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jazzhandsmcleg · 2 months ago

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how to deal with door-to-door canvassers during political campaign season (and any other time of year)

hello, fellow USAmericans. as you may know (mild sarcasm), the presidential election is now slightly over one month away. political canvassers of all stripes began ramping up their campaigns last month, and this month things will get even more hectic.

I worked as a door-to-door canvasser for a political nonprofit for a few weeks last month! while that certainly doesn't make me an expert, I haven't seen anyone more knowledgeable about how canvassing works make a post like this, so...I'm here to do what I can.

bear in mind that this is mostly geared toward nonprofit and political door-to-door canvassing in the USA, but some of it applies to general canvassers and probably to some other countries too.

before we get into it: for those who just want to know the fastest way to get rid of a canvasser at your door without going into a readmore: it's either a) don't answer your door (even if we can see you through your window! you are under no obligation) or b) say "no thank you" and then close your door. we don't consider it rude and will in fact thank you for saving us both time and energy. that being said, please be polite!

and now, the full guide, beginning with:

the walkup.

first of all, be aware that canvassing can happen across a wide range of days and times. where I live, canvassing is allowed until 9pm if you can believe that. we only went til 8pm, but that's still very late in this part of the country. usually we were a M-F enterprise, but weekends are now on the table as the election nears, and of course religious canvassers and business canvassers will have their own models for when they come to your place.

canvassers will assess your house for loose dogs in the yard, "no trespassing" signs, "no soliciting" signs, locked gates, and the like.

generally canvassers will open simple latches. canvassers generally-to-always will NOT remove locks even if they are not fastened.

non-profit, political, and religious canvassers are allowed to ignore "no soliciting" signs because they are not asking for your money (assuming the political canvassers aren't fundraising, anyhow); people who want you to pay them to trim your trees or mow your lawn or whatever are not allowed to ignore these.

"no trespassing" signs are a little tougher. I made another post about it here.

that post also covers more ornate signs that say things like "no charities, no religion, no sales, no nothing. go away, my dog hates you and so do I", though those are a bit more of a grey area. suffice to say the more of them there are, the less likely we are to knock on your door.

however, the bottom line is that all of this varies slightly by jurisdiction so be sure to check your local bylaws. canvassers must go by the letter of the law so make sure that what you're putting on your front door will get you the intended effect. yes, this sometimes means ignoring your two dozen "no soliciting" signs.

the knock/the ring.

most canvassers only try a door twice. that can be one doorbell ring and one knock, two knocks, whatever. some try it three times. no one I worked with wanted to waste their time any more than that. we have quotas to hit and if you're not answering, you're not answering.

that being said, sometimes the same canvasser or a different canvasser from the same organization will come back around a few hours or even days later. if we come back on the same day, it's probably because our numbers are low or we finished early and we want to keep trying. if we come back on a different day, it might be a follow-up to the original visit or it might be a completely new topic they want to talk to you about. we always appreciate it a lot when people are willing to entertain repeat visits.

remember that you are under no obligation to answer the door. in fact, if you're just going to be nasty to us because we ignored your "no soliciting" sign, we prefer that you don't open the door. it saves all of us time and energy.

this includes if we made eye contact through the window, if you were actually in your garage or yard or car and you saw us as we walked up, anything like that. some canvassers are going to be more proactive than others in trying to engage with you in these cases. walk deeper into the house; close the garage door; pretend you don't see or hear us; whatever. canvassers don't care and won't hold it against you even if they are one of the more proactive types!

the contact: part 1 (intro).

often canvassers have a little mini speech they have to get through to introduce themselves and what they're doing on your doorstep before they'll actually get around to asking you their questions/offering to sell you whatever/handing you a pamphlet.

we try to keep this as short as possible because we know no one wants to be stuck on a doorstep forever, feel free to ask us to get to the chase if you're busy or what have you. we will usually oblige.

similarly, we try to keep it short because we know that other people from other organizations might have been here recently to ask you the exact same things and you're tired of it. if this is the case, we appreciate your patience and willingness to engage with us even if you've already done this rigmarole three times this week.

don't be surprised if people know your name and some of your information. for example, because they were a nonprofit, the canvassing company I worked for had access to the voter rolls. also don't be surprised if they have the information for the previous resident, especially if you live in an apartment. our information was often out of date by a couple of years.

the contact: part 2 (the sell).

if you don't want to answer the questionnaire, talk religion, or have your gutters cleaned, a polite "no thank you" and the immediate closing of your door will get rid of all but the sleaziest of canvassers.

you don't owe us anything more than that, and we will thank you for not wasting our time!

when I was canvassing, I was instructed to keep talking until I hear three hard "no"s or until I hear the click of a latch, so closing the door on us really is the fastest and easiest way to get rid of us. otherwise we will take your objections seriously (i.e. we will assume you are not lying to us to try and get away) and do our best to overcome them, thus wasting your time and ours.

whether or not you want to engage with the canvasser and whatever they're talking about, please bear in mind that a lot of us have quotas to hit if we want to keep our jobs. your taking two minutes out of your day to answer three questions or hear our our sales pitch or whatever will help us with that, and we appreciate it even if you're brusque or in a hurry or we don't personally agree with your opinions. we're really not there to judge you or throw your day out of whack. we're just there to do our jobs and get paid.

if you really want to go above and beyond for the canvasser and their job, we may have bonuses attached to optional-but-preferred things like signing up a newsletter or what have you. giving out your email address, even if it's a fake one or you unsubscribe immediately upon receiving your first letter, can be very helpful.

granted, there's less at stake for volunteer (some political and most religious) canvassers, but there's not always an easy way to tell those apart. do what you gotta do, really, but be aware that it may matter quite a bit to us.

and that's it! I understand that there can be a lot of distrust for door-to-door salespeople and canvassers, and I also definitely understand why, but it really doesn't have to be painful. again, even if you absolutely hate whatever it is they're trying to get you to do, a simple "no thank you" and closing your door will solve the problem 95% of the time. (2.5% of the rest of the time it may be a predatory canvasser who will continue to bother you, and 2.5% of the time it's a targeted campaign and the canvasser has to confirm your identity before they'll take no as an answer, so they'll be back to try again later.)

other do's and don't's:

do consider offering canvassers something to drink or a snack if you have any to spare, or the use of your bathroom if you really hit it off with someone. canvassing is often hot and sweaty/cold and damp work with unpleasant hours, and individual canvassers aren't always well looked-after (especially if they're volunteers)!

similarly, do consider offering to let a canvasser wait out a storm on your porch.

do remember that canvassers are people just like you, and that you live in a society that requires you to put up with behavior from other people that you don't like from time to time.

if you have a barking dog, do consider stepping outside of your house to speak with us. it'll be faster and easier.

don't ask us to touch or interact with your mailbox for any reason. it's a federal offense.

don't be an ass!

Thanks for reading. :)

#Jazz notes #current events #politics #half-relatedly and half to get this into the appropriate venues #USA #USAmerican politics #US politics #American politics #canvassing #get out the vote #election 2024 #election2024

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foundfamilynonsense · 3 years ago

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Ok but in the Ahsoka leaves the order arc… Ahsoka was in the wrong.

Ahsoka is my favorite character but like, she was wrong. She was wrong to escape and she was wrong to run around and try to solve this by herself and the reason she did it is probably because Anakin taught her some bad lessons.

Honestly I feel like the whole fandom suffers from Main Character Bias in this arc like. If it were Barriss seen doing all that (video footage of her seemingly force choking that woman, escaping prison and running into the undercity and being found next to a shit ton of evidence) no one would blink at the order expelling her in order to be judged by the courts. The only issue people have is that she’s a main character and we like her and know she didn’t do it.

Like the only real issue I had with it is that if Ahsoka had done it she would have done it Better than this. And the council should know that. Ahsoka wouldn’t be this stupid if she had actually blown up the temple. But like. What is the council supposed to think?

Everyone’s like “they knew ahsoka they should have known she couldn’t do that” but like they also knew Barriss. They also knew Krell. They knew it had to be a jedi and they trusted every jedi. And they didn’t even find her guilty. They just said you have to face trial without us. And then when she was found innocent at the trial they welcomed her back.

Mace was kinda an ass saying it could all be looked at as some big test like :/ yikes ok. But that’s still only one line and it’s a stupid ass line so I’ve elected to ignore it.

However, I do think Ahsoka was right to leave. Not because she would do better as a “grey Jedi” (not a thing, completely fandom made). Or that the Jedi were corrupt and whatever. But because she realized she couldn’t understand what being a Jedi was during war time which is valid.

Like, she was angry at the council. I believe that anger was not justified but hey sometimes you just get angry. She was wronged, and even though it was, at least partially, due to her own actions, she’s still allowed to be angry about it. And she obviously just couldn’t figure out how to let go of it.

So what were her options? Go back to the order and pretend she’s not angry? No! That’s why Anakin fell you can’t just shove your emotions down. Or she could leave and figure herself out. Go back after the war was over and try to learn what being a Jedi actually is during peace time. She legit gave up power because her emotions were getting the better of her and I think that makes her the best example of someone who uses the light side of the force.

I think a lot of her contradictions were from having Anakin as a master. Anakin loved her, and was good to her, but he did not understanding the emotional side of being a Jedi. And therefore couldn’t quite teach it to Ahsoka.

Remember how in the Mortis arc Ashoka’s older self tells her “you may never see your future if you remain his student” and “there are seeds of the dark side in you planted by your master” like yes exactly. Ahsoka handled this whole “being framed” thing very badly. Because she assumed this is how Anakin would have done it. She had assumed the key card had been left by Anakin. And afterwards she was obviously really, really angry. Which… she also got from Anakin. So she took her older self’s advice and she LEFT.

Like damn what a good character arc for her. Understanding her own flaws and weaknesses and realizing she needs to step away? Like that’s a Good. Thing. Hot damn.

And we see bits and pieces of how the council respects her for her decision. Obi-Wan let’s her take half the 501st to Mandalore even though there’s literally been an attack on coruscant. Yoda and Mace welcome her into a Jedi war meeting and ask her if she’s planning on rejoining. They don’t tell her everything but damn they probably wouldn’t have anyway she was just a padawan and this is kinda big shit.

I just… love Ashoka’s arc ok? I love it. The fact that she was definitely planning to go back, too? So good. And I get annoyed that people take all of Ashoka’s agency away, let her go guilt free “she did nothing wrong the council was bad owo” and therefore take a lot of the self discovery aspects out of her leaving the order. I think it hurts Ashoka’s character more than it hurts the council.

And like, I know filoni wrote this as a “the jedi council is wrong” like whenever he talks about it but fuck that. Yeah they were wrong, I guess, in the sense that Ahsoka wasn’t guilty but I feel like we’re once again blaming the council for not knowing something it was literally impossible for them to know. Like Obi-Wan says in season seven, yeah the council isn’t always right. They’re not gods. Imagine how angry people would be if they had caught Barriss in the beginning and decided to stand by her despite evidence against her? Imagine if they did that with Krell? They can’t win.

Anyway, please respect all of Ahsoka’s arc of making mistakes and learning and growing from them because it’s amazing and so is she. Leave the council alone they’ve done nothing to you. Ok thanks.

#ahsoka tano #meta #my meta #star wars #clone wars #the clone wars #in defense of the jedi #jedi order #pro jedi

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fandomlovingfreak · 3 years ago

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Glacial Passion (3/?)

Regulus Black/Reader

Rating: Lemon, 18+

Trigger Warning: Arranged Marriage, talk of potential pregnancy

Word Count: 2461

MasterList Link I AO3 Link I Wattpad Link

Summary: Glacial, cold, icy… all words that described Regulus Black’s grey eyes. Was there truly no emotion behind those eyes, or did a caring man exist beneath? Could she defrost those glacial eyes?

Disclaimer: Regulus Black (Walburga Black, Orion Black, and Sirius Black) is a character from Harry Potter by J.K. Rowling. Reader or y/n is not owned by Rowling. This work has not been created for profit or financial compensation, and is a transformative fair use work in accordance with Section 107 of the United States Copyright Act.

Notes: Chapter three! I thought this entire fic would be around three chapters, but we're not even close to done yet!

Enjoy

The guest room isn't so bad. He becomes very acquainted with the unused room as his wife had elected to ignore him for the foreseeable future.

After the fourth night that he'd slept and attended meals with his parents without (y/n), Walburga brings up the absence of his wife in her own special way . "You cannot sleep in a different room than your wife."

Regulus holds back from rolling his eyes, "you and father do not share a bedroom."

Walburga's ever-present frown deepens, "We already have a son."

Even after all these years, he hates that she pretends Sirius never existed.

"So this is about sex," he wipes his mouth with his napkin.

"It is."

"These things don't happen overnight."

"They don't happen if you do not participate in the happening," Walburga taps her manicured fingernails on the table.

"What do you want me to do? I can't force her to sleep with me." Besides, if they did continue to have sex, he will unquestionably use contraceptive charms to ensure his wife did not conceive.

Walburga studies his face, "If you do not try, you will not see success."

In an attempt to change the subject, he blurts out, "She is miserable here--"

"She will be content soon. Once she has the first child."

Orion takes this opportunity to speak up, "possibly you should take your new wife out of the country."

"Out of the country?" Regulus frowns.

"Take her out of this house on your honeymoon. Maybe visit Paris. It couldn't hurt after the past few days."

Honeymoon... he was hoping that he could avoid taking (y/n) on one of those. But, if Orion thinks this could make (y/n) happy... well, he supposes he can sacrifice the time.

***

Walburga catches him before he can make his way out of the dining room.

"You must not cast those charms any longer."

Regulus would rather his mother not tell him he can and cannot use contraceptives...

"Who says I did?"

Walburga squints angrily, "Next time you do your duty as the next Master of the house, make sure you give your seed time to take hold within your wife."

He draws his lips into a tight line, turning to leave the conversation before it became any more invasive.

No promises would be made to his mother or anyone else over the use of contraceptive charm. There was no need for a child in this present time. Things of that nature could wait.

***

"What are you doing here?" (y/n) asks when he walks into their shared bedroom.

"It's nice to see you too, wife."

She rolls her eyes, turning back to her novel.

"You were not at dinner tonight." Regulus unbuttons the top of his shirt.

"I wasn't hungry," she says without looking up from the book.

Regulus continues to undress, removing the cufflinks from his dress shirt.

"Mother was wondering where you were."

"I'm sure she was."

He watches her for a moment. "We will be leaving soon."

(y/n) looks at him confused, "Who will?"

"You and I."

"Leaving where?"

"On our... honeymoon."

"What do you mean?"

Regulus bites the inside of his cheek, "I'm taking you to Paris on our honeymoon."

"Honeymoon..." (y/n) looks like she's contemplating giving him a flat-out no.

"I can tell you are tired of the house. The apartments I've secured are much lighter than Grimmauld Place. Moreover, it has an excellent view of the city."

"I don't know..."

Regulus steps forwards, taking her hand in his. "Just spare two weeks at the least." The pad of his thumb rubs underneath the ring on her left hand. He's secretly pleased to see she has not taken it off despite the state of their relationship currently.

"Regulus," (y/n) tries to move away from him.

"Please," he breathes out the word, "please, I'm trying."

(y/n) analyzes his face, "what would we do in Paris?"

"I could think of many things we could do."

She doesn't respond to his suggestive words.

"Is that a yes?"

"I'll think about it."

"We're leaving tomorrow. I've already made the arrangements."

"You can't just-- just--"

"I thought you'd be happy to get out of the house."

She sighs, her fingers worrying the dark fabric of her skirts, "Ok."

"Excellent," he brings her hand up to his lips, "I look forward to sharing your bed again, Mistress Black."

***

Dressed in a violet dress, I stick out, standing next to my in-laws and husband. Which is fine by me. I rather stick out than look like I'm a part of a funeral precession every damned day .

"Are you ready?" Regulus holds his arm out to me.

I gently place my arm on his, nodding.

"Owl, if you decide to stay longer than planned," Orion looks to his son first than to me. He's got a small smile on his lips. I smile back politely.

"Naturally," Regulus says before apparating us away from the house.

I hate apparition. Hate it with my entire being. Squeezing my eyes shut tightly doesn't stop the uncomfortable movement of tumbling through time and space.

When I'm able to open my eyes, my fingers gripping Regulus's arm uncomfortably tight, I'm met with the sight of a large brick building.

"Are you okay?" Regulus steps in front of me. Cupping my face, he looks at me with concern.

I open my lips slightly, trying to find the words despite my churning stomach, "I just-- I just need a moment."

He nods, not letting go of my face. Then, almost absentmindedly, his thumb brushes against my cheek.

"I'm fine now. Where are we?" I squeak out, trying to distract him from continuing to touch my face like so.

Regulus snaps out of whatever was happening between us, his hands dropping from my face as he turns to look up at the building.

"This is where we will be staying." He hesitates for a moment before gently grasping my hand in his, "Do you mind?"

I shake my head no.

"Let me show you the apartment." Regulus helps me up the three steps of the building before holding the door open. He motions towards the staircase, placing his hand on the small of my back as we walk up the large staircase.

Regulus unlocks the heavy wooden door, pushing it open for me.

The sunshine in this room shines brighter than in Grimmauld Place. Probably due to the airy curtains and the creamy champagne color that the walls are painted.

It's a complete contrast to the rooms we share at Grimmauld Place.

"What do you think?" Regulus gently pulls me into the room.

I turn to admire the white comforter of the bed, running my fingers against the soft material.

"It's beautiful."

Turning, I catch Regulus's eye. He's leaning against the dresser, watching me intently.

I bite the inside of my cheek, "What are you looking at?"

"Am I not allowed to look at my wife?"

"Obviously, you are. If looking is all that is on your mind."

He actually smiles, looking down at the ground momentarily, " we are on our honeymoon."

Rolling my eyes, I begin to walk past him towards the bathroom. However, Regulus's fingers wrap around my wrist, preventing me from exiting the conversation.

"Regulus--" I find myself in his arms, his fingers tilting my chin towards him. Even as I despise the way he's dragged me into his arms, I can't say I hate the feeling of his body pressed against mine.

"Do you want this?" I hate that he's so diligent with asking for consent before he kissed me or initiated any-- activities . It would be so much easier to hate him if he was a beast of a man.

My contemplation of his question only lasts a few seconds before I lean up to kiss him.

Regulus makes a sound of surprise but quickly regains the dominance, his hands cupping my face.

Slowly, he begins to back us up towards the bed, pulling me onto his lap as he sits down on the white comforter.

"No," I pull away from the kiss, still straddling his thighs.

Regulus's lips are red as he looks at me confused, "You don't--?"

I shake my head, "I'm starving."

He smiles, tucking a flyaway hair back behind my ear, "We'll find you some food then."

***

(y/n) sips her tea. She hasn't spoken a word to him since he brought her to the wizard cafe.

"How is your food?"

She sets her tea down, "good."

Regulus strums his fingers against the table.

"Did you want something, Regulus?"

"Not particularly. Are you ready to get back?"

"Why are you so eager to get back?" Her smile is small, almost teasing.

"'m not eager..." Regulus frowns, straightening the lapel of his jacket.

"You've hardly touched your food," she looks pointedly towards his plate.

Regulus looks down as well, "I don't find myself quite as famished from our traveling, wife."

(y/n) rolls her eyes at his comment, "For your information, Regulus, I had to skip breakfast to pack for an impromptu trip my husband sprung upon me."

"I could have easily bought you a whole new wardrobe here if breakfast mattered to you that much."

"That would have been a waste--"

He chuckles, "money is not an issue for us, darling. You may have anything you desire simply by asking for it."

(y/n) bites the inside of her cheek, "Just because it is easily obtained does not mean it is not wasteful to live like this."

Regulus bites the inside of his cheek, looking away from (y/n).

***

Lounging on the bed, he watches her. The chiffon robe she wears leaves little to the imagination as she walks by the open window. Regulus is certain she'd be mortified to find out it's nearly transparent when the morning light hits the fabric. He's enjoying the show, but he hates that anyone outside could see her.

"(y/n)," Regulus stretches his arms above his head.

"Yes?" She turns, the fabric of the robe shifting.

"Come here, please."

She frowns, hands coming to her waist, "why?"

He shifts on the bed, "because you're walking by the window practically naked."

(y/n) crosses her arms across her chest, "Regulus!"

A small smile tugs at his lips, "Come here, darling."

She slowly makes her way to the bed. Regulus tugs her down to the bed, caging her in with his arms before she can make a noise. (y/n) looks up at him, the robe revealing her beautiful body.

Regulus trails his fingers down her neck towards her breast. Then, rolling her nipple between his fingers, he watches keenly at the way the nub hardened under his touch.

"Reg--"

He cuts her off, "do you want this?"

Her mouth opens and closes before she replies, "yes."

Regulus ducks down, kissing her deeply. He presses his rapidly hardening cock against her thigh.

"Have to be quick," he shoves his sleep pants down enough to free his cock.

"Why? What do we have to do today?"

He chuckles, "nothing that can't be pushed back. Do you want slow then Mistress Black?" Regulus's fingers drag down her jaw, fingers gently angling her face towards his.

(y/n) frowns back, "I--"

"You don't have to be embarrassed. I can make you squirm under me for however long you desire."

Slowly, he pulls the string of her robe loose, the material exposing her torso completely to his gaze.

"Is that what you want, darling?" He spreads her thighs so he can kneel between them.

Her mouth is parted slightly, chest heaving as she watches him drag his cock up and down her slit.

"Please--"

"Such a good girl." Regulus inches in, entranced by the way her body welcomes him.

(y/n)'s fingers pull at his hair as he bottoms out, "Merlin--!"

"Not my name," he slowly pulls out before thrusting in hard.

(y/n) snorts, "was that a joke? Did you just make a--" he thrusts in again, "a joke?"

Regulus smiles down at his wife, "possibly."

He doesn't expect her to giggle, and he especially does not expect his stomach flip-flopping at the sound of that giggle. To distract himself from this onrush of new emotion, he leans down, kissing her with feverish passion. The softness of her lips, the way her tongue moves shyly in an almost submissive manner with his, and the way she completely surrenders herself to his kiss doesn't help him as the sudden adoration he feels for this woman continues to skyrocket. Love isn't the word. Love maybe would never be the word, but he feels like when they express passion through their sexual encounters, he maybe could be feeling something like love .

"Oh, Regulus," (y/n) moves her hips in time with his, the push and pull of their lovemaking intoxicating.

His fingers move to play with her clit, rolling the bundle of nerves and making her squirm underneath him. The way she grinds her hips hard against him with each skilled movement of his hands on her delicate flesh feels magnificent. She's breathtaking, and he can't even find the words to tell her how-- how much he enjoys this.

Maybe enjoys it more than he's ever enjoyed it before.

"Don't stop," (y/n) whimpers.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he ducks down to kiss her as he pushes her over the edge. The feeling of her pulsing around him propels him towards his own release.

"Merlin--" He continues to thrust shallowly, burrowing his face in her neck. (y/n)'s fingers move tenderly across his back and shoulders as he comes down from his high. Regulus could stay like this forever.

"Are you going to--?" Her voice breaks his small paradise.

He frowns, "yes."

(y/n) stares at him before pushing his shoulders lightly until he pulls out, landing on the other side of the bed. "If you're going to do it, do it now. I want to take a bath."

He has a feeling the bath has something to do with washing away any trace of what they just did. Nevertheless, he does as she asks, wandlessly casting the charm.

***

After ignoring him for the rest of the morning and afternoon, reading on the sunny balcony, she appears to be in a better mood when he comes to get her for dinner.

"Do you wish to get dinner with me?"

(y/n) softly closes the worn novel before looking up at him. Her face is sweet, lacking any of the anger it held earlier when they quarreled.

"I would."

Regulus expects her to continue the conversation. Instead, she walks by him without another word. Placing his hands on the balcony's railing, Regulus looks out towards the city. The chaos of the muggles and their cars feels an awful lot like the current feeling in his head.

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grace13star · 4 years ago

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“Look, there’s a reason why you are not the president and never will be.” - Wilbur Soot (Am I The Villain?, 05:36)

Hi guys it’s me, Grace, with another mini essay about c!WIlbur Soot. Assume every name is about the character and not the real people.

So there’s this scene that a lot of people use as evidence that Wilbur is “evil” or “manipulative” to Tommy in Pogtopia. If you ask for evidence of abuse or manipulation, this is a scene they point to first.

Its literally the worst example they could give.

I’m sure you all know the scene. Wilbur and Tommy are arguing, and Wilbur tells Tommy that he’ll never be president and that they can’t trust anyone.

So we’re gonna talk about this scene and lay out exactly how you’re wrong using critical thinking skills. We’re gonna talk about context. We’re gonna talk about quotes. We’re gonna talk about mental illness and ableism in this community.

Strap in.

So first of all, the context.

In the scenes leading up to the speech, Wilbur and Tubbo are exploring the tunnel system Tubbo has built under L’Manberg that leads to Pogtopia. He specifically shows him a false path he’s built so that if Schlatt ever comes down, he won’t be led straight to the rebel hideout.

Surprise, surprise, Schlatt and Quackity show up.

Tommy is also there at that point, and when Tubbo and Wilbur try to get him to crouch and hide so he doesn’t reveal their location, he ignores them and starts destroying the wall that is hiding them as they try to get him to stop. “Tommy, fill in the gap. (Tommy starts breaking more) No! Tommy, fill in the gap!” -(Am I The Villain?, 4:28)

Wilbur then gives in and lets Tommy have the path open, but he tells Tommy that he doesn’t want him at Schlatt’s decree because of how irresponsible he’s being. Tommy argues, and this is when Wilbur first says “This is why you are not the president and never will be.” Harsh? Maybe, but Tommy is doing things that are risking not only his and Wilbur’s life, but Tubbo’s as well.

Schlatt and Quackity almost follow the path to Pogtopia, but luckily, Schlatt turns back to make his decree.

The declaration of the Manberg festival is the first time Wilbur’s point of view is questioned. He has a very black and white viewpoint throughout the entire storyline. “It was Dream, he’s kinda the bad guy. Yeah, we’re the good guys, we’re the good guys here.” - (Wilbur’s Niki joins L'Manberg: 22:28) The festival isn’t evil and doesn’t seem like some nefarious plan (we know later that it’s just a front for Tubbo’s execution, but it’s unclear whether that was planned from the announcement or if it was added later).

This shakes his whole worldview, and the way he reconciles what he thought with what he knows now is deciding he’s the villain. Objectively, this isn’t even close to true. Schlatt was a tyrant who over taxed and imprisoned his citizens if they spoke out against him, and Wilbur’s government never really did anything. It’s worth noting as well, that one of Wilbur’s justifications is that Schlatt was elected legally. However, a lot of tyrants and dictators in history were also elected legally. Its the actions of the governing force that make them a bad leader, not whether or not they got their power legally.

Wilbur’s response to realizing the world is a lot more morally grey is immediately the most extreme response. He thinks they should blow up Manberg and completely raze it.

While Wilbur, in this video, claims that its because he can’t have it, he truly believes that Manberg is what caused conflict, and if he takes out Manberg, the conflict will disappear. This is confirmed by a Reddit analysis post that Wilbur reponded “Any truers” too. Wilbur also says this directly in the video. “Do you know what would happen if we get L’Manberg back, Tommy? More blood would be shed.” -(Am I The Villain?, 18:56)

Now we get to the part that people claim is manipulation.

First thing I’d like to say is this: look up what manipulation means for the love of god. Stop using buzzwords you don’t know the meaning of.

This has become a problem with the meme “gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss,” where people joke about serious topics like manipulation and abuse and confuse it with completely normal things to do. I’ve seen so many people claim something is gaslighting only for it to be a character saying their opinion. It’s tiring, guys.

Anyways, with this specific scene, people point to the part where Wilbur says “Everyone who’s claiming to be on our side? They’re lying to us! Tubbo? He’s lying to you, man!” - (Am I The Villain?, 20:27)

This is not manipulation.

This post explains it in a lot more depth (check it out, it’s very well written, thank you @the-redeemed-anon), but to sum it up: manipulation requires coersion, intention, and withholding of truth. While Wilbur is trying to coerce Tommy, he does not lie to him, and that makes this persuasion and not manipulation.

This scene, in my opinion, is just an extremely stressed, paranoid, and self deprecating man lashing out at one cause of his stress. Villainizing this scene and calling a perfectly normal emotional response manipulation and evil is not...great? Yes, he hurt Tommy. Yes, it was unfair of him, but I’ve had responses like this in real life and I didn’t have the stress of almost being killed hanging over me. It’s honestly surprising he didn’t lash out further.

So how is this ableist?

Wilbur is a character with clear mental illnesses. He is paranoid, depressed, self-deprecating, and suicidal. There are no mental health resources on the server (at the time), no therapy or drugs, or anything that could help him. Even before exile he was under so much stress that any time he was alone he would scream and cry into his pillow.

During L’Manberg, he kept all the bad parts of himself to the times when he was alone. Then, he was exiled and couldn’t hide it any longer. He starts lashing out and reacting in the only way he knows how, in the only way he can.

The villain narrative only started appearing after this.

There’s a stereotype in society that is especially prevelant in this community of calling mentally ill characters who don’t react in “good” ways insane or crazy. I see it literally every day. “Wilbur went insane and blew up L’Manberg.” “Wilbur was crazy.” Even the characters in roleplay call him that. I’ve even seen people claim that he is “a psychopath.”

It’s just plain and simple ableism.

For one, using the terms “insane” or “crazy” especially in analysis is a good way to show you don’t know what you’re talking about. They’re too vague for actual analysis, and don’t actually describe anything about the character. Not to mention all of the stereotypes caught up in those words. Basically all of modern media uses it as a synonym for evil, especially horror movies.

People seem to villainize Wilbur to an extreme degree all the time, even more so then other villains of the story.

Dream, is a character who started most of the major conflicts of the server (Disc War, L’Manberg War, exile, Doomsday), blackmailed a neighboring country and threatening to imprison their people unless they exiled Tommy, abused and manipulated Tommy into almost committing suicide, planned to steal people’s things, pets, and even Skeppy so he could hold it over their heads and control them, and many other things, is excused because “Tommy was annoying” or because “we just don’t see his perspective.”

I personally don’t see Technoblade as a villain, I’m putting him on the list because he’s done much worse than Wilbur and he’s not called a villain most of the time, which shows the double standard people have for Wilbur. While Wilbur just blew up a country with only some property damage, Techno spawned multiple Withers, and then went out of his way to kill people, chasing after them and stopping them from killing the Withers. He then also helped Dream when he blew up L’Manberg again, with a lot more property damage than Wilbur’s explosion.

So why have people who have done worse things been excused while Wilbur has been villified?

You know why.

People constantly make Wilbur worse than he ever was. I can’t tell you how many “Abusive Wilbur Soot” tags I’ve seen. People make up headcanons where he hit Tommy. Artists draw him looming over Tommy, being physically imposing or creepily touchy-feely. People make up claims that he manipulated and gaslit people.

And the name “Vilbur”. Why.

Too many people have tried to use Vilbur to seperate Wilbur from his Pogtopia self. They say he has “versions” of himself. They try to make them seperate people. Even Phil does this in rp, saying he wants his “real son” back. Wilbur is Wilbur. His mental illnesses are a part of him. He’s not a fake him for acting on his emotions. He’s not a different person. Like I don’t see how people don’t see that it’s ableist.

Wilbur was not a great guy. He was an antagonist He made a lot of bad decisions that affected a lot of people negatively. But he’s not a bad guy. He’s not a villain.

Stop it.

Sincerely, a tired psychology student

(Thanks to @kateis-cakeis for your amazing quote post, ily you’re doing god’s work)

#c!wilbur soot #wilbur soot #dream smp #dsmp #tommyinnit #tubbo #character analysis #tw manipulation #tw suicide mention #tw gaslighting mention #vilbur #<-- for exposure #tw ablesim #long post #can someone famous post this to twitter so they can be exposed to critical thinking for once <3 #antagonist does not mean villain

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shini--chan · 4 years ago

Note

I have an idea! What would Allies do after finding out that their s/o have (another) stalker? It can be another yandere, a creep, ex, jealous coworker with bad intentions or even a serial killer.

And a good idea it is, my dear anon.

Yandere Allies – Feindling America

You were already fast asleep, snoozing away under the covers in your shared bedroom. He, on the other hand, was still wide awake and had decided to settle down in the living room to do some light reading. His insomnia was due to the usual reasons – too much caffeine, too much stress, too much curiosity to just let the day finish.

And because he was worried, intently, about you. There was somebody else trying to stick their grubby fingers in your shared life, and pry you apart. That was something he was absolutely sure off. After living so long, and becoming paranoid due to his position on the global stage, he knew very well when he was being watched.

There was something after you in particular, he didn’t like it.

Out of his peripheral vision, he caught sight of somebody moving in the bushes. A spike of adrenaline shot through his body, and for a moment he was tempted to storm about side and give that creep a hook. Yet a better idea came to mind – first to fire a warning shot.

He net his book aside and sauntered to one of the glass door to the balcony and gave the pane a few sharp knocks. It was enough to catch their attention. It was almost comical how the figure froze, and the hood swivelled in his direction. Alfred couldn’t identify them in any capacity – they wore non-script jeans and a grey hoodie along with a pair of gloves. But this was about digging up the war axe.

Grinning, he flipped the bird at them, and then proceeded to draw a thin line across his throat in an unmistakable message.

Alfred would see this as a chance to play hero. He would finally be able to prove to you how capable he is at protecting you, how attentive he would be when it would water down to your safety. Of course, he would make sure there would be a lot he wouldn’t catch wind off – it would be the instances where he would come off as an evil master mind or as a control freak that he would skilfully hide from you.

He might or might not elect to torture the fool that would be stalking you. For him, waterboarding that creep would be a method of stress relief. It would also drive home the point that nobody should dare try to get between him and his sweetie.

Canada

Besides you, your phone beeped for what must have been the twelfth time in the span of one minute. You sobbed harder and buried your face in his chest. Matthew calmly stroked your back, making quiet soothing noises as he held you close.

“(Ex) will have to leave you be someday. This can’t go on forever. One day that jerk will have to accept that you’re gone for good”, he told quietly, while cautiously shifting his position to a more comfortable one.

You were both on the backseat of his car, having sought sanctuary there after you started panicking upon seeing the messages. All the memories had started to overwhelm you, and you had gripped his arm as if it was the only thing that was preventing you from drowning.

“No, that won’t be the case. Before I met you, I tried to leave so often only to be lured back into it. It was only because I met you that I haven’t gone back”, you cried, gazing up at him with a tear-stricken face.

“Shh, I will think of something. There shall be hell to pay.”

Matthew would be concerned about your wellbeing first and foremost. He would cater to you, cuddle with you, sooth you. But don’t think that would mean he would go easy on you should you step out of line and try to flee from him. When he would say he would never let your ex take you back, he would be indirectly saying he would never allow you to leave him.

Naturally, he would be careful and avoid any explicit rhetoric stating that your place in the world is at his side, but the message would be there, hidden between the lines.

With the legal sway he would hold, he would easily have your ex punished in some capacity. This could range from a fine to a restrain order to spending some time in jail.

China

A scream pierced the silence of the night, followed by a yell as the attacker was swept off his feet. Yao didn’t hesitate to continue beating the culprit up, even though he was on the ground.

After all, this was a man that had just been a few milliseconds away from dragging you away and murdering you, after doing unspeakable things to you, things that couldn’t be lightly talked about in any context.

“So, you’re the vermin that has been butchering people left and right for the past four months. You’re just as disgusting as I expected”, Yao commented as he brought his foot down on his back in a harsh stamp.

You had taken seat on a tree stump that was standing by. The near death experience and the fight going on in front of you had utterly rattled you. You were numbly staring at the scene playing out, heads in your hands, whole body trembling and eyes wide blown.

He kicked the killer in the side and was rewarded was a grunt and a hiss: “And I’ll fucking kill you too.”

“Sure you will”, Yao drawled sarcastically and pressed the criminals head into the dirt. “Get used to the taste of it.”

Contrary to expectations, Yao would approach the situation of serial killer being after you calmy. Not because he wouldn’t care about you, but rather because he would be far to old to be surprised by such a – in his eyes – trivial thing. And because he would know that letting himself drown in anger or panic would just result in him making grave mistakes – ie. losing you.

Nevertheless, he would never be far off, lurking behind corners, just out of sight of you and the murderer. He would also scoure your online activity, searching for any suspicious doings from other users. Furthermore he would use the opportunity to learn more about you and your strengths and weaknesses.

England

“Ah, ah, ah. Keep your dirty paws off that”, Arthur chided Jane and firmly grabbed Jane by the ear, harshly tugging there. It wasn’t the most humane treatment of a mortal, that England knew very well. However, he was in a sour mood, your infuriating co-worker being one of the contributing factors to it. Besides, he hadn’t made it one of his life maximas to be nice.

“You dare”, she hissed. When he gave another sharp tug, she yelped and dropped your phone, showing one of your social media profiles. Jane Smithers was persistent, he would have to give her that. Yet that would just be her downfall because she had decided to use that trait to try to ruin your life.

“Oh yes I dare. I dare to not tolerate your disgusting behaviour. Between you and me, we’re going to have a very long talk about your morals.”

She snorted and grabbed his hand.

“I could sue you for sexual harassment. We’ll see if you’ll still be laughing then.”

Oh, he had expected such a threat to come from such a vile person as her. He chuckled lowly – did she really think she could best him when it came to anything.

“And then spend some time in the nick for lying to judge and jury. Don’t think you’d be able to weasel your way out of this. I’m the one here that can have your framed and believe me, I could get you a bloody life sentence.”

She stared at him, uncomprehending, before realisation dawned and she let out a harsh laugh.

“So that is how (l/n) did it. Slept the way to the top.”

“No. (Y/n) has talent, impeccable talent. So unlike you, my dearest never had to resort to the methods you were so kind to mentioned.”

Arthur would see it as his duty to protect you – your physical & mental wellbeing as well as your reputation. So of course he would go after any jealous co-worker that would try to ruin you to any extent. And as mentioned in the snippet above, he wouldn’t be exactly nice about it. Any means would do for him, as long as the risk of his machinations backfiring on him and you would be relatively low.

During the whole process, he would letting you know about everything. It would be his point of proving that the world is a horrible place and that you can only find solace in his company and attention.

France

Francis was in the kitchen when you came stumbling in, frazzled and panting as If you had just run a marathon. By the way your extremities were trembling and sweat dotted your forehead, he wouldn’t be surprised. The only question was why.

Aside from that, fear danced in your eyes, and that was the only further information he needed to know that something was wrong. Rushing forward, he scooped you in his arms, ignoring the coffee that he had been preparing, and asked you:

“What happened, ma cherie?”

Instead of answering, you leaned your head against his shoulder and wrapped your arms around his torso, taking heavy, laboured breaths, as if you were crying. That was when he realised that you were. It worried him.

Was this something that he had done? What had caused you to become so distressed? Was it something he could fix.

“You don’t have to talk about it now if you don’t want to”, he offered shakily, unsure about what he should do to cheer you up. How could he, when he didn’t know why you were in such a state?

Thankfully, you supplied him with an explanation, one that caused his concern to freeze to ice cold anger: “There is some creep following me. He grabbed my butt when I got off the bus.”

Whoever that devil was, he was going to have hell to pay,

Francis would be enraged that somebody would be so disrespectful of your boundaries and of the fact that you’re already taken. In the brief moments of his more intense bouts of fury, he might do something as rash as to track the creep down and bludgeon him with something, probably a newspaper.

However, his preferred method would be character assassination (this would work especially well if the culprit in question would have a high social status) and verbal abuse. In this case, his revenge could be long-winded and very elaborate.

Russia

The temperature of the corridor had dropped since the last time he had visited – a testimony to the bad insulation and the approaching winter. Ivan thought it did her justice. After all, she did deserve this after nearly kidnapping you.

Speaking of her, she was sitting near the bars when he approached and when she glimpsed him, she quickly scooted away. Clever; she had learned from what had occurred the last time.

“Come to taunt me again?”, she seethed, curling into a tight, haggard ball of fury. Understandable in her case, however he wouldn’t shed any tears or have any sleepless nights.

“As is customary. I have to elevate your boredom somehow”, he confirmed, grabbing a chair and seating himself opposite her.

She stared at the door at the end of the passage, hungerly tracing it and searching the shadows for any sign of you. Ivan derived pleasure from mocking her: “How foolish are to think I would have brought my lover with me? I didn’t the last few times so why should it any different now?”

“You’re so very attached to (y/n), so I had my hopes.”

“Then I’ll have to forever dash them. That I owe you.”

She snarled at this; face twisted to a nasty frown.

“You know, you and I aren’t so different. So it is even more hypocritical of you to claim the moral high ground. Does (y/n) know even half of the things you’ve done in the name of your love?”

“I detest the comparison. I walk free while you rot in solitude, unloved and unwanted. While you have done everything wrong, I have done what was right where it counted most. You go very far by suggesting anything else.”

Russia would be the one to act the most intense of all the allies. He would have had people that were dear to him ripped away from him in the past, so he invest a lot of energy in insuring that wouldn’t happen to you and him.

That would mean he would go up to 11 in this case. As in, he would either kill this person and dissolve their body in acid or feed it to the pigs. Or he would leave this other yandere to rot somewhere after having dragged them before court for a very showy trail to break their spirit.

#yandere hetalia #yandere allies #yandere america #yandere england #yandere russia #yandere canada #yandere china #yandere france

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gamerwoo · 4 years ago

Text

[Tales from the Pack] Hansol: Fire and Ice (Part Nine)

Characters: Hansol x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, mostly angst BUT there’s some fluff especially toward the end (it’s still kinda angsty fluff but like it’s still fluff ok i promise)

Word count: 3,385

Summary: You’ve always been one to let your emotions get the best of you – your power reflects that – and you’ve never been good at expressing them. That’s why you always thought you’d be awful with a mate, but you never thought things would be this awful.

a/n: things in bold are in english and things in italics are a dream

Previous | Next | Fire and Ice Masterlist

Nobody was surprised when you left after lunch. You didn’t even look at Hansol when you thanked everyone for lunch before quickly leaving the house to go wherever it was you went during the day. So Hansol waited for you outside. He laid back and watched the clouds as they slowly rolled through the sky. When the sun started to set, he went inside to get a sweater because Soomin was giving him a hard time about it. He also unpacked everything he’d grabbed from your old pack’s house, placing clothes on top of the dresser, making sure they were neatly folded, and putting pictures in various parts of the room so you could look at them. And then he put the blanket on the end of the bed, deciding you could choose what you did with it.

Before he left the room, he grabbed you a new sweater to wear. Then he found himself back outside again, waiting.

And that’s how you found him. It was only a couple hours until midnight when you returned to the house. Hansol was sitting on the lawn in the same place you’d found him the night before, except you could smell your brother’s scent mixed with his. You didn’t know why or what he’d done, but you were ready to start asking why he smelled so much like Jiung. However, when you finally stood about two feet away, just staring down at him, all you did was stare. You, for some reason, didn’t get angry.

Hansol looked up at you before handing you the grey sweater. You stared at it for a beat of silence before you slowly reached out to touch it. It was soft and still smelled exactly like Jiung, unlike the sweater currently adorning your body. The scent on your current one was starting to fade.

You took off your sweater, your t-shirt riding up, but Hansol wasn’t staring. Then you tossed yours in Hansol’s lap before taking the new one and tugging it on over your head. The sleeves were too long as you expected, but you preferred it like that.

“Where’d you get this?” you finally asked, your voice quiet.

Hansol seemed surprised you spoke to him, but his voice didn’t waver, “I went to give the ring to the pack today. I brought some stuff from there for you and left it in your room.”

That caught you off guard, “…For me?”

“Yeah,” he nodded with a soft smile. He pushed himself to stand up. “Do you want to go see?”

You let him lead you into the house and up the stairs. The entire place was silent, which was surprising to you since there were so many werewolves. Then again, they all seemed to have their own rooms, which meant not many people to talk to at night before bed, so they had no reason to be noisy – unless other things were happening, but you’d rather not hear that.

Hansol opened the bedroom door and allowed you in first. Immediately, your nose was attacked with familiar smells from your old pack, and from Jiung. Your eyes landed on multiple pictures – both in and out of frames – sweaters, and the familiar blanket that your mother had made for Jiung.

The first thing you did was look at the pictures. Some were yours, but some were Jiung’s. There were a few of you and your family, including one you hadn’t seen in years, but it was Jiung’s favorite: you and him at age six, standing up against a wall at your parents’ house as one of your older siblings measured your heights. You and him were the same height back then. After that, you both got hit with growth spurts, but he shot up faster and higher than you. He was the tallest in the house, and you were pretty sure he was even taller than Mingyu.

There was another picture you looked at that you had only seen as a child. You didn’t know that Jiung even still had it, but here it was: the picture of your birth parents. You knew it was left with you when you were abandoned, but you didn’t know if your adoptive parents had thrown it out or left it behind or if it simply got lost at some point between all the family trips.

“You know,” Hansol spoke up. You turned around, expecting him to be right behind you, but he was still standing between the room and the hallway, “I don’t know if you resent your birth parents, but you look a lot like them.”

You carefully set the picture back down where you got it, keeping your eyes on Hansol, “What if I do resent them?”

He just shrugged, “I’d still tell you the truth.”

You had to admit, you respected his answer. At least you knew he wouldn’t say something he didn’t mean just to please you.

You turned your entire body to face him, letting out a deep sigh, “I’m…gonna shower.”

“Okay,” he nodded, stepping away from the doorway. “I’ll be downstairs if you need anything. Goodnight, _____.”

He turned and left, not expecting you to say anything in reply.

You went down the hall and found the bathroom was mostly the same as well. There were new toiletries and a few new towels, but you knew at least the shower worked all the same.

After scrubbing yourself clean of way too many days worth of dirt and grime, you got out of the shower, quickly dried off, and threw your underwear and sweater back on. You carried the rest of your clothes back to your room with you before tossing them in a hamper placed in the corner of the room.

Right before you got into bed, your eyes caught the blanket on the end of the bed. While part of you wanted to cuddle with it for the night, another part of you knew that touching it would erase more of the scent. So you took the blanket and placed it over the back of the chair before going to get into bed. You leaned over to shut off the lamp, closed your eyes, and waited for sleep to take you.

You hoped for another dreamless sleep, praying the nightmares were over. But of course, with your shitty luck, you found yourself back at the burned rubble where Eunjin had found you. Only this dream felt different; it felt…real. But you knew you weren’t awake because rain was pelting your skin, and you always felt uncomfortable in the rain. Rain made it difficult for you to use your power, so you tried to avoid it as much as possible. Except this time, the rain felt…nice.

Like most of your dreams lately, you felt like you were being watched. You never knew who or what it was that kept its eyes on you, but it didn’t feel like it was anything menacing. You usually elected to ignore it anyway.

“_____?”

Your head whipped around to see Jia, the blind mate. However, she was walking on her own, and her eyes stared directly at you instead of through you. You’d heard about her through Danbi and Mingyu, but you never thought she’d find herself in your dream. Was she the one watching you? Was she the reason this dream felt so real this time?

“Jia?” you took a cautious step toward her. “What’s happening?”

Jia just shook her head, “I’m not doing anything, _____. This is your dream.”

“Have you been in my other ones?” you asked.

She nodded, seeming unapologetic about it, “Yes, I have. I have to say, _____, I’m really worried about you.”

“There’s nothing to be worried about,” you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “I may have freaked out once, but it was one time, and now I’m fine.”

“I don’t mean to sound rude, but I think your containing a lot of your emotions. You could have a meltdown again, and–”

“I’m handling my emotions just fine, okay? Besides, Hansol–”

“I’m not talking about Hansol,” Jia interrupted, her voice a little more harsh now, “I’m talking about your brother.”

You grimaced, a low growl coming from your chest, “I don’t have any emotions toward my brother. He’s gone; he’s dead. There’s no point in having emotions toward him.”

“_____…”

While Jia did step away from you, her eyes wide and apologetic, you stalked toward her anyway as anger bubbled inside you, “Don’t talk about him, don’t say his name, don’t–”

“_____.”

This time, when your name was said, it was from a different voice. A voice that sounded way too familiar, but also way too real for you to have made it up. It was that stern ‘alpha’ voice that always got you to listen to him. But despite the tone, it tugged at your heartstrings.

You turned around, seeing Jiung standing only a few yards away with a frown on his face. He didn’t look happy to see you – he never did in your dreams – but he looked rather disappointed more than anything else. You’d seen him look angry or disgusted with you, but never disappointed.

Suddenly, you snapped back to your senses. This was a dream, and since you weren’t creating this image of Jiung, Jia was. You turned to her, snarling as your eyes started to spot red, “Stop doing that.”

Jia held up her hands in surrender, “I swear, I’m not doing that! This is your dream, I don’t have control over it.”

“_____!” Jiung’s voice was rougher now, and you felt a hand on your wrist, tugging you away from the smaller girl. He turned you to face him, is usually golden eyes now turned red. “Stop lashing out.”

“Stop!” you demanded, yanking away from his grasp. “You’re not real! Stop doing this!”

Jiung’s face softened, resting both of his hands on his shoulders, “Yes I am, _____. Don’t you remember those stories mom and dad told us? About the spirit dreams?”

“That was just some old wives’ tale or whatever,” you insisted, averting your eyes.

“So were werewolves,” he chuckled. “Does that mean you’re fake?”

You frowned, shoving your brother away from you, “You can’t even prove you’re real because you’re probably just a figment of my imagination – I already know everything the real Jiung would.”

“I know what happened to your doll when we were seven,” he replied with a mischievous grin.

Slowly, your gaze shifted to look at him, mumbling, “Mom gave it to charity, she told me so.”

“Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p’, “Sabira stole it and ended up getting in a tug-of-war match with the neighbor’s dog. Ask mom, she’ll tell you because she tried to stitch it back together before she had to toss it.

“I also know you never knew Saebyeol’s birth name was Sabira because she only used her birth name when dad would take her to visit India once a year,” he continued, his smile still bright and toothy, just how you remembered when he just knew he was right.

You didn’t know what kind of expression you wore, but you couldn’t stop staring at your brother. How did he know things even you didn’t know? Unless he was making it up somehow? Maybe you were making things up in your head that he could tell you in an attempt to convince you he was real. If so, this figment you or Jia had created was a fantastic liar. But it just seemed too…real.

Either way, you couldn’t stop yourself from tossing yourself in your brothers arms, hugging him as tight as you possibly could as his warm, familiar laugh filled your ears and made your heart swell.

You suddenly pulled away from him, holding him at arms length, “Are you dumb, or what?”

“Huh?” he chuckled.

“Ordering Hanbin to take Hansol instead of you! Are you stupid?!”

Jiung shook his head, “_____, you need Hansol, not me.”

“I don’t need him!” you burst, pushing your brother away from you. “I need you! I hate Hansol for getting you killed. I don’t want to even be in this stupid pack!”

“_____,” Jiung sighed, “I know that’s not how you really feel.”

Jia also knew it wasn’t how you really felt. She’d seen your dreams – your dreams where it was all made up – and you’d get angry and scream and call Jiung dumb for leaving you. You’d never say anything nasty about Hansol in your dreams. Never; not once. In fact, when he showed up was when you’d calm down.

It wasn’t Hansol you were angry with, it was your brother. You’d just buried that fact and hid it with your anger that you’d projected onto Hansol. She wasn’t even sure if you knew that, though.

“You don’t know how I feel!” you frowned, stomping your foot like a child.

“_____,” Jia’s voice was soft as she slowly came up behind you, unsure of how you’d react. She placed a delicate hand on your shoulder, and it felt a lot colder than your skin – you were burning up, in fact, “it’s okay to be mad at Jiung…”

“I’m not mad at Jiung, I’m–!” you cut yourself off, feeling every kind of negative emotion suddenly hit you in a massive wave. Anger, sadness, confusion, fear – you felt it all, and it made you want to be sick or burst out crying or both.

“It’s okay,” Jia nodded, “you have to let it out. Tell him how you feel.”

Your hands balled into fists at your side, your nails digging into your skin. You felt a dull pain because of it, which was weird because you’d never felt any physical pain in your dreams. Your jaw clenched and your eyes slightly stung from tears pricking at them, wanting to just come out.

“It’s okay, _____. He went back for Hansol and told him to go instead. You feel like he left you, and you’re mad. It’s okay to be mad, just let it out.”

Staring at what may or may not have been the spirit of your brother in front of you, the wave of emotion finally broke down every wall you’d built up.

“How could you leave me?!” you demanded. You felt like you wanted your body to just burst into flames to throw right at Jiung’s stupid, dead face. You knew your skin was sparking at least, from the way Jia gasped and jumped back. “How could you just let yourself die like that, huh?! You were supposed to stay with me and protect me, and you just fucking let yourself die, and for what? For me to imprint? For me to be happy?”

You punctuated each sentence with a shove to your brother, your hands pushing against his chest and shoulders. He just let you do it, taking each shove as he stared at you, his expression unreadable. It only made you more angry.

“Well I’m not happy! I’m angry! I’m– I’m hurt and I’m scared, and I hate you! I hate you because I don’t even know if you’re real, and I hate you because you won’t even show one goddamn emotion right now!”

Jiung shook his head, his expression almost cocky, “That’s not why you hate me, _____. You and I both know it”

You let out a scream that didn’t even sound like yourself. You were sobbing and hitting him wherever your fists landed. You were hitting him with all the strength you could muster, but you knew that the flames from your fists wouldn’t do anything to him. He was dead, anyway.

“I hate you for leaving me!” you cried. “You left me, and you didn’t even stop to think about how I’d feel when you made the decision to let yourself get killed! You left me, and you don’t even care! You left me, Jiung! You fucking left me!”

Jiung smiled softly, his eyes shining, “There it is.”

“I hate you!” you told him again, shoving him so hard he actually hit the ground. Even he looked surprised. “Why did you leave me? Why, why, why, why?!”

You fell to your knees, sobs shaking your body, but it was also from anger toward Jiung.

“I hate you. I hate you. I– I–”

“_____!”

Your eyes flew open, and you felt weight pressing down on your arms, but you weren’t laying down. You were sitting up in bed, your back against the headboard as tears streamed down your face. Hansol was on the side of the bed, one foot still on the floor with a knee on the mattress as he held your hands in his. There was bits of frost covering your blanket and the backs of Hansol’s hands, and your fists and wrists felt wet like someone had shoved your hands in water.

Hansol’s eyes were full of concern as he looked at you. He’d heard you screaming and crying, and it woke him up from downstairs. By the time he’d raced up the stairs, almost the entire pack had opened their doors, looking down the hall at your door in concern. Hansol just ignored them, throwing open the door and closing it behind him as he took in the scene before him: your blanket covered in tiny spots of flame, and your fists already completely on fire. He managed to put out the bedding before his hands wrapped around yours, making the flames go out with a sizzle.

Your muscles relaxed slowly as you realized you were awake, and Jiung – if it even was him – was gone. But then the massive throbbing in your head registered, and you broke down crying all over again.

“He left me!” you sobbed, your head hanging as Hansol kept a hold on your wrists. “I hate him!”

Hansol let go of your wrists when he realized you weren’t going to fight him, crawling beside you to wrap his arms around you. You clung to him like your life depended on it, sobbing into his bare chest. He shushed you and rubbed your back, unsure of what exactly happened, but he knew it had to do with Jiung. He was just a bit surprised you were aiming your anger toward your brother and not him.

“Shh, shh, shh, it’s okay,” he cooed softly, pulling you into his lap when he felt your arms wrap around him. “It’s alright, I’ve got you.”

“I hate him,” you kept repeating into Hansol’s neck.

“I know, you’re allowed to be angry at him,” he told you, dipping his head down to try to get you to look at him. “But getting all of this out now will help you to not hate him later.”

You lifted your head slightly to look at Hansol. You heard the soft whine he let out when he saw your face red and covered with tears. He brushed some of the moisture away with his thumb, his face looking genuinely hurt seeing you upset. It made you want to cry all over again. You’d pushed all your anger onto Hansol when you were really just mad at Jiung. And you knew you didn’t really have a reason to be mad at Hansol, you just wanted to give yourself one because you couldn’t be mad at your brother who had died.

You felt awful.

“I’m sorry,” you sniffled, trying not to start crying even harder, but looking at how Hansol looked like a kicked puppy just because you were sad made you feel like an ass – and you were one. “I-I don’t hate you.”

Hansol nodded, brushing hair from your face, “I know, _____; it’s okay.”

He pulled you to his chest once again, letting you get all your tears out. Even when he heard Eunjin screaming, he continued to hold you like nothing was happening. Once you’d finally calmed down and had no more tears left, he slid down into bed, laying you down to sleep.

As you felt him pulling the blankets over you, you mumbled sleepily, “If you leave, I won’t blame you.”

While Hansol wasn’t sure if you just meant for tonight or in general, his answer was still the same.

“I’m not going to leave, I promise.”

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musicfeedsmysoul12 · 4 years ago

Text

@anastasian-dreamer mentioned to me they didn’t think I had ever thought about how the vigilante/villian and hero system worked. I went: Actually I have a rough idea… and here we go.

Vigilantes

First, let’s do the differences between villains and vigilantes… intent.

That’s like actually it. Intent is the only thing actually separating villains and vigilantes. They break the law just like villains and they are hunted by the police and often heroes like villains…

Like sure there’s vigilante laws but at the end of the day it’s just intent separating them.

Even then there’s a fine line for how the police classify them. If someone is simply helping out using their Quirk, not like actively looking to fight anyone and just does stuff like help rescue people or help during a villain attack, then it’s minor vigilantism and not that big a deal. Honestly a police or a hero would go: Don’t do that, finger wag and move on their way.

If you actively look for fights, but do not engage until the first punch is thrown at you, then it’s more moderate vigilantism and you will be arrested but let go as you rely on the self defense laws which do actually allow you to use your Quirk. If they can prove you went looking for a fight, then you’ll get a fine or community service.

Now if you go looking and act like a hero by interfering before they throw the first punch then it’s actually vigilantism. Now this is where it gets tricky and the fine line appears.

If you do not do harm that is more then a few bruises, or knocking someone out or tying them up then you are still a viglante.

If you break bones or wound them badly enough to bleed TECHNICALLY you are a villain. But this is actually a technicality and you probably won’t be tagged that unless they die.

As for how ranking goes- honestly it’s just who the police are actually worried about. Most don’t care really. Unless you’re going out and actively hurting people on purpose, they’re more worried about other criminals.

It’s the heroes who fret the most because technically vigilantes are threats to their jobs. If George from accounting can use his Quirk to stop a robbery, they’re out of a job. So it’s heroes who go after vigilantes more often.

There is a program for vigilantes to become heroes as well, but that’s a hush-hush no one talks about it and they only become underground heroes so like no one cares.

If a vigilante does attract media attention, that’s when the police actually get involved more and try to get them. And if the media attention is overwhelmingly positive then the vigilante might get publicly offered a hero position… which yes I have another OC for this.

Blank Spot- a vigilante who evaded police and heroes for three years and not only routed out two villain organizations, but managed to change a slum into a booming neighbourhood.

Now, lets go into Quirkless vigilantes.

Technically they aren’t. I think this is fanon- and it is- but there isn’t actually a canon law saying you have to use a Quirk to be a vigilante… and I like it so:

Vigilante: Defined as ‘using their Quirk in a matter restricted to those who hold a Heroic Licesnse or a Job Specific Permit given to police personal or emergency responders.’

So technically, a Quirkless person isn’t a vigilante which is what then the Quirkless people call the golden rule because it enables them to be able to go around and help their neighbourhoods if needed.

They can though be charged with assault so most let the villains hit them first.

Most stick to low level stuff and just keep to themselves, so heroes don’t care.

The only one who managed to get fame? Blank Spot and even then NO ONE knows who she is. Blank Spot got an Underground License and while she is ranked at 300 in the hero ranking, she mostly sticks to infiltration missions.

Villains

We now get into villains. Villains are those who use their Quirk with an intent to cause harm to others or property.

That’s like it.

The bag snatcher in episode one isn’t actually a villain though, he’s a criminal.

Yes there’s a difference.

The difference is in fact how much damage is cause as well as intent. Large-scale damage will term you a villain. Bad snatcher technically is on the edge but his intent wasn’t to do that, it was just to snatch a bag.

Someone breaking into a store to steal things? Criminal because the intent to be a villain isn’t there and the damage isn’t widespread.

Breaking into multiple stores? Still not a villain.

Purposely doing so to then fund a criminal organization? Villain.

So there is a bit of a fine line.

Funnily enough- Gentle Criminal and La Brava technically are more criminal than villain because their goals are more for fame than actual villainy. It’s a big grey area though and they got marked as villains because ‘hey. They’re calling themselves that, let’s just do it and call it a day.’- as per the very annoyed analyst who had to deal with Nezu and the yearly argument over his Class 1 Quirk designation which gets shuffled around the various agencies because it is so annoying.

Now, villain ranking… it actually isn’t a thing. Sure, they have people they are more interested in catching but the idea of a ‘ranking’ is more of a media term because it’s dramatic.

You ask a police officer, an analyst, an intelligence hero or any like government official? They’ll sigh.

“We don’t have a villain ranking. We have villains we are interested in catching more than others.”

Some limelight heroes call it a ranking but that’s more to play to the media and often have their staff chucking things at them in annoyance.

At most, the top ten villains have ranked only to demonstrate how interested they are in catching them. AFO for example is ranked one because he is without a doubt the one who needed to be caught. Shigaraki then moves up.

Then we get to villain organizations.

I refuse to believe that villain organizations are rare. It’s just usually it’s only like five people working together and the idea of a huge organization is less common. These organizations also operate more like yakuza or gangs and will claim parts of a city to be able to rule.

Meaning that really, underground heroes are the ones dealing with them rather then limelight.

The LOV is uncommon enough that it draws attention from the entire public. And it is actually now drawing attention from people wondering if they should rank villains as well.

So like any: oh this villain is ranked whatever is actually Media or heroes just pulling it out of their ass or an analyst making shit up because they’re BUSY Karen.

However- I want everyone to look at what I said. Using a Quirk.

THUS! Quirkless people can ONLY be criminals and not villains legally, a loophole that is used by Quirkless people to get much lighter sentences as villains are the ones who have the heavier punishments compared to criminals!

Hero Ranking

Okay so using some research stuff: in 2017 there were 296,700 police personal in Japan. This however isn’t JUST officers (as in foot police which I equate heroes with).

Now I don’t think there would be more heroes then police, actually I think that there would be two-thirds of the amount of police. So two-thirds of 296,700 is 197,899 (numbers rounded).

Note, I legit just pulled that out of my ass myself but it makes sense that there WOULDN’T be the same amount of heroes compared to police and two-thirds sounds reasonable!

Alright, so there are 197,899 people involved in the heroics career. This doesn’t just mean heroes. It also means people like PR managers, official analysts who work with the heroes, support people who work with heroes, business managers… so, let’s shorten this amount some more.

Now as there are at least 411 hero rankings (Wild-Wild Pussycats are there) I think it’s reasonable that there are a lot of heroes. So… thinking about this a bit more… I’m just gonna say there are 100,000 heroes in Japan because like there are independent ones who probably don’t have an entire agency with them. I also doubt said agencies are actually that big. At most a couple hundred people maybe are part of the agencies. It’s not like Microsoft or McDonalds or anything where they have multiple franchises and employment stuff around the world. No, agencies just have one building and that’s like it. So… yeah.

There, done. I’m happy.

Now then… how many are actually heroes with licenses though?

As I mentioned before many people who have sidekick licenses remain sidekicks for the rest of their lives and never advance past that. So… this has me halfing the amount because fuck it I can. (Also, because sidekicks can act as a hero, they just cannot act independently so… fuck it.)

So 50,000 people are actually heroes with licenses. Of that 50,000- 10,000 of them are underground heroes. Like actual underground heroes and not like Blank Spot, All Might or Nighteye who have underground licenses but act as limelight heroes.

That gives us 40,000 limelight heroes who can be ranked.

I highly doubt the ranking system goes that far. As mentioned, there are at least 411 hero rankings. I have come to the decision that it makes sense there would be 1000 rankings. Most only care about the top 500 though.

When a hero goes limelight their names are put in the system and then they can be added to the ranking list depending on: how many missions they have logged, how much patrols they do, amount of arrests they have accomplished and their popularity.

As such…. IT DOES NOT MAKE FUCKING SENSE THAT MT LADY IS RANKED 23 AND KAMUI WOODS IS 7 WHEN THEY FUCKING ARE TO NEW. MT LADY ONLY HAD HER DEBUT BARELY A YEAR AGO AND KAMUI WOODS IS REGARDED AS A ROOKIE. MAYBE THEIR EFFORTS DURING KAMINO WARD HELPED BUT FUCK THIS SHIT THIS IS FUCKING STUPID. I REFUSE TO FUCKING BELIEVE KAMUI IS HIGHER THEN RYUKU. THAT IS FUCKING BULLSHIT.

AS SUCH: I respect canon has made a decision, but as it is a STUPID ASS DECISION I have elected to ignore it!

So fuck that shit. Kamui Wood is in the top hundred along with Mt Lady for their actions but that’s it.

The top ten are the best of the best with the top three being actually… 100000% rigged.

The top three aren’t just titles either but actually come with jobs. Number One is responsible for checking the HPSC records and making sure things are above board and legal. Number Two is supposed to be a police watch dog, and Number 3 is supposed to be the… honestly they’re supposed to be the watch dog of the top two.

Of course, as it is right now, how it is set up before was good for the HPSC which is why they partly wanted Best Jeanist killed by Hawks because he would have noticed if they weren’t doing their jobs properly. Endeavour is bribed by HPSC hiding the abuse he gave his family, and Hawks is owned by the Commission so they can’t do anything.

They then would have called for a new ranking and oooh, sorry Edgeshot, but we found some stuff so instead Crust is number 3.

But stuff happened!

So… there. That’s how I see things going!

#bnha #bnha meta #bnha headcanon #bnha laws

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wonda-cat · 4 years ago

Note

You mentioned rewriting that one analysis post on Tommy’s revival stream and I’d really look forward to it! I never got to read the full og post and that’s the only place I saw these takes. Especially the one about the afterlife being too depressing. It’s not even just about Tommy, the implication that even if every character is safe and happy by the end, this is their inevitable fate is messed up. It’s not “a neat subversion” it’s just depressing and doesn’t add anything.

Hey, anon!

I sorta decided to not rewrite it? I feel a bit differently about the essay in the end, although I still believe in most of my points. I’m also just not nearly as passionate about it as I was when I wrote it (I finished it in a single sitting, which was... interesting.) However, yes, the afterlife stuff still bothers me just the same, as well as the odd changes to Wilbur’s characterization... post mortem.

But—just for you, anon—here’s the entire meta-analysis essay anyway, with some minor edits to the stuff I don’t agree with anymore!

My Many Narrative Issues with Tommyinnit’s Revival Stream

I want to preface this by saying that I dearly love the Dream SMP and understand it isn’t exactly comparable to other mediums like TV and film. With this being the case, most criticism against it is generally in bad faith or strange in foundation. Complaining about streamers for bad acting is the best example that comes to mind.

These aren’t professional actors. Most have never acted in this sort of setting, or even at all. Quite a few have admitted to never roleplaying before. Which is why it’s warranted to praise Tommy, Dream, Wilbur, Ranboo, and others when they deliver stellar performances. The same applies to criticism of music choice, dialogue delivery, focus, tone, etc.

However, one such category I cannot overlook is in regards to its writing. The writing of a story is its entire foundation. It encompasses many things—conflict choice, character development, themes, and morals. The author creates the blueprints for the architect, who then expresses the story with light, sound, color, pacing, and music. It is in its execution that we see if this connection is made or broken.

The reason I find poor writing mostly inexcusable is because it is one of the most available skills to practice and perfect. I don’t mean to say that it’s easy, I mean to say it is something anyone can attempt to cultivate. Whether they do it well or not depends on their methods and experience. If anyone can self-publish a novel and be criticized online for its quality—and even compared to the works of Mark Twain—then I find critiquing the writing of the Dream SMP to be perfectly reasonable.

However, since the Dream SMP script is a set of loose bullet points, tearing apart dialogue and scene continuity—which is nearly all improv—is rather useless. It doesn’t exactly have a clear focus as the plot plays out. The characters talk in circles until they hit the story beat required, and then they move onto the next. Thus, when criticizing it, one should generally critique grand events and narrative-specific shifts, more so than small-scale character interactions.

Which brings me to my main point: The broad narrative choices taken in Tommyinnit’s most recent livestream, ‘Am I dead?’ may lead to disastrous writing pitfalls in the future.

I’ll be outlining each of my issues below, in hopes of creating a better understanding as to why I feel this way.

This might become quite lengthy, so please bear with me for a bit.

Tommy’s relationship to Wilbur has flipped. This change is jarring and seems out of character.

Tommy and Wilbur’s friendship is rather complicated. While Wilbur does care for Tommy immensely, especially during the L’Manburg Revolution and the Election Arc, his mental spiral during exile put a massive strain on their relationship as a whole. Wilbur brushed off Tommy’s feelings and wants, while clinging to him and pushing everyone else away. He was simultaneously distant and suffocating.

Tommy, on the other hand, has an unclear view of his mentor. Since the beginning, and even long after Wilbur’s death, Tommy held him in especially high regard. He saw him as a brother-figure and a wise leader. He followed what he said and did everything he could to impress him. Yet, Wilbur still hurt him while the two were together in exile.

When speaking of him, Tommy tends to flip infrequently between remembering Wilbur the way he was before his mental decline and thinking of him as a monster. Both of these images conflict with each other, but they weren’t nearly as extreme as what Tommy described Wilbur as when he was revived from death. The fear Tommy displays to Wilbur is beyond intense—it feels as if the audience may have missed a month’s worth of character development.

This can make sense, especially since it was stated that he’d spent what felt like two months in the void. However, this shift is still deeply at odds with Tommy’s previous impressions of Wilbur, which is both disheartening and confusing. The fact that Tommy would agree to stay with Dream—his abuser and murderer—over his past mentor is simply head-reeling. It paints a very different picture of Wilbur’s character, somewhat conforming to the fandom’s ableist impression of him—the idea that Wilbur is insane and irredeemable, and always will be.

It also ignores Dream being the driving factor in Wilbur’s downfall, as well as the double-bind deal with Dream which required him to push the button, no matter the outcome. Others have pointed out that Tommy may be lying to get Dream to bring Wilbur back, and there’s compelling evidence for that. For one, Tommy and Wilbur’s conversation seemed uncomfortable, but it was certainly nothing like Tommy implied. (Unless this fear comes from something Wilbur said off-screen.)

Tommy also begged Dream to not bring him back multiple times over, which he should know would make Dream even more tempted to, simply because he likes seeing Tommy in pain. Tommy is also a known unreliable narrator. He may be making Wilbur out to be worse than he is by accident (even still, I’d argue this is a bit of a stretch.)

However, there are some issues with this theory. Tommy offered himself as payment to Dream if he chose to let Wilbur rest. This is a deal Tommy knows Dream is extremely unlikely to refuse. Tommy is what Dream has coveted all this time. If Tommy genuinely wanted Wilbur back, he would not offer this. This sort of compromise is Tommy’s greatest nightmare—something he would only do in response to his friends being threatened or his home being destroyed.

To add, Tommy is not great at lying. Unless he was taught by Wilbur for those two months* in the afterlife, there’s no chance Tommy would be this good at it. Thirdly, Tommy is terrible under pressure. He uses humor to cope. When he can’t, he cries and shouts and spills his heart out. While cornered, Tommy will tell the truth about anything, especially if Dream casually debates killing him again, just for fun.

For now, it’s too early to tell how the relationship shift will play out. In the grand scheme of things, this issue is rather minor.

Season three’s writing is needlessly bleak. The portrayal of the afterlife is a nightmare. There is no rest, not even in death.

I adore the Dream SMP storyline in its entirety. I believe the first season is fantastic, and while the second season has some narrative clarity issues, I enjoyed it just as much. Although, I would argue season one had a more concrete understanding of its Hope-Conflict balance.

To briefly explain, the Hope in stories are its ‘highs’ and good moments. These appear when a character the audience is rooting for is narratively rewarded. They happen during character building in the text—it’s the downtime and peace that allows for connection and relatability. It’s a moment for the viewer to breathe easy.

The other half is Conflict, an obstacle in the story that gets in the way of the main characters’ goals, beliefs, and motives. These are the ‘lows.’ They give the narrative focus and weight. They make the highs feel even higher. They establish consequences and force the characters in the story to change in order to adapt and overcome them.

I bring up the Hope-Conflict balance because a traditional hero’s journey would have an appropriate amount of both. Their highs and lows are generally equalized, as the name suggests. However, this balance has been awkwardly skewed in the latter half of season two and in the current plot of season three. To clarify, it is perfectly reasonable, and even common, for some stories to tip the scale more to one side.

But a common mistake for amateur writers is to create their stories as either hopelessly dark to cause the audience continuous distress for the sake of distress, or to keep everything entirely conflict-free for most of the plot. What do these both have in common? They each make the story boring and predictable.

Season three has taken this concept and thrown a monstrously heavy weight onto the Conflict side and flipped the scale so hard it has crashed through the ceiling. The viewers are hardly given time to find any joy in Tommy’s character, as he’s thrown into yet another abusive situation, just barely after his first narrative reward. The world is painted as relentlessly violent and traumatic.

Every person Tommy meets is morally grey, unhinged, or out to hurt him. Everything most of the characters love is taken from them by those in positions of power. Ranboo cannot even grieve properly because it scars his face. Puffy, Sam, Ranboo, and Tubbo all blame themselves for what happened to Tommy.

The audience watches lore stream after lore stream with the same depressing tone (with the exception of Tubbo’s, but I assume that’s unintentional.) Tommy is revived after being brutally beaten to death by his abuser, surrounded by all of his greatest fears. The afterlife is revealed to be akin to inescapable torture. It’s a colorless void that wraps the individual like fabric.

Time moves thirty times slower within. There’s nothing—nothing but the voices of others who’ve passed on before him. Dying in a world already devoid of happiness takes the characters to a place worse than hell. When a narrative delivers unfair suffering to the entire cast without a moment of joy to speak of, the story will feel simultaneously overwhelming and pointless.

Why watch characters suffer when there’s no light at the end of the tunnel? What happiness could they strive for when we know they’ll never get to keep it? How can I be satisfied with a good ending, if I know that an afterlife too terrible to name is what awaits them, truly, at the end of their story? Death isn’t even a white void that offers rest—it is eternal torment.

Obviously, it isn’t a good message to send by making the afterlife seem like a quiet, perfect place or an escape from pain. But making it an unspeakable anguish which awaits, assumedly, every character who will die in the future? I deeply hope Tommy was only being an extremely unreliable narrator.

More likely, I hope the place Tommy was taken to was a Limbo of sorts, not an end-all-be-all destination for everyone.

The degree of Tommy’s narrative punishment continues to escalate, to an almost absurd degree.

Tommy is one of the most tragic characters to exist in the storyline. He was sent into war at a young age and experienced two traumatic events during it. He was exiled by the newly elected leader and witnessed his mentor Wilbur spiral and break down with paranoia. Tubbo is executed publicly in front of him. When expressing rightful anger at the person who murdered him, he’s beaten nearly to death and never receives an apology.

Schlatt dies right in front of Tommy, after his initial refusal to hurt the ex-president. His brother-figure and mentor is killed in assisted suicide on the same day his nation is blown up. His best friend exiles him from his home for the second time. He routinely self-sacrifices to protect his country and those who live there. His most treasured possessions were taken from him and he was called selfish for trying to retrieve them (although his methods were self-destructive and volatile.)

He was pushed to the brink of suicide after being relentlessly abused and isolated in his exile. He was horrified when he thought he was responsible for drowning Fundy. After making an objectively good decision to stand by his old friends and change for the better, his country was obliterated by the man he once idolized, his father-figure, and his abuser.

He was left scattered and without purpose for many days. Then he fights against Dream and loses, while also reliving his trauma. He watches Tubbo almost die at the hands of someone he once thought was his friend. He doesn’t tell a single person about what happened to him in exile. The day he tries to sever his connection to Dream and heal, he’s trapped with him for a week, surrounded by everything that terrifies him.

He threatens to kill himself, speaking about his own life as if it were an object—something to hold over Dream’s head. He blames himself for everything bad that’s ever happened to L’Manburg and his friends—internalizing a mentality as a scapegoat for everyone around him. He is forced into the role of ‘hero’ despite the title being unfair and distressing to him.

As if that weren’t enough, he’s then beaten to death by his abuser and spends what feels like two months in an afterlife that is worse than hell. When he returns, his senses are excessively heightened. Dream can cause him excruciating pain, just by pinching him. He can send Tommy into an instant panic attack, just by raising his voice.

The punishment Tommy’s character receives is a thousand times worse than everyone he has ever met, or ever will meet. And it shows no signs of stopping, as Dream now has control over Tommy’s very mortality. Tommy now fears the slightest damage and feels as if he’s losing his best friend all over again. He is also forced into a position where he has to kill Dream out of necessity, to protect everyone he cares about.

Characters need fitting punishments in relation to their actions. Not always, but in order to be satisfying? Yes, they do. It is preferred that a main character deal with unfair situations and difficult conflicts, but this is borderline torture p*rn. Putting Tommy in these distressing and abusive situations on repeat and punishing him for doing objectively moral or healthy things is exhausting to watch.

To quickly add, I find the general insinuation of Tommy going to hell distasteful, especially considering the contents of his storyline. I know this may be hard to believe, but Tommy is one of the most moral characters in the plot, besides Puffy and Ghostbur. He’s also the only character, followed by Ranboo, to recognize that they can be wrong and make mistakes. He changed himself in order to heal and be a better person. He was in the process of paying people back for the things he’d stolen.

He’s learned to be hard-working and less violent through the guidance of Sam. He has apologized to everyone he’s ever hurt (with the exception of Jack Manifold, because that man is allergic to communication.) He puts himself in harm's way to protect others. He doesn’t set out to purposely hurt anyone. He goes out of his way to make connections with people and maintain them, even if others don’t reciprocate.

He’s hopelessly optimistic, despite his outwardly bitter façade. He loved so much and put meaning into the smallest things. The thought that a person like him—a suicide and abuse survivor—would go to hell after being beaten to death by the man who took everything from him; it makes me sick to my stomach.

The only thing more morbid than Tommy’s afterlife being different than everyone else’s, is the concept that everyone will end up in this same eternal torture, no matter what they do. Take your pick: Tommy is sentenced to anguish until the end of time for no reason, or everyone will receive the same disturbing ending, regardless of their actions.

The narrative weight of Ranboo’s character is potentially out the window.

For the past few months, I’ve watched all of Ranboo’s lore streams faithfully, curious to see what role he would play in the future. His ‘hallucinations’ of Dream seemed to be sowing the seeds for a plot that has Ranboo taking the fall for every single insidious thing Dream has done. It would also be a tragic parallel to Tommy’s trial.

Ranboo being convinced he was the one who blew up the community house, when Dream himself admitted to doing it, was one of the bigger indicators for me. This is just one of many other unexplained occurrences. Dream seemed to be making an effort to trigger and control Ranboo, especially after Sapnap’s prison visit. It appeared, from the way he went about this, that Dream had some grand use for Ranboo as part of his plan to be freed from Pandora’s Vault.

However, after Tommy’s stream, the way Dream explains himself makes it seem like there was no plan besides seeing if the book worked on people. And if he didn’t after all, then what was Ranboo for? Was Ranboo unimportant? Was Ranboo just some weirdo who happened to phase out when seeing smiley faces and imagined conversations that may or may not have happened?

I bring this up more as a worry, and much less so as an active problem in the narrative. They haven’t actually thrown Ranboo to the way-side or written themselves into a corner yet. In future streams, this could very easily be explained away or developed as more information is revealed.

Only time will tell.

The potential for Wilbur’s future development and importance to the plot is unfeasible.

I feel as if I am the only person on earth who doesn’t want Wilbur Soot or Schlatt revived. There are many reasons for this, but one of them is not a dislike for these characters. I especially adore Wilbur, as he’s one of my all-time favorites. I don’t want either of them resurrected because their stories have already been told. They each had a fitting conclusion that ended their involvement perfectly.

Bringing Wilbur back would especially cheapen the impact of the War of the 16th. It’s the end of a man who was brought to the absolute edge and out of desperation, shame, and self-hatred, he destroyed himself alongside his creation. Bringing him back would leave the climax of the previous story hollow. My biggest issue, however, is that a lack of story importance would likely follow his return.

The only real impact I’d like to see is through a healing arc with Tommy, an apology to Fundy, or a confrontation with Phil/Niki. But that’s really all the potential I can realistically see. While I don’t doubt Wilbur as an agent of chaos, able to create plot out of thin air; what is he going to do now? His country is gone, his friends and family are scattered about, and his mission from the 16th is already accomplished.

What is a well-educated, charismatic politician supposed to do in a world already broken and without nations? Read poetry to himself and cry evilly? However, this is working off the assumption that Wilbur would be returning as his old self.

If Wilbur is resurrected as a ‘villain’ of sorts, then what? He’s not good at fighting in the slightest. He would have no materials. There are no real allies he can make, other than the arctic group. On top of that, there are already more than enough villains to last a lifetime.

We don’t need any more, I promise. Quackity seems to already be shaping up as another antagonist, alongside Sam’s slip into darker and darker shades of moral ambiguity. We also have Philza and Techno, which are already overkill. But then we have Dream who, despite being in a prison, has the ability of selective revival. This is mercilessly overpowered, especially if he makes many allies. The dude could just bring his dead friends back so they can keep fighting forever.

Then there’s Jack Manifold and the Crimson followers; Antfrost, Bad, and Punz. That’s not even including characters who are refusing to get involved. How are Tommy, Tubbo, and Puffy expected to do literally anything to fight back?

Dream’s experiment on Tommy implies he had no backup plan to begin with. This makes his character seem both short-sighted and foolish.

When Tommy woke up after being brought back to life, Dream sounded surprised that the revival worked at all. This instantly shatters the perception that Dream was highly intelligent and thought ahead. With just a few lines of dialogue, it’s implied that Dream killed Tommy, unsure of if the resurrection would even be possible on humans.

Which, to risk something that important, seems unbelievably stupid. Dream needs Tommy, from his perspective. Tommy is his ‘toy,’ the one who makes everything fun. If he lost him and couldn’t get him back, what then? Oh well, everything Dream was doing was all for nothing, I guess.

Why not attempt this experiment on literally anyone else first? Like Sapnap or Bad or, hell, even Ranboo. I suppose it could be that, as soon as Dream got the book, he experimented with it after the 16th. This appears to be insinuated with Friend and Hendry’s revival, although this is uncertain. But even then, he was still unsure of the book’s effect on a human being.

Also, this means, hypothetically, Dream’s entire plan of escape hinged on the experiment working, to begin with, and also on bringing back Wilbur if it somehow did. I find this even more ridiculous. Why Wilbur? That man couldn’t find his way out of a paper bag, let alone get through the traps in Pandora’s Vault. Even if he is intelligent after years* in the afterlife, that’s also a strange assumption.

How do people learn things in the void? Where do they even get this knowledge? I’d honestly argue Techno is a far more competent choice than Wilbur. And even if Dream did bring him back and tell him he owed him his life, what’s to stop Wilbur from just killing him permanently? Or killing himself, continuously?

No way would Wilbur want to be controlled by anyone, ever. The dude would sooner fuck off into the mountains and become a nomad than help a neon green bodysuit cosplay as Light Yagami.

Dream’s discussion about Sam implies that he wasn't playing any part in Dream’s plan, making Sam appear entirely incompetent and neglectful of Tommy.

Dream talked about Sam in a way that seems detached and unaffiliated. He also mentioned him being broken up about Tommy’s fate and not being aware he’s still alive. Dream not being partnered with, or not using Sam in his plan leaves many plot holes. I’ll go through each one. The initial incident was an explosion, coming from the roof of Pandora’s Vault. This did not affect the Redstone mechanism for the doors or dispensers.

Meaning, Sam could’ve had Tommy leave the way that was expected for visitors after he investigated and found no issues. This likely couldn’t have been done in less than a day, but it would be better than an entire week. If Tommy was required to stay for longer, due to protocol, he could’ve gotten Tommy out and then placed him in one of the minor cells for the remainder of the time.

Also, no one else lost a canon life for leaving via the splash potion of harming and returning outside the maximum-security cell; why would Tommy? To add, Sam being uninvolved means that the explosion could have only been caused by Ranboo or Foolish. That, or it was placed long before and timed for the moment Tommy entered the main cell. (I’m going to ignore how ludicrous it is that someone would know the exact time Tommy would’ve entered the room with Dream.)

If Ranboo was the person behind the detonation, this implies he was necessary for Dream to kill Tommy to test the book. But that makes it even stranger. If this was Dream’s goal all along, why not kill Tommy the instant he was trapped with him? It makes no sense for him to wait so long.

Sam is also directly at fault for not letting Tommy out, even after the week was up. There was no reason not to. He already knew there were no issues with the prison at that point. Although, to be fair to Sam, his character may have been paranoid and checking everything more than necessary, just in case. But this still isn’t a good excuse for him ignoring protocol in this one instance, and yet, not in any of the others.

All of these plot holes or inconsistencies would be removed if it was revealed that Dream was blackmailing Sam in some way, or Sam had been working with him since the get-go. That Sam was the person who set off the explosion in the first place to trap Tommy inside. It would also explain Sam’s refusal to let Tommy out and by keeping him in there for longer than necessary.

This can also coexist with Sam’s attachment and care for Tommy. He probably wasn’t told about Dream’s plan to test the book and genuinely believed Dream wouldn’t hurt him. On top of that, Dream is known to be a pathological liar, so his statements about Ranboo and Sam could be entire fabrications.

Who knows?

The Book of Revival invalidates death entirely. The narrative now lacks both tension and consequence.

Another way the Dream SMP differs from other storytelling media is in the way it goes about its character deaths. In a TV show, for example, there will be characters who die just because, or when it’s important to the plot. However, it seems as if the Dream SMP is hesitant to commit to killing its characters. And there are many reasons for that.

The most important one being, killing someone’s character excludes them from the story and some of their livelihoods depend on them regularly streaming on the server. There is also the issue of the cast becoming extremely sparse if characters keep dying. Typically, in stories, when you kill a character, you should introduce another.

This keeps the cast from dwindling as the storyline goes on. This means the writers would have to find new streamers to join, who will develop their own characters and relationships with the plot’s continued momentum. This can be stressful and daunting to those who may be newly added in the future.

Keeping this in mind, the Book of Revival is annoying from a writer’s perspective. When death is no longer an issue for a story hinged on its characters’ mortality, then what do you have as a consequence anymore? We’ve explored every kind under the sun; from abuse, to betrayal, to loss, to destruction.

In stories, traditionally, death is a finality. It’s a conclusion. Whether it’s good or not depends on the character’s actions, its build-up, and the event’s execution. Without this lingering sense of danger, tension evaporates from the story.

Why should I care if Tommy loses in a fight to someone, if he’ll just come back a day later? Why should I care about what happened to Wilbur, if he just returns as if nothing happened? The answer is simple: I won’t. I will no longer care if Tubbo or Ranboo or Sam die in the story, because the idea of revival even being a possible outcome leaves me unenthused and uncaring.

The Dream SMP likes to flirt with death. It teases the demise of its main characters many, many times. More so Tommy’s than anyone else’s. Wilbur’s failed resurrection, which had unforeseen and unfortunate outcomes, is now strange in comparison to Tommy’s, which happened without a hitch.

To be fair, we actually don’t see how many attempts it took. But here’s the problem; Dream could do it without the book being physically present. He’s trapped in a prison with nothing on him, meaning he doesn’t need any materials either. It’s also implied he could do this as many times as he feels, for anyone he wants. This would be exceedingly overpowered, if not for one thing—Dream himself is mortal (at least, I fucking hope he’s mortal.)

If someone kills him one last time, that knowledge is gone forever. And I’m glad they’ve established at least some way for Tommy to win. Because at this point, I was losing faith.

There is also the bare minimum establishment that Dream can refuse to bring back those he doesn’t care for. He can also use it as a shield, holding this power over other people. If Dream is gone, death is permanent. But isn’t that how death is supposed to be, anyway?

What a bleak premise—the afterlife is pure eternal torture while life is cheapened by a lack of consequences.

Conclusion

All this to say, I am cautiously optimistic for the future. I hope dearly that every single one of these can be disproven or developed in the coming livestreams. Obviously, there’s not enough information to really determine what the end result will be, or how everything will fall into place.

Every time I have theorized about the story, it has done something completely different and pleasantly surprised me. I want this trend to continue.

Surprise me again—I’ll be here to see where it goes.

#answered asks #long post #tommyinnit #dream smp meta #dream smp #dsmp #dsmp analysis #this is slightly outdated still but whatever #hope this was helpful anon #tw abuse #tw suicide

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bettsfic · 5 years ago

Note

do you know anything about like, the development of the purity rhetoric that now seems to be ubiquitous in fandom and how it got there? i used to be on tumblr in like, 2014 and only recently came back to fandom and i remember everyone being generally kind of cool with things like incest ships and morally grey characters (speaking specifically re the frozen fandom and elsa/anna here lmao) whereas now it seems like the conversation about those things has drastically shifted and i am..puzzled by it

this is what i imagine that experience was like for you:

according to fanlore, purity culture started in the homestuck fandom which. based on what i know of homestuck, that tracks. however i’ve never been in homestuck so i’m not sure what that transformation was like. all i know is my personal experience with the disk horse. afaik there’s no cohesive timeline of events across fandom, and i lack the time and resources to be able to make one myself. if anyone knows of one, or wants to make one, please let me know.

i do know that purity culture is a movement started by very young teenagers, who were maybe 13-15 in 2014 and are now 18-20. they were 8-10 when ao3 was founded, and therefore seem to have a limited knowledge of fan history, censorship, and critical thinking. i’m hoping that since they’re now entering college, they’ll get some insight and broader social awareness, and this movement will finally die out in the next few years.

on any other platform, at any other time, their toxic rhetoric would not have gained traction. but here and now, on tunglr dot com where anyone can gain a platform, where mob mentality thrives and inciting an anonymous dogpile is as easy as hitting Post, where the brokenness of this place makes it difficult to control the content you’re exposed to -- it’s the perfect storm. we live in an age of hopelessness. young people grow up with social media as an extension of their identities, tethered to devices that hold all the information in the world. i think it’s fair for them to be afraid of their futures, and i can understand the desire to control the online spaces where they have the most agency, where their voices are the loudest.

that may explain why, but not how. as in, where did they pick up this mentality at all? @freedom-of-fanfic (whose work is a necessity in understanding the disk horse) connected anti-shipping to TERF rhetoric. i’ve linked the fanlore page because it has all of the links and some of the responses. i honestly do believe that the language surrounding purity culture has its ugly roots in TERFdom. at its core, purity culture -- the policing of female and queer sexuality -- is misogyny.

when i started writing destiel circa 2014, fandom was as you described. wincest was a juggernaut on par with destiel. teen wolf was full of underage and noncon. a/b/o was on the rise. it seemed like fandom was a genre without restraint -- anything you wrote, if it found the right audience, would be celebrated unabashedly. people who have been following me for a long time know that i was addicted to adderall at the time and pounding out all sorts of manic nonsense. i remember living on the validation of comments (and at the time, there were lots of comments. not so much anymore, but that’s another story). i got critical comments only rarely, and they were the type that i admired -- readers without judgment thinking through the story, reacting to it earnestly. i made some of my best friends because they left long, critical comments on my work. sometimes they didn’t like it, sometimes they did, but ultimately, they were engaged, and that’s what counted.

i remember my first policing-type comment, i think at the start of all the purity nonsense. it was a destiel fic, and someone very angrily told me i should tag my bottom!cas because it was triggering. i’ve thought about that comment a lot over the years. top/bottom discourse is nothing new, but to say that bottom castiel is triggering? that was ridiculous. but then i realized -- there was a writer in fandom at the time i won’t name, who was known for being extremely sensitive (for bottom!cas especially, which they found triggering), and their very dedicated following offered fic that was safe for their fave to read. i have nothing against this person at all. they were not part of the purity discourse, they were up front about their sensitive nature, and as far as i knew (i believe i met them at a con once?) they were very kind.

but that commenter had been clearly influenced by this person and believed that a specific fictional character receiving anal sex from another specific fictional character was actual, real triggering content, and it was my obligation as a writer to tag for it. which i did, because i felt bad, and i was baffled by that request. at the time, i wanted more than anything to be liked, and conformed wherever i could. if i got such a request now, i would ignore it because it was rudely written and honestly kind of bonkers. i’d happily add a tag for something i may have missed, or even something i’d never considered before, but there’s no reason a person can’t make that request politely.

this situation isn’t about purity discourse proper (the commenter didn’t tell me not to write the fic, and it had nothing to do with morality), but it’s the earliest example i can think of where the process of policing had occurred: a person of influence on tumblr affected their follower’s thinking, and that follower felt entitled to command another writer to conform to that ideology.

i could be completely wrong about making these connections. maybe that commenter truly believed bottom!cas was a legitimate widespread trauma. they did not say the fic was triggering to them, but that it might be to some other people, in the same way purity police say “think of the CHILDREN” when in fact they don’t give a fuck about children at all.

after destiel i moved to stucky, which was, at the time, a juggernaut ship where anyone could write anything. this was also the time when the term “cinnamon roll” became incredibly popular, circa 2015. it was a fun and seemingly innocuous meme, but it positioned the ideas of “purity” and “wholesomeness” in sharp relief, and cemented these ideas by beginning to give it a distinct vocabulary. “trash” was pitched as its opposite. stucky is where i first came into contact with “antis.” in destiel, there had been ship wars, sure, but it was of a different flavor than antis. destiel vs wincest wasn’t about morality in 2014. it was about everything but.

in stucky in 2015, however, the disk horse was running rampant. the MCU had a sub-section of fandom called HTP (hydra trash party) in which steve and/or bucky have dubious or nonconsensual relations with various or many members of hydra. this is the first time i remember being aware of morality becoming a cornerstone of shipping. HTP was loathed by purity police. by the time i wrote a stucky bdsm au, i’d accumulated multiple nasty anons, rude comments from entitled readers, and other nonsense that all said the same thing: your filth is not welcome here in our space of purity. go away.

but the release of the force awakens is what really turned the tide. TFA offered three major ships: stormpilot (as it was called at the time, now finnpoe), reylo, and kylux. the fandom that developed around the sequels was firmly divided. franzeska wrote an amazing meta about this phenomenon which gives some insight into the seeds of purity policing. in short, stormpilot should have been the primary pairing of the sequels, but instead many of the badwrong writers from other fandoms (and HTP specifically, which was how i entered the fandom) flocked to the blank slate of kylux.

it took a long time for the ship to gain traction. a friend told me that kylux had started with angry star wars racists who hated that there was diversity in the sequel trilogy. and i told them no, i was there, there were twelve of us and a cornchip, and all we cared about was the dirty/darkly comedic potential of these two ridiculous villain characters in one of the biggest franchises of all time. it wasn’t that complicated. i don’t mean to dismiss the discussion of race in fandom; i think it’s important to acknowledge that racism, as franzeska describes far better than i can, plays a huge part in fandom, particularly in star wars, and it’s an important and ongoing discussion to be having, especially given what kelly marie tran has gone through, and how it affected (presumably) rose tico’s extremely limited presence in TROS.

the early fics of kylux weren’t particularly taboo. they were post-TFA hurt/comfort mostly, then slowly the bdsm and power dynamics crept in. those of us who wanted to get away from purity discourse had finally found a new home. for a while. 2016 was the golden era of kylux. we were all very happy.

i remember talking to a friend about how there were certain things i couldn’t write in certain ships. being from ye olden days of fandom, she was appalled by this idea, and told me i could write anything for any ship i wanted, wasn’t that was the whole point of transformative works? and i agreed! but i tried to explain, if you post badwrong for a fandom of purity police, you’re going to, at best, get dogpiled in your comments/inbox. at worse they will find you, call your employer, and try to ruin your life. people will tell you to kill yourself. they’ll report your tumblr and try to get your blog shut down. there are real-life, harrowing consequences to writing taboo fic, and many who write fic as a hobby don’t have the emotional energy to field these risks.

around this time, discord became popular, which offered a private space for badwrong writers to congregate. i had started grad school and didn’t have much time to write fic. metoo was happening. tromp got elected. kylux was slowly turning mainstream so a lot of us turned our attention to gradence in fantastic beasts. some went on to hannibal and other fandoms that hadn’t yet caught the attention of purity police (but it was, as it is now, just a matter of time). kylux, i feel, was specifically decimated by a single fan creator, who was like a police chief. they would get wind of someone writing underage or noncon and write a call-out post about them, and that writer/artist would get pitchforked. a few times, my comments or posts got screencapped, and posts were written urging people to stop reading my works because of how heinously immoral i was. this happened to several of my friends too.

the great tumblr tittyban of 2017 happened, which only added fuel to the fire and further legitimized the purity movement. i shifted hesitantly to the 100 fandom, which seemed small in comparison to supernatural, marvel, and star wars. i thought it was a chill place. i was wrong; it was just as toxic as other fandoms. but i also didn’t care anymore, and i appreciated that i was mostly left alone. more importantly, i found a lot of support from other people who were as tired of the purity as i was, and @the100kinkmeme was reborn.

the state of things is pretty abysmal. there are some really amazing writers out there writing under multiple sock accounts, keeping their fandom identities shattered so as not to call attention to themselves. as much as i understand why writers do that, and i respect that decision, i also think it’s sad. it deprives readers the chance to read that author’s other works. it limits the sense of community and our ability to make friends. it fractures the future of the genre.

what’s most important to acknowledge is that none of this is happening solely in fandom. i went to a writers’ conference where 2 of 3 panels were about the history of moral policing and censorship in art. it is worth noting that of the 40-ish visiting writers on faculty, only one (1) was a woman of color (jaimaica kincaid). naturally, older rich white people who have spent their life in the arts are all about death of the author, separation of art and artist. they’re on the total opposite side of purity police, and they won’t acknowledge at all that racism and sexism are a problem in the creative world. they don’t have any nuance on the discussion, or modern perspectives in light of metoo or popular culture.

this went on longer than i anticipated. i neglected to mention YFIP (your fave is problematic) an old blog that started the idea of call-out culture by pulling receipts on celebrities, and how call-out culture led to cancel culture, which also aided in the purity disk horse. i think a lot can be said about how some of this stuff is genuinely good (metoo and holding men accountable for their bullshit) while also being profoundly toxic (punishing criminals via mob mentality, ruining their careers and livelihoods through social media, rather than giving them their due process in court. i understand it -- the judicial system is built by the hands of the very predators we seek to condemn, but still. the jury of the internet is never a fair trial).

if you want to read more, my tag is tsatp (the sacred and the profane). i’m sure i’ve left out a lot, but i can only speak to my experience. i think it would be good if people would share their experience dealing with purity policing, too, so we might get a cohesive timeline in place. feel free to reblog and add your story.

#tsatp #my fic #Anonymous

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everlarkficexchange · 5 years ago

Text

I Choose You

Written by: @wendywobbles

Prompt 51: Katniss E, the Valedictorian of Panem High school, is perfect in all fields of life. And that is the crush of awkward, average in studies, not so popular, never had a girlfriend, often bullied Peeta M. Not only does she have a very popular friend circle but also a handsome, popular boyfriend Gale H. Will she even want to be his friend? Is his crush doomed to fail? Eventual Everlark) [submitted by @white-dandelion-seeds]

AN: I hope I did your prompt proud. The title comes from a Sara Bareilles song that I love.

——————————————-

Peeta Mellark walked quietly in the door and leaned against the wall at the school assembly. He hated these things. Being trapped here for an hour while Principal Trinket droned on and on about what was coming up in the next semester was hell.

They had just returned from their autumn break and Peeta was counting the days down until this last year of school was finished. His experience in Panem 12th Region school had been long, dull and miserable.

Not for the first time he wondered if his dad had lived how his life would have turned out. Would he have been a popular jock with lots of friends and confidence instead of a feeling like a ghost in these hallways? He hoped college would be different. As far as he knew none of the dicks from his year would be attending Capitol U.

He had no idea what Trinket was talking about but he became aware the second the speaker changed……Katniss Everdeen was at the podium and saying hello to everyone. Instantly he paid attention.

Katniss Everdeen was in Peeta Mellark’s eyes the most perfect woman to ever walk the earth. She had long dark hair, clear olive skin and grey eyes.

She was a distance runner for the Panem 12th Region Athletics team. She trained hard , Peeta knew this because he had often seen her running in the early hours of the morning when it was his early shift at the Bakery or sometimes he would see her on the trails when he was out running she always had a smile and wave for him as they passed.

Her grades were always high, again Peeta knew this was down to hard work and not just luck.

Sometimes he would see her at the library when he was hiding out avoiding Cato and the other Jays and his maths whizz brother Leon had been tutoring her since last year.

She has a quiet confidence, and strength that just drew people to her and had a wide circle of friends but would make time for everyone whether it was a quick hello or a longer more in-depth chat. It was no wonder when she ran for student council she was elected president.

With a confident smile the object of Peeta’s affection began to speak

“Hi all! Hope everyone had a wonderful break, I know I did. Principal Trinket has given me a few minutes of the assembly today to talk about our Winter Formal. This year we are looking to do something a bit different and we are hoping that you guys will help us come up with a theme. This is the last 12th Region dance some of us will attend and we would love to make this something a bit special, but right now our ideas aren’t hitting the mark and I know that there are so many talented and creative individuals here so we’d love to hear from you.”

She looked behind her and Annie Cresta, her Vice President, handed her a cardboard box covered in silver paper. She held it up for all to see

“Okay, I know this probably looks a bit basic but this box will be left in library until next Friday. If you have an idea put it in. We will then post the suggestions online and then we can vote for our favourite. Easy right? I can’t wait to see what people come up with.”

“Thanks for listening and don’t forget Friday is the big Game against D13’s Coin Cavaliers and once again the 12th Region’s very own Mockingjays are out to destroy them. Show you school spirit by wearing black and orange. Go Jays!”

All around Peeta students began to cheer, he just rolled his eyes and slipped quietly away.

*********

For the rest of the day school was buzzing with excitement for the game and Katniss announcement. Peeta was glad when his final class was over and headed to his locker to collect his bag.

“Hey Bread Boy” called Johanna Mason, a short shaved head girl that somehow had become one of Peeta’s closest and dearest friends

“Yes Jo?”

“So are you making any suggestions for the Winter Formal? I’ve got mine in – Roller Disco with night vision goggles. Great, huh?”

“Seriously Jo? I mean while I can certainly appreciate the theme, how exactly would a person fund all those glasses……” he smiled.

“I’m the ideas woman, the reality is her ladyship and her minions area of work…speaking of which. Anyway I gotta go, see you later handsome “ and with that Jo sprinted away.

Peeta looked up and saw Katniss Everdeen walking down the corridor. She was carrying an armful of books, a bag and a bottle of water, had an apple wedged in her mouth and her shoe lace was beginning to open on her ever present black Cons. Peeta was thinking how this looked like an accident waiting to happen when Katniss reached up to take the apple out of her mouth, stepped on her now undone shoe lace and tripped herself up sending everything flying.

“Katniss! Oh my god are you okay?” Peeta was by her side in a flash and quickly helped her right herself.

Surprisingly she burst out laughing “Oh my god! I can’t believe that just happened. Thanks Peeta, I’m ok.” He started to help her pick up her stuff when Gale Hawthorne appeared.

“Katniss? What happened? You ok?” concern was all over his features.

“Fine, fine I tripped Peeta was just helping me collect my stuff.”

Gale nodded but proceeded to take the books Peeta had in his arms “Well I’m here now. Mellark you can …go do whatever it is you do. I got this.”

Peeta felt his face flame but kept his mouth shut previous experience had thought him that answering back to people like Gale usually ended up badly for people like Peeta.

“Sure. Whatever” he mumbled and moved to step away.

Katniss meanwhile shot Gale a glance that would have felled a lesser man, but Peeta imagined as Katniss’ boyfriend Gale was probably used to her looks so he just ignored her.(Imagine being able to ignore Katniss thought Peeta)

“Thanks again Peeta. Hey before you go, do you have the details of the English assignment? I can’t find where I wrote it down.”

“Sure, hold on” Peeta rummaged in his backpack and pulled out a notebook. He pulled out a sheet and copied the details onto the paper for her.

“Ummm here you go” he said handing it over.

“Katniss? Are you ready I’ll carry this stuff to your car” huffed Gale.

“Go ahead I’ll be right there. I just want to check something with Peeta” She called without looking at Gale.

“I’ll wait.”

“Dunderhead” muttered Katniss under her breath so that only Peeta could hear her, keeping her voice low she began to speak “Um I was wondering if you were going to submit any ideas for the dance. When we were kids I remember you always had a great imagination.”

Peeta blinked and stared and Katniss “Um no. I don’t….I mean I’m not interested in that kinda thing you know. I’ve never even been to a school dance.”

“Oh…right. Sorry I just, I guess I’ll see you in class or something.” Katniss seemed embarrassed and Peeta wanted to die. This was how he spoke to the girl of his dreams….Leon was right he was an idiot.

As she turned to walk away he called after her “Wait! I may not have an idea but um I’m pretty good at art and design maybe,I mean if you needed it, I could help you guys work on pulling it altogether?” he rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“That would be fantastic! I know you’re headed to Capitol U next year to begin a Fine Art Degree so absolutely we would love your help.” Katniss smile was a mile wide as she said all this.

“Ok. Well keep me posted. Oh and Katniss you should probably tie your shoelace” Peeta smiled and her and began to walk away. It was only as he turned the corner he realised something. He had never mentioned getting into Capitol U …how had Katniss known that?

********

“So what did you need from Mellark?” asked Gale.

“Gale you were standing right there when I was talking to him - English homework and he’s offered to help with the dance.” said Katniss taking her bag from Gale. She reached down to grab the apple that she dropped and popped it in a bin as she walked by.

“Help how? Loser never goes to anything school related.”

“So? What has that got to do with anything? And he’s not a loser. Look Gale we need help with this dance and I’m happy to have someone like Peeta come on board-“

Gale cut her off “ Ooh I get it now, you get the nerdy runt to do all the work and you take the credit.”

“Shut up Gale. When have I EVER treated anyone like that? I can’t believe you would even think I would do that.”

“Oh relax, it’s High School not the real world.”

Sometimes Katniss goody two shoes attitude really annoyed Gale. Kill or be killed that was Gale’s motto(not literally of course) but sometimes you had to be ruthless on and off the field.

“Let me make it up too you… how about a movie?”

“Can’t I have to get home to help dad. I’ll round up the gang maybe we can all go see something on Saturday?”

Frustrated Gale rolled his eyes before responding “Katniss I meant …..”

Katniss knew exactly what he meant and after going out a few times two years ago, Katniss wasn’t going down that road again, Gale however still thought they were perfect for each other and was always trying to get her to agree to a date.

Katniss blundered on pretending not to have heard him “It’ll be a fun way for everyone to relax after Friday’s game. I’ll text everyone later unless you want to do it?”

Gale clenched his jaw frustrated at Katniss he wanted to say something more when his phone rang. It was Cato.

“I’m late for practice. Talk to you later” and Gale took off running towards the sports field.

A grateful Katniss watched Gale sprint away, glad of the reprieve from his hints and outright declarations that they would make the perfect couple.

She hopped into her car and got ready to head home, when out of the corner of her eye she saw the hunched figure of Peeta Mellark walking out and heading towards town, she watched him til he was out of sight.

There was something about Peeta that made Katniss want to get to know him better but the blue eyed blond boy kept himself to himself. She had has crush on him since the first day of school when he drew her a picture of her teddy bear.

She smiled recalling how upset she was being separated from her bear and was missing him something terrible on her first day. Seeing her tears Peeta had marched up to her pencil in hand and asked her what he looked like and under her guidance had drawn a pretty good depiction of Snowball Abernathy.

Katniss still had the drawing; her dad had laminated it years go and she used it as book mark. The bear was also still knocking around, slightly bedraggled, more grey then white these day but still loved.

She sighed remembering a time when they were younger and Peeta was much more open. It all changed when his dad died though he seemed to retreat from childhood.

********

Katniss knew from Peeta’s older brother Leon that it hadn’t been easy after Mr M had died.

She had met Leon when her parents hired him to help her with her maths. Leon was like a skinnier less good looking Peeta. He was in college locally hoping to be a teacher and he loved maths and tutored a few kids.

As Katniss and he worked together they became more friendly.He was kind and funny and talkative.

When Katniss got accepted to Capitol U to study Engineering she was overjoyed and then Leon told her Peeta had been accepted to CU too.

“That’s amazing! What program? I wonder if we’ll run into each other. That would be cool.” Katniss gushed. She was practically vibrating at this piece of news.

And had completely forgotten who she was talking too. She couldn’t stop the blush that crept up her face.

Leon felt a grin spreading over his face “Careful Everdeen or I might think you have a crush on my baby brother……oh my god you do!!!”

That was a few weeks ago and Leon kept encouraging her to talk to Peeta and teasing her that if she let the year pass without saying anything he would tell Peeta before graduation.

Katniss knew though her secret was safe. Leon was very protective of Peeta, and from what Leon had told her-and what she knew from the past herself and gossip- the death of Mr Mellark had hit the whole family hard.

The oldest Mellark brother Sean had taken over running the place full time (this had always been the plan but the death of Sean Snr meant things moved a lot quicker). He quit full time college and moved home.

Leon and Peeta helped out but right after her husband died Mrs Mellark seemed to “disappear” leaving Sean 20, Leon 16 and Peeta 13 to carry on.

The older boys tried to stay on top of everything.- the house, the business, school even dealing with their mom- but their home life was chaotic following in the weeks following their fathers death.

It was a lot to cope with, and they tried to do it all without any help - scared that if they let people know what was going on their family would be further torn apart.

Katniss remembered when Peeta came to school in the same hoodie for 5 days –not really a big deal but Cato Snow grabbed this and began to tease Peeta.

“Hey Smellark. Don’t you have any CLEAN clothes?”

His goons soon joined in for weeks whenever they could get Peeta alone they went at him, they pushed him, squirted hand sanitizer on him, threw water on him.

Some of the other kids tried to tell Cato to stop but no one wanted to make themselves a target so most just ignored what was going on. Katniss did too, and the memory still pained her.

It all came to a head one Monday afternoon Peeta finally snapped and swung at Cato. Peeta may have been quiet and smaller then the others but in the past number of weeks a fire had raged in him.

This particular Monday Cato had decided that Peeta needed a hair cut and got Tom Marvel and Derek Blight to hold him down and started to hack at Peeta’s hair.

It was the final straw for Peeta, to this day no one knows exactly how he did it but Peeta got loose and punched Cato busting his nose, the sight of the blood caused Marvel to flee. Blight wasn’t quick enough and Peeta managed to leave him with a black eye. Peeta picked up his bag and left the school vowing to never return.

While this was going on, an anonymous tip off was left with a children’s care charity begging them to check on the Mellark’s. A young case worker Finnick Odair took the call and hearing how distressed the girl in the end of the call was decided to make a house call.

He met a shaken, tattered Peeta at the house on the front step.

“Hey kid? You ok?”

And for the first time since his dad died and the bullying began Peeta cried and his story just tumbled out

Finnick met with the rest of the family. Mrs. Mellark was very obviously depressed, the boys were grieving but had no time to process everything that was happening as they desperately tried to keep things going. A decision was made to contact Mrs Mellark mother, Sae.

She arrived in a day and scolded her grandsons for not calling her sooner and hugged the life out of them.

She sought out her daughter and held her close as she wept and wept.

Then the five of them sat on the sofa together and Sae told Finnick she was sticking around for as long as was needed and he helped her to find the help her family needed.

Peeta however refused to talk about what had happened and wouldn’t confirm the bullying. He hoped by keeping his mouth shut Cato would leave him alone. (It hadn’t. Although Cato no longer actively sought him out he still tormented him)

When Peeta returned to school a few days later people seemed to give him a wide berth the story of his Hulk like anger had scared people. It made him sad.

When he went to his locker he found a bag there and inside was a paper dandelion, a packet of coloring pencils and notebook.

Peeta was confused and wary but the yellow flower was the first thing he remembered seeing in color; since his dad died life had just been grey. He smiled, just a small one but somehow this flower made him feel something he hadn’t felt in a long time -hope.

********

On Friday the school was buzzing. Peeta had on a black tee shirt and orange cons showing his school spirit.

He had noticed Katniss that morning in her black skinny jeans, a Jays orange jersey, black oversized cardigan, in her braided hair there was an orange ribbon and on her feet a pair of orange cons. He smiled when he saw them.

He was just slipping to class when she called him

“Hey Peeta! Look we’re foot twins.” She bounded over to him and stood toe to toe with him. His heart was pounding.

She pulled out her phone “Can I take a picture?” and she aimed her camera down before clicking a few snaps.

“I think yours look better” she smiled and looked up at him, suddenly aware how close she was to him.

“I’m sorry Peeta I’m such and space invader” she stepped back “like I was saying yours look better, they have that lived in Cons look, mine are brand new they need breaking in. I’m gonna put this on Instagram, want me to tag you?”

“Why? Why would you tag me? I mean we’re not exactly friends, besides I don’t think Gale or his friends would appreciate any part of me appearing on your feed. I have to go Katniss.” Peeta smiled sadly and walked away.

Katniss couldn’t understand what she had said or done but she quickly deleted the post.

********

When the dance committee opened the silver box they found a good deal of papers, half though were filled with utter rubbish- crude drawing, bits of gum wrapped in the paper and some downright dangerous suggestions -roller skating with night vision goggles???

The most surprising thing was that even though the students had been given free reign most were standard dance ideas. According to Delly Cartwright this was because despite claims to want to express themselves and be individuals most teenagers just wanted to blend in and follow the herd, and in the end there were only five familiar themes to choose from.

1. Winter Wonderland/Snow Ball /Yule Ball

2. Once Upon a Time(Fairytales and stories)

3. Enchanted Forest or Magical Garden

4. Candy land

5. Masquerade Ball

Students were just handed a ballot paper and asked to vote for their favourite and with the result revealed at the following weeks assembly.

The winning theme in the end was the Enchanted Forest, and Katniss was secretly thrilled. Now the theme was picked it was time for the hard work to begin, and time to see if Peeta was ready to join the dance committee.

********

Peeta and Jo were sitting on one of the benches outside the school when Katniss walked over.

“Hey” she called

Peeta waved, Jo gave a nod.

“Peeta, if that offer to help out with the dance is still on the table the dance committee is meeting tomorrow after school to get things moving. I was wondering if you’d like to come along and get an idea of budget, how we can pull off the theme and if we can actually make something out of nothing” Katniss joked.

“I don’t know Katniss-“ but before he could finish Jo interrupted

“He’ll be there. What time and can I help too? My dad owns the forest out past Turn 4. He might be able to help with some stuff for decoration.”

“Ok, well we be in Room 17 from about 4 pm and Jo it would be great to have more help. I’ll leave you guys to it then. Bye”

As she walked away she missed the glare Peeta threw at Jo and the grin that spread across her face.

“What? You have been crazy about her for years. Now’s you chance to woo her” grinned Jo

“She has a scary boyfriend or did you forget that? A boyfriend who has no issue with beating a guy like me and might I add he has the connections to dispose of me where no one can find me.” He muttered darkly

“I dunno I know what people say but, I don’t think they are a couple….. anyway never mind that it’ll be at least one fun memory we’ll have of going to this place before we head to Capitol.”

********

Over the next few weeks Peeta’s life and routine took on a different one. The initial meeting of the dance committee had been nerve wracking but the other members, along with Katniss made him and Jo feel very welcome.

Peeta was wary at first but there was no punchline, he wasn’t a joke to anyone and surprisingly he started to enjoy the meetings.

The other members Annie Cresta, Thom Dalton, Brian Turner or Beetee as he was known, Delly Cartwright and Cecelia Hubert were a mixed but fun group.

“Hey Peeta, can you take a look at this?” Katniss called

“What’s up?” he asked.

“This…. I think I did it wrong…..it looks..” they two of them tilted their heads looking at the mess in front of them Katniss was supposed to be making centre pieces from twigs adorned with lights, and flowers.

“I think you’ve glued things on upside down, it’s okay we’ll fix it” he tried not to laugh. Katniss was the least crafty person he had ever met.

“I like the arch way, you’ve made it look really spectacular, it will make the entrance look so special. You have really helped us to set the theme, you and Jo.”

“Well you know us art nerds” Peeta mumbled as he undid some of Katniss handiwork.

“I don’t….but I’d like too” Katniss whispered in a low voice.

Peeta didn’t dare to look at her but kept going with what he was doing. He wasn’t sure what to say. He took a deep breath and prepared to ask her what she meant when suddenly the door burst open and there stood Gale, Cato and the other Jays players.

Gale was wearing what looked like doctors scrubs while the others were dressed in tacky sexy nurse outfits that no nurse in their right mind could wear and work in.

“Hey Katniss”

Peeta would swear he felt Katniss stiffen beside him, then she took a deep breath and turned to look(along with the rest of the room)

Gale unravelled his sign which said “I’m no doctor but it appears you’re suffering from DATELESSNESS. My suggestion is…..” meanwhile the rest held up signs that read “A date with Gale?” And “What more could you want?” And “A dose of Vitamin G!”

“No!” she shouted and the laughter and shouts of the Jays stopped.

“Just no! I told you this last night, the night before. You NEVER listen to me? I don’t want to date you or even go to the dance with you. I’ve tried being polite but it’s gotten me no where, please leave me alone and stop this. I’m not your girlfriend. I don’t want to be. Just stop”

“You selfish b-“ Gale started towards Katniss but Peeta stepped in front of her.

“I wouldn’t take another step or utter another word Hawthorne. Just take your guys and go. Or would you like me to call Miss Trinket?” Peeta’s voice was low and calm. Thom and Beetee had stood up too and walked towards Katniss and Peeta.

“Or what Smellark?” spat Gale.

“Funny, real funny but I think after 4 years you guys could have gotten a bit more creative with your insults. Cato, why don’t you take Gale and the guys and leave. Katniss has refused Gale’s offer, there is nothing else to be said.”

In the crowd of guys a few looked angry but others just looked confused about what had gone on. Had Gale really been hassling Katniss? He made it sound like she had wanted this big fuss but what if she hadn’t? The team started to move away and soon the room was cleared.

“Umm thanks guys…now where were we?”

“Hey Everdeen, I thought that guy was your boyfriend?” asked Jo confused by what had happened.

“Nope. Never was, never will be. He’s never been my type” Katniss smiled

“Interesting…..and would you type maybe be a little less male perhaps?” teased Jo much to the amusement of the others

“Sorry Jo, I’m not into girls, but I do know that Delly happens to think you are real cute.” And with a shocked squeak from Delly the whole committee burst into giggles.

Once everyone had settled down Katniss walked over to Peeta.

“Hey Peeta? Thanks for what you did for me with Gale. I don’t know why he has to act like that you know?”

“Katniss it’s ok really. I’ll walk you to your car after we’re done here if you want? In case he’s still around.”

“Thanks, but I should be ok. Right I better get these to Annie.” She nodded her head at the closed box in her hands that she had picked up from somewhere.

“What’s in it?

“Flowers! I may not be much good at making centerpieces but if you need a paper flower I’m your girl” she grinned as she said this “open the box and have a look.”

Peeta’s stomach dropped when he opened the box there were daisies, roses and right at the top yellow dandelions like the one given to him all those years ago.

“Peeta? Are you ok?” a worried Katniss asked.

“Yeah. Sorry just zoned out. These are really pretty. I better get back to the trees.”

Peeta worked quietly for rest of the hour to trying to figure out why Katniss had given him the flower all those years ago and the pencils and notebook which became his companions. In the notebook he drew his fears, his hopes covering every page and when it was full his mom bought him a new one. Even now he always had a notebook in his bag.

“Peeta? Can I give you a lift home?” asked Katniss Peeta startled at her voice he looked around and was slightly shocked to see they were the last people there. He hadn’t heard the others leave.

“Ok.” He shrugged and gathered up his stuff.

“Katniss? Can I ask you something?” Peeta was nervous but he needed to know why she did what she did.

“Sure.” She nodded

“After…. the Cato incident there was a paper flower and art stuff left in my locker. Did you do that?”

He watched her hands tighten around the steering wheel and she took a deep breath before she answered.

“Yes. I just wanted to give you something nice you know. Those guys were so mean and the rest of us should’ve done more, told the teachers. I watched you almost disappear and I hated that the light in your eyes dimmed so much. Your family was going through so much.”

“You were just a kid Katniss,it’s ok. Really. We got help. As a family we’ve survived. What else could you have done?” He reached over and put his hand on hers, it was awkward in the car but he wanted -no needed- her to know that he was ok.

“Your flower gave me hope, gave my life some color at a time when I had none. Thank you for seeing me, at a time when I felt no one did.”

“I always saw you Peeta.” She was looking at him now Peeta wanted to look away her gaze was almost too intense.

“You’re a painter. You’re a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open. You are the noisiest walker I have ever heard. And you always double-knot your shoelaces.”

“I know these things because I’ve always watched you and yes I know that’s crazy and I sound like a stalker but I need you to know this because we’re going away to college soon and I would like to at least be your friend but what I really want is to know you better and Leon knows and he told me that if I didn’t tell you I liked you he would.”

“Slow down… what?”

“I like you. A lot. Your stupid brother found out and has been teasing me. He said he would tell you before I could especially since we’re going to be at the same college next year. If you just want a friend that’s fine but I would really like to go on a date so you could get to know me…. and then…..well who knows….”

“Okay.”

“Okay like let’s go on a date or like I’m going to get out of car and run away?”

“The first one.”

**********

And so they had their first date 2 nights later.

And their first kiss that night too.

Peeta asked Katniss to be his girlfriend on their third date.

They went to their dance together and danced under the canopy of trees and flowers they had helped create.

They had their first fight when Peeta struggled to understand what a girl like Katniss saw in him. He questioned why? He kept expecting things to fall apart and doubted what they had was real.

Eventually his mom took him aside and told him that his problems were bigger then him and a professional would be better placed to help him.

“You deserve happiness Peeta,let us help you find it.”

He started seeing Dr Aurelius with Katniss, his family and friends supporting him every step of the way.

He told Katniss he loved her one evening when they were in her parent’s house. They were watching a stupid movie and she was laughing. He watched her eyes crinkle, her chuckles ringing in the air as she sat there in a panda onesie and he blurted it out.

She smiled at him and throwing her arms around his neck she told him the same, placing tiny kisses all over his face.

And then they graduated. The one person who didn’t was Cato Snow who was expelled following a positive drug test and several reports of bullying.

Gale never spoke to Katniss again.

A few of the Mockingjays team had apologized for their part in the dance proposal telling Katniss they had believed Gale when he told them that it was her idea.

Neither wanted to go to the end of year dance, instead they went with some of their friends to a small cabin by a lake and had a quiet celebration.

And later, in the quiet of the night after they had spent time having their own private celebration. Katniss sang to Peeta

Let the bough break, let it come down crashing

Let the sun fade out to a dark sky

I can’t say I’d even notice it was absent

‘Cause I could live by the light in your eyes

I’ll unfold before you

Would have strung together

The very first words of a lifelong love letter

Tell the world that we finally got it all right

I choose you

I will become yours and you will become mine

I choose you

I choose you, yeah

There was a time when I would have believed them

If they told me that you could not come true

Just love’s illusion

But then you found me

And everything changed

And I believe in something again

My whole heart

Will be yours forever

This is a beautiful start

To a lifelong love letter

Tell the world that we finally got it all right

I choose You

I will become yours and you will become mine

I choose You

We are not perfect we’ll learn from our mistakes

And as long as it takes I will prove my love to you

I am not scared of the elements I am underprepared,

But I am willing

And even better

I get to be the other half of you

Tell the world that we finally got it all right

I choose You, yeah

I will become yours and you will become mine

I choose You

She had just finished and Peeta was about to say something when Johanna shouted.

“Seriously?? It was bad enough listening to you two screwing each other senseless now I have to hear you sing?! Keep this up and you’ll have to find a new roommate!”

After their laughter subsided Peeta turned to Katniss and whispering quietly he said.

“I choose you too. Always.”

#Springtime Edition 2020 #wendywobbles #white-dandelion-seeds #prompt 51 #early submission #submission

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imaginetings · 4 years ago

Text

the winter witch - welcome to the fun house, blackwood.

Y/N - Your Name

Word Count - 1512

Prologue - Welcome to the Fun house, Blackwood.

Warnings - Death, filicide, swearing, all around shitty situation considering family beforehand.

Moving 5.3 thousand miles at sixteen wasn’t exactly my plan but it’s what ended up happening. No GCSE taking, no getting drunk in a field on the last day or after prom. Instead it’s a flight to California to live with my older sister. Although I guess it was bound to happen given the circumstances and the only place, I could realistically go without being put into a bad situation was here, Beacon Hills in the Golden State. As if being a 16-year-old isn’t melodramatic enough, being one with issues and a fish out of water creates melodrama for a good year or so. The drive from the airport to Beacon Hills itself wasn’t too bad considering I fell asleep whilst my sister drove, there wasn’t much conversation, I guess she’s still in shock considering she had a much different experience in comparison to the one I had, not that I blame her. I think something simply snapped in them, mum was always murmuring to herself in a different language, it seemed as if it was Latin and dad would randomly snarl at people. I guess everyone has their points, but theirs led to them filicide, whereas others just simply have a breakdown and they have a support system. Not killing three of the four children in the home at the present time. Although Bea has been living in our great grandparents’ old house since she inherited it and done it up. Yet I have a feeling with her being a successful author helps to pay the bills.

It’s only when Bea pulls up in front of the house that I feel myself to get choked up. “How can you sit there so calm Bea? After what they did to Alastair, Blaze and Harry, how can you not be a bit more of a mess?” I question my sister, tears rolling down my face.

“Because Y/N, I didn’t see it like you did, it hasn’t processed in my head like it has for you. But I’m here for you now and I am going to be the big sister you’ve missed out on since I left.” Bea explains and she puts her arm around me across the centre console and I rest my head on her shoulder.

“I’m so sorry Bea, I should’ve done more to save them or to stop them.” I sob out.

“Hey, Y/N listen to me, it’s not your fault one bit now how about you come inside and meet Apollo, he’s dying to meet you and I am sure he’d love to give you all the cuddles in the world.” Bea tries to cheer me up and I sniffle and nod.

I hop out of Bea’s grey Toyota and grab my bags from the boot of her car and follow her up to the house after locking the car behind me. Bea is already at the door and after unlocking it and opening the door, a Pit Bull comes darting out the door and jumps up on my front and starts licking me. “Aw, hello little fella. Aren’t you the cutest guy around here huh?” I say dropping one of the bags so I can stroke him, and I can hear Bea laughing. “Okay, Apollo! Come here!” He gets down instantly and retreats to her and I pick up my bags and follow suit to the house. It’s only when I get inside, I really grasp how big the house is. “Jesus Christ Bea, when you said that the house was a bit bigger than what I’d be used to, I didn’t expect this. Fucking hell!” I exclaim in amazement and the scale of the downstairs area and how cosy it is at the same time. All Bea does is laugh.

“Hey, follow me, I’ll show you your room.” Bea suggests and I follow suit and gaze around the house as we walk and how the walls look so clean and modern with different prints from artists around ranging from simple line art to intricate landscapes. There are few photos, but I assume she has a majority of them in her room. That’s when we stop in front of an eggshell white wooden door. Bea ushers for me to go inside the room and it has a little corridor before opening up to the room which is simple and has a double bed with a wooden frame and white bedding. To the left there’s a door that leads to what I presume to be my bathroom which also doubles up as a wardrobe as well. I find myself gobsmacked. “Like it?”

“Like it? I love it!” I exclaim and hug her.

“I know it’s not much right now at least until your stuff from England gets here but you can decorate however you want it okay?” I simply nod at Bea.

“Thank you, seriously Bea.”

“It’s fine. Anyways, whilst I am working tomorrow, I need you to run some errands for me and when you are done with them, I’ll teach you how to drive and maybe we can watch some movies? You’ll be having to start school when it starts up again in January, so we have three weeks for you to adjust here.” I give her a small smile and that’s when she leaves me to my devices. That’s when I lie down on my bed and stare up at the ceiling, what adventures will come to me? I don’t know. Will I meet new people? Indefinitely. Do I have a feeling that this town has something to it? Yes. Am I going to find out? Now that is an answer that I don’t think anyone knows or would be willing to answer.

--------

Falling asleep in my clothes from the day prior was apparently a bad idea since it made me feel dirty as soon as I woke up. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes I quickly shower and get into some clean clothes. Wandering through the house I end up in the kitchen and I find a list of errands for me to do today and underneath is another note to give to someone called Deaton? I shrug and put them in my pockets so I can get some breakfast before leaving.

Just as I am about to put the bread in the toaster, I hear Bea shout my name. “Yeah?” I question. “I’ve got a friend coming around so let him in when he gets here please!”

“Sure!” I reply and turn back to the toaster and push them down.

Yet just as they pop out of the toaster the doorbell rings. “I’m coming!” I pull the toast out and drop it on the plate before sliding towards the door and slipping back as I open the door due to wearing socks on a clean laminate floor. I fall on my ass as the door swings open to reveal a dark figure in a leather jacket and seems to have a case of resting bitch face to me. He looks down at me. “Hi.” He awkwardly greets and offers me a hand up.

“Hi, I’m Y/N, Bea’s younger sister. You must be…” I trail off.

“Derek. Derek Hale. It’s nice to meet you Y/N, can I ask where’s your sister?” He questions and I step away from him due to the proximity.

“I think she’s in her study, I’m sure you’ll know where that is because I sure as hell don’t. Now if you don’t mind me, I’ve got some toast with my name on it. It was nice meeting you Derek.” I explain and give him a sincere smile.

“You too Y/N” he returns with a smile and heads down the nearest corridor presumably to Bea’s study. I close the door behind him and head back to the kitchen. As I sit there eating my toast I notice my iPad lighting up with messages from Facebook messenger from my friends back at home. I elect to ignoring it and go back to eating my food when a shiver runs down my spine. Ha, it must be somebody walking over my grave. That’s how the saying goes right?

I finish up my food and head out to do the errands that Bea has requested. I stop by the animal clinic where I am met with a boy my age with an uneven jaw. “Hi, is Deaton here? I have something for him from my sister.” I explain to him and he explains that he’s just gone to pick something up from the shop, or store as he called it.

“So, are you new in town?” He questions.

“Let me guess you could tell from the accent?” I return and he chuckles.

“Just a bit, do you know your way around town?” I shake my head. “After Deaton gets back, I’m meeting with my friend Stiles, if you want we can show you around.” What sort of a name is Stiles?

“You know what I’ll take you up on that offer…”

“Scott. Scott McCall.”

“Nice to meet you Scott McCall, I’m Y/N Blackwood.”

#teen wolf fic #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf imagine #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinski imagine #isaac lahey imagine #isaac lahey x reader #the winter witch fic teen wolf #imaginetings

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aliferous-ly · 5 years ago

Text

we’re all gossipy bitches sometimes

AKA Roman and Logan sit down and gossip -- but not in the way you think.

pairings: platonic logince, romantic royality, romantic analogical warnings: swearing, two deceit mentions, one remus mention, if there’s anything else lmk!! wordcount: 1641

“Did you see Patton today? What he was wearing?” Roman said, swirling a bright rainbow sparkle mug.

“Mmhmm,” Logan said. He nodded for good measure. “The soft grey sweater? With a little mouse on it?”

“And it said mice to meet you, like,” Roman paused, making a guttural noise. “Ugh! Are you kidding me? I can’t deal with that!”

“The pun was rather…” Logan pursed his lips. “...much. However, I agree with your sentiment. The sleeves were so long he used them as hand warmers.”

“I am GOING to die. Like, this isn’t a drill, dig a hole of six feet,” Roman said. He leaned forward, thick fluffy blanket wrapped around his shoulders. “He should be illegal. He’s too cute. Tomorrow he’ll come down in that green knit sweater and I won’t be able to stop myself from kissing his stupid face.”

“I thought the yellow dress would do you in. I stand corrected,” Logan said.

“Oh, yes, it absolutely would,” Roman said. He pointed at Logan with his obnoxious glitter mug. “But it’s too cold for that.

“Oh, what about the dark red one, and then that one scarf he has, and leggings?” Logan mused.

“Oh shit,” Roman said. He sighed, melting against the couch cushions. “God, you’re right.”

“Also, based on past experience, you won’t do anything of the sort,” Logan said, sipping from his own travel mug.

Roman gasped. “Ouch! You didn’t have to come for me like that!”

“I speak only the truth,” Logan said, shrugging. He lifted the mug to cover the slight hint of a smile.

“Oh, but you’ll love this,” Roman said. He put the mug on the coffee table. With his newly freed hands, Roman gestured to follow his words. “I caught Virgil staring at your space blanket.”

“Understandable. Anyone would. It’s very soft and is nice to look at,” Logan said.

“Shut up, specs,” Roman said. “C’mon. C’mon. Imagine him all wrapped up in that blanket. Like are you kidding me? Imagine it.”

Logan rolled his eyes, ignoring the heat travelling to his cheeks. Maybe he was too warm and should shed a layer. “Today he told me his room needed redecorating and asked me to help.”

“Yo, get it my good nerdy friend!” Roman said, kicking Logan. “What did you say?”

Logan avoided Roman’s gaze, electing to stare out the window where snow fell softly, as per Roman’s request.

“Teach,” Roman said. He leveled Logan with a look. “Don’t leave me hanging.”

“I said, I am not design oriented and thus my opinion should not be turned to, perhaps try Patton or Roman, they would enjoy this activity more,” Logan muttered, turning bright red at Roman’s incredulous stare.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Dude!” Roman all but yelled. Logan shh’d him frantically, eyes wide. Roman lowered his voice, but only slight. “That was your opportunity! Your time to shine! You could regale him with like, creepy spider facts! What even!”

“I panicked!’ Logan whispered loudly. “I can’t handle him when he does that weird thing with his face!”

“You mean smiling?” Roman said, gesturing wildly. “Logan!”

“Do not yell at me when you were just saying you couldn’t handle it when Patton was wearing a certain piece of fabric,” Logan shot back.

“Don’t at me when you fall into a helpless puddle whenever Virgil wears a beanie,” Roman countered.

“He looks -- he looks--”

“Really damn cute, I know! I get it, but you still fall apart so don’t pretend I’m the only useless one here!”

“I just told you I rejected one of his -- invites -- and you think I’m put together? Bitch, please.”

They stared at each other, almost breathless, almost huffing. Then they cracked, lips twitching up into twin smiles as laughter bubbled.

“Ahhh,” Roman said, falling further into a reclined position. “Patton promised to make me a pink cake tomorrow.”

“Don’t drink in that position,” Logan said. He shifted. “Pink cake? As in, the cake, or the frosting?”

“White frosting, pink cake,” Roman said.

“Sounds insufferably adorable,” Logan said. He picked at his travel mug, flipping the top open and closed, open and closed.

“He really is adorable,” Roman said, sighing happily. “If I ask him to make the cute little roses, do you think he’ll say yes? Because then I can watch his concentrated face, his nose scrunches up, and sometimes his tongue sticks out between his teeth, and you can see his dimples so easily.”

“I would put money on it,” Logan said. He frowned. “I don’t think Virgil enjoys my presence as much anymore. He looked so upset when I spoke.”

“Because you said no, you stupid bitch,” Roman said.

Logan rolled his eyes. “You think using harsh words will wake me up to something. It won’t work, because I don’t need waking up to anything.”

“You need to wake up and see how much Virgil loooooves you,” Roman said, squishing his own cheeks to make a face at Logan.

“You’re the insufferable one,” Logan said. “He does not.”

“Does too!” Roman protested. “I have proof!”

“Oh, do tell,” Logan said, with the air of someone who’d won three steps before.

“Okay,” Roman said. He sat up; time to get serious. “Okay. So you know how Virgil is emotionally stunted?”

“Rude, but continue.”

“So he doesn’t know how to express love the same way Patton and I do -- Patton by telling you he loves you and me telling me how irritating you are, naturally -- and I think it’s because being in the other’s messed with him,” Roman said.

Logan furrowed his eyebrows. “I asked for proof, not for you to psychoanalyse him.”

“Okay, okay, fine,” Roman said. “He loves hanging out with you because he always has that little smile whenever you’re around, he literally frosted a cookie with blue and black plaid, caught me looking, and stuffed the whole thing in his face,” Roman said, ticking off with his fingers. “He always seems to know when you’re in the room, and hangs out with you all the time just sitting on the couch.”

“That is very enjoyable,” Logan murmured. His fingers were warm around the travel mug.

“Dude, I vote you go for it,” Roman said.

“You know why I don’t,” Logan said.

“Yeah,” Roman said. He knew. They made a pact about it, actually. No unnecessary pushing. Even if Roman thought it was very necessary.

“Also, please tell me you heard Patton rambling about the Princess and the Frog,” Logan said.

“Oh did I!” Roman said, loud as ever. “I almost proposed to him on the spot. Can sides get married?”

“Hell if I know,” Logan said. He took an obnoxious sip of his drink.

“Bitch what!” Roman said. He threw his arms in the air. “You’re supposed to know everything, you logical god!”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Fine. Marriage is utterly impossible between the sides because it requires an ordained priest, of which none of us are.”

“Fuck you, I can get married if I want to,” Roman said, leaning back against the couch.

“Case and point,” Logan said.

“Also, why can’t you become ordained?” Roman said.

“You need a street address and I, Logan Sanders, have no address,” Logan said. He frowned. “Unfortunately.”

“I knew you’d already tried,” Roman said. He laughed. “Let’s get Thomas ordained. Stick that in his brain during dreamland.”

“This isn’t Inception,” Logan said.

“Did you just make a movie reference?” Roman said. He sat forward, absolute delight shining in his voice.

“Of course not,” Logan said.

“Don’t lie,” Roman said. “That’s just inviting trouble.”

“Deceit’s name is not trouble,” Logan said, distaste clear in his voice. “Besides, that’s all besides the point. You’re not going to jump straight to marriage because you’re a romantic and want to milk all relationships from every milestone.”

“All my relationships?” Roman made a few disbelieving noises. “You make it sound like I’ve had one!”

“Technically, you’re the hub of Thomas’s romantic feelings and therefore feel romantically attracted to his partners.”

“Well, kinda,” Roman said. He swished his mug, watching the liquid within swirl around. “Patton shares it because he’s like, all emotion.”

Logan thought for one, two, three moments. “How absolutely disgusting.”

“I know, we’ve ranted so many times about how wonderful his ex’s were when they were dating,” Roman groaned.

“It’s like sugar squared,” Logan said. He shivered. “Gross.”

“Don’t gross me, you’re the one who literally wrote a pros and cons list to dating Virgil and your cons were he would know me and three question marks,” Roman said. “That’s gross.”

“That’s practical,” Logan said, knowing he was fighting a losing battle.

“You’re -- practical -- wait,” Roman laughed. “Wait, let me try again.”

“Too late, no takesie backsies -- that is how the phrase goes, yes?”

“Don’t be cute with me.”

“Impossible. I’m never cute.”

“Virgil would beg to differ--”

“How would you know what Virgil thinks? Also, this conversation seems to be targeting me a little too much. How about the time Patton slipped and you caught him? You’ve never looked redder.”

“Stoooop,” Roman whined. “He looked so happy, okay! Also I caught him, that’s like, ultimate prince behavior.”

“Is it prince behavior to stutter and leave the situation ten seconds later?” Logan hummed.

“Do not come at me like that, oh my god,” Roman said. “This is a very targeted conversation, I thought we were talking tea.”

“Alright,” Logan said. He settled in. “Where were we?”

“Well, I was thinking about--” Roman continued talking, his voice soft and pliant. Logan interjected every so often with his own comments, the two of them catching up on all the actions of Virgil or Patton, with splashes of Deceit and Remus interspersed in.

Ten feet away, sitting on the stairs, blocked by the wall, sat Patton and Virgil.

They clung to one another's hands, eyes wide and faces darker than Roman’s sash.

#im kinda proud that i actually like wrote smth bc i thought i was just gonna add 200 words off and on for seven months LOL #she lowkey finished #i say lowkey bc bro that fallout tho...#sanders sides #ts spoilers #i guess? since it references the asides video?#analogical #royality #brabbles

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mr-hammerproof-thickskull · 4 years ago

Note

Regis listened quietly whilst he worked, quirking a brow at the other man's words. He didn't interrupt him, preferring to concentrate on his work as he gently wove the spell across his skin. His eyes continued to glow, and he watched as the other man's wound began stitching itself back together, albeit a little more slowly with the lower potency cast. Yet if he upped the juice, he figured Cid would be even more displeased with him. And for all the other man's faults, Regis sort of liked the grumpy old bastard. He valued his opinion. Not that he'd ever say either of those things out loud.

And if the way Cid was stiffening up, glowering, as well as letting a string of curses fall from him said anything, the other man was already wound up tight. Still, he couldn't help but chuckle a bit, letting a lopsided grin land onto his features as he healed. Which, now that he was more closely looking at it, he realized it was a good thing he'd caught sight of the wound when he did. The bandages were makeshift, and haphazardly strewn. He would keep a closer eye on Cid from now on.

"Ah. Yes. Because defending me also somehow means that you're to suffer the wound in silence, thus compromising both your physical health and your combat abilities. All because- what? My being the prince?" He mused, genuine entertainment in his voice, despite how much that notion really aggravated him.

"If you'd rather I leave sentiment behind and come back at it from a more strategic perspective- that strategy will only get any one of us killed. It's better to tend them while you all have the proper chance. I'll not stop you from your duties or your personal desires, but I will stop you from sabotaging yourselves."

Honestly. Tough as nails, the whole lot of them. Stiff as a board, too. Sometimes Regis worried they might drive him mad. Or at least make his hair grey earlier than even he's expecting. He ignored the question of whether or not the other man had a choice, electing to send him a playful wink instead. He even managed to smile widely as he neared the end of the spell, the other man's wound almost fully healed as the cool, soothing magick washed over it. The fact that Cid didn't intend to die any time soon was somehow comforting.

"Good. I happen to enjoy your company. And, you're right- who would fix her after I crash her into another Magitek unit? I've only just begun learning the difference between a transmission and a radio transmitter."

Somewhat of a lie. He wasn't nearly that inept when it came to mechanics. But he did enjoy teasing the other man quite a bit, so his eyes flashed with deviousness as he spoke.

Seeing the spell, Cid relaxes a bit, it was at low power so the blond knew he didn’t have to worry too much. It, he, well, Cid didn’t know much about the life of a Lucis, he didn’t have close ties, and he didn’t really intend to have any. And yet, when he agreed to this new job of him, the job of babysitting the kids, he couldn’t help but, well, learn a few things about what happens behind the wall of the Citidel and deep within the halls. He didn't’ learn much, but it did give him an idea or two of what may give Regis and the King their powers and why, something that bothered him a bit and even more so confused him.

Hearing another chuckle, the blond quickly gives the young man a dirty look and tsks at the sight of the grin. But seeing the reaction of his wound makes him frown. Sure he didn’t have time to clean himself up and properly care for it, they were in a tight spot with the wild beast, forcing them to beat it as soon as it was over. They didn’t have much time, in the long run, to get where they need to be, and even shorter with how much sun they were allowed to have until nightfall. Knowing this, Cid found he had to be quick with himself and care for the wound later. Something he quite used to at this point.

“Believe it or not, the whole world rests on yer tiny scrawny ass shoulders.” Cid points out casually. Whether Regis was joking or not, Cid had to be honest.

“And I am not going to be reckless, to hell with that, have ya and the others for that. But I ain’t going to just roll on my back and play victim over some lousy ass scratch, and instead put top priorities first, and that top priority is you.” And he sure in hell wasn’t going to get himself hanged by his own King for not taking care of his son, fuck that!

Given a wink only makes the blond twitch as he gives the Prince a stink eye. Why that little...GYAH! WHY DID HE AGREE TO THIS?! ALL BECAUSE THE PRINCE ASKED HIM TOO?! FUCK! Looking away he scoffs and almost pulls away before remember why his arm was being held in the first place. Damn, can’t wait for it to be over so he can work on the Regalia. These kids may just be the death of him, either the Empire’s stupid ass machines will get him, or an early heart attack, AND HE WASN’T EVEN THAT OLD! However, his mind quickly shoots back to the present.

Regis liked his company huh?..Wait...Oh, he WOULDN’T. With a twitch, Cid slowly looks over. “Do that, and I won’t hesitate to toss yer ass straight in the trunk and make ya sit out the next few fights, tied up.” Cid warns. Bad enough the car was in danger of such things naturally, but the car wasn’t made for battles, not quite even for long rides, so Cid had to get the good girl to adjust, and that wasn’t cheap, and they were not even near the City anymore.

#ic #regisluciscaelum #answered

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sepiadice · 5 years ago

Text

DiceJar Campaign 0.2: ‘It sticks its nonexistent tongue out at you.’ (2020/01/31)

Shorter session this week, and also down a NavyDie due to work and him being a boring adult.

The section of the module I had prepared has four combat encounters, only one I could reasonably cut. I was trying to think of some way to abstract one down, since even two combats is a stretch.

Fortunately, we only got through half of the material I planned, so the third can be saved next time, with only one other fight left on the current floor (and I might be able to cut that one).

I also felt a lot less stressed this time. Players taking an active interest in when the session was happening, actually getting a second session, and having notes prepared put me in a better mindset. So that's a good thing to know about myself!

Probably need to come up with a team name. Probably should ask the players to devise one.

Cast

Mogui (IndigoDie): Druid. Sponsored by Lord Grey to go on this rite of passage. Indigo is an old pal from High School. Yot (LimeDie): Cleric. Mercenary that finds himself in Kassen often. Lime is a newer pal from an Improv Club. Delilah Dunford (VermilionDie): Rogue. Daughter of nobles, volunteered for this mission by her butler. Vermilion is someone I knew during high school, but the age of our pal-ness is vaguely defined. Bernard 'Bean' Dipp (NavyDie): Ranger(?). Young man forced to grow up quickly in light of his father's affliction. Navy is an Improv pal, and was also absent this session. Game Master (SepiaDie/me): Environment (mostly skeletons). Dungeon is a crypt where something spooky might be happening. Sepia is me, and thus probably my greatest enemy.

Session Two

I opened with two quick prose bits that Lime described as ‘Loading Screen’ text. Which is accurate, I suppose. Both were from travel guides, one formal, the other what I intend to be my Hitchhiker’s guide. It’s a fun narrative device I picked up from Dice Friends[1]: in-setting exposition and world building.

The party starts where they left off: standing outside the crypt, looking at some dead horses.

Delilah investigates the saddlebags, identifying the maker mark of the town leather worker, Mr. Shepherd, a pleasant if quiet elf man.[2] The bags contain blunt arrows, travel rations, and two pillows. Curious.

The party enters the dungeon proper, and I have to actually use the Roll20 application for more than doodling[3] and tracking relative locations.

In the first room is two fresh corpses, two heavily broken skeletons, and six less-broken skeletons.

The fresh bodies are two friends of Kassen’s mayor. What a tragedy. Why are they here, though?

Six skeletons rise up to fight the interlopers. Combat begins!

I think the fight went well. Three players kept a fair clip as compared to, say, seven to eight. Six skeletons focused on just attacking whoever is closest or draws their aggression. The skeletons have low health, so they were dispatched quickly. As a GM, the fight didn't feel like it dragged.

Skeletons now rendered dead, again, our heroes are now able to take a breath and take in the scene. A mural of Kassen driving off a horde of enemies decorates the opposite wall,[4] a reasonable amount of dust coats the various surfaces, and a wailing echoes through the hallowed halls.

I failed to indicate the direction the wailing was coming from (the southeast exit), so the party elected to do the logical thing and go through the northwest door.

This room held a pool of water, fed by a fountain depicting a woman crying over a dying Kassen. Kassen’s head had worn off, however, a detail to concern the players with its possible meaning.

A voice Booms ‘Magic is the Key’.

At the bottom of the forty foot deep pool lays hundreds of keys. A tough, complicated puzzle to…

Yot cast light on a pebble, dove in, and cast Detect Magic.[5] One of the keys is radiating magic. The module didn’t say what type of magic it was, so I just shrugged at clarifying questions and admitted it didn’t really matter.[6]

The key unlocks one of the doors in the room, which leads to a hall flanked on either side by statues of Kassen holding swords. The utter dedication to this one guy is starting to get a little silly. Surely there were other members of his mercenary band that… might deserve…

Anyways, ignoring the fun change to the narrative I could make,[7] the party progresses and accidentally steps on a pressure plate, which drops the swords onto… mostly just Delilah, who was leading the way, the other two standing in the gaps between the statues.[8] Luckily, the trap has to be manually reset, so they can just use acrobatics checks to pass now that the swords are down.

Next room: multilevel chamber, with a giant statue standing before them, holding two shields, one reading ‘Home’ and the other ‘Family’.

And yes, the statue is of Kassen. So much Kassen decoration. So many tax dollars wasted on glorifying a founder in a location most people would never visit, with the Mayor being the only one confirmed to visit more than once in his life. They could’ve used the upkeep costs on fixing potholes, or making a park, or expanding Kassen.

The nice thing about being a Game Master is you can address such fridge logic.

Mogui descends the stairs to the lower level first, activating a wood golem! It steps off a pressure plate, which turns the stairs into a slope.

Initiative is rolled, and the wooden golem crits on Mogui, knocking him into death save territory. Whoops.

Yot follows him down, slipping on the slope and landing prone. Delilah prepares a rope down before shooting the enemy with her bow. Critical failure. She throws herself off balance and slides down to the lower level.[9]

Yot attempts to battle the wood golem, ignoring his companion rolling dice to not die right next to him. Meanwhile, Delilah climbs onto the wood golem in a sneak attack. While up there, she spots an odd keyhole on the back of its neck.

Luckily, she just happened to have a magic key. Which she uses to turn off the boss fight, causing it to move back to its podium and restore the stairs to a usable state.

Mogui is also healed to standing.

Were it not for the golem scoring two (2!) critical hits on my players, I’d say it was a pretty good fight design. The room had levels, lending interesting positioning options, the puzzle of the staircase-to-ramp mechanism, and despite the golem having high hit points for the player’s level, it also had a discoverable ‘off switch’ to give more of a puzzler solution. Fights are better when designed as puzzles instead of a series of dice rolls.

Puzzle design can be hard, though. However, combat might also be a case of a little work going a long way to just make the mechanical showcase more interesting.

This session held one straight fight, a puzzle, then a puzzle-fight. It felt like a good session composition, though it would have been nice to have some role-playing.

Oh wait. I’m in charge here.

The party takes a moment to take a breath. They decide they need a break. Their GM sits, knowing the door they’re standing right next to goes to the prize room. They just need to… go in…

Instead, the party backtracks to the fountain-and-keys room for a short rest.

Maybe I’m not as in charge here as I’d hoped.

As players start asking for an end of the session, I play the ‘We’re so close to a big moment’ card, and gently tell them to go through that door.

Now, the module as written has the party enter the room to find a masterwork weapon[10] or other item, and a potion for each party member, and a note saying how proud their families are. A gift from the community for their new adults. Nice, but lacks a certain punch.

So, I give them their potions and non-masterwork items. Because usable loot is good to have. But you know what’s rarely utilized? Trinkets! Things with no mechanical value at all!

So Mogui, whose player I workshopped with for this specific moment,[11] found a Family Tree prepared for him by his employer, Lord Grey. I also took the note of pride and turned it into a letter from Lord Grey. Then I made Indigo tell me what the letter says.[12] Mogui was sent to work for Lord Grey in exchange for his family receiving a noble title, and this family tree was the needed evidence for his family to claim their title. The letter essentially thanked him for his service and Lord Grey’s pride in having him.

Next was Yot. He didn’t have family in town, so how do I work him into this? Well, honorary adoption, of course. The widows and mothers of Kassen have knitted him winter clothes like a hat, socks, and gloves.[13] The starter I gave for his letter was small notes from the community thanking him for his help. When I turned Lime loose, he wanted to add indictments from loved ones he let die in the field. And, as important as it is for a GM not to invalidate player choices, it’s important for the GM and player to workshop. Because such things wouldn’t have reasonably gotten on that table, instead I suggested that they were forgivenesses for those deaths, which Yot nevertheless took hard.

The final present party member, Delilah, received two gold coins from her parents and a bag of her favorite sweets from her butler. I just dictated the parent’s letter as them just giving her her allowance, not fully understanding what their daughter volunteered for. Her butler’s letter, however, I let Vermilion handle. She turned it into an apology for fibbing about how involved her parents were in allowing her to join this rite of passage mission, but he is proud of her, and hopes she enjoys the candy.

For Bean, who was following behind but was likely too scared to be of any help this session,[15] there was a hand carved figurine of a dog, made by his father, as well as a letter from the same. I’ll have Navy get his fair moment to do his letter.[16]

Thus ends the session.

I felt more confident leading this session, and the actual contents felt meatier than just travelling to the crypt. I’ve started adding my own material, and no one’s told me they’re unsatisfied,[17] so let’s call it a successful session!

Actually combatting my nature and making a point-by-point break down on what happens in each room and how it works went a long way to keeping me confident and cool. I don’t need to impress anyone. And I put in good work.

I was especially proud of the trinkets. I feel like the players engaged with them, it provided a chance to trick the players into exposition, and it was a role-playing moment. Every session is better when you write open ended chances to role-play.

The actual walking through the dungeon and traps still needs work, though. Certain traps activate when a player steps on a certain space, and I’m still struggling with how to perform trapfinding checks without making everyone cautious. Making players check every space with a check would get tedious, doing a check behind my screen on behalf of a player feels blasphemous as players should roll their own dice, and just having them doing it once they enter the room just feels narratively disconnected. I’ll need to think on that hall with swords and statues.

Also figure out what happened to fountain Kassen’s head.

And on why there’s just… so much Kassen around the place.

Anyways, I had fun with it. The session got a puzzle and a half, a combat and a half, skill checks, and roleplaying! Getting better as a GM! I feel it!

Now to achieve a session good enough it fills my players to yearn to talk to me about it outside of the session! The after session decompression and discussion was always my favorite times during the high school games.

I have a patreon and ko-fi if you wish to support me. Financial support will set me on my path to an actual play show and making a living writing and creating.

Until next time, may your dice make things interesting.[19]

[1]Specifically Kathleen DeVere’s Bylaws and Order and Cameron Lauder’s After the Flood campaigns. I look forward to having a go-to newspaper to reference like Kathleen’s. [2] I don't recall if I ever gave Trix's father a first name, but this is he. Trix is in Kassen somewhere. [3] Advice: maintain a separate page to play around with. Wards away graffiti on the actual map, and gives you a landing page to transition into the game time mindspace. [4] Presumably in a similar manner to Martin the Warrior's tapestry. [5] Which he probably shouldn’t be able to do while holding his breath, but also making him get out, cast the spell, then dive back in is nitpicking. [6] Yot can worry about getting cancer from diving into a reactor cooler later. [7] Unless, in the incredibly likely event I just forget, I don’t implement this. [8] Should’ve alternated the placement of statues so every square has one. So everyone has an equal chance at pain. [9] Is it possible that the party is just so bad with declines that I can retroactively justify messing up on the hill during session one? Maybe. Maybe. [10] Non-existent in Fifth Edition. [11] I couldn’t come up with an obvious prize, so I just asked. Benefit of experience playing with the guy and trust that he won’t cheat. [12] I would’ve made Navy go first were he there, since Navy has both my trust and improv experience to set a good example. [13] Ms. Shepherd didn’t finish her scarf in time, since it took a bit to source the wool from her family’s flock.[14] [14] I really need to play Trix again… [15] Navy can get final say on justification. [16] The ideal sequence would’ve been experienced improv person who’s trinket I’m confident in, then the player who I had dictate his trinket, then the improv player with the shakier trinket, then the player who I’m new to playing with. Turns out that last one knocked it out of the park, which is affirming. [17] Outside one player’s continuing dislike of D&D. I’ll probably do GURPS for the next one. Unless I need to punish everyone. In which case, Maid RPG.[18] [18] Actually, on a serious note, if you can look past the… tone and anime-ness of everything else, Maid RPG has a mechanic that would be a great tool to understand the shut-downs of Autustic Students. If there was literally any way I could pitch that to my higher-ups at work. [19] Confession: still not completely sold on this sign-off, but Kataal kataal isn’t for this context.

#SepiaDieGMs #crypt of the everflame #Dungeons and Dragons #Fifth Edition #NavyDice #IndigoDice #limedice #VermillionDice

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lokislytherin · 5 years ago

Text

save me pt.1// namjin

pairings: kim namjoon x kim seokjin

summary: detective kim seokjin has always worked alone, but when infamous gang leader rap monster reaches out for his help, they'll have to work together to solve a series of crimes which the latter has been framed for. will they get along, or will it end in disaster?

in other words, a namjin crack fic in which infamous gang leader rap monster has been framed for murder, and kim seokjin is quite possibly the greatest (and most handsome) consulting detective alive.

word count: 12k

a/n: i have no other words for this, except i hope you enjoy! (the whole thing can be found here on my ao3 acc helaravenclaw, i’ve got the first chapter here if you’re interested!)

kim seokjin was not a morning person.

he never worked well during early mornings, but he was a consulting detective - not unlike the great sherlock holmes - so being called in by the seoul police force before the very ass-crack of dawn was technically nobody's fault but his own. if he didn't like his job so much, he would've quit a long time ago.

when he arrived at the police station, the sun had only just begun to rise. seokjin yawned loudly, glaring around and ready to give whoever called him over a piece of his mind. and then he caught sight of the most peculiar thing he'd seen since he'd started working with the police force - it was a gang leader standing alongside the police officers.

he quickly gave the man a once over - yup, he was definitely a gang leader. seokjin could tell by the dark jacket he wore, the dark sunglasses that perched on his nose, the dark mask that covered half his face and the cap that covered the other half. well, by stereotype, he'd either be a criminal or a celebrity, but the wary stares the other officers shot him gave it all away; for why would they look at a celebrity like that? why would they put a celebrity in cuffs?

the detective squinted, looking closer. he balked. the man standing among the justice-seeking federal officers wasn't just any gang leader - it was rap monster.

rap monster, or rm, as he preferred to be called, was the ruthlessly intelligent leader of bangtan, the largest gang in seoul. he was the brains of the operation, keeping them out of sight and literally bulletproof, like their name. seokjin wasn't sure whether to love the man or hate him - he brought down crime levels by eliminating other more violent gangs and dangerous criminals, but his methods of doing so were not always legal.

how he always managed to evade being arrested was a mystery to the detective.

"what is he doing here?" seokjin demanded. there was something about the man that seokjin couldn't stand - was the fact that he wore all black with no color at all?

alright, maybe seokjin was a little petty.

"i've been framed," rm told him politely, his deep voice muffled by the mask. "trust me, i like being here just as much as you do."

the detective was more than a little miffed at how easy it was for rm to read his face. he ground his teeth, unable to help but feel a little jealous. good mind and good manners? if rm was good looking too, seokjin would have a rival! but he had to admit, this case piqued his interest. who would frame rm for a crime, and why? "for what?"

"murder," he said ominously. underneath all the accessories he wore to conceal his features, seokjin could feel rm making a face. "i mean, really? i may be a criminal, but i'm a good guy. i'm not a killer. even if i did have to kill someone, not that i would, of course, i'd make it less..." he waved his arms around, struggling to find a good word for it. "flashy."

"which case?" seokjin asked, now genuinely curious. if it was flashy, it was bound to be interesting.

"the lee seunghyun one that i called you about," a voice replied airily as a man dumped a file into seokjin's waiting hands. the detective flipped through the pages, wrinkling his nose a little at the far-too-neat handwriting. "obviously, someone doesn't like him very much."

"yes, i can see that, officer park," seokjin answered coolly, slamming the file shut. park jimin was one of his closest friends in the police force and he really didn't mean to be rude, but it was early and he was cranky. "he was poisoned, but i can't tell what type just by the photo. i need to go there in person."

jimin nodded quickly. "we've got basically nothing so far. the coroner didn't give us anything useful, and the only lead we've got was an anonymous caller saying rm committed the crime. it's agent park now, by the way. i've been promoted," he beamed.

seokjin elected to ignore that last comment. "did you track it?"

jimin nodded again. "it was a burner."

"seunghyun kinda deserved it, though," the mob boss blurted, "he may have been a rich and influential man, but that doesn't change the fact that he was a lying bag of dicks!"

jimin raised an eyebrow at rm's choice of language. "do you realize how suspicious you sound?"

seokjin sighed. "did you interrogate him or not?"

"yes, he did. i wasn't even aware of the murder until i got called in!" rm burst out. "i was at my aunt's restaurant! her kimchi is great, by the way, go and check out her restaurant some time. she makes the best kimchi in town," he bragged.

"his alibi's rock solid. we checked out the aunt, and her kimchi is indeed excellent." jimin scowled. "now i'm craving kimchi again."

seokjin face-palmed. "agent park, stop going off topic. i love food as much as any other guy, but now is not the time for kimchi."

jimin cleared his throat, the tips of his ears red. "right."

"you need to stop picking fights with the suspects," the detective told his friend with a warning glance. he turned to the gangster, taking off his sunglasses and cap and stuffing them inside his bag. "uncuff him. he's coming with me."

rm spluttered. "what? hey! my hat!

seokjin squinted at the taller man, trying hard to hide his internal 'oh sh*t, he's cuter than i expected' moment. it seemed like he did have a rival now. "for a man of supposed iq of 148, you're not very bright," he said, trying to redeem himself in his own mind.

rm could only glare balefully, unable to move his hands from their position behind his back. "my iq is 148, thank you very much!"

jimin pulled seokjin aside. "hyung, are you really sure about this?" the shorter agent hissed. "he's a suspect and a dangerous criminal. what if-"

"have a little faith in him," seokjin murmured, glancing at the gang leader, who was fidgeting nervously under the wary glares of the officers. "i have a feeling he's innocent. besides, he could help me solve the case," the detective admitted grudgingly, "two brains are better than one."

jimin still looked suspicious, but he brought out the key to the handcuffs, dropping them into seokjin's waiting hands. "i'll trust your judgement on this one."

seokjin patted the shorter man's shoulder. "thanks, jiminie."

"get going, rap monster, we've got a crime to solve," the detective called over his shoulder, sweeping off in his long trench coat. "don't worry, people are less likely to suspect you without your sunglasses and your hat."

"please don't call me rap monster."

however, his complaints went ignored as seokjin turned to the shorter police agent. "tell supervisor bang that i'll be gone for the rest of the day, and that i've taken rm with me."

seokjin had his reasons for bringing rm, of course. the man was a living enigma, and for the mystery-loving detective, how better to figure out the other man's intriguing personality than to spend some time with him?

seokjin beckoned rm along. "come on now, sidekick, i haven't got all day."

rm grumbled something about being demoted from the boss of bangtan to a lowly sidekick, but shut up quickly and started trotting obediently after the detective shot him a glare and told him that he should be grateful for seokjin's help.

seokjin did feel a little bad for leaving jimin, poor lonely jimin, standing and muttering in dissatisfaction behind them.

"so, why me?" rm asked as he caught up to seokjin's quick pace with relative ease. he was a few centimeters taller than the detective, but his aura almost made him seem bigger than he really was. "why not agent park? shouldn't he be more experienced with these kinds of things?"

"you were the one who was framed for seunghyun's murder," seokjin stated simply. "that means whoever killed him also has a grudge against you, so if i bring you along, seeing me and you together would spook them, which would make it easier for me to find them. also, agent park is short and if i take him it will take ages to get to the scene."

"we could just drive, you know." rm suggested.

seokjin smiled thinly. "i prefer to walk." he'd been orphaned when both his parents were killed in a car crash, and he'd been terrified of cars ever since. running away from foster care and living on the streets had toughened him up, but cars were still a big no. not that he'd tell rm, of course. "besides, we're almost there!"

the detective stopped suddenly, yelping when rm tripped in surprise and almost knocked them both to the floor. the detective scowled after taking a good long look at the gang leader. "okay, we gotta fix you up. this won't do."

seokjin took off rm's cap and mask, stuffing it in the other man's hands. he ruffled the other man's hair, and rm made a small surprised noise at the intimacy. he flinched as seokjin slapped a badge onto his black hoodie. "what the hell?"

seokjin gave rm a careful examination fro head to toe, from his artistically tousled hair to his dirty grey sneakers. "i'm giving you immunity. nobody will recognize you as rm now. even if they do, you'll be fine, because you're my official sidekick." seokjin smiled triumphantly, tweaking the badge to make it perfect. "now we're good to go."

in the detective's peripheral vision, he saw the gangster look down and sigh loudly - true to seokjin's word, 'detective kim's sidekick' was printed in bold on the shiny pink pin stuck onto his black jacket. "why pink?"

"it's my lucky color. if you judge me, i'll make sure you never get out of jail," seokjin threatened. once, jimin teased seokjin about his love for pink, claiming it was a 'girly color'. seokjin had proceeded to throw a princess peach figurine at him and refused to help him on any cases for a month. jimin never made fun of him again.

"so, do you have a name?" seokjin asked finally. he felt a little foolish for asking, but he needed an answer, and an answer he would get. "i can't keep having this internal rm or rap monster debate with myself. you and your gang are practically ghosts - there's nothing on you guys, no names, no numbers, no google search results. i only know that you're the leader, and your closest circle consists of your right hand man suga, an arms dealer called v, and a hacker who calls himself seagull. i'm not too sure what suga does, actually."

rm grinned, flashing his dimples at the detective, who felt his knees go a little weak against his will. "that's the intention," the mobster replied proudly, "we're your friendly neighborhood ghosts."

seokjin snorted. "friendly? that's bull! every time you commit a crime i get called in. you really should be more careful," the detective added with a small smirk, "kim namjoon."

rm - or rather, kim namjoon - froze. "how do you know my name?" he asked in a rather dangerous tone, reaching for something attached to his belt.

seokjin hummed, unfazed. "wouldn't do that if i were you, joon-ah." he playfully wiggled a gun between his fingers.

namjoon swore viciously, patting himself down. "how do you know my name? how the hell did you even get my gun?" true enough, the gun that was regularly attached to the holster at his hip was now sitting snugly in seokjin's hand.

the detective grinned. "check your hoodie."

namjoon twisted around in his jacket, unleashing another slew of expletives when he realized his name had been sewn onto a small tag at the back. "how - what? i never even knew that was there!" he muttered something about helicopters and aunts under his breath that seokjin couldn't quite hear, but could guess the gist of anyway.

"it's called the art of observation," the detective drawled with a wink in the other man's direction, "do try to keep up."

he watched as namjoon's mouth fell open in a silent scream before snapping shut again.

seokjin 1, namjoon 0.

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