
“What is it for?” Hermione had asked.
“If you shake it, the matching one on my bedside table will light up and I’ll come straight through the Floo, in case you need some girl time. Even to chat.”
“Oh, Gin. It’s great, thank you.”
She was engulfed in a hug by Harry, Ron and Ginny, before Disapparating away to just outside her new village.
By the evening, Hermione had moved in most of her furniture and warded the apartment. It was really unnecessary in such a safe town, but she was a creature of habit and after spending a year on the run, protection spells were muscle memory. The bed she had bought was big. She was tired of sleeping on the tiny cot in which she had spent most nights of the last year. It was time for a large bed, where she could starfish out and not hit a wall or fall off. She placed the photograph on her bedside table along with Ginny’s gift. Walking into the living area, she surveyed her work. A big, soft sofa sat opposite a television set. She had set up several bookcases against the walls and laid cushions out on the window seat. Every tea she owned was now neatly stacked up in the cupboard above the kettle and a frittata was cooking in the oven. Her mother had secretly called ahead to the local grocer’s, and Hermione was surprised to find a parcel full of groceries show up with the delivery boy on his way home that evening.
“All done, eh, Crookshanks?” She had let him out of his carrier after she finished enlarging all the furniture from her bag. He was now sitting with his face pushed up to the window. He turned for a second back to give Hermione an admonishing glare, before returning to his earlier gaze.
As she sat back onto the sofa and waited for her dinner to be ready, Hermione was suddenly overcome by the feeling of acute loneliness. She knew it would be this way, being alone in a new town, but it was still an odd feeling. She ate dinner in silence and fell asleep at 9 pm.
— — —
Hermione walked down the path to the local farmers market. It was Saturday and she had spent the previous day moping and getting drunk on a bottle of wine that she had found in her mother’s grocery package. This morning, she had woken up feeling sorry for herself and decided, after a brief Floo call with Ginny and a Pepper-Up potion, to get out of the apartment and explore her new village. Armed with Muggle money and an assortment of cloth bags, she braved the market to meet her neighbours and buy some fruit.
“Miss Granger!” Mr Llewellyn waved from the bread stand. She smiled and walked over.
“Good morning, sir. How are you?”
“Well, thank you. Take a loaf for yourself, they’re nice and warm.”
She tried to pay but he insisted that she keep her money for other things. She tucked the seeded loaf into a bag and thanked him, making her way down the line of stalls. At the fruit seller’s, she picked up apples and oranges, as well as a bottle of cherry juice. At the cheesemonger’s table, she tried several local cheeses and bought a square of sharp cheddar for the pasta she planned to make tonight.
After her bags were heavy enough that she couldn’t walk much further, Hermione decided to turn back, until she caught sight of a stall at the very end of the market. A bookstall. Narrowing her gaze and marching over, she gasped. It was old books. Her favourite.
“Miss? Is there anything you’re looking for?” An old woman was sitting on a stool behind the table, a pair of thick spectacles perched on her nose. She had several layers of clothing on, regardless of the fact that it was a warm, sunny day. Hermione touched the spine of a novel and smiled at the lady.
“Just browsing, thank you. You have a lovely collection here, ma’am.”
The old lady looked very pleased and sat up.
“I own the secondhand bookstore over there,” she jabbed a thumb across the river at the row of shops opposite them. It was a tiny shop, wedged in between a tea shop and a florist. It reminded Hermione of 12 Grimmauld Place.
“Oh, it’s lovely.” She looked down at the books, gently letting her bags slide off her shoulders and onto the ground. Selecting a beautifully bound version of Pride and Prejudice, she opened it and sighed at the familiar words.
“Do you like Jane Austen, dearie?”
“Very much, Miss, uh—,”
“Owens. Mrs Dorothy Owens. What about you? What is your name?”
“Hermione.” It wasn’t Hermione who spoke, and she spun to her left to see the unexpected, grim and terribly handsome face of Draco Malfoy looking down at her.
“Oh my—,”
“Her name,” Malfoy turned to Mrs Owens and smiled his charming, reserved-for-strangers-only smile, “is Hermione Granger.”
#dramione#post-hogwarts#a year in the countryside#hermione granger#draco malfoy#harry potter au#hermione x draco#draco x hermione#dramione au
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1, 7 for fanfic writer asks
Thank you so much for sending this in !!!! It really means a lot to me whenever I get an ask, so thank you for being a part of this amazing feeling I have and asking me stuff 💙
1. What’s your favorite character(s) to write for?
The answer should be simple, given the amount of fanfiction I have written for a specific fandom ( most of which is unfinished and thus, unpublished ), but it really is not. I love Dhruba and Tara, so, so much, to the point where I use them to play out different scenarios and scenes in my head - they are my sandbox. But !!! Writing wise, character wise, I had so much fun exploring Ashish's character arc, and nothing has been able to top that.
Ashish is a minor ( well, not exactly minor but not exactly major either ) negative character who is selfish with a capital S and cares for two people except himself, and is willing to go to great lengths to succeed in his plans. His lack of a conscious has been one of my favourite things because I could explore that side and make him a flippant observer to tragic events and not care about how that makes him look. And, the balance of his diabolical side and the side that actually cares about his family was very interesting to write about. I would have never thought I would like writing him.
But I do 💙
7. What story/headcanons do you feel the proudest of?
Headcanon-wise, this ranks near the top, although it uses a very loose definition of 'headcanon' and is more of a summary between a Canon character's relationship with my OC.
I am also quite proud of my version of the Deepti-Saikat back story which is angsty enough, but still realistic, and hopefully does not make a joke of things. Currently unpublished because there is a chance it will be included in the actual fanfictions I will eventually write, but if anyone would still like to give it a read, message me here and I'll send it over. Please praise me and my amazing writing skills.
Two minor headcanon things I am proud of, are a) Chandni's character arc, which I had headcanoned very, very early in the show, and it took a long time for them to get there, but they did go there and I felt so proud and happy to have 'predicted' it. b) I came up with an OC named Kush ( short for Kushal ) to pair opposite Mahi ( a minor character but one of my favourites ), and the show did get her a guy named Kush and I got a good kick out of it.
Other headcanons I am proud of include the two in this post, because Priyom comes to me in short spurts so I am happy to have something penned down about him. He is an interesting personality for sure, and he is mine, which automatically enters him in my special circle, but I don't know him that well and this imagery was strong and beautiful and I am proud of my moment of clarity with him. And of course, I am always and forever proud of whatever I do with Meghna, so here is the link to another one because she is my baby and I love her and I am going to put her name everywhere I deem fit, sorry, not sorry.
Writing wise, the diya scene is still at the top because it is very close to my heart. Unfortunately I can't find the link right this moment but it is all there in Google Docs so interested people just poke me here.
Out of the published works, I chose the Dhrubatara ones instead of the original prompts because hey, this is actually about fanfiction even though I have gushed about Meghna, a lot. Moving on - here are the two pieces I am really, REALLY proud of - Deepti's point of view and some insight into my interpretation of the character, and my perception of Anuja, who is just that, a concept, memories and feelings and thoughts, not whole, but an impression of a person.
Sorry this got so long and rambl-y, that's just who I am and at this point I have learnt to embrace it. I do, however, apologise for the lack of a readmore, but if I don't add them, people comment and tell me to add them so I get some extra number of notes and I am greedy.
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And The Saga Continues
By saga I mean me supervising this 'fake RbbSbb' account on twitter because I want to.
also Im going to separate the posts by day, if anything else happens I'll retweet and add it on this one. Tommorow its a separate post.
If you're intrested to see the first bit (two separate days in a post, one in which I found and then kept retweeting what happened after weeks (?) of not checking on it) (! I do reccomend reading the previous one)
so if you're intrested look up the tag #Fake-RbbSbb in my account.
-
Sooooo as expected our buddy changed his bio to 11, which supports my speculation that it was (obviously) a countdown to Louis' show.
nothing new on the following/pfp/header etc...
They did tweet some things, but I'll touch on that later, first off the likes: It seems they are continuously trying to raise attention towards Rbb (and Rbb only???) being back in two weeks by sending anonymous statements in peoples CCs.
Also they liked this HIV support tweet- and I found that sweet so im also adding it in, because aweareness is key.
aswell as replying back with their usual variation of two emojis:
No sign of Android anywhere, just WebApp™.
Now onto the tweets:
Just like with the 12 they posted yesterday, today they posted an 11. And I got curious to know where abouts they were setting the time to:
If whatever I triod to do here is too complicated (even I dont understand it lmao) basically:
In LA posting time would've been 23:29
In London posting time would've been: 07:29
so if they wanted to (and im speculating this because I did not check) update it on midnight lets say (or close to), then logically the tweet would've come from LA.
Now this thing which then tells us there will be a pattern of when they'll update the countdown
The thing I found weird right, is that they're doing a countdown (supposedly) to Louis' show. So why update on LA time?
Next thing they posted was this:
'Well Meet at the end of the Road' at a first glance you'd guess they're talking about the countdown.
But oh to know who Rudolph Valentino was...
I'll put some intresting quotes I found of him here, you can skip all of this if you want, I'll do a short resume at the end of the indented.
"He was a sex symbol of the 1920s, who was known in Hollywood as the Latin Lover (a title invented for him by Hollywood moguls), The Great Lover, or simply Valentino.[1] His premature death at the age of 31 caused mass hysteria among his fans and further propelled his status as a cultural film icon."
"The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse was released in 1921 and became a commercial and critical success" + "For his follow-up film, they forced him into a bit part in a B-film called Uncharted Seas.(1921)" + "Rambova, Mathis, Ivano, and Valentino began work on the Alla Nazimova film Camille.(1921)" + "Valentino's final film for Metro was the Mathis-penned 'The Conquering Power.(1921) "
thats 4 movies in a year!! Talk about overworked- (depending on how long they were)
"After quitting Metro, Valentino took up with Famous Players-Lasky, forerunner of the present-day Paramount Pictures, a studio known for films that were more commercially focused."
"Jesse L. Lasky intended to capitalize on the star power of Valentino, and cast him in a role that solidified his reputation as the "Latin lover"
"In The Sheik (1921), Valentino played the starring role of Sheik Ahmed Ben Hassan. The film was a major success and defined not only his career but his image and legacy."
"Famous Players produced four more feature-length films over the next 15 months" + "His leading role in Moran of the Lady Letty(1922) was of a typical Douglas Fairbanks nature" + "Valentino starred alongside Gloria Swanson in Beyond the Rocks(1922)" + "Valentino began work on another Mathis-penned film, Blood and Sand(1922)" + "During his forced break from Rambova, the pair began working separately on the Mathis-penned The Young Rajah(1922)"
15 months 4 movies. and again I will stress the 'capitalize the star power' over there.
Seems too familiar tbh.
"Missing Rambova, Valentino returned to New York after the release of The Young Rajah. They were spotted and followed by reporters constantly."
*cough* *cough* "spotted"
"During this time, Valentino began to contemplate not returning to Famous Players, although Jesse Lasky already had his next picture, The Spanish Cavalier, in preparation. After speaking with Rambova and his lawyer Arthur Butler Graham, Valentino declared a 'one-man strike' against Famous Players.[31]"
About the lawsuit:
"He was also upset over the broken promise of filming Blood and Sand in Spain, and the failure to shoot the next proposed film in either Spain or at least New York. Valentino had hoped while filming in Europe he could see his family, whom he had not seen in 10 years.[27]"
"In September 1922, he refused to accept paychecks from Famous Players until the dispute was solved, although he owed them money" + "Famous Players, in turn, filed suit against him.[33]"
"Valentino did not back down,[33] and Famous Players realized how much they stood to lose." + "the studio tried to settle by upping his salary" + "Variety erroneously announced the salary increase as a "new contract" before news of the lawsuit was released, and Valentino angrily rejected the offer.[31]"
"Valentino went on to claim that artistic control was more of an issue than the money." + "Famous Players made their own public statements deeming him more trouble than he was worth (the divorce, bigamy trials, debts) and that he was temperamental, almost diva-like. They claimed to have done all they could and that they had made him a real star.[33]
"Other studios began courting him." + "However, Famous Players exercised its option to extend his contract, preventing him from accepting any employment other than with the studio." + "Valentino filed an appeal, a portion of which was granted. Although he was still not allowed to work as an actor, he could accept other types of employment.[33]"
Return To The Movies
"Valentino returned to the United States in reply to an offer from Ritz-Carlton Pictures (working through Famous Players)" + "Rambova negotiated a two-picture deal with Famous Players and four pictures for Ritz-Carlton.[37] He accepted, turning down an offer to film an Italian production of Quo Vadis in Italy"
PERSONAL LIFE!!!!
"Valentino once told gossip columnist Louella Parsons that: "The women I love don't love me. The others don't matter". He claims that despite his success as a sex symbol that in his personal love life he never achieved happiness.[62]"
"Valentino impulsively married actress Jean Acker, who was involved with actresses Grace Darmond and Alla Nazimova. Acker became involved with Valentino in part to remove herself from the lesbian love triangle, quickly regretted the marriage, and locked Valentino out of their room on their wedding night."
"From the time he died in 1926 until the 1960s, Valentino's sexuality was not generally questioned in print.[67][68] At least four books, including the notoriously libelous Hollywood Babylon, suggested that he may have been gay despite his marriage to Rambova.[69][70][71][72][73] For some, the marriages to Acker and Rambova, as well as the relationship with Pola Negri, add to the suspicion that Valentino was gay and that these were "lavender marriages."
"Such books gave rise to claims that Valentino had a relationship with Ramón Novarro, despite Novarro stating they barely knew each other." + "These books also gave rise to claims that he may have had relationships with both roommates Paul Ivano and Douglas Gerrad, as well as Norman Kerry, and openly gay French theatre director and poet Jacques Hébertot." + "However, Ivano maintained that it was untrue and both he and Valentino were heterosexual.[24] Biographers Emily Leider and Allan Ellenberger generally agree that he was most likely straight"
like every historian would say: "they were just good friends"
"further supposed evidence that Valentino was gay; documents in the estate of the late author Samuel Steward indicated that Valentino and Steward were sexual partners.[77] However, evidence found in Steward's claim was subsequently found to be false, as Valentino was in New York on the date Steward claimed a sexual encounter occurred in Ohio."
- Via Wikipedia
These are the few quotes from his wekipedia page in which I literally gaped at...
So in short:
Sex Symbol who was an Actor
Got his image enhanced and exploited by his manager.
Constanly Overworked
Relationships used for PR (?)
Thought about leaving his management which led to a 'one man strike' and a lawsuit.
The lawsuit started off because of finantial reasons, but it was revealed it was more because of fucking creative freedom.
Management tried to reason with him, he didn't back down. And they continued to do so before an article of the 'lawsuit' was made public, he didn't accept any.
Management tried to paint Valentino as 'ungrateful' and that they were the reason he was a star.
When other people tried to get Valentino to work with/for them, his management stopped him by "threatening to extend the contract" (?) which prevented him from acting.
His sexuality was never really questioned due to the many relationships with woman he had (one which literally was a lesbian)
Lavender Marriages / PR marriages
After his death, speculation that he dated many men came up.
One even said they did the dEEd, but its impossible because they were both in separate countries duh, right? RIGhT????
The way we can literally compare this with Harry's situation (and maybe Louis' aswell!!!) is literally hurting my mind.
Also adding that @eyupdaisy is helping me a lot, kuddos to her aswell. She found this:
If you search the actual name of the post 'We will meet at the end of the trail' on google, this picture comes up
Which the HT account made a very lovely and subtle connection to it a few days ago
Guess well have to start lowkey monitoring them too? Or maybe just what they interact with the Mr.R acc...
wait- max images reached ;-;
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AAAH THANKS SO MUCH FOR ALL THE KIND WORKS YOU GUYS (and I'm so glad to have therapist approval haha!) , I'll try and write down a few things, but I will say that going in to something like that is highly personal to whatever you need. And while at an amazing place, there were a lot of horror stories from other institutions there, so I think its individual to everyone. That being said, I'll try and share the most helpful things I picked up!!
(I'm gonna tag this as... let's go with "Bird's Psych Adventure" lol so if this isn't your thing, I won't be offended if you filter that tag!!)
First and foremost, look up the locations near you. I had two options. One place had one star on Google Maps, and I had heard many unpleasant things about it, so I took a risk and went with the very new but highly praised place and that ended up being a good choice. They do have rules about these places like controlled release of information and stuff (basically, you can choose I think just one person who they can update your situation to. Anybody you didn't sign an agreement for can't get any info from them about how you're doing!!)
I read this article before going in, and found it helpful on a practical side. ^^
1. SOCIALIZE. I'm not kidding this is THE MOST IMPORTANT THING. The place I went to would let you hide, especially the first day, but they got a point; festering in your negative emotions will only make things worse. Start small, because it will be hard, but everybody else is in the same boat and there will always be those who have been there longer than you and can tell you the basics and what to do. And it keeps you out of your bad feelings and very distracted. They're gonna take away your phone, so you gotta find other ways to stay entertained haha. Even if its just doing crossword puzzles in crappy crayon in the common room. But whenever you can stay in said common room instead of your room, do it!! It helps you feel less trapped too.
2. Get outside, if you can. We had limited outdoor time, but they let us have sports stuff and I got to play Frisbee with a VERY PATIENT older gentleman who helped me learn to actually throw and not hit someone in the head. XD On a related note, they usually have showers and stuff you can basically use anytime, take advantage of that and take care of yourself. It's kind of the only way you can spoil yourself there, and it feels good to put time into feeling better about yourself. ;u; That being said, they got CRAAAP DEODERANT AND THAT GETS SUPER ANNOYING SO SHOWERS ARE GREAT.
3. Breathing exercises are super crucial to keep calm, and it's easy to get homesick and upset about the situation. But the good thing is it does make you appreciate what you have when you go back in a way you will never reach without the experience. Take the time to self-evaluate and plan for simple stuff you'll do when you go back. I focused on thinking about renovating my room to make it a safer place for myself and sorting through my stuff. And don't plan for other people, plan for you, you're all you can control and while its EXTREMELY HARD to let go of your limited control of others, focus on you and what you need for you. <33 Reach out to those you love, but as someone told me there, have no expectations of what they say, and if they dont say something that's helpful or worse, say something uncalled for, ignore them. Those that matter won't mind, and those who mind won't matter. <3
4. They'll put you on meds to help, and you gotta tell them whether they're helping or not. If its making it worse, they want to know so they can help!! And eventually you should find meds that WILL help!
5. I know it doesn't help for everyone, but it helps me to think "five years from now, this hard moment won't matter and I'll be strong enough to move past it". Try not to say "I'm trying..." but "I CAN BE" or even better "I AM" AND GIVE YOURSELF POSITIVE TRAITS. If you deem yourself negative, you'll be negative, you can be better than that, you can be whoever you want and YOU ARE AWESOME AND WORTH IT DANG IT I WILL PERSONALLY FITE U AND TELL U SO DANG IT. <3333
6. The most important lesson I learned was "where did I get these doubts? Could I have learned wrong?" That's not how it was phrased exactly, but basically that you don't deserve these awful doubts and can KICK THEIR BUTT.
7. They should give you a journal, use it to put your feelings out there in a protected way and process them. My biggest stressor was a couple family members are big time triggers of mine and it helped me to write a letter to them that I never gave them because I was able to say "I don't care, I'm gonna work on my own life" but its still a big struggle.
TLDR; these people want to help you, but only you can help yourself. They aren't trying to """fix""" you, they want you to be the best you that you can be. You can do it, believe in yourself and you can get through this!!! I pray you can overcome any struggles you have, I believe in you even if I don't personally know you YOU GUYS ARE ALL AMAZING AND ILU AND I HOPE THIS POST IS AT LEAST VAGUELY HELPFUL IM SORRY IF ITS NOT BCOSHFBCKSBF
#bird's psych adventures#bird rambles#anon Im lookin right atchu i believe in you ten thousand percent i dont even care that i may not know you personally#we can all get through these hard times#RAWR MEANS ILU IN DINOSAUR#RAWRAWRAWR
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Title: I don’t usually give in to peer pressure (But I’ll give in to yours)
Pairing: Staubrey
Chapters: 1/1
Wordcount: 2902
Summary: Brooklyn Nine-Nine AU (Inspired by episode 1x13 “The Bet”)
Aubrey Posen loses a bet with fellow detective Stacie Conrad, resulting in being forced into the "worst date ever" with her, but things turn out better than she expects.
And maybe there's something there between them...
As Stacie Conrad knelt on one knee in front of her, presenting a ring in a blue box, Aubrey didn’t know if she had ever felt this humiliated.
She was supposed to win this dumb bet of solving more felonies than Conrad, and prove once and for all that she was the better detective. (And also take Stacie’s prized 1994 Mustang in the process.) But somehow, Conrad managed to run a prostitution ring and snag five extra felonies with an hour to spare of their deadline. So instead of holding her head up in triumph, Aubrey slumped her shoulders in defeat, awaiting her fate with an extremely bruised ego.
“Will you go on the worst date ever with me? You have to say yes.” Stacie grinned up at her.
“Yes.” She muttered, looking anywhere but at the woman in front of her.
“She said yes!”
The bullpen burst into hollers and applause, and music blasted from some boombox dug out for who knew where. Justin Timberlake’s “Can’t Stop the Feeling!” filled the room as everyone but Aubrey celebrated her misery.
This had to be the worst day of her life.
Continue reading on Ao3 or below
Aubrey groaned when she heard the firm knocks on her apartment door at 7 pm. She shifted her dress one last time before prying the door open.
Stacie stood smiling in the doorway, wearing a medium length black dress that perfectly accentuated her cleavage. (Not that Aubrey was looking there.) She held a bouquet of roses, and gave Aubrey an immediate once over. “I was right, hot pink does look dashing on you. Though I think the person in the dress is what makes the color hot…”
Aubrey rolled her eyes. “I look like freaking Elle Woods. Do I seriously have to wear this the entire night?”
“Yes ma’am. Though you might get to have it off early if you play your cards right.” Stacie teased with a wink.
Aubrey rolled her eyes again.
Stacie grinned and handed over the roses. “For you.”
“Conrad, you know I don’t like flowers. They’re wasteful and impractical and as my father always says—“
“Yes yes of course but a lady deserves her flowers.” Stacie interrupted. “Now let us go lest us be late to our celebration at the bar.”
“Are you going to speak like you’re from thirteenth century time the entire night, or?”
Stacie merely tutted at the jab and led her to her car parked across the street, pausing before the passenger door.
“Oh and there is one rule of the night. Break it at your own risk.” Stacie said solemnly, and Aubrey quirked her eyebrows. “No matter what happens… you aren’t allowed to fall in love with me.” Stacie deadpanned.
“Won’t be a problem.” Aubrey replied with equal inexpression.
“Great.” Stacie brightened and opened the passenger side door. “Into the car now m’lady, we’ve got a date to begin!”
They made pleasant small talk on the drive to the bar. Aubrey briefly worried if their “date” setting would make things awkward, but they quickly fell into familiar banter. Besides the excessively floral and pink dress she was forced to wear, the date was far from being the worst she’s ever been on.
They arrived at Barden’s, the de facto hang out spot of the ninety ninth precinct, and as Aubrey went off to the bathroom (after asking permission, and Stacie cheekily giving it), Stacie found a spot next to her fellow detective of the nine-nine, Cynthia Rose, at the bar.
“So how’s the date going with you and Posen?”
“Well, I’ve got a lot on the list.” Stacie began counting off on her fingers. “After hanging here for a bit, we’re going to Times Square and taking pictures with every single person in costume there. Hoping to see lots of cookie monsters. Then, we’re having dinner at a super fancy Italian place but we’ll be bringing our own bottle of wine, which was the cheapest I could find at the corner store, and is even labeled as ‘wine drink’. Finally, a night walking tour where I will ask our guide loads of dumb questions and say they’re all from Aubrey.”
Cynthia Rose narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “That’s a lot of effort and money going into quote unquote, ‘the worst date ever.’”
Stacie shrugged. “I’ll only have this one chance to make her do anything I want.” She frowned. “Wait, that sounded wrong.”
“Or,” Cynthia Rose mused. “You’re taking this as your one chance to romance her…Oh my god.” Realization dawned on her. “You still have a crush on Posen!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Stacie found it was a perfect time to look at her nails.
“You still have a crush on her after two years? I thought you were past that. Girl, you are so gone.”
CR looked pointedly at Stacie in silent challenge while she continued not to make any eye contact. They stayed like that for a moment before Stacie broke.
“Okay fine you caught me! Yes I still like her and it’s not like she’s the easiest person to ask on a date.” She threw her hands up in surrender.
“So instead, you just talk about all your dates loudly, mess with her entire organization system, and engage in various bets with her? That’s some real playground stuff, Conrad. You’ve never been the type to pine over someone, so what’s gotten you pulling on the reins with this one?”
Stacie snatched CR’s beer from the counter and took a swig. “Well, Aubrey’s not just someone.”
Cynthia Rose’s smile grew. “Yeah, you’ve got it so bad…”
“Shut up.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Stacie saw Aubrey return from the bathroom and immediately jumped up. “Love to continue chatting CR, but got a date to humiliate.” Stacie said, emphasizing the last word.
“You mean, romance.” CR muttered into her beer that she took back, but Stacie was already gone.
She grabbed Aubrey’s hand, dragging her up onto the mini stage at the front of the bar, despite her protests. Stacie stepped up to the mic propped up on a stand, tapping it to test if it was on. Satisfied, she stood up straight to address the crowd of her fellow coworkers.
“Welcome everyone, to Barden’s inaugural karaoke night!” Stacie announced, and Aubrey whipped her head to look at her in mortification.
“No you didn’t.”
Stacie grinned wickedly. “All songs tonight with be duets with our lovely Aubrey Posen here as your partner. And so, we will be starting off the night with me and her singing ‘Love Is An Open Door’ from Frozen.”
Cheers erupted as the unmistakable opening notes of the song started, and Stacie passed an extra mic to Aubrey. “You’re Hans! Don’t miss your entrance!”
Stacie started speaking on her cue. “Okay, can I just say something crazy?”
“You’re the worst.”
“Not the words, do better.” Stacie quickly said before her next lines. “All my life has been a series of doors in my face. And then suddenly I bump into you.”
Aubrey resigned with a dramatic sigh. “I was thinking the same thing! Cause like…”
Stacie was pleasantly surprised when Aubrey started singing, as she was actually really good. She made a mental note to ask about it later, and also to tease her that the resident “no-fun-allowed” Posen knew all the words to the Disney song.
Just as Stacie was about to start the second song (she queued up “Take Me Or Leave Me” from Rent), she heard a “Conrad!” calling from her side.
“Chloe, tag in!” She shouted to her friend as she jumped off the stage and walked over to see what her captain wanted.
“What’s up?”
“One of your informants called about a shipment happening tonight, and since it’s your case, I’m going to need you to stake out the spot.”
Stacie flashed through all the date ideas she still had planned (“how romantic” Cynthia Rose’s voice echoed annoyingly in her head) and hesitated. “Normally Captain, I’d be all down for this but I really was counting on a night of making Aubrey miserable, and I think rescheduling it would lose the first date magic.”
Gail looked unimpressed. “This isn’t up for negotiation.”
“Well, as long as I can bring Posen with me.”
Gail nodded. “Just get it done.”
Stacie turned around to Aubrey singing a duet of “For Good” with Chloe, looking like she was maybe enjoying herself despite her pinched face. “Darling! Duty calls!”
Aubrey cut off a high note with a relieved “Oh thank god” and hurried off the stage, following Stacie to the exit.
“I didn’t know you could actually sing.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
They sat in Stacie’s car, observing the entrance of the warehouse in front of them, watching for any movement that might be deemed suspicious. Aubrey finally got to change out of the hideous pink dress and into her spare blouse and dress pants at the precinct, denying Stacie’s offer for the clothes stashed in her car’s trunk.
(“Those are the clothes you’re choosing to change into? When I gave you sweatpants and sweatshirts as options?? I’ll just wear them myself then.”)
“Like how you’re also apparently a closet Disney fan?” Stacie teased.
“I have some taste what can I say?” Aubrey shrugged.
They settled back into quiet, just looking ahead, comfortable in each others presence.
“Hey, can you pass me my binoculars? I think they might in the glovebox.”
Aubrey opened the compartment, and reached in to lift the binoculars to give to Stacie, who put them right to her eyes.
Still curious about what kind of things might be in her coworker’s car, Aubrey snooped through the glovebox, riffling through what seemed like important documents and insurance cards, and finding a massive bundle of something bound together with rubber bands.
Stacie looked over in mild panic at the sound of rustling papers. “Oh wait, don’t look through…that.”
Aubrey took out the object, eyebrows raises in inquiry. “Why do you just have a batch of pens in your car?”
Stacie turned back forward, and Aubrey could have sworn she saw a blush rise on Stacie’s cheeks as she put the binoculars back to her face.
“Just in case the roses actually went super poorly, I’d have a backup plan. Since you like that brand of pen in all those colors, or something.” Stacie said defensively.
“You noticed what kind of pens I like.” Aubrey stated, impressed.
“I’m a detective, I wouldn’t be qualified for my job if I didn’t.”
Aubrey smiled softly. “For the record, I actually did appreciate the roses. That was actually pretty romantic.”
“Shut up.” Stacie retorted for the second time that night, but with no malice. “Hey I think I see a door open to that building over there, wanna look if we can get to the roof for a better view?”
Aubrey squinted. “Looking at your car from this far away, is it red or orange?”
They sat on a stack of wooden planks as their roof lookout spot. Stacie was right, it was a much better vantage point than her car; they were able to get a wider view of the area.
Stacie chuckled. “It’s technically red, but the idiot I paid to do the paint job didn’t do so great, so it’s been peeling steadily forever, and thus you can see the orange under.”
Aubrey looked sternly at Stacie. “Your car still has manual roll up windows. And whenever I’m not hearing about the new date you’ve taken in the car, inappropriately at work I might add, I’m hearing about you bringing it to the shop again. It probably breaks down every month, why do you keep it around?"
Stacie was silent for a minute before slowly starting to answer.
“I have two older brothers, one of which is a doctor, and the other an engineer, and each of them probably make about five times my salary now.” Stacie admitted. “Before joining the police force, I figured that was the kind of thing that I should do, and it was what my parents wanted me to do. So, I originally went to school for chemical engineering, and got a job out graduation at Boston Scientific doing research, but it didn’t really feel right, so I quit after a year and enrolled in the academy.”
“That’s quite a big jump.” Aubrey remarked. “Why police specifically?”
“I watched a bunch of police and crime dramas growing up and always thought they were super cool. And I dunno,” she shrugged. “I guess I wanted to help people too, not just work where I’d make the most money.”
“Noble cause.” Aubrey said, genuinely meaning it.
“And I bought the car when I got my first police paycheck, as a kind of ‘fuck you’ to my family, since they weren’t exactly the most supportive with my choice.” Stacie turned to face Aubrey. “I’m assuming my Mustang has nothing on that sleek Subaru of yours, were you gonna just torch it?”
“Nope.” Aubrey popped the ‘p’ at the end of the word. “I was going to test out if it actually is a chick magnet, since I’m not sure if the rumors are true…” she teased.
Stacie put a hand on her heart in mock offense. “How dare you! I can give you plenty of proof thank you very much.”
“Okay, disgusting.”
Stacie laughed, a wonderful sound to Aubrey’s ears. “I wasn’t even thinking there, for once.” She looked thoughtful. “What about you? Why’d you go into police work? Your dad?”
Everyone knew New York Police Commissioner Posen. “He wants me to be commissioner like him someday,” Aubrey sighed. “But lately, I’m not sure that’s something I want. Like, he was never home when I was growing up, and when—if I have a family someday, I think I’d want to actually spend time with them. I want to make it to captain someday, but further from that I don’t have any plans.” She confessed, then looked apologetic. “Sorry that’s not really something I’ve ever really talked about with anyone.”
Stacie put her hand over Aubrey’s, the support grounding her. “I really appreciate you telling me. I honestly do.”
And suddenly Aubrey realized just how close they were, hands touching and faces just inches apart. She thought she saw Stacie’s eyes flicker down to her lips, but before she can contemplate it any further, they’re jolted out of their reverie by the sound of tires on the concrete nine stories below. They pull apart immediately, and Aubrey weirdly felt a loss of the warmth of Stacie’s hand on hers.
“Shit,” Stacie mutters under her breath, shaking her head as if to brush off some intruding thought.
Aubrey felt the similar need to clear cobwebs from her mind. Was the date real? Was Stacie about to…
“You good there Posen?” Aubrey looked over to see Stacie with her hand out. Did she want to hold hands…?
“I asked for the binocs?”
Right. Of course. The binoculars. Professional setting.
She handed them over and Stacie peered through them at the truck below, now with a couple of men filing out the front.
“Those look like our guys. Wanna go bust them?”
“Does Pilot sell fountain pens? What’s the plan?”
“I’m going to take that as a yes. Follow my lead.”
They arrested the two guys without problem, catching them off guard by pretending to be a lost, slightly tipsy, couple. After bringing them in, as it was late, they decided to just head home instead of rejoining everyone at Barden’s.
Stacie followed Aubrey up the stairs to her apartment, one hand on her lower back over her blouse. It pulled away once they got to their destination though, and Aubrey immediately missed the contact.
“You know you don’t have to walk with me to my door, I’m not going to get snatched in the five steps from your car.” Aubrey said in amusement.
“You never know! And also it’s just date etiquette.”
“Wasn’t this supposed to be the worst date ever?” Aubrey’s eyebrow quirked.
“Some rules can’t be broken even for bad dates.”
“Like walking someone back to their door.”
“Exactly.”
Aubrey actually had a much better night than she expected, not that she would admit it. It might have helped that the stakeout cut off any of Stacie’s other plans, probably each more humiliating than singing musical duets in front of all her coworkers.
“Right, and speaking of rules,” Stacie started in a serious tone, “did you manage to follow the only one of tonight?” Aubrey looked confused, so she continued. “The one where you can’t fall in love with me.”
“Ah yes,” Aubrey nodded in solemn recognition. “Of course. It was really hard, but I think I managed.”
A flash of emotion (disappointment?) flickered on Stacie’s face but quickly disappeared. “Well, good.” She glanced at her watch. “And, it’s officially past midnight, so I guess you’re off the hook, Posen. See you at work Monday.” Before Aubrey could react, Stacie placed a soft kiss to her cheek, and whispered a “bye” a hairbreadth away from Aubrey’s mouth, pairing it with the sweetest smile, before turning and walking back to her car.
As Aubrey watched Stacie’s back get smaller, she brought a hand to where Stacie’s lips touched, the skin seemingly electrified.
Maybe she did break the “not falling in love” rule.
#two days late sorry!!#Staubrey Week#Staubrey Week 2019#Day 3#Workplace AU#Stacie Conrad#Aubrey Posen#Pitch Perfect#fic#mine
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Kreative Writes:
I have struggled to find something to write about that others would find interesting enough to devote their time to reading. It's not easy in today's day and age with all the other flashy, shiny, and more interesting shit that is plastered around every corner we take. I know that if I wish to gain a following I need to step up my content, and give people something to chew on that is worth dedicating their time to.
The truth is it's hard to do that. Catering to an audience of people with content that has substance and can capture the imagination, and persuade them to come back for the next installment is a gift, ... a talent in every sense of the word.
Struggling is something that comes quite easily to me. I've done quite a bit of it throughout my life. I've struggled to find my identity, my individuality. I struggle in my relationships because I tend to run away from my problems because of a complete lack of healthy coping skills. I've struggled with drug addiction and alcoholism since I was a teen. I mean the list goes on and on.
My extreme self-awareness leaves me with no excuses as to why I'm not dealing with these negative forces in my life. If you know what the problem is, and you don't remedy it, are you ultimately asserting a form of complacency and compliance?
Yes, and no. I don't believe it's all that simple. The gray area is too vast, the questions regarding the formation of these character defects are not concrete and thus leave me searching for evidence-based explanations. I know that it's my responsibility to find the answers but knowing where to begin searching is yet another personal struggle I face.
With that said, I feel like perhaps writing about my experiences and sharing them with people I've never met, who don't know me personally, well, maybe it will help me find whatever it is that I'm looking for. I've used writing in my past as a form of therapy, a way of taking my fears and anxieties and dumping them out onto the page. Getting them out in the open so they aren't locked up inside of my head, trapped by an unwillingness to let others know that I'm feeling that way.
Yes, I am guilty of not wanting to show any signs of weakness or fear. It's a fear of forfeiting my respect from others like I'm admitting that I can't do things on my own. I almost feel as if my independence is at stake like I'll be viewed as incapable of taking care of myself.
I know it sounds fucking crazy but my issues with this are deeply rooted in my mother's mental illness and watching her get stripped of her freedom, her children, her entire world, and having to be hospitalized until she was deemed fit to return to society. I developed a terrible fear of having a similar situation happening to me and as a result, I shied away from showing any kind of inclination that I might need help with my problems, and I certainly was not going to see a shrink or have anything to do with services for mental health.
I distanced myself completely citing reasons like " I don't want to take medication that might make me feel worse" or "those doctors are full of shit and don't care about your problems, they're just looking to push meds on you for the pharmaceutical companies and get their kickbacks". Truth be told, I was petrified that if I did go see a mental health professional they might actually find something was wrong with me, and then I would have to deal with that being my new reality.
In my skewed and twisted thought process, I couldn't risk being labeled as crazy. So as you can see my issues are deep-seated and rooted in fear.
I turned internalization and avoidance into an art form, and is a running theme throughout my life. More on that at a later date. Ok, so we've covered a good amount of stuff, and I feel like this blog might do at the least 1 of 3 things.
1) it could be a great way to just get some much-needed relief from the insecurities that I harbor even now in my mid-thirties.
2) put out some content that might help someone else that's dealing with some similar issues, which is great if that's the outcome.
3) this blog might be interesting enough to gain readership and hey why would I complain about that. So that's all for now, I'm off to have what's sure to be a looong weekend. Enjoy yours! ✍🏻
#mysocalledlife#tuelife#honest#noguffchet#autobiographical#bloggingwithintent#mystory#darkthoughts#ratedR#recovering addict
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