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tarobytez · 3 years

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disability in the Six Of Crows Duology; an analysis of Kaz Brekker, Wylan Van Eck, and the fandom’s treatment of them.

****Note: I originally wrote this for a tiktok series, which im still going to do, but i wanted to post here as well bc tumblr is major contributor to what im going to talk about

CW: ableism, filicide, abuse

In the Six of Crows duology, Leigh Bardugo delicately subverts and melds harmful disability tropes into her narrative, unpacking them in a way that I, as a disabled person, found immensely refreshing and…. just brilliant.

But what did you all do with that? Well, you fucked it up. Instead of critically looking at the characters, y’all just chose to be ableist.

For the next few videos paragraphs im going to unpack disability theory (largely the stuff surrounding media, for obvious reasons) and how it relates to Six Of Crows and the characterization of Kaz Brekker and Wylan Van Eck, then how, despite their brilliant writing, y’all completely overlooked the actual text and continuously revert them to ableist cariactures.

Disclaimer: 1. Shocker - i am disabled. I have also extensively researched disability theory and am very active in the disabled community. Basically, I know my shit. 2. im going to be mad in these videos this analysis. Because the way y’all have been acting has been going on for a long ass time and im fuckin sick of it. I don’t give a shit about non-disabled feelings, die mad

Firstly, I’m going to discuss Kaz, his play on the stereotypical “mean cripple” trope and how Bardugo subverts it, his cane, and disabled rage. Then, I am going to discuss Wylan, the “inspiration porn” stereotype, caregivers / parents, and the social model of disability. Finally, I will then explain the problems in the fandom from my perspective as a disabled person, largely when it comes to wylan, bc yall cant leave that boy tf alone.

Kaz Brekker

Think of a character who uses a cane (obviously not Kaz). Now, are they evil, dubiously moral, or just an asshole in general? Because nearly example I can think of is: whether it be Lots’O from Toy Story, Lucius Malfoy, or even Scrooge and Mr.Gold from Once Upon A Time all have canes (the last two even having their canes appear less and less as they become better people)

The mean/evil cripple trope is far more common than you would think. Villains with different bodies are confined to the role of “evil”. To quote TV Tropes, who I think did a brilliant job on explaining it “The first is rooted in eugenics-based ideas linking disability or other physical deformities with a "natural" predisposition towards madness, criminality, vice, etc. The Rule of Symbolism is often at work here, since a "crippled" body can be used to represent a "crippled" soul — and indeed, a disabled villain is usually put in contrast to a morally upright and physically "perfect" hero. Whether consciously on the part of the writer or not, this can reinforce cultural ideas of disability making a person inherently inferior or negative, much in the same way the Sissy Villain or Depraved Homosexual trope associate sexual and gender nonconformity with evil. ”

Our introduction to Kaz affirms this notion of him being bad or morally bankrupt, with “Kaz Brekker didn’t need a reason”, etc. This mythologized version of himself, the “bastard of the barrel” actively fed into this misconception. But, as we the audience are privy to his inner thoughts, know that he is just a teenager like every other Crow. He is complex, his disability isn’t this tragic backstory, he just fell off a roof. It’s not his main motivation, nor does he curse revenge for making him a cripple - it is just another part of who he is.

His cane (though the shows version fills me with rage but-) is an extension of Kaz - he fights with it, but it has a purpose. Another common thing in media is for canes to be simply accessories, but while Kaz’ cane is fashionable, it has purpose.

The quote “There was no part of him that was not broken, that had not healed wrong and there was no part of him that was not stronger for having been broken.” is so fucking powerful. Kaz does not want nor need a cure - its said in Crooked Kingdom that his leg could most likely be healed, but he chooses not to. Abled-bodied people tend to dismiss this thought as Kaz being stubborn but it shows a reality of acceptance of his disability that is just, so refreshing.

In chapter 22 of SOC, we see disabled rage done right - when he is called a cripple by the Fjerdan inmate, Kaz is pissed - the important detail being that he is pissed at the Fjerdan, at society for ableism, not blaming it on being disabled or wishing he could be normal. He takes action, dislocating the asshole’s shoulder and proving to him, and to a lesser extent, himself, that he is just as capable as anyone else, not in spite of, but because he is disabled. And that is the point of Kaz, harking back to the line that “there was no part of him that was not stronger for having been broken”.

I cried on numerous occasions while reading the SOC duology, but the parts I highlighted in this section especially so. I, as many other disabled people do, have had a long and tumultuous relationship with our disability/es, and for many still struggle. But Kaz Brekker gave me an empowered disabled character who accepts themselves, and that means the world to me.

Keeping that in mind, I hope you can understand why it hurts so much to disabled people when you either erase Kaz’s disability (whether through cosplay or fanfiction), or portray him as a “broken boy uwu”, especially implying that he would want a cure. That flies in the face of canon and is inherently fucking ableist. (if u think im mad wait until the next section)

Next, we have Wylan.

Oh fucking boy.

I love Wylan so fucking much, and y’all just do not seem to understand his character? Like at all? Since this is disability-centric, I’m not going to discuss how the intersection of his queerness also contributes to these issues, but trust me when I say it’s a contributing factor to what i'm going to say.

Wylan, motherfucking Van Eck. If you ableist pricks don’t take ur fucking hands off him right now im going to fight you. I see Wylan as a subversion another, and in my opinion more insidious stereotype pf disabled people - inspiration porn.

Cara Liebowitz in a 2015 article on the blog The Body Is Not An Apology explains in greater detail how inspiration porn is impactful in real life, but media is a major contributing factor to this reality. The technical definition is “the portrayal of people with disabilities as inspirational solely or in part on the basis of their disability” - but that does not cover it fully.

Inspiration porn does lasting damage on the disabled community as it implies that disability is a negative that you need to “overcome” or “triumph” instead of something one can feel proud of. It exploits disabled people for the development of non-disabled people, and in media often the white male protagonist. Framing disability as inherently negative perpetuates ideals of eugenics and cures - see Autism $peaks’ “I Am Autism” ad. Inspiration porn is also incredibly patronizing as it implies that we cannot take care of ourselves, or do things like non-disabled people do. Because i stg some of you tend to think that we just sit around all day wishing we weren’t disabled.

Another important theory ideal that is necessary when thinking about Wylan is the experience of feeling like a burden simply for needing help or accommodations. This is especially true when it comes to familial relationships, and internalized ableism.

The rhetoric that Wylan’s father drilled into his head, that he is “defective”, “a mistake”, and “needs to be corrected”, that he (Jan) was “cursed with a moron for a child” is a long held belief that disabled people hear relentlessly. And while many see Van Eck’s attempted murder of Wylan as “preposturous” and overall something that you would never think happens today - filicide (a parent murdering their child) is more common than you would like to believe. Without even mentioning the countless and often unreported deaths of disabled people due to lack of / insufficient / neglectful medical care, in a study on children who died from the result of household abuse, 40 of 42 of them (95%) were diagnosed with disabilities. Van Eck is not some caricature of ableist ideals - he is a real reflection on how many people and family members view disability.

Circling back to how Wylan unpacks the inspiration porn trope - he is 3 dimensional, he is not only used to develop the other characters, he is just *chefs kiss* Leigh, imo, put so much love and care into the creation of Wylan and his story and character growth that is representative of a larger feeling in the disabled community.

That being said, what you non-disabled motherfuckers have done to him.

The “haha Wylan can’t read” jokes aren’t and were not funny. Y’all literally boiled down everything Wylan is to him being dyslexic. And it’s like,,,, the only thing you can say about him. You ignore every other part of him other than his disability, and then mock him for it. There’s so much you can say about Wylan - simping for Jesper, being band kid and playing the fuckin flute, literally anything else. But no, you just chose to mock his disability, excellent fucking job!

Next up on “ableds stfu” - infantilization! y’all are so fucking condescending to Wylan, and treat him like a fucking toddler. And while partly it is due to his sexuality i think a larger portion is him being disabled. Its in the same vein of people who think that Wylan and Jesper are romantically one sided, and that Jesper only kind of liked Wylan, despite the canon evidence of him loving Wylan just as much. You all view him as a “smol bean”, who needs protecting, and care, when Wylan is the opposite of that. He is a fucking demolitions expert who suggested waking up sleeping men to kill them - what about that says “uwu”. You are treating Wylan as a burden to Jesper and the other Crows when he is an immensely valuable, fully autonomous disabled person - you all just view him as damaged.

And before I get a comment saying that “uhhh Wylan isn’t real why do you care” while Wylan may not be real, how you all view him and treat him has real fucking impacts and informs how you treat people like me. If someone called me an “uwu baby boy” they’d get a fist square in the fucking jaw. Fiction informs how we perceive the world and y’all are making it super fucking clear how you see disabled people.

Finally, I wanted to talk about how the social model of disability is portrayed through Wylan. For those who are unaware, the social model of disability contrasts the medical model, that views the disability itself as the problem, that needs to be cured, whereas the social model essentially boils down to creating an accommodating society, where disability acceptance and pride is the goal. And we see this with Wylan - he is able to manage his father’s estate, with Jesper’s assistance to help him read documents. And this is not out of pity or charity, but an act of love. It is not portrayed as this almighty act for Jesper to play saviour, just a given, which is incredibly important to show, especially for someone who has been abused by family for his disability like Wylan, that he is accepted.

Yet, I still see people hold up Jesper on a pedestal for “putting up with” Wylan, as if loving a disabled person deserves a fucking pat on the back. It’s genuinely exhausting trying to engage with a work I love so much with a fandom that thinks so little of me and my community. It fucking shows.

Overall, Leigh Bardugo as a disabled person wrote two incredibly meticulous and empowered disabled characters, and due to either lack of reading comprehension, ableism, or a quirky mix of both, the fandom has ignored canon and the experiences of disabled people for…. shits and giggles i guess. And yes, there are issues with the Grishaverse and disability representation - while I haven’t finished them yet so I do not have an opinion on it, people have been discussing issues in the KOS duology with ableist ideals. This mini series was no way indicative of the entire disabled experience, nor does it represent my entire view on the representation as a whole. These things need to be met critically in our community, and talked about with disabled voices at the forefront. For example, the limited perspective we get of Wylan and Kaz being both white men, does not account for a large portion of the disabled community and the intersection of multiple identities.

All-in-all, Critique media, but do not forget to also critique fandom spaces. Alternatively, just shut the fuck up :)

happy fucking disability pride month, ig

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rottedsoulx · 2 years

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OK SO WHILE I WAS EDITING MONKIE KID EPISODES I SAW SOMETHING AND I HAD A BRAIN BLAST. Mainly talking about the demon puberty thing that can be found here but also talking a little bit about canon??? Like how Lady Bone Demon had a lasting effect on MK after Minor Scale??? And I don’t just mean the ptsd like

THIS IS SO CONCERNING????? His eyes flashing blue like that before he explodes with power????? Like the FUCK did that just power him up or is it just me- Was it the stress???

Anyways instead of making a theory post about how LBD has a hold over MK’s mind I’m going to shove that in a box in the back of my mind to think about later.

*CLAPS HANDS* The whole thing about the demon puberty thing is that the monkey kings’ power was really melding with MK, and making him a bit feral as his body couldn’t really handle it. Going so far to make him have physical changes in his body. Sharper teeth, fur, monkey traits, etc. This also gives me an excuse to make a post later on about MK’s purple magic with Macaque but that’s for later.

Now imagine that but now let’s add in a smidge of LBD’s magic, shall we?

heeheehoohoo look at that magic sponge go. I’d figure this would happen after Minor Scale and MK wouldn’t tell anyone about it bc “I’m fine it’s probably nothing” but haha u not fine. There’d be little tells but with no one knowing who Lady Bone Demon is- The Spider crew would probably be the only ones who’d notice. And (looks at episode order) boy does it take a while for them to fight once this happens.

#monkie kid #demon puberty #qi xiaotian #lady bone demon #idk her tags yet #do i have any idea how to fix this? no.#Will it need to be fixed? Eventually #monkie kid au #lego monkie kid #lmk #monkie kid spoilers #just in case heeheehoohoo

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cafecourage · 3 years

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The moment they realized they loved you. (Isekai Au Edition) Part 3

If you want more information on this AU here is the Link!

Hyrule:

- It confusing and full of yearning.

- The Fae Folk are very affectionate in nature. Physical touches and platonic kisses are just normal. Hyrule growing up briefly with them had adopted this habit.

- You are like that as well so you’re the one to take care of Hyrule when he wanted affection. Since other then Legend, it’s awkward to ask the others.

- He finds however while he still asks/gives you affection. He gets more flustered and embarrassed when you initiated contact.

___________________________________

Admittedly Hyrule never had a clear understanding of Hylian social norms. Some things were easy to pick up when he was just traveling by himself. However, there was a lot that conflicted with Fae social norms. While yes, the Fae were more mischievous and could be borderline malicious, they are very affectionate creatures. Which was the one of many things Hyrule picked up when he was being raised by the Great Fairy.

Before you join the chain, he had to hold himself back from being overly affectionate with the group. Yes, when he had chances, he would give a quick side hug or ruffling of the hair for the younger Link’s. But nothing on the level of cuddles or small peaks on the cheek and forehead. You though! You were the one to lay the affection on everyone thick. Most if not every Hero has melted from all the complements and physical affection.

Hyrule was living his best life now with you! Cuddles are a must for the two of you. Especially when one another has been having a rough day. You’ve also gotten the others involved with this newly formed ritual. He just over all feeling comfortable and loved.

Which then leads to Hyrule’s issue. Slowly he began to feel embarrassed with every peak after he heals you. Then his heart begins to race when he is cuddled up resting his head against your chest. Even holding your hands became hard for him to stand! It felt so warm but also made him fearful. He was scared of losing you. Losing this warmth. This comfort. He wanted to keep it but scared that this feeling was to good for him.

“-and that’s what happen so far.” He was visiting the Great Fairy Cotera of Wild’s Era. He had visited her each time they visited Kakariko. Cotera gently hummed messing with his hair. “What should I do?” He looks up to the giantess worriedly. His small sisters surround him ether sitting on top of him or by his side.

Their mother hummed as she thought about his problem. “My dear sweet child.” She started after a long pause “this human… do you feel different compared to your other friends? Or with your siblings in the forest?”

Hyrule thought about it after a while shook his head. “No… I did used to feel embarrassed with the others but it was different. This is more… warm?”

“Warm?” She urges him gently to continue. “Do you hate it?”

“No…” he sounded like a child, fidgeting in his seat “I hate how anxious it makes me now.” You meant a lot to him. Hyrule knew you meant a lot to everyone too, but that normal! You’ve helped them all in some sort of way! Yet he was deep in that unidentifiable emotion towards you. He adores you. All of you. Even during your more impulsive actions he didn’t mind having to heal you. Of course, he would truly rather not heal anyone with his magic. Yet… with you giving his payment in kisses on the cheek or forehead… he can’t stay mad at you.

“Chin up little one.” Cotera lifted up his head “your feelings are valid and has a simple explanation.” Hyrule pouted slightly making her giggle a bit tapping lightly on his nose. “You my dear seem to love your sweet human.”

It was like a lanterned was just lit in a dark cave he was wandering in. Finally revealing a path out. Everything thing slowly explaining itself. “Oh…” was all he could say as he was comprehending it. His sisters were giggling at their brother’s expense causing him to blush. It all made to much sense.

“Roolie! Are you nearby?” He and the Great Fairy both perk up when they heard your voice. He stared up at the Great Fairy expectingly.

“Well?” Cotera nudged him off of the petals of her fountain. “What are you waiting for little one?”

___________________________________

- Well, that was embarrassing and he knows once he starts perusing you. The more his siblings of the forest will start to tease him. Not only that but the chain also catches on pretty quickly.

- He becomes a blushing and stuttering mess around you, not pulling away from your touch but leaning more into him.

- It will be a miracle if he confesses but he will! And he will do it in a more intimate manner though, with or without help.

___________________________________

Four:

- It took long to accept but filled with soft cotton fluff.

- Isn’t canon in the manga that the colors (minus Vio) straight up try to impress a girl they just met?

- Now I’m not saying he is like that now a days, but old habits die hard right. He probably doesn’t even recognize that he still does it.

- Honest to God the resident brain cell is the only one that new point blank what was happening. Having a “not again” moment.

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It’s been a while since Four was back in his forage. He missed every second of it. The smithing process was the one hobby each color had in common. As Link they found it relaxing, something to get their mind off of things.

That morning was no different. Traveling on the road was stressful even for a seasoned adventurer. Traveling alone was boring which was the upside according to Red. It relieved them of responsibility Green was used to taking upon himself to carry. Blue was at least a lot calmer with having to be on alert all the time. Vio had pointed out this was mainly because of You.

The chaos came back full force. The same argument has been happening recently, it was about his feelings towards you. Now they all liked you as a friend. Four knew that for a fact. He was only six when he felt your presence and this situation, he was in was as if an imaginary friend became real! At least that’s what Red felt.

No matter if they were unified or separated, Four could trust you to help him out of even the messiest situations. So, what if some of those situations were caused by him trying to impress you? That doesn’t mean anything!

Just because Blue became a stuttering mess when you surprised Four with a flower crown just meant he was taken aback at your kindness! He isn’t good at showing his emotions. Yeah, so what about Green becoming a soft mess when you first showered him in praise and affection. Wouldn’t any person do that from someone that been through hell and back with them? It doesn’t count that Red craves your affection! He is like that with everybody and just because it makes him feel different it doesn’t count. Someone saves Vio from this.

Four was conflicted which is why he was working so early in the morning. They wouldn’t shut up about their own feelings. It was a chaotic mess inside his head as soon as he woke up. A weight on his back clued him back into reality “Good morning!” You while looking down at him smiling still holding on lazily. “How is the most beautiful person here doing?”

Ah. There goes most of composure out the window. Vio was the last one standing with Green and Blue almost hanging on. You loved to tease him and he was never able to get you back. “Don’t know how are you?” Four was really struggling to keep unified and calm. He was shaking because of the other three’s nerves. You stared at him wide eyed.

“Jeez look at you!” You give him a squeeze before finally let go of him “you’ve grown! If only you were that smooth towards Erune.” You teased.

The blush he was so desperately trying to beat down started to flare up this time out embarrassment. “Can we not talk about that?” Four could only cringe when he thought back at that bit in his adventure. Him and Erune have been close friends since then, but the colors were really trying to play the hero in front of the poor girl back then. Their antics truly were really not impressing anyone.

Green was really happy he grew out of it. Seriously it‘s not like Blue really cared about it anyway he was just a kid! Red was just happy that he got a long-term friend out of it! The audacity the others had was killing Vio. They are still just as bad and it seems like no one was listening to reason.

An explosion of emotions and thoughts collided in Four’s skull. Three denying their logical side’s claim all while getting thrown every instant in their faces by the odd one out. “Whatcha making anyway?” You were observing the short knife blade curiosity not seeing the other’s internal debate. Vio felt like he had to spell it out to each of them. Pulling up memories of their actions towards the outlander. Four struggled to focus on what you were saying but it was too loud!

“Woah there.” You turn him away from his project letting it sit safely on a cooler section of the work top. “Breath Link.” You where kneeling down in-front of him holding his hand. He focused on your warmth. The way you rubbed small circles on the back of his hand. On your voice that instructed him to breathe. In for four, hold for seven, let out for eight. Repeat. Slowly the divide melded back together. Soon the voices faded out. “There we go.” You whispered “good job Link.” Four stared back at you still tired from everything but nonetheless happy that your here with him.

Man, he loved you so much.

Wait-

___________________________________

- It was definitely an I told you so moment.

- Four as a whole though is still struggling to come to terms with it, even though he had already admitted his feelings.

- Another case of: drown him in affection until he realized. Not because of him not believing you! It’s just you have four people in a trench coat here! If one is conflicted then four as a whole will feel that subtly.

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Bonus (just Headcanons):

Wind (finding out that a Link has a crush on you)

- The little gremlin is going to have a field day! He was thinking about messing around but the other hero is doing his work for him!

- The only one saved from this Black Mail harvest is you. He does have a few things but you mostly let him off the hook when he gets in trouble anyway sooooo…

- Not the best wing man but he honestly isn’t trying. He is just enjoying the journey.

- He might be tempted to help if he was asked but there isn’t much he could do. You are his right hand after all! Why would he let your secrets go so easily?

- Imagine Wind just vibes with you when the other Link is trying their best and you literally ask if the other hero was ok since they are acting weird around you. It would take Wind a minute to get an answer because all he is thinking is: ‘are you dense?’

- Or on the flip side. If you know about their feelings. He would definitely be on board of helping you out. Again, you’re his right hand! Of course, he’ll help you! (Favoritism)

- Wind: “Don't worry. He likes your butt and fancy hair. I know. I read their diary.” (Y/n): “He thinks it's fancy?”

(Part 1) and (Part 2)

My First Request is now done :D! That was fun. Thank you Pinky and Star for the request <3

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #london fog tea #Lu Hyrule #Lu Four #Lu Wind #WIND THE PIRATE BROTHER!#thats the tag for just wind stuff lol #isekai au

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renawaywithme · 2 years

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I fucking sent this to wrong blog by accident😂😂😂😂 so here’s the thing I originally meant to send you

Read the new chapter, loved it but, I gotta ask; are Raph and Raphael just free falling while they’re in the mind meld? 😂

Also I’m slightly confused, might just be me misreading, but how did 2012 Raphael get so beat up by 2012 shredder when he just got portaled up there? Shouldn’t rise raph be the one more injuries (bc shredder) as he was fighting before everyone else got there?

YEAH MEG SHOWED ME LMAO. It's also good - we both had a laugh over it.

As for your ask - that's a secret! The Mikey's mind meld was only a second in real time, Raphael said it was an almost instant reaction and change after they had contact. The Donnie's is untimed as no one was around to see it and the Leo's were long enough for the Donnie's to find them and have to wait for them to wake up. This means that the mind meld time varies so either they are paused like the Mikey's and everything is happening within a second or both of them are pancakes rn which would suck for both of them. I guess the readers just have to wait and see :)

As for the second question - I'm a bit confused by the wording. Raph is beat up - he went into a skid and confirmed he was pretty raw on one side from it and right now he's pretty hopped up on adrenaline so he isn't totally aware of all his injuries yet. As for Raphael, he was already in a fight before arriving on scene, specifically with Rise Shredder. His knee was dislocated and they weren't given enough time to heal or recuperate following that fight so he was already being portalled up fairly injuried.

And then he got stabbed so obviously he's way more injuried than Raph who was just getting in a fight. As a paramedic student, I can confirm that penetrating wounds are far more deadly and fatal than someone getting a bit roughed up by someone only a few inches taller and wider.

If you're referencing their appearances in the mind meld, than that might be a misread. Both Raph and Raphael are not injuried in the mind meld - Raphael is just missing his gear so Raph can see more of his scars and injuries before, but he's not actively injuried. If you're talking about the mirrors, than yes Raphael is actively injuried in the image he has manifested of himself. Mind Raph is unharmed because Raph views himself as unharmed or stable in a sense. How Mind Raph appears is how Raph sees himself. Mirror Raphael on the other hand is how Raphael perceives himself. I couldn't make it obvious due to Raph not having knowledge of any of Raphael's expirences or past images, but the description does make it clear what Raphael is fixating on.

1. He has a wound near his eye

2. Both eyes are completely white

3. He's wearing iron gauntlets as weapons instead of his sais

4. He appears a few years younger than how old he actually is.

Hopefully these are enough clues to know what episode and event I'm referencing since I don't want everything to be too obvious. The forms Mirror Raphael flickers through are also other ways Raphael has perceived himself over the years and each are canon characters/expirences he has faced (except the child form which is a headcannon of mine explained later in the book).

I hope this clarifies a few things and answers some questions and if not feel free to ask again! I love receiving asks, so please know my inbox is always open to answer question!

And yes, I am aware of the five paradox questions I have and I am currently creating a master list of the events LMAO sorry for the wait.

#tmnt #tmnt 2012 #teenage mutant ninja turtles #fanfic #teenage mutant ninja turtles 2012 #rottmnt #tattered remains #asks #rise of the tmnt

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heli0s-writes · 3 years

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IV. Symbiosis

Summary: “Since you’ve been caught—” Fury squints, “Canoodling With The Allegedly Injured James Barnes, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone’s already halfway finished with digging you up. Forgeries. Petty theft. Grand larceny. The damn rest of the kitchen sink. So, Ranger…” The way he says it is both lazy and threatening, completely on brand and irritatingly calm.

“Here’s my suggestion: get ahead of this thing before it knocks you on your ass.”

A/N: 4.8k words. I’m a liar who lies because after 4 months of overthinking and coming up with diddly squat, here is part 4 of Trinity Epoch sans smut. I’m sorry! I’ll double your pleasure next time. xx Thank you for sticking with me, I’m so sorry it’s taken so long.

Warnings: Language. References to canon-typical violence.

Trinity Epoch Masterpost

Bucky stays like that a while longer, just breathing.

Your fingers trace his hair—running through the strands, over the shell of his ear, then resting briefly on his cheek. All the ways you used to with Natasha when she’d break her own heart, or maybe ways you would have liked her to have done for you when you felt like you were dying a little bit.

You feel it now: a small death in the wake of last night’s simple touches. Your body and Steve’s body curled around each other sprung something immeasurable, as if the drift flowered then and ripened beneath your skins. You bit into it. You savored its taste. You could have lived on it alone.

Everything smears together like a child’s careless hand in a mess of paints until all the brights muddle dark. A shaky breath as you work yourself into calming, trying to find coherent words while your head remains a pot of sideways soup, at best.

Bucky shifts until he’s looking up at you, nose millimeters away. His irises are just a touch more gray, a sprinkle less green. You can see Steve in him, just as he can see Steve in you and then your eyes begin to prickle, Nat’s face undulating behind the burn.

You don’t really know what you want to say. Maybe apologize, run, beg for forgiveness, grab Bucky by the shoulders and shake him until he understands that you didn’t mean it— you didn’t mean to hurt him. That you love him. That he lives inside you, too.

His ghost from the drift— the aftermath phenomena of the neural bridge when pilots take on a bit of each other’s consciousness out of the cockpit and into the world with them. Take two people with a predisposition for the drift into the cockpit into each other’s brains and they exit heightened—sharper, better—imbued with each other’s strengths and knowledge. Mind-meld long enough, deep enough, and your core endures, but you become a different beast.

When Steve’s consciousness bled into yours, so did Bucky’s. If you walked away with half of Rogers, you also got a quarter of Barnes and it only compounded worse during Polidori’s drop. Resurrecting trauma, agitating itself, making a mess of your weary soul.

You relived his amputation last night, just as fresh as you relived Nat’s death. More visceral than the first trial run, you witnessed him—felt him—torn and hoarse, clutching his shoulder as he rocked helplessly inside Orion’s chest, frayed wires sparking across his cheek and landing in his own blood. His teeth gnashing together as he tried to hold on for Steve’s sake, steering his co-pilot’s panic back on course. Terrified and agonized, but he was hellbent on making it out.

Bucky who made you laugh. Bucky who took you to dinner. Who walked with you, gave you his jacket, listened to your rambling and crying, and kissed you because you reminded him of his co-pilot, or maybe of himself.

How could you not love him, after all this?

Armageddon slows for nothing though, and before the first letter of his name can fall out recklessly from your mouth, three precise thumps jostles it back in.

Steve’s voice is muffled through heavy steel. “You in there?”

The door slides open with a tremulous croak but neither of you bother to separate. Nothing seems to matter now.

“Buck...” Steve looks from one raw face to the other, stepping forward and reaching out. He grasps Bucky’s hand. “We should talk—” he closes his mouth into a thin line, shoulders slumping heavily before letting go. “I’m sorry. Later. Shit’s hit the fan.”

The office is stagnant air full of questions but other than the squeak of the marshal leaning back in his chair, nobody makes a sound.

Fury untucks a finger from the crook of his elbow before pointing it between your eyes.

“Culpability.”

Across the room, you flinch in his crosshairs. Standing apart from them, you’re partially slack against one of many steel filing cabinets, using it to prop yourself up in case your knees might give out as vertigo descends.

It’s been a lot to take in. Everything— the night, the morning, emotionally, mentally, physically. The hull is a steel cage, and pilots are well armored, but you’re still hooked up to the robot enduring damage, taking hits at barely .0001 percent, but taking it all the same. You’re bruised up good beneath your clothes— Polidori’s claws leaving four tender imprints of a scratch to Orion’s right shoulder. Your shoulder. Steve’s shoulder.

To your right, he shifts. A tiny hint of pain streaks over his expression before it falls serene again, fixed on Fury.

“Since you’ve been caught—” the marshal squints, “Canoodling With The Allegedly Injured James Barnes, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone’s already halfway finished with digging you up. Forgeries, petty theft, grand larceny, the damn rest of the kitchen sink. So, Ranger…” The way he says it is both lazy and threatening, completely on brand and irritatingly calm.

“Here’s my suggestion: get ahead of this thing before it knocks you on your ass.”

This thing, being any story a 13-year old kid with two thumbs and a twitter account can spin between now and when you let Pepper Potts spin it for you first. There’s not a lot imagination can’t conjure to fill in the blank pixelated space between Bucky standing on the curb and you right behind him wearing his cap and jacket. Not to mention that once speculation goes live, it starts sprouting all sorts of appendages with minds of their own, and no matter how diligently you might cut one off, two would only sprout in its place.

The marshal stands up and takes heavy steps before turning the corner of his desk, absently tapping a pile of folders together like they’re not already in a perfect column. He slips a manila folder out from the stack and it becomes obvious that his suggestion is just buildup to some other type of impetus.

When you open the file up under his sharp gaze, you feel the blood drain from your face and possibly from your entire body.

The bullet he aimed between your eyes hits home. Cue your brains blowing out slow. Impetus met.

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky appears over your shoulder, staring at the same grainy photocopied document. “You can’t be serious.”

“Do I look like I make a lot of jokes?” Fury leans forward, pointer curving over the top edge, tapping emphatically one, two, three times, even waving it back and forth in front of your unseeing eyes. “I’ve got a good contact inside the PPDC who risked a lot to get this out. They’re just plans for now, dogeared behind other pages, but don’t doubt the Corps’ cowardice for a second. The second this program looks like it might not hold up, they’ll turn their efforts there.”

You’re gone. Trapped between the lines, vehemently scanning the page, reading the same words over and over until they no longer make sense. But it’s not like they made any sense in the first place.

ANTI-KAIJU WALL: CONSTRUCTION AGENDA. SPRING 2020.

The conception of a perimeter stretching around the Pan Pacific—North and Central America, East and South Asia to isolate emerging Kaiju. It’s a fetal skeleton at most, the roughest of outlines for a plan, and truthfully, it’s no plan at all.

It’s shameful. It’s shit.

The so-called Wall of Life implies the portending death of the Program—of all Shatterdomes and Jaegers. It implies no support, no funding, and no repairs. No Kodiak. No juniors. No future.

Back and forth, you’re still desperately inspecting as if the words might shift into a new message, maybe one that didn’t spell out certain extinction, but despair is rippling across your face. Bi Fang and Polidori had wings, and they were only Category II. Bi Fang massacred one of the best pilots you’ve ever known—and it was only a Category II. Any higher and they’d blow through that wall like a ribbon of wet toilet paper.

Hysteria creeps up at the mere thought of it, fear stubbornly lodging itself in your throat. Nuclear-powered automata—the only proven defense against the terror of massive alien attacks are being dismantled in favor of steel rods and cinderblocks. They might as well build it out of Legos.

Anti-Kaiju Wall. A string of ants meeting a boot.

You’re panting softly, tongue swollen in your mouth, shaking with equal parts terror and rage, on the verge of breaking into inappropriate laughter and yelling.

“What—what do they expect?” You croak, “The breach opens, the fucking thing comes out, sees a fence, and what—they think it’s—going to crawl back in…?”

“Hey, calm down,” Bucky curls his fingers around your elbow. His hand and its black plates are peering at you, purring, dull gold bands threading at the knuckles. For a second, the prosthetic disappears. For a second, he’s blood red again.

“Hey!” Bucky grips tightly when you sway. “I’m fine! Don’t—don’t.” Steve’s jaw is set firmly on your other side, arms crossed so severely his biceps bulge with the strain.

“Nick,” He’s abruptly brusque as he eases the file from your grip. “Give us a minute.”

“You’re in my office.” But the marshal’s words hold no bite. He’s already won; he knows. Cornered again, he’s got you same as before in Red Cloud.

You get the gist: play out your redemption arc and come clean with your record. Win over the public, hoard all the additional support and funding you can because you’ll need every goddamn cent of it when the PPDC rips it away. The gossip. The photos. The headlines. It’s the perfect opportunity for a few hundred million when the media is putting a magnifying glass on your presence in Hong Kong.

Duty. Duty. Duty.

You’re just one small part of this colossal puzzle—a negligible smear of guts across the battlefield trying to keep the rest of the pieces together while the PPDC sits in their panic rooms throttling the entire fucking thing.

Fury steps to the cabinet and slides the file back in its place, keeping the illusion of it being just another unremarkable envelope in a row of hundreds of others. The metal drawer shuts with a clang, housing the most damning piece of information you’ve ever seen. His tact aside, you know he would never show you his hand like this if it wasn’t completely necessary—or pertinent.

Steve was right, you understand now.

The world owes you. And it owns you.

The next six—seven?—hours scatter like pulled teeth with your head spinning like a top the entire way. Pepper had been outside the door for the conversation, waiting on standby to whisk you off for princess lessons. Having already (and correctly) predicted your compliance, Fury scheduled an interview for precisely at nine. Then you were off, towed along by Miss Potts and her hasty strut.

You try to find perspective, reminding yourself that you’ve successfully gone toe-to-toe with the Empire State Building with fifteen rows of teeth seven fucking times and come out on the other side alive and if not in one whole piece, then at least 2-3 relatively serviceable pieces. You’re functional. A little damaged, but fine enough. But there’s also the fact that you’d just hopped out of Orion not even 24 hours ago coupled with how you’re suddenly in the middle of something that feels less like a confused love triangle and more like divine providence at the end of the world.

Fuck. No time to think about it now. The human brain is not programmed to multitask, and you’re hanging on by a mere thread. You prioritize making it through the night just as alive as you can make it out of a drop. Just a couple of hours and you can rest. Just a couple more.

After what felt like an eternity and a half of simulating Q&A, practicing your posture, smiling into a mirror, and one horrible limo ride where you stared dead-eyed out the window—Steve and Bucky’s steely gazes after you—the building finally comes into view.

Hair. Makeup. Wardrobe. You wear pants. You smile for the camera. You don’t stand in the middle of the group photo.

8:55 and time halts to a near stop. You can hear your heart in your throat, or in your skull. Your eyes feel switched from their sockets, or stomach rotated 30 degrees. Someone fixes your mic wire, your blouse collar, asking you to turn just a little over there. Three cameras are pointed to capture every angle, punitive red dots angry and glaring.

A live broadcast was agreed upon to ensure the least amount of potential edits and skews, as well as the charmingly quaint idea that it’s unscripted. The rub, therein, lies upon the burden of poise and a flawless performance. You rehearsed lines until your jaw felt like it was coming unhinged. Then you did it again.

Everything requires precision, and you keep that in mind with your hand on the glass of Dom Perignon being constantly refilled. An amicable gesture by the hosts, but their intentions are cunning: loose lips sink ships, and they’re betting on yours to sink the S.S. Orion Bravo.

Out of view, the translator sits with her legs crossed, listening to the questions before turning the words over in English.

You take a sip of champagne and it fires off like a gunshot—Cantonese and English in rapid-fire verses.

<2017 was a fateful year for both the Jaeger Program and the world. Beloved pilot Natasha Romanoff sacrificed her life to protect Alaska’s coast in a final battle against Category 2 Bi Fang. Memorials dedicated to Romanoff’s efforts appeared across every nation to lament her death and celebrate her heroism. Yet, somehow, no one seemed to be asking the million-dollar question: Where is her co-pilot?>

The host’s open hand urges your reply.

The lights seem to turn up even brighter. Your back starts sweating. The room is about to collapse. In short, naturally—infuriatingly—you choke.

Seven hours of droning like a broken wind up toy, already knowing how to answer this question by heart, prepping yourself for the interrogation, the relentless demand to publicize your grief, to placate the people about your relationship with their heroes—and, you choke.

Bucky’s chin tilts microscopically in the corner of your line of vision. You’re fine, he’s saying, you got it. He’s strangely calm, even pleased, as you stutter involuntarily. Like he’s the first to remember an inside joke you’d long forgotten, his grin widens the longer you look at him. Steve turns next. Focus. Don’t fight the drift. The drift is silence.

And suddenly, your shoulders ease. The static in your exhausted brain slides out of your ears.

You sit up tall. You smile. It doesn’t quite feel like your smile, but, it’s a good one. You know this smile; it’s Steve’s smile. Like a seamless assembly, you fall into rhythm.

The white of his teeth slip out from between Steve’s lips. He notices too.

You calmly recite the introductory speech you’d been practicing for the last two hours, feeling out your new voice, borrowing from his bearing—deeper, smoother, certain. The major points get run through: your record and own personality traits keeping you from the spotlight, admitting genuinely that you’re pretty damn uncomfortable now, so they’ll have to forgive you for any slip ups. It goes over well, as Pepper predicted; “candid” blunders made Rangers human—made them likable.

When the subject of Anchorage rolls back around, you can practically feel Steve’s jaw bulging preemptively. You graze his foot with yours as a warning to back off.

<It’s remarkable that you were able to bring the Jaeger back to shore, there has been only one pilot who was capable of that—>

“I’m thankful to have had Stacker Pentecost as my mentor. I owe so much of my resilience to him. It was difficult, but simply put, I had no other choice. I feel so lucky to have survived it.”

“She was one of a kind.”

“Yes.”

The host clears his throat, visibly awkward that you’re being so terse, but taking the hint until Bucky turns into the spotlight, that divorced happiness he’s so skilled at beaming into the lenses.

Steve easily picks it up, steering the conversation where he wants it to go. He’s disarmingly sincere as he relays the process of Bucky’s injury, replacement, apprehension, and finally success

His bright blue eyes flicker secret messages and you decipher them all.

“The connection was like—"

There’s a bell chiming in your ears. Bright, crisp chirps of it, cutting through laughter and bickering. You taste summer air in your throat, Bucky’s hair flying in the wind. “Riding a bike…”

“Exactly. New bike, same motions, and it worked. It was great. We learned things about each other. Some good, some bad—”

Crosshatched pencil lines of their shared apartment. Smudges of charcoal in a sketchbook. “He’s an unbelievable artist, but—”

“No— don’t say it!”

Bucky smothering a small kitchen fire. Steve throwing a damp rag on him in a frantic attempt to assist. Your voice is bubbling out gleefully. “—an awful cook!”

“It’s true,” Bucky smugly chimes in. “The boy can’t boil water. Breakfast eggs come with shells every time.” You can taste the grit between your molars—crushed grains inside an overdone omelet, Bucky spitting out spinach and feta cheese.

“Oh my god,” you sputter into a sip of champagne. “It’s so bad.”

“Do you see what I have to deal with? Two people knowing my secrets. Two.”

<Fantastic! Already we can see a great friendship here—>

It seems congratulatory, but there’s determination to drive into scandalous territory, poking at any rumor to lance and leak. A sly smile crosses his face as his assistant shows photos of you and Bucky in the city, but the lurid suggestion only gets shrugged off. “We’d gone out for dinner. It was the first time I’d left the Shatterdome after Seigehook and I needed moral support.”

“I’d give you my jacket if you looked cold.”

<Steve, Ophelia isn’t concerned that your new co-pilot is a woman?>

“No, absolutely not. ‘Lia’s the first person to support Orion—and the loudest. I don’t know what I’d do without her. You don’t have her behind the curtain, too, do you?”

<Well, what about personal memories? Won’t you know everything about each other…? Private things?>

“Sure, but what pair of pilots don’t? You got twins and siblings, not just married couples. Look, here’s the thing: the neural bridge doesn’t take you to a filing cabinet. It’s not open like that. It’s more like—somebody help me—” Bucky snaps his fingers your way, “—what’d you call it the other day?”

You didn’t, but you say, “A dream?”

“Right, a dream. If you think about it, you can pull on it, but if it’s not in the forefront of your mind. It’s a non-issue.”

“We’re all adults here,” Steve confirms.

Steve’s palm faces outward as if keeping the host at bay— or, you think, keeping himself at bay. “Hold on. This isn’t about replacement. Nobody is framing it like a nail in the coffin—we’re in the interim of a period of time, readjusting. Short of death, nothing is going to take him away.”

Sunlight. Recruitment. Ice baths. Training until they had to carry each other to bed. Your eyes flutter, head pilfering through the memories like instinct.

“James is still Orion’s co-pilot.” You agree. Apprehension. Dread. Terror. Confidence in each other even when they didn’t believe in themselves. They were together. Nothing else mattered. “Steve’s co-pilot.”

The tight look on his face is temporarily wiped as he beams proudly, “He’s my Bucky. Always has been, always will be.” He claps Bucky on the back twice and each thump’s echo bounces its way into your chest.

Bucky bristles and sputters, but a healthy pink dusts its way across his cheeks, “Don’t embarrass me, Rogers.”

“Are you blushing?” You tease, elated.

“Don’t you start, either.”

<Well… this is very wonderful. Is there a possibility we’ll be seeing a triple-piloted machine? The Tang triplets have been in talks for a new model.>

Steve shakes his head. “We haven’t discussed it yet. Nothing’s off the table, by any means. Just not priority at the moment.”

“Normalcy, as much as we can get in the middle of all this.” Bucky holds out his hand, closing it into a fist, letting the camera zoom in. “We’re… still working through all the kinks, balancing the personal and global.”

He flexes his fingers, letting the microphones pick up the drone of machinery, but his meaning is another secret. Clicking Morse codes of well-oiled obsidian plates purring two names. You’ve stopped listening to everything but the echo incandescent in your heart.

You down your glass.

Champagne tipsy, you try not to stagger through the lobby. The doorman nods toward the limousine parked faithfully by the curb.

The barrage of questions slowed after it became apparent that there would be no sensationalist headline. There was attention to Bucky’s arm, his handsome face, of course, before the banter quickly devolved into entertaining frivolous sidebar queries. Five flutes bubbled down your throat and by the end of it, you no longer wanted to grab camera one and shake the shit out of it, anger whittled down to a dull hum of annoyance.

Thirty million stupid dollars for inane reels of:

What’s in your purse? What do you eat? How do you stay feminine in a Shatterdome full of testosterone—have you tried any K-beauty skincare routines? Do you have anyone special in your life?

Bucky went in, then, leaning forward until he was nearly rocking off and leveled his glare. You know she’s on the other side of the same robot, buckled up into a ninety-pound rig steering two-hundred tons of—

It took a miracle (see: Steve’s firm hand discreetly on the back of Bucky’s neck and Pepper drawing a sharp line across her throat) to effectively halt the derailing train.

“I can’t believe,” Bucky grouses now, opening the door and waving the driver back to the front. “Those goddamn questions.”

“Does wiping my sweaty face with my even sweatier shirt count as skincare? What’s the K stand for?”

Bucky smacks the back of your head with one hand, other clumsily yanking the door open with the other. “For Korean—have you been living under a rock? Just—get in the fuckin’ car.”

You slap him back. “Quit it, you invalid.”

“Invalid? I’ll show you a fuckin’—Steve, did you hear—”

“Both of you, get in the car.”

And you shriek, scrambling in and yanking Bucky along by the scruff of his jacket. Mischief courses beneath your skin, encouraged by clever alcohol, now fully buzzed its way to every extremity.

Still giggling and leaning into the thrill of it, you slump over the smooth plastic molding of the door and press your face against the tinted window. It’s a cool reprieve on your warmed cheek, frosting when your temperature meet the glass. Bucky’s easy Cantonese, albeit slurred, is requesting a ride back to base. His hand has found its way into yours, fingers laced large and warm, clasping tight before he lets go.

“Haven’t had a drink—oh--” you murmur, catching yourself as the wheels shift.

“Since Red Cloud.”

“Outta my head, Rogers.”

“Says the person who kept finishing my sentences during that interview.”

“It’s the champagne! It makes me—“

“Stupid?”

“You’re an ass, Barnes.” But you’re laughing at him, at the way he’s smirking— cheeks gone ruddy. Both of them, open beside each other, heads inclined intuitively together. It makes you ache to see—to experience again after disruption—Rogers and Barnes. Barnes and Rogers. Perfectly fitted.

The partition slides up. The sunroof tugs open with a whistling draft.

Hong Kong’s lights are vivid—too much to properly see the extent of space’s beauty, but there are a few twinkles you’re able to make out in the moonless night as light poles and skyscraper tips whiz overhead. They’re brighter than most, simple to spot patterns in the dark.

“Orion’s out tonight,” you mutter, moving to catch the line of its belt, “Look. Beneath his feet is Lepus, the hare, pursued for all time.” From across, Steve follows, also looking to find their hero as your hair rustles wildly, making a hurricane against your ear.

“Don’t be so fucking dramatic,” Bucky scolds. He’s annoyed and comfortable on leather, ankle crossed over opposite knee. “You’re not being chased by anything. Besides, if you were a constellation, you’d probably be the soup ladle.”

You laugh. He’s always playing the part of a stoic so well. “Hey, I’ll have you know the Little Dipper’s got the north star in it. That soup ladle’s gonna be the thing that gets you home when you’re lost.”

The tone shifts—time dragging its pace as you look at them in wonder. The city’s overripe heaviness of the blows through, making goosebumps on heated skin.

“Buck,” Steve says, and Bucky slips his jacket from his shoulders to slide over yours. He tugs the lapels down like he’s trying to keep you on earth and your hands clasp on his wrists for a second before you let go. They’re both sitting up now, watching your bleary gaze unfocus.

Steve and Bucky oscillate in front of your eyes, their lines blurring until it doesn’t really matter who you’re looking at—until they become one. So easy, like this, just them like two sides of the same coin, belonging so seamlessly to each other.

“Sorry,” you blurt in shame, “I feel like I fucked it up. Ruined a thing that wasn’t mine to ruin.”

“Think you put it together,” Steve responds quietly, and the simplicity of his statement throws you off. “We found our way.”

“Soup ladle,” Bucky jokes.

“But, aren’t we just trading one war for another? World peace only made it because of monsters.” Unspoken questions hidden inside large-scale metaphors— symbiosis could only be achieved under the lies of other relationships. Whatever this would be, it wouldn’t be accepted. Steve still retains his supermodel girlfriend and you and Bucky dutifully fall in line for your own packaged little PR lies.

He shrugs. “I’m fine with losing a few battles in this war, but Orion’s got a good track record, doesn’t it, Buck?”

“Twelve— thirteen kills, sweetheart.” Bucky’s grin is lopsided. “Don’t forget you made that happen.”

“Thirteen’s an unlucky number.”

“Feels lucky to me.” Steve’s hand wraps around your wrist, thumb resting on your pulse. He taps your skin, looking genuinely apologetic. “Listen, all I can do is ask— and I’m not good at asking for things. I just want to make them happen.” A quick glance at the watch under his cuffs and he tugs at your arm like a lost child, “So, before we get back… will you come here?”

As he said, he’s not really asking. More like reaching his will out to you, finding you when you’re caught in the undertow and pulling you back to safety. To them. Okay. Okay.

Your footing slips, but they take your hands and turn you carefully, letting you settle in between. Bucky hums a low sound, fingers curling around your waist. Steve does the same to the opposite side and you feel both torn apart and held together by them.

Steve nuzzles your neck, hot on your skin.

“She was wrong,” he whispers, barely audible over the sound of your rising breath, “You know that? She was wrong, and I was wrong. I thought it couldn’t happen—thought I had other priorities, other things to manage and settle and save and... I lost sight of what matters most. But I’m gonna really fix it this time—I’m gonna do it right by you.”

He looks to Bucky, pained and relieved, “Both of you, I promise.” He takes Bucky’s hand in his own and holds it to his mouth, kissing his knuckles, his palm, saying softly, “I love you, Buck. I’m sorry you waited so long.”

“Hey stupid,” Bucky says shakily when your chin starts to quiver at the sight of them. He’s sniffling and swallowing his syllables, unable to stop himself from staring at Steve’s face in his hand, how Steve kisses the blue pulse in his wrist. “Ain’t you—too pretty to cry?”

The rocking of the car flattens out as Steve gently presses his lips to yours, letting the trail of salt bursting down your cheek into his mouth. He moves to the line of your jaw, promising,

It’s okay. I got you. Nothing’s gonna hurt you anymore.

They kiss you and the world turns itself right.

They kiss you and then they kiss each other. Again and again and again.

#marvel #stucky #stucky x reader #pacific rim au #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #fanfiction #reader insert #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader

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daisybeewrites · 3 years

Text

Sorry, I’m Married

word count?: 3.5k

warnings: canon-typical violence, i don’t describe it graphically tho, just a minor skirmish. happy ending :)

requested? no

ship: dousy/daisy johnson x daniel sousa & dad!coulson

hey guys! i wrote this on a whim after hanging out in a dousy group. i was inspired by the chat at the end of the fic. as always, thank you for reading!! and drink some water ;) fic under the cut!

Neon lights reflected off rough concrete walls as Daisy’s combat boots walked down the steps to the underground club. Light up signs glowed and glittery heels flashed as crowds of people surged and stepped on the technicolour dance floor. The sequins of her dress reflected spotlights that roved the entry area. There were booths with cushy red banquettes lining the walls near the bar, giving college girls a place to rest their feet and hotshot businessmen a table to sip beer. Currently, the club was full, young men and women crowding the bar and dance floor. Decades night, Daisy deduced, as most of the inhabitants were wearing flashy dresses or denim bell bottoms. Deke would’ve loved this, she thought. I wonder how Deke is doing…

Daisy’s mind drifted as the light up jukebox in the corner switched songs. She didn’t spot the target anywhere, so she pushed in a quarter, chose her favourite 80s hit, and watched as the jukebox queued her song. The vibrations of the speakers were reverberating through her, pumping her adrenaline up. Good, more energy for a fight if I need it.

Three leather stools were open at the bar—one by itself, and two side by side. She nodded at the bartender and sat in the single empty seat. Her comms crackled in her right ear, reminding her of why she was here in the first place.

“Dais, can you hear me?” She located where Coulson was speaking across the room, sitting in a wooden booth near the side exit. He casually leaned back and sipped his drink.

“Loud and clear,” Daisy mumbled.

“New intel from HQ just came in. The weapons the target is dealing? Alien tech.”

“Great, she said sarcastically,” said Daisy, clearly annoyed.

Coulson laughed. “On your 3.”

Daisy rested her elbow forward on the bartop, scanning the selection of alcohols as a premise to look down the row of people to her right. She noticed two young lads dressed in all black suits, carrying briefcases. There was no way these guys were in charge of the illegal operation. Well, at least they won’t be a problem if it comes down to a fight, she thought.

As Daisy’s eyes roamed the club, she locked eyes with a muscular, bodyguard-type with a small, raised scar over his eye. She smiled then turned around. She recognized the uniform he was wearing as standard bouncer garb, but his side-piece was not. CF380, Princetown standard issue. Daisy signaled his presence to Coulson.

“These guys? Again?”

Princetown was a group of rich, privileged sons of international diplomats and of heads of large corporations. They slipped through the FBI’s fingers like sand. Now, they had alien tech. No diplomatic immunity would allow them to get out of an arrest now.

Coulson nodded behind her. She subtly turned her head and glanced in that direction. Wearing an overly expensive silk suit and holding a glass of champagne, stood Luca Casagrande. Son of the Italian Minister of foreign affairs. Notorious for his parties, wealth, and lack of self-control. He winked at a blonde waitress who slipped him a piece of paper, which was very obviously not a bill. Daisy rolled her eyes. Criminals these days are so stupid, she thought.

Coulson bit back a laugh at Daisy’s reaction. “Alright, Daisy, you’re up.”

“Remind me again why I was chosen for this part of the mission?” she murmured while sipping her drink to hide her words.

“Because, you’re good at it.” Coulson went quiet for a second then added, “And I'm not Casagrande’s type.”

Daisy flashed her eyes in Coulson’s direction, frustrated. She mentally went over the calming exercises May taught her. Deep breath, exhale. Let’s do this.

Daisy slid off the barstool, and approached Casagrande slowly. He only looked her direction when she sidled up next to him.

“Hey, sweetheart. What’s a beautiful girl like you doing out here all by yourself?” A smooth, accented voice inquired.

Daisy bottled up a sarcastic remark and stocked it on the shelf for later use. Only Daniel is allowed to call her sweetheart.

“Well, I was hoping,” she blinked up at him, batting her eyelashes. “to find some product. Heard you had all the good stuff. I'm lucky I even caught you here, considering your reputation.”

“Geez. Laying it on a little thick aren’t we?” Coulson couldn’t help it. The snort Daisy covered up as a cough was too hilarious.

Luca smiled. It was charming, but unsettling. “Oh? And what reputation would that be?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Daisy countered. She looked around before continuing, “Look, I've got pressure on me to deliver. I’d appreciate it if we talked business before pleasure.”

“Hard to get.” Luca’s eyes sparkled. “Alright. Let’s talk business.”

He leaned over the bar and signaled the bartender to bring him two glasses of whiskey on the rocks. Once a glass was in his hand, he gestured to Daisy’s. “You don’t drink?”

“Not when I'm on the clock. My employers frown upon it.”

Casagrande nodded. “I see. So, what type of product were you looking for?”

“Anything I can sell. Uncle Sam called and said they need a next gen advantage for soldiers. Weapons, maybe?” She ran a finger down the lapel of his suit. “They pay generously.”

“You work for the US military.”

“We have a... mutual understanding.” Daisy flashed a brilliant smile. It was kind of fun playing an undercover persona.

Luca studied her face. “I don’t get details?”

Daisy scoffed, “Of course not. Son of a foreign diplomat, it’s a risk the US can’t take. If other countries found out…”

“Yes, I understand," He responded carefully.

“And I understand that you also do some dirty business with governments.”

A menacing half-smile rose on his face. “Only the beautiful ones.”

Looking up into his eyes, Daisy felt the same disgust that had been worn by everyone at the mission briefing. Au contraire, Luca seemed to find Daisy extremely attractive.

“Why don’t we—”

“No.” Daisy internally cringed, but on the outside she seemed relaxed and blasé. She risked a glance at Coulson, to see his reaction. His entire body was rigid. She didn’t blame him. Hearing some douchebag proposition your daughter...yulgh. She wished Daniel was here to watch her back, too... this guy was getting under her skin. Everything about Casagrande pushed her buttons.

“No?”

“No,” Daisy affirmed, tilting her head. “Business first. We can talk about any other deals after.”

“But there is a possibility?” He cheekily remarked.

Not a chance in hell, Daisy thought. “Maybe. But for now, I need to move product ASAP.”

Luca mulled thos over and sipped the burning whiskey. “I may have some contacts that could help you. In return, what will you give me?”

Though the question was innocent, his intentions were obvious. That was exactly what she wanted.

“Depends on how good the product is.” She stepped a little closer “It’s a little crowded in here, don’t ya think?”

He pushed off the bar, inches from her. He smelled like overly expensive cologne, and not the good kind. “I'm meeting some business associates out back in a few minutes. We’ll make a deal after that.”

“Would they happen to have anything I could—”

“Sorry, sweetheart, I do business privately.”

Daisy faked a sweet smile and resisted the urge to punch him.

Luca took two steps toward the back door, then turned around and strutted back. He tilted his head towards her. “A good luck ki—?”

BRing. BRing. Bzzzzz.

Best. Timing. Ever. Daisy shot Luca an apologetic look before picking up.

“Hello? Oh, Dad! One sec.” Daisy took the phone off her ear, and whispered to Luca, “It’s my Dad. He’s in the hospital. Doesn’t know what my real job is.”

She brought the phone back up to her ear as Luca irritatedly glanced around.

“Dad? Yeah... No, I'm fine, how are you feeling?... That’s great, Dad.” She winked at Luca and held up a finger. Daisy was glad he didn’t notice Coulson over her shoulder, also on the phone.

“I'm with some friends…” Luca raised his eyebrows. “Luca Casagrande... He does business with my marketing firm.”

Daisy waved Luca away after noticing him checking his Rolex twice in ten seconds. He nodded and headed out back. She made sure he was out of earshot before alerting Coulson.

“Coulson, he’s headed out.”

“Yup, QJ-6 is on the way. I’ll stay to watch his lackeys.”

Daisy gave the bartender a tip and walked towards the back door, grabbing her gauntlets from behind the bar. He dipped his chin and continued wiping down the counter.

As she walked into the chilly night air, Daisy was greeted with silence. Droplets of water dripped onto the leather of her boots from the rooftop. The concrete crunched in the darkness of the alley. Light from the streetlamps was scarce, melding shadowy corners with the dim alleyway.. Daisy could hear faint music through the brick walls of the club. A smirk formed on her face as her pick from the jukebox played. Walking towards the street, she checked behind the moldy trash bins for a sign that Casagrande was hiding. The opening guitar grew louder as the safety of a gun clicked off behind her.

“So,” Daisy raised her hands up. It was a trap. “what happened to your business associates?”

Luca chuckled behind her.

“You’re not stupid. You can figure it out.”

Daisy slowly turned around to face him.

“You bluffed to see if I would follow you.” She wasn’t surprised. She had counted on this. “You’re a decent liar.”

“So are you.” Luca lowered the gun a bit. “Who are you? CIA?”

“That’s classified.”

Luca laughed, haphazardly slinging the pistol to the side in a grand gesture. “Of course it is.”

“I wasn’t lying when I said that the government and I have a mutual understanding.”

“But that isn’t the whole truth, is it?”

Daisy smirked. “Of course not.”

Technically, this was true. Her status as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent was protected knowledge, no one but people inside her agency and a handful high-ranking world intelligence officers were aware.

Daisy decided he might as well know who she was. He was going to be locked up in a max-security cell pretty soon, anyway.

He fell against the wall as Daisy hit him with a small quake, just enough to get her point across. His expression was one of pure shock.

“You- Y- You’re…”

“Mar—”

“Daisy, what’s going on?” Coulson must have felt the vibrations. She didn’t think she had hit Luca that hard. Daisy could hear the quinjet approaching, the comforting vibrations of the engine helping to calm her nerves. She stepped toward Luca.

“You have two options: come peacefully with me, or I call the cavalry to take you in by force.”

Luca stayed on the ground, silent. He reminded Daisy of a pouting toddler.

This toddler had a few tricks up his sleeve.

Coulson’s voice came through her ear. “Daisy, do you ha—”

Daisy’s blood ran cold as she received static from the other line.

“Coulson? Coulson?!”

Wide brown eyes turned to watch Casagrande’s smirk grow.

“Problem?" He said smugly.

Daisy quickly knocked him out with the mini-ICER she kept inside her boot and ran back inside. Opening the solid metal door to the inside of the club, she registered the panicked screams from the main room. As she hurtled through the plain hallway towards the crowds, she wished she had a way to tell the backup team that they were flying into trouble. He must’ve known we’d be here. How did he know we’d be here?

The walls were a blur as the confusion and fear from the civilians in the club became palpable. The door squeaked on its hinges as Daisy threw it open. She didn’t see Coulson anywhere. Actually, she couldn’t see anything at all. An EMP. Cool. Fun. Alright. That’s fine.

It’s all fine.

Wandering the crowds, Daisy tried to find a way to contact the team. Surely they had a landline in here?

The bartender pulled her aside as she passed him. He silently pointed to the jukebox. It was the only thing still on and functioning. Of course, Daisy didn’t know how she hadn’t seen it before!

She walked to the jukebox and searched the sides for a dial, a button, something... Aha! She unlatched the panel and bent down to dial Piper’s number. She pressed the call button while her vision grew blurry. Her eyelids drooped. A sluggish head turn towards the dance floor gave a view of unconscious bodies asleep next to each other. Daisy tried to stand, to walk to the nearest victim of the sleeping gas. A burning zap that seemed to travel through her veins rendered her unconscious. I have to find Coulson…

Daisy knew she probably shouldn’t have left Casagrande in the alley by himself. She was playing right into his hand.

Coulson was more important.

Coulson. What would he do?

Daisy slowly tried to open her eyes. She felt like she had a hangover. The light was dim, the floor beneath her cold as ice. Her hearing slowly came back as she took in her surroundings. A pair of black dress shoes blurred into her frame of vision.

“Hey, you’re awake.” Coulson’s voice flooded her with relief.

“What happened? Where…?”

Coulson helped her sit up against a rough stone wall. “I have no clue. Best guess? An Italian castle.”

Daisy was suddenly very awake. “We’re in Italy?”

“Hey, I said best guess.” Coulson pointed his fingers to the ceiling. “I heard footsteps up there earlier.”

Daisy just nodded. Last time she was in Italy, she had a hell of a lot better time. For starters, no one zapped her with— wait, what was she hit with?

“What was that weapon I was hit with? It felt like it was melting my insides.” The thought scared her. The only other time she had felt that type of pain was when... she didn’t like to think about it.

“You know the alien tech that Casagrande was running?” Daisy nodded. “Yeah, it was that.”

A loud groan solidified Daisy’s frustration. Her eyes closed while she tried to concentrate. She tried to feel any vibrations near her, to soak up anything that could signal where they were. Instead of feeling the vibrations of a mountain or a plane, she felt footsteps. Coming closer, closer... Daisy opened her eyes.

Luca entered the chilly cell through the thick steel door. She would have quaked him back about a hundred feet if it weren’t for Coulson’s hand on her arm.

“You two seem comfortable. Can I get you a drink? Water? Coffee?” His smile was smug and irritating.

Coulson replied before Daisy could. “No, we’re good thanks. How about instead, you give us some answers. Starting with: where are we, and who’s your source?” His voice got harder and colder as he went on. Luca acted unfazed.

“No. You are insurance. You have physical evidence of my illegal trades. I was going to leave you on the curb, but then this guy,” Luca pointed over his shoulder at a soldier then slapped the short lad on the back. Daisy recognized him as one the short lads with briefcases at the bar. “This guy had to go and shoot you with the Widow’s Bite!”

Coulson's eyes grew wide in recognition. Daisy could connect the dots herself.

“You stole Black Widow’s weapons?” They said in unison. Coulson and Daisy looked at each other and fell silent. By Daisy’s profile, if they kept acting surprised and in awe, he would keep giving them answers.

“Yes, I did. Amazing right?” Luca stared off into the distance. “Last month I hired a thief to get into the Avenger’s Compound. She got a copy of Stark’s old hard drive, picked up some old relics, modified them with alien metal stolen from Hydra. But every time I tried to open it, it would corrupt my servers. I took the damn thing to every hacker I knew, now they all want to kill me because I crashed their servers. Some of them used to be part of the Rising Tide, when they were still young and hotheaded. They told me about a hacker named Skye. She disappeared, never heard from again. She has no information on her. She has no records. Not even in the top intelligence departments of America. She doesn’t exist.

“But Daisy Johnson does. Daisy Johnson, a hacker who rose in Skye’s place. Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“And you need us to get to her,” Coulson finished. “I hate to burst your bubble, but we’re expendable. You’re better off throwing us in the ocean than you are waiting for her to come.”

Luca seemed to be seriously considering this. Then he nodded. You’re right, I need to up the ante. Raise the stakes a little.”

He jerked a thumb over his shoulder as he turned on heel and swaggered down the hallway. “Bring them.”

Two soldiers came in to get Daisy and Coulson. They reached down to grab Daisy, and she swiftly brought her head forward to hit theirs. Stunned, the soldier took a step back, giving Daisy time to stand up before she gave a hard kick to his stomach. The other soldier was similarly impaired, having taken a startlingly strong punch to the jaw from Coulson. The crack! of the bone echoed off the stone walls. Daisy quaked them against the wall for good measure, realizing they hadn’t taken her gauntlets. Coulson was waiting by the door.

“Let’s go.”

They ran through the halls, following where they thought Casagrande might have gone, stopping in several rooms on the way to hide from Casagrande’s soldiers. They ran into him at the front of what was, indeed, a stone castle. He stood on the uneven steps gazing out at rolling hills and cottony clouds hung high above a choppy lake. The wind blew hard, just enough to make you wish for a sweater from someone warm and comforting. It was all quite picturesque.

Except for the criminal standing in front of them.

“Congrats, you escaped! I’m so glad.” Luca smiled and opened up his arms.

“Somehow this guy still sounds smug. We just escaped from his prison and this guy still thinks he’s won.” Coulson turned to Daisy.

Daisy shook her head and shouted, “Hey, Luca! The fight’s not finished yet!”

“Really, sweetheart? Because it looks to m—”

He was interrupted by a violent quake in his direction. She strided over to where he was struggling to get up.

“It looks like what? I can’t hear you.” Daisy rested her hands on her hips.

“It looks as if you are lost. Even if you escape, you have no way to get home,” he wheezed.

Daisy rolled her eyes. Coulson walked up behind her, squatting down beside Luca and using a hand on his shoulder to keep him in place.

“We’re resourceful. And while we were hiding from guards in some of your fancy tech rooms, we found an old sat phone. They’re easy enough to use, all we had to do was phone a friend and tell them exactly where we are,” Coulson explained.

“Ah, but you don’t know where we are, sweetheart.” His rebuttal was pointed at Daisy. She decided it was her turn to prove him wrong.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. You counted on us not being able to crack your hard drive’s encryption and get past your feeble firewalls. That took less than five minutes. The only remotely hard part about hacking you to find our coordinates was trying to read everything in Italian.” Daisy laughed.

Luca tried the wiggle away from them. “If you have my hard drive, then you know there isn’t anything of importance on there.”

As she pulled a pair of handcuffs out of her boot, Daisy exchanged a look with Coulson.

“You’re right, there isn’t anything of value on that hard drive,” she said. “There are about 100 other files I downloaded from your personal computer that do have important intel, though.”

Coulson pulled a face and sucked in a breath. “Yikes.”

“So, I guess if you’re arresting me, there isn’t any chance we could ever do business, if you know what I mean?”

Daisy mentally pulled that bottle off the shelf and dusted off her sarcastic remark.

“Sorry, I’m married.”

Daisy locked the cuffs into place and stood Casagrande up. Two quinjets touched down thirty minutes later, one with a team of agents to search the castle, and one to take Daisy and Coulson home. Agent Piper met Daisy on the ramp of QJ-6, something metallic and glittery in her hand.

“Thanks for holding onto it.” Daisy hugged Piper before taking her ring back.

“No problem. Wouldn’t want this rock to get lost in the field!” she laughed.

Daisy slipped the smooth metal on her finger and sagged into the jump seat next to Coulson. She rested her head on his shoulder, softly gazing at her hand.

“I can’t wait to be home with Daniel.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: heeeey! this fic was inspired by @starkmaiden ‘s post in a dousy group i’m in. thank you!! if you have a request, question for me, or want to be added to my taglist go visit my ask box! i love each and every one of you :)

#daisy johnson x daniel sousa #dousy #timequake #dad!coulson #quakersquares #marvel fic #ashby's fics #agents of shield #aos writer #phil coulson #skye #fluff #happy ending #angst

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technofantasia · 3 years

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Ok so I have Thoughts about Donnie's being a soft-shell turtle. I have talked about them before but THIS IS SOMETHING ELSE!!

Speaking purely from an analytical perspective, I really don't think Donnie being insecure about his shell/his family being concerned about his shell makes much sense from what we know of canon, and turtle biology.

So, I've made this point before, but softshell turtle shells are solid bone covered by tough skin, so they're MUCH more protective than a human back would be. For comparison, maybe it would help to imagine what it feels like to bang your knee into something. Maybe it hurts, maybe it'll bruise, but it doesn't hurt THAT much; even less so if the skin were thicker like Donnie's shell must be.

While I could imagine Splinter might have worried about it (just because he's a dad and dads worry about their kids' development), it wouldn't actually make Donnie any more susceptible to injury than his brothers. I mean... unless they were playing games like "throw sharp things at each others' backs". Which... I will not rule out for the humor potential, but... you know.

In any case he'd still actually be far LESS susceptible to injury than a human child would be, and which presumably Splinter would see as the baseline level of injury for a child to have.

It might be more useful, though, to look at how the characters in the show act about the soft shell thing!

For starters, it is brought up in-show a grand total of 0 times. Heck, the only reason we even know Donnie is a soft-shell turtle at all is because of the promotional material! So... obviously it isn't a common topic of conversation or concern. There are only precious few points in the series where any of the turtles show concern for Donnie's physical safety over anyone else's, and it's never really a stated thing (Raph protecting Donnie from Shredder in the background of Battle Nexus: New York comes to mind, but that could very well be more because Donnie was the first to be targeted); by contrast, there are plenty of times when Donnie is shown fighting and doing other stunts without his battle-shell, and neither he nor anyone else seems all that bothered by it (The Purple Jacket when he and April go out to stop the purple dragons after they stole his tech, the S1 finale when Donnie blows up all his tech and goes to get the armor from the train). Additionally, we have seen Donnie as a child multiple times, and in each one of those flashbacks, he's shown wearing nothing over his shell except sometimes a shirt or jacket. Evidently, before he made his battle-shell, shell protection wasn't a priority.

So, with all that being said, we can safely conclude that if Donnie being a soft-shell has had any effect on anyone's concern for his safety, it was never a big concern.

That doesn't mean, though, that I can't extrapolate some insecurity out of it!!!

Even though his shell being as it is obviously isn't that big a deal for fighting or utility purposes (he fought just fine on the train), Donnie still did decide to design and build the battle-shell he wears. You have to wonder, if his shell wasn't even a mild concern, why would he think to do that?

It could just be a utility thing, like a backpack he wears with stuff in it that's useful to have around. Honestly, with how much function he packs into those things (hover capabilities, spider limbs, speakers, ice machine) that is almost certainly most of the appeal; fits with the rest of his utility ensemble. But, if that's the case, why is he the only one who uses them? He made the turtle tank for everyone, and some of his other devices he also made for others to use (or at least allows them to on occasion).

It could just be that its part of his outfit and he doesn't want his brothers touching it, but considering the fact that we have seen it get damaged in battle in the show (Shredder rips into it in the S1 finale), it doesn't seem too far of a reach to assume from evidence that part of the reason it was made was to act as shell armor.

And isn't that interesting?

None of his family seems to act any differently around him, soft shell or no, and in most cases he's not in a particularly higher amount of danger than any of his brothers because of it, yet he still decides of his own accord to build himself shell armor and wear it all the time.

(And also there's the him using soft as an insult thing; he does it twice in the show, once in Repo Mantis and once in Witch Town. While it could just be a coincidence, given the context, it would be REALLY interesting if it weren't!)

My personal headcanon based on this is that Donnie sees his shell as being... not a bad thing necessarily, but yet another thing inherent to him out of dozens of similar things that sets him apart from the rest of his family.

We know Donnie has quite a bit in the way of insecurity; he thinks that his family and friends only keep him around because of what he can do for them (Witch Town), he has a weird complex about simultaniously feeling superior for being smarter than his family and feeling inferior for being different from them (Mind Meld, also Witch Town again, other various points in various episodes), and in general one of his bigger unspoken goals is just to fit in with the people he cares about/looks up to and to be some amount of normal (The Purple Jacket, Air Turtle, Mind Meld again). Donnie, in short, wants to be accepted, because he feels like he isn't already.

He already talks different, and gets excited over weird things, and is... you know, a mutant turtle who can't live the same way that people do. Wouldn't it just be his luck that not only is he doomed to never be able to fit in and be accepted by society at large, but he can't even fit in with his own weird family? His family is made up of LITERAL MUTANTS, and still somehow, he ended up the odd one out!

I have to imagine that, with all of his behavioral weirdness, the fact that his shell, his physical body is different from his brothers' in such a basic way would feel just like the icing on the standing-out cake.

So, with that in mind, him making his battle-shell as shell armor so that he's more physically similar to his brothers (even if that doesn't really matter) while still managing to be his own exceptional self by tricking it out with untold amounts of cool stuff... that makes sense!

...Or at least, that's my take, anyway :3

#tmnt #hunny rambles #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #tmnt donnie

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chalkrevelations · 3 years

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And finally, here we are, Episode 36 of Word of Honor, and I have some FEELINGS. Let me show you them.

There also will be Episode 37 here, btw, because I’m not gonna do a separate reaction for a three-minute episode, no matter how grateful I am that we got it.

(Spoilers, so if that’s not what you want right now, scroll on by and come back after you’ve watched it. Them.)

Let’s get to the meat of the episode right away: THE HAIRPIN. And Wen Kexing knowing Zhou Zishu would have it, because he’d definitely take it with him if he was going on a suicide mission! Y’all. I really have to yell about this for a minute: That’s how secure WKX has become in his knowledge of what he means to ZZS! After all that time angsting and hiding the truth of his identity and worrying that he’s not worthy of ZZS and that he’d be rejected if ZZS knew the truth about him! But now, WKX has finally reached a point where he understands and knows (zhiji, the one I know) he’s so important to ZZS that ZZS would never ever go off to die without taking his most precious possession, the hairpin that his husband gave him! I can’t. My heart. This is like a declaration, after all that time saying they were zhiji, that WKX finally is able to truly see ZZS as that, to know him in his bones, and all of this is also delivered in the middle of WKX in a strop, irritably chastising his husband as an evil brat for running away from home to get himself killed, with Gong Jun’s little >:( face in full effect, and I am so filled with love for this show and this couple at this point that I have to pause Youtube just so I can roll around on the sofa, clutching at my chest and scaring the cats with my inarticulate noises. This is so good, y’all. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted. Also, now you know how it feels, WKX, you asshole. Which I suppose is why you even confess that it will would be more painful for the one who survives when if the other dies. And you were prepared to do that to him a second time? I cannot believe you, you asshole. You get to sleep on the ice couch for a month.

And then there’s some Six Cultivation Power mind-melding and what looks to be an INCREDIBLY STUPID and HEARTBREAKING ending that would leave us Burying One of Our Gays, so it’s a good thing Episode 37 (all three minutes of it) exists. It would be nice, though, if the connective tissue from 36 to 37 made any sense. Or existed whatsoever. Just, like, throw me a bone, here, show. Some kind of explicit hand-waviness that actually gets mentioned for why Ye Baiyi apparently was not as smart as he thought he was and didn’t really know what he was talking about when he was doomsaying about how one of the pair will surely, oh surely perish. None of this “Sooooo, they managed to figure out the technique and master it?” from some random shidi who never actually gets an answer. I mean, the door was left open for fanwankery on this one, with what looks to be a very last-minute conceit of all this being a story told by grown-up Chengling to his disciples, which begs the question of how much of what he’s telling them is totally accurate, given any number of issues, including the spottiness of human recall, the possibility (based on the fact they’re still on the mountain in Ep 37) that Chengling never actually saw either of them again to get the full story, and the way Gao Xiaolian basically calls bs on the whole thing. But this is still a gossamer-thin thread on which to hang Ep 37. Ep 37 basically functions as reassurance because of the mere fact of its existence, because they’re clearly both alive, right there in front of your face, regardless of the other fact that it doesn’t actually make any sense, based on Ep 36. It ultimately doesn’t matter if there is no Step 2, because Step 3: Profit! is … right there. In evidence. Happening. On your screen. No matter how vaguely unsatisfying the lack of Step 2 may be.

I do feel like there’s an interesting meta thing going on here, in that the entire show has been about – let’s be honest, it was never really about the plot - queer-coding this couple in ways that supposedly fly just enough under the radar that people can handwave them as Just Good Friends and Brothers (I mean, I guess) with a Bury Your Gays tragic ending (ugh) for good measure. And Chengling is telling a story in-universe that seems to conform to some of this same formula. And yet, we all know well and good that these guys were husbands. (I mean, barring anything else, they’re a couple in the original source material, so checkmate, censorship.) So, are we supposed to carry the same assurance out of the show, on a meta level, that what appears to be happening at the end of Ep 36 - what we discover we’re learning through Chengling’s story-telling - isn’t really the truth? Just, look: While we’re getting the Good Friends and Brothers push, there’s stuff like obvious voice-over work that doesn’t match the much more queer version of what the actors actually said, which is apparently blazingly clear to any viewers who know Mandarin and can manage to lip-read. The show has literally put de-queered words into these characters’ mouths. You can’t trust what you hear. But apparently the show has also made this obvious enough that, if you’re a good enough speaker of the language the show is being told in, and you have a good enough eye, you can see what is actually going on. Are we being taught to trust our eyes more than our ears, are we being told that what we’re being told - by the end of Ep 36 on a meta level, by Ye Baiyi-through-Chengling’s-story on an in-universe level, and by what we learn about what happened from Chengling’s story, itself, also on an in-universe level - is inherently untrustworthy, but that if we “speak the language” of this show well enough, and have a good enough eye, we can decode it and see what “actually” happened and is later made explicit in Ep 37? Is Ep 37 canon? Does it matter, when “what is canon” is already so slippery on this show, where you can apparently lip-read something that’s different than what you’re hearing, and it functions as canon because of the mere fact of its existence, because it’s clearly … right there. In evidence. Happening. On your screen.

Anyway, just some thoughts on all that, which I guess is my own fanwankery work to join up the end of Ep 36 with Ep 37, which was, of course, delightful. No matter how much I might bemoan the lack of Step 2, I had a stupid, dopey grin on my face all the way through Ep 37 and might have even teared up a tiny bit at the very end. You can’t prove anything. Lemme tell you, though, it’s a good idea to have 37 on hand when you run into the brick wall of the end of 36, because while WKX’s willingness to sacrifice himself for love is theoretically great, it is not something I actually want to see come to fruition, given the pall it would cast over the entire joyous experience that the ZZS/WKX relationship is throughout the rest of the show. Sure, there’s always fic, but there’s a heaviness that hangs over the Bury Your Gays trope, and it’s retroactively ruined shows for me before. So THANK YOU, to those of you who hooked me up so I could immediately move on to Ep 37.

What else? Other things:

OK, so, first, I have to get this out of the way: Did we actually already see all of those “flashbacks” we get in the first part of the ep, during the conversation between Zhou Zishu and Jing Beiyuan, when all the political stuff is supposed to be finally falling together to give us the big picture? I would have to go back and scrummage through those eps to be sure, and I’m not going to spend time doing that (yet) when I still need to do some keysmashing about Zhou Zishu and Wen Kexing OH MY GOD, but I do feel like some of this was new information, not just stuff that I’d glossed over because it didn’t seem important at the time? If so, not on, show. I will be keeping an eye out for that on re-watch. I am, however, perfectly willing to accept – if it turns out to be true – that you utterly distracted me with the failboats-in-love storyline, to the detriment of my focus on, you know, plot or whatever. It’s happened before. (It’s one of the reasons I need to go back and watch The Untamed again, at some point.)

OMG FAKE KEY! And as ZZS points out, this has been foreshadowed for us from early on, with WKX’s fake Glazed Armors plot. :bangs table with fist: YES. This show is going to reward re-watching SO MUCH.

Duan Pengju, oh my god, this asshole. The look on his face when the Armory didn’t open was so gratifying. Also, ha. I wondered when ZZS was finally going to be done with his shit. In fact, so much gratification in this whole scene. Xie Wang’s face when he realizes WKX double-crossed him – what, did you think you were the only tricksy one in that little alliance, Xie’er? And, holy shit – I cannot believe that Xie’er actually words this as WKX failing him, taking us back around to this theme one more time again. I would maybe feel a little worse for you if you hadn’t been a hairsbreadth away from killing him before ZZS stopped you in the last ep, Xie’er. Also if you hadn’t helped get A-Xiang killed. So I think the fail in this relationship is going both ways. Unfortunately, it doesn’t look like you’re going to get the time WKX had to start untangling yourself from the ways your abuser has fucked you up and over.

It once again becomes blindingly clear why ZZS has been my ride-or-die during this whole thing: Under the grumpy, irritable, day-drinking yet somehow eminently practical exterior, he’s actually an idealistic do-gooder who just wants to make the world a better place for people and sacrifice himself for great justice. Never let it be said that I don’t have a type. Also, I mean. Zhang Zhehan’s FACE. Let’s don’t discount the power of that.

Final word: Don’t miss Ep 37. All three minutes of it. They are perhaps the most important three minutes of the entire show.

(I mean, not FINAL final word. I expect to be going back for a re-watch and posting more things, particularly on eps from before I started typing up 1000K-word reactions this first time around.)

#zhou zishu #wen kexing #zhang chengling #ye baiyi?#sure why not #ye baiyi #xie wang #duan pengju #word of honor #word of honor episode reax

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melancholydreadfuldream · 3 years

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Hell-bound with you

Fandom: Doctor Who

Pairing: Doctor x Reader

Summary: You are the unwilling companion of the Doctor.

Warning: ooc, plot holes as usual, dark!doctor, insanity, etc. You have been warned.

A/N: I hope this post show up in search result just fine. The part four of my other fic I posted at the end of last month just won’t show up in any search result, tags not working. I hope this one work okay.

I watched in amusement from my spot as Jack tried to summon the Doctor but failed instead, he kept getting her companion. I couldn't help but laughed at the old man expression when Jack kissed him in the mouth.

I was surprised when the old man, Graham, revealed that the Doctor is now a woman. Jack is giddy with excitement as he wanted to see the Doctor so much. But he kept pulling in the companion instead. Yaz and Ryan.

Eventually Jack realized that the judoon technology is the reason why he can't pull the Doctor to him. Personally, I was grateful that the Doctor is not here. I wouldn't want to catch his - i suppose now - her attention. I admit I am a bit curious about how she looks like. The Doctor's first time as a woman, I wonder how she will act.

My attention snapped back at Jack as he warned the companion about the lone cyberman. It was all very cryptic.

Turned out the companion has never encountered a cyberman before so they understandably are confused.

Both Jack and I had suffered together in the short time since we met and you know what they said about forming a close bond during a life and death situation. It makes us comrade.

Jack knew some stuff about me that I would never tell anyone. I am so grateful that I met him while stranded in this alternate universe.

Of course, it just my bad luck to have landed in a time period where cybermen overrun the world. I was lucky I met Jack. It would take me forever to sort thing out otherwise. I shuddered at the thought of being taken by cybermen for conversion.

I didn't know what to think of the companion because I didn't know of them. I didn't know of the newest incarnation of the Doctor being female either. There were rumor floating around about it but I missed her first season on the account of finding myself suddenly existed within the impossible DW universe.

I hated it. It wasn't fun. And I ended up ruining the Doctor's timeline. I had to run from him when he changed into that monster. Oh, I know he would come looking for me sooner or later. He would never let me go just like that. Misery loves company and all of that. Some part of him did blame me for changing him, I just know it.

But running away and found myself stranded in another DW universe isn’t exactly how I planned my escape. The upside of being here is that I’m finally free of that person.

I heard an amused chuckle within my mind and I frowned. Right, I guess technically I am still haunted by that person. I glared at the bow-tied figure that only I can see, a proof of my insanity. I tried to ignore him and his unwanted commentary on whatever it is Jack and I did.

This particular universe thankfully still follow the canon, I think. I don't know if it will be a blessing or a curse my escape being here, knowing my luck it will ended up as another curse. I do know one thing, this time I have to avoid the Doctor at all cost. It will be hard, I'm sure, as I felt it so many times before back then, someone pulling the string and play on me like a puppet. Of course, no one believe me, not even that person.

I didn't know the future of the Thirteenth Doctor but I will still be a threat to her should she realized what I am. That's what happened with that person. He insisted that I stay with him and everything has gone wrong ever since.

I tried not to think about that person and his now-never-happened future courtesy of me, of my presence, in his life.

"(Name)?"

I snapped out of my trance as Jack called out to me in concern.

"Is it him?"

I blinked when I realized I must have been talking out loud and thus gaining Jack and the companion’s attention. "I'm fine."

Jack gave me a look that said he didn't believe my bullshit.

I ignored him. I noticed the companion are staring at me as if I was insane. I held back a frustrated laugh. Well, I am insane, somewhat.

Jack introduced me to them. “This is (Name). She is with me.”

"Is she a friend of the Doctor too?" Graham asked Jack.

"Well..."

"No." I firmly said as I glared at him in warning. "Oh, just shut up." I glared at an empty space on my left.

The companion stared at me warily.

“err, did she just talk to an empty space?” Ryan asked.

“Yeah, she does that.” Jack replied, not taking his eyes off me.

I tried to focus on Jack and the companion. I rubbed my forehead, feeling a headache forming.

Jack's frowned as he observed me. "She's...complicated." He suddenly yelled in pain as the nano-genes started to attack him. He complained very loudly.

I was worried for him. "It’s time. We should leave here, Jack." I said as I grabbed him. “You already did your part, warning them.”

"You are right but there is...” Jack groaned. “...one more thing, (Name), you are not coming with me."

"What?! What the hell are you talking about?" I punched his arms in annoyance.

Jack rubbed his arms and give me a look. "You should go with them and stay with the Doctor."

I was pissed. I thought he understand. "No. You..."

"I know what you think of her but I still think you would be safer with her than with me. Also, maybe she could help you with him." Jack replied, turning to glance at the space I have been staring at before despite not being able to see what I see.

"Like hell, I'm not going! And you can't make me!" I yelled petulantly.

The companion stood there looking confused at our argument.

Jack let out a sad smile. "I'm sorry, (Name)." He took my hand that is on his arm and let it go.

I blinked in confusion and annoyance. I was momentarily distracted and Jack took that opportunity to activate the vortex manipulator on my person and I suddenly blip out of the ship and found myself on Earth instead.

7777

I almost lost my balance as I landed harshly. I cursed loudly.

I saw the Doctor's companion materialized not too far from me.

"Son of a..." I growled. "That damn head jar!!" I cursed Jack. "Shut it!" I snapped on the empty space near me.

The companion stared at me warily.

I groaned in annoyance.

"We should go find the Doctor." Yaz suggested.

"Yeah, you guys go ahead. I'm out of here." I said.

"But I thought that Jack fellow said that you should stay with the Doctor?" Ryan asked.

"Ignore that cheeky bastard's words!" I said and then stopped myself. "Except about the cyberman. That was true. Alright, I'm leaving." I waved at them and left despite their protests.

Screw Jack. He is not the boss of me.

7777

I walked without a purpose as I ponder over what I have to do next now that Jack has abandoned me. Like hell, I’m sticking around to see the Doctor no matter how curious I am of the female Doctor.

“He’s right, you know, you would be safer if you stay with the other Me.” He said.

I glared at him. “And what? Risking of her turning out like you because of me?”

“I think you give yourself too much credit. I was always going to turn out this way sooner or later. Valeyard, remember?”

“But you are not the Valeyard.”

“Yet.”

“And that’s what make it worse. I did this to you. I turned you...”

“Victorious. That’s what I am, thanks to you. It wasn’t that bad.” He said with a shrug.

“You burned down planets!”

“I did that once in a while. You know this." He is referring to Gallifrey. "Besides, you know they deserves it.” He said as a dark expression crossed his features.

“We lost Clara. I wouldn’t call that victorious!!”

“And we avenged her.”

I was ashamed that it was the truth. I did help him to avenge Clara’s death. In fact, I was the one who urged him to do it because I couldn’t accept her death. They haven’t even done Trenzalore yet. And now they never will. Because of me, Bow-tie won’t even get a new set of regeneration. But considering how he turned out, am I doing the world a favor by limiting his life to his eleventh self? Now he will not get the chance to regenerate into Eyebrow. Or did I just make it worse? Like he implied, he is very well on his way into becoming the Valeyard.

“I am curious about the Doctor of this universe.” Victorious pondered. “I have never regenerated into a woman before. I was on my last regeneration right now."

I tensed at that. I kept reminding myself that the person in front of me is not quite real so even if he did figures out the truth, there is nothing he can do about it. No Clara, no new regeneration. Unless he made me fill her shoes, play her role so to speak on Trenzalore. I hope not. Well, I had escaped him, somewhat.

The real Victorious probably was too busy right now to ponder about the calling of Trenzalore. And knowing him now, he might actually let Trenzalore burns.

I think I bought enough time for myself so it might take him a while to locate me especially since I have a bio-damper ring on my person to hide the void stuff that apparently covered me when I first arrived in DW universe. With the ring, he won't be able to track me down easy. It also help hid my presence from the Doctor of this universe too.

I sighed as I stared at my 'companion', the one only I can see, an accidental result after some weird mind meld with the Doctor.

When I first took a glimpse of him the first time I was stranded in this alternate universe, I thought he was somehow in my head, then I beginning to question my sanity, creating a shadow figure of the Doctor in my headspace. Seemed like I could never be free of the Doctor. Part of me believed I deserved it, to be haunted by the Doctor that I ruined.

Sometimes I really thought he is the Doctor when he suddenly said things that sounded like something the Doctor will says. And then he is being all sarcastic with his unwanted commentary on everything I do and...meh I thought of him as a figment of my imagination designed as my personal demon to torture myself. But, weirdly he does know information that I could not possibly know, things that the Doctor or some other screaming genius might know but not little stupid, ordinary Me. There is no way if he is a hallucination created by me for him to know those complicated stuff. Anyway, thanks to that, Jack trusted me, I did save his life, both our life actually, by following the advice of the shadow Doctor.

Jack believe me albeit a bit reluctantly at first and eventually did trust me enough to watch each other back through hell and back. It was all very dramatic but also rewarding as we formed a friendship. Unfortunately, he's loyal to the Doctor hence he disbelieved me when I said I am bad for the Doctor, he still somewhat believe the Doctor is the answer to fix everything that could go wrong, even though he should know better.

I groaned as I ponder on what to do now. I understand the truth in Jack's words that I might need the Doctor of this universe help should Victorious able to track me down to this universe. But I am also right about my presence around the Doctor never bode well. So you see my dilemma?

Thankfully the Doctor and her companion never look for me. I guess she is not curious enough with me.

Back then as I watched the first two episode of season 6, I found it weird that bow-ties who supposedly adores children, didn't bother to look harder for little Melody Pond after she escaped the astronaut suit. Maybe there is some additional information about it from DW book or the audio-book but I never got my hands on them.

Anyway this is good. It would be troublesome if she did decided to track me down.

7777

I thought I covered my track very well but the time bounty hunters somehow able to track me down at some black market in some random planet. It was weird but it seemed the Tardis translation circuit still work on me even if I am not anywhere near the Tardis. Or maybe it is thanks to that annoying 'companion' of mine?

I'm following the advice of the shadow Doctor to find an equipment to, as he said he will indulge me for now, hide me better. I used my vortex manipulator given by River a long time ago at the Library. She taught me how to use it so that I won't accidentally kill myself while using it.

Anyway after I purchase the said equipment and before I could use it per the shadow Doctor's instruction, the hunters found me.

Honestly I hope the self defense lesson I got from River and then Jack would be enough to at least help me escape my pursuers. I thought I did good but they still found me.

That's when the shadow Doctor 'helpfully' told me that I had a tracking chip somewhere inside my body courtesy of the real him. That bastard. Putting a tracking chip without my knowledge or permission like I am some freaking pets.

I glared at him angrily.

He grinned in amusement. "Hey, technically it wasn't me who did it."

"Close enough..." I muttered.

He told me the equipment I purchase earlier should destroy the chip into dust inside me without harming me in the process. Removing the chip would be better but without the correct equipment and a professional medical knowledge, it would be too dangerous.

But before I could use it, they found me again. I was at some random abandoned building. One of them broke my wrist as I fought him. I screamed in pain.

"Hey, don't hurt her! He won't be pleased!"

"She won't stop struggling! She bites me!"

I groaned in pain as they pushed my whole body on the wet floor.

"She is not to be harmed in any way." Someone said. "The client is very specific about that one. He need her for something. He is willing to pay so much for her."

My eyes widened in fear as I realized they are not planning to take me back to Victorious. That would be even worst. Are their client some enemies of the Doctor who is trying to take me as hostage? Or do they after the knowledge I have of the Doctor? But there is no way someone could know. I was sure Victorious remove all threat on me.

I catches the glimpse of dark expression crossing the shadow Doctor's feature as he too listen to what the men had said.

"Who even is she? Why do they willing to pay so much for her?"

"Don't you know? She's the consort of that guy, the Doctor."

I rolled my eyes in disdain at that misinformation but made no move to correct them. There is no point.

"For real? But she is running from him? Why?"

"Have you been living under a rock? That man has gone insane. Who would in their right mind stay with him?"

"I heard the stories about him."

"Not stories."

"So, is it wise to betray him like this?"

"You assumed we got the job from him but we didn't. By the time we hand her over to the client and got our money, with this technology to cross over universe..." He glanced at the elaborate vortex manipulator on their wrists which you assumed they got from the said client. "we can make a new life in some other universe. He won't be able to find us."

The shadow Doctor chuckled coldly. "Whoever that client of their is, I know they are not stupid. To go after what is mine, they would have to take care loose end in order to remain undetected from me." He said as he observed the men. "That vortex manipulator probably has an expired date on it and more..."

He turned to look at me, kneeling before me with almost a bored look. "I did warned you that you would have been safer if you stay with the other me."

I glared at him. "Quit talking, do something." I hissed at him.

He smirked. "You didn't say please."

"Who is she talking with?" One of the men asked.

They hauled me up to face them.

"You are not very smart, are you?" I said with a smirk. "He is already here. The Doctor. Or should I say Victorious?"

They looked around nervously.

I pulled my sonic screwdriver, the one I stole from Victorious, and set out sonic sound, as instructed by him, that momentarily hurt everyone's ears but also caused some old hanging lamp to either explode or fell to the ground, causing chaos.

I ran immediately out of the building. Ignoring the growing pain in my wrist, I yelled at him to tell me how to use the equipment to destroy the chip. I moved the equipment to some spot of my neck and pulled the trigger.

I clamped my mouth as burst of hot fire pain filled me. I gasped as I fell to the ground. Tears filled my eyes. I felt so dizzy.

I distinctly heard him telling me to stay awake and ran. So I did albeit really slow.

Like I said before, someone or something seemed to be pulling the string on me because as I made my weak escape, I found myself face to face with the companion I met with Jack weeks ago and there is a woman with rainbow stripes on her clothing with them. The Doctor, my mind supplied.

Shit.

"It's you." Ryan whispered, seemingly surprised to see me.

"Doctor, she is the one we told you before. she was with Jack." Yaz explained.

The woman glanced at me in guarded curiosity. She walked toward me and opened her mouth to say something but I fainted right into her arms.

7777

I woke up inside the Tardis in the medical bay. How did I know that? He told me.

The Doctor, the female one, entered the room and smiled upon seeing that I already wake up.

I no longer feel any pain, not on my broken wrist and on my neck. I assumed she fixed that. And someone changed my wet dirty clothes with something comfortable.

I heard her yapping about the danger I put myself using the equipment she found with me. I didn't listen, still a bit too dizzy.

"Who are you?"

"(name)." I replied.

"Ok, (name), I'm the Doctor. My fam said you were with Jack and that he instructed you to stay with me?"

"He was wrong." I said bluntly. I forced myself to get up and stand up despite her protest. "I should leave."

"You can't. We are in the vortex. Also you were hurt. Who hurt you? Also who put a tracking chip inside you? You destroyed the chip using that equipment. Are you running from a prison? Did Jack broke you out of prison?"

I groaned and chuckled harshly. "You talk too much." I said as I clutched my pounding headache. "Prison, huh? I guess you could say that. Oh, shut up." I snapped at my right.

"Who are you talking with?" She observed me curiously. "The fam told me that..."

"I am a bit insane? That would be correct. Better stay away from me, doc." I said in derisive.

She glanced at me.

"Stop looking at me like that!"

"Like what?"

"Like I am some animal in a zoo."

"I am so sorry."

"For what?" I asked in confusion.

"For whoever hurt you like that." She whispered. "Yaz changed your clothes. She said you have scars on your arms, consistent with someone being restrained and being injected and also..."

"Stop." I glared at her menacingly. "That was private. None of your business."

She, thankfully, stopped talking about that topic. But she suddenly pulled my sonic screwdriver. "How did you get this?"

I took a deep breathe trying to calm myself over the fact that she and Yaz invaded my privacy. "It's mine."

"Not possible." She said firmly.

"Uh-oh, someone in trouble..." I heard him said in a teasing sing-song voice. I glared at him before turning to face her.

"Someone gave it to me." I lied. "Now give that back and let me leave." I demanded.

She shook her head as she took a step back. "Did you steal this?"

"Ding dong, she got it!" The shadow Doctor answered cheerfully much to my annoyance.

Fine, I'm going to give her some shock value. "River gave it to me, satisfied?"

The Doctor look shocked, her mouth dropped open. "You know River? River Song?"

"That was a low blow, (name)." The shadow Doctor whispered at me in disappointment.

"She was my friend." I spat. That wasn't a lie, technically. River was my friend but in the other universe, not in this one. "I'm sure you wouldn't know me, Doctor. She wouldn't talk about her friends with you. Mostly because you would not be interested."

The Doctor observed me, trying to spot the lie. She seemed satisfied to find none. But she is still suspicious though. "Why would she give you this?"

"For my protection. I will only know how to use it whenever I was in danger." That one is not a lie since the shadow Doctor only tell me how to use it whenever I need to escape danger.

She hummed at that, probably wondering if I ever misuse it. She didn't seem to keen of returning it though. At least she didn't confiscate the vortex manipulator.

"Jack vouched for me. Do you think he would send someone not trustworthy to you?" I said. The answer is yes, by the way, because that traitor Jack ignored my warning how I am not good for the Doctor's timeline. If I am to stay with her, predictably things will not be canon again and it will definitely be hell-bound.

The shadow Doctor chuckled at what I said.

The Doctor didn't say anything.

I raised an eyebrow. "I guess you don't trust Jack or do you only trust him when he is useful to you?" I asked in vicious tone. "Fine, keep the damn sonic screwdriver."

"Oh now you have done it. She is not going to let you leave now." The shadow Doctor helpfully informed. "That is my 'i-don't-trust-this-person-i-need-to-solve-what-she-is-hiding' look." He grinned gleefully.

I almost want to slap the jerk if not for the fact he is not really there so it is kinda pointless.

Resigned to the fact that I am stuck with the new Doctor, I am determined not to let her in my head. A mistake I made with bow-ties which in turn caused him to become Time Lord Victorious.

But I have no idea what the future hold for this version of Doctor and her companion. One thing for sure, the canon is about to go to hell, especially since I have no idea what to do and what to avoid doing.

"I think you should stay with me. I can help you with whoever after you. But I need you to trust me."

What a hypocrite. She doesn't even trust me. Why should I trust her?

"I don't want to intrude. Just dropped me back on earth at 2020." I said.

"Oh, bad year." The shadow Doctor supplied.

"I insist you stay here for a while. After all, isn't that what Jack want me to do? Welcome to the Tardis. It is..."

"I know what it is. River and Jack told me."

"Well then...if they trust you, I am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt..." She smiled brightly. "Welcome aboard, (name). We are going to have adventure of the lifetimes."

If she think I would rejoice, she is sadly mistaken as I stared at her flatly, not impressed.

He chuckled at my expense.

The Doctor glanced at my unimpressed look, sighed. "Well, you are a tough one."

7777

And so I ended up becoming the Doctor's unwilling companion...again.

She re-introduced me with her fam and officially give me a room in the Tardis.

Yaz is wary of me but Ryan and Graham are nice and friendly.

And just like that I got pulled into their adventure. I tried to refused saying I'm feeling ill most of the time, preferring to stay behind but unfortunately the Doctor doesn't trust to leave me inside the Tardis.

Does she think I could drive the Tardis or something? Seriously...

7777

I was stuck in a nightmare. I was back with Victorious and he punishes me for escaping. He trapped me in a special room designed to punish me mentally. He always did know I am weak mentally. He was surprised that I could survive this long by luck alone.

I saw the laughing figure of a trickster, saying the joke is on me and...

I woke up to the concerned face of the Doctor, the female one.

I remembered now. I fell under the clutch of some wannabe gods from ancient Syria. They fed from people's nightmare.

The woman, Rakaya, glanced at me wickedly, saying I have some delicious nightmare.

The Doctor saves the day and able to trick the wannabe gods into eternal imprisonment.

At the end, as I sat with a blank expression on my face on the stairs at the console room, Yaz and Ryan approached me and asked if I want to talk about my nightmare.

I just said that I dreamed of being back in the room. They didn't push me for more. Yaz, being a police officer, probably suspected based on my scars, that the room was where I was imprisoned before.

7777

Darn it.

Despite my determination not to get attached with the Doctor and the fam, I failed. Damn adventures and dangers and excitements, it does bound us closer with each other. I saved them, they saved me.

"Admit it, you miss this, didn't you? The adventures, dangers, excitements?" The shadow Doctor teased me. "You got used to it already."

"what about you?" I asked him. "Do you miss being the Doctor? Saving people and planets instead of destroying them on a whim?"

He was silent. For once, he left me alone. I think I hurt his feeling despite him being a hallucination.

7777

Once I was almost taken by another bounty hunters, the Doctor rescued me and declared that I am under her protection and anyone who want to take me, will have to go through her first.

The oncoming storm expression on her face is enough to make them back off and I was left in peace.

The Doctor is not pleased that I still won't tell her the reason.

"You have your own secrets and I have mine. Respect that!"

"I can't protect you if you don't tell me the truth." The Doctor had said.

"Fine, let me leave. I can take care of myself!"

Both the Doctor and the shadow one snorted at me much to my anger.

The fam has to interfered with our arguments.

"Cool off, the both of you!" Yaz demanded.

Reluctant to leave for the next adventure but having no choice, I went with them. Another life-threatening incident passed with me rescuing Ryan, softened the Doctor and she apologies to me, sort of.

7777

It finally happened. As Jack warned, the lone cyberman has come.

The Doctor asked me the thing that the cyberman after so I told him about the cyberium. Jack did told me about it in passing. He was part of the alliance, after all. I guess he told me about it because he always planned to dump me at the Doctor. I admitted I hold a grudge against Jack for this still.

The Doctor took me with her but instructed the fam and the rest to stay put. She asked me more about cyberium. I honestly don't know anymore but she kept pressing me, taking her frustration at me.

To be honest, she frighten me at that moment, reminding me of Victorious.

From the way the Doctor reacted when she explained about cyberman to the other, the shadow Doctor concluded that she must have lost someone to the cyberman.

Bill Potts, my mind supplied. I knew she was supposed to be the Doctor's companion after Clara. Since Bill is not here anymore, I can only assume she is the one the Doctor lost.

The Doctor raced against time competing with the cyberman called Ashad to get the cyberium before him.

She eventually figured out the cyberium is possessing one of the residents in the house. She managed to trick the cyberium into leaving its current host.

The cyberium is attracted to the Doctor for a host much to my horror as she started to blurt out something the Time Lord Victorious would say.

I saw the shadow Doctor glanced at the other Doctor in amusement and curiosity. His eyes darkened with the lust for power. At that moment, he look so much like the real Victorious I have to believe he is truly him, not a pale imitation of him.

He turned to look at me as he finally notice the look of dread on my face. "You see? The Doctor has always headed to this..." He said with a chilling smile. "It wasn't you who turned me, dearest (name)."

"Get away..." I whispered in fear. I snapped out of it and yelled at the other Doctor, "Doctor, don't!" at the same time as Yaz.

Thankfully, the Doctor snapped out of it too.

The lone cyberman threaten to destroy the planet right that second if the Doctor refused him the cyberium.

Having no choice, the Doctor give its back to him. I have failed Jack. I know she has no choice but this meant Jack and the alliance would be in danger again.

As we returned to the Tardis, the Doctor made a plan to go after that asshat, I mean, Ashad.

She prepared some machinery in order to fight against the cybermen armies. At least she is confidence she could win this.

I planned to go with her to help and rescue Jack and then I am going to slap the hell out of him.

7777

Of course, things just don't worked as well as the Doctor planned. We are in the far future where the last of the human race located. I couldn't find Jack or the alliance.

We are overpowered by the cybermen and got separated from each other. I ended up with Yaz and Graham while the Doctor is with Ryan.

Somehow we ended up in cybership with the cybermen armies in the middle of waking up.

We are trapped. Everyone is panicking. I heard Yaz tried to talk to the other Doctor via an unreliable communication device.

I turned toward the shadow Doctor. "Do something!"

He turned to me with a chilling smile. "I have taught you before, right?"

I swallowed down my fear. "Please..."

He sighed as if what I am asking him is too troublesome.

I jumped when the steel door started to shake some more under the constant attack from the cybermen.

"You remembered when you were taken from me by the Division?" He suddenly asked.

I remembered it. I was taken, my mind half lobotomized in order to gain access on what I know of the Doctor. I woke up to everyone in the building died. I assumed Victorious did it.

"I could activated the physic bomb I planted inside you."

"What?!" This is the first time I heard this. "What the hell is that? Why do you insist of putting things in me?" I lost it at him. I am furious, wouldn't you be?

"(name)!" Yaz called out to me in concern but I ignored her and the rest who thought I finally lost my marble.

"Oh chill out, it won't kill you, well, only temporally." He said as he played with his nails.

"Bastard!"

"If I activated the psychic bomb, you and everyone in this ship will died, well not you obviously, and the cybermen but they will lost all function for roughly an hour or more. Enough time for you to escape, well, once you are resurrected that is." He said.

"What about them?"

"What about them?" He parroted. He shrugged. "Not my concern."

"The hell with that! Save them too!" I demanded.

"I warned you not to get attached..." He sounded bored now.

"Find another way!"

"Why should I?"

"Please. You are the Doctor."

"I'm not the Doctor anymore, remember?"

"Fine, you are victorious! So prove it!! Save them and be victorious over the cybermen!!" I screamed at him, tears of desperation filled my eyes.

He took a look at me and relents. "Fine."

I let out a shaky relieved breath at his answer.

He instructed me to tell the mechanic of the bunch with me to remove some electrical thingies to support enough for teleportation for all of us to escape.

"It is not enough!" The mechanic said. "Only enough for four and there are seven of us!"

"If only someone has a sonic screwdriver..." The shadow Doctor said mockingly. "Guess you have some decision to make, little (name), which four gets to escape with their life."

I cursed the other Doctor for taking the sonic from me. To my surprise, Yaz pulled a sonic screwdriver from her bag.

"She told me to give it back to you." Yaz explained.

My mouth dropped open in shock. I laughed in near hysterical and turned to the shadow Doctor with a grin. "Tell me."

He sighed in exasperation. "Fine."

I used the sonic as instructed, giving the teleportation enough power to transport all seven. "Go!" I instructed Yaz and Graham and the rest to go first.

"What about you?" Yaz demanded.

"I have one last thing to do." I turned to the shadow Doctor as everyone left the ship. "Do it."

He glanced at me with a look and smiled. "Being a martyr?"

"Buying them some time. They are far enough not to get affected by the psychic bomb, correct?"

"Correct."

"And you are the one who said I will survived it so not a martyr."

He hummed. "You sure?"

"Do it."

"As you wish."

Just as the door crashed open, I screamed as he filled my head with so much pain it triggered the bomb creating a pulse of energy that sweep the cybermen off their feet.

I clutched my heart as it was rudely stopped.

The last thing I saw is the shadow Doctor hovering over me, muttering something I couldn't hear.

"I only ask because triggering the bomb would send a signal directly to him..." He said. "He is coming, (name). I am coming."

7777

I slowly opened my eyes, found myself on the ground. "Oww..."

The Doctor and the fam are there, surprised to see me alive.

The Doctor scanned me with her sonic. "But...this is impossible." She blurted out. "You are only human, how can you...? You are immortal? Like Jack?"

"Ugh stop talking. Can I get some water please?" I pleaded.

Everyone stared at me weirdly but an old man thankfully gave me some water.

The Doctor still couldn't get over the fact that I survived and demanded to know what I have been hiding from him.

"Take it easy, doc, she did save our life." Graham said.

The Doctor relented.

"The cybermen..."

"Out of commission for now. How did you do that?" The Doctor asked.

"Tell you later."

She glanced at me. "You better." She said firmly before turned to Ko Sharmus who showed us to the Boundary and there a portal opened.

Both the Doctor and the shadow one blanched in horror when they recognized the ruins of Gallifrey.

And then some random guy leaped out of the portal.

"Master." I heard the Doctor spatted in disgust.

"What?" I accidentally yelled. Last time, to my knowledge, the Master is Missy, though? What happened to her?

"Like a pest...he just keep coming back, huh?" I heard the shadow Doctor said with a chuckle.

The Master demanded the Doctor to go with him. She refused at first. But when he threaten to kill the rest of us, she relented.

Reluctantly, she goes with the Master through the portal, instructing the rest of us to stay behind.

"Follow them." The shadow Doctor demanded.

I stared at him as if he has lost his mind.

"Do it!" The force of his words gave me headache.

"Oh, alright! Geez!" I glared at him in annoyance but did as I told and the pounding headache lessened just a bit.

Yaz and the other tried to stop me but I told them not to follow me.

The Doctor is enraged when she saw me. "What the hell? (name), get back out there!"

The Master is not pleased to see me either. "Control your pet, Doctor, or I will be forced to kill her."

I glared at the shadow Doctor at my predicament of having two very angry Time Lord. "I have no choice, okay!" I said to them.

The shadow Doctor chuckled and told me to say something for him intended for the Master.

"Like hell, I'm gonna say that. He is going to kill me." I refused as I glared at the empty space beside me much to the confusion of two still very angry Time Lord. He wanted me to call him by his name 'Koschei'. I clutched my head. "Oh, fine!!"

"You always have such a sort fuse, Koschei." I repeated word for word.

Both the Doctor and the Master flinched and glared at me suspiciously.

Great. Nice going. Is he planning to get myself killed?

"How do you know that name?" The Master demanded.

"He told me." I gesture to the empty space beside me.

The Master stared at the empty space before chuckled darkly. "Your pet has gone insane, Doctor?"

I stared at him flatly, trying to cover my fear. "The Doctor told me." which is the truth. "just not the Doctor you know." also truth since the Master technically never met bow-ties.

The Doctor stared at me in confusion.

"Yeah, don't care." The Master shrugged and pointed his gun at me as I raised my hand in surrender but the Doctor stood firmly in front of me, shielding me from him.

"Don't you dare." The Doctor hissed at him.

"You don't want to do that. Unless you want me stop both of your hearts." I said, more like repeating the shadow Doctor said.

"Are you threatening me?" The Master look pissed.

"(name), who are you talking with?" The Doctor turned around and grabbed both of my arms, demanding an answer out of me.

"I..." Is this it? Do I have to tell her the truth? I turned to look at the shadow Doctor. I swallowed down hard as I look at the Doctor and then at the Master. "To answer your question, yes, that was a threat. How do you think I made the cybermen lost his function, Doctor? I have a psychic bomb inside me, killing me would trigger it, would kill myself and stopped both of your hearts. So unless you want an early death, I suggest you temper yourself." I said as flat as possible.

Both Time Lords stared at me in shock.

"Psychic bomb? Who did that to you?" The Doctor demanded in concern and slight fear.

"The Doctor did." I said softly.

She released me as if stunned.

The Master curiously looked at me and the Doctor. "Oh fuck this, you ruined my moments, ape!"

"(name)..." The Doctor stared at me as if I grow two head suddenly.

"Come on you two, we need to be somewhere else right now!" The Master demanded.

The Doctor grabbed my hand and took me with her as the Master led us the ruin of the citadel.

As we entered the hall of matrix chamber, the Master suddenly hit me over the head, causing to collapse on the floor, losing my consciousness.

Both Doctor and the shadow Doctor are enraged at my behalf. The Master claimed he need her attention on him, not on her stupid pet.

7777

I woke up to huge commotion. The Master is yelling something at a hologram of Ashad and his armies, asking them what happened. We could heard explosion. He turned to the Doctor asking her what has she done but the Doctor claimed it wasn't her.

They were shouting at each other. Until a signal caught on his communication device.

"A signal. The four taps of two hearts." The Master suddenly said in confusion.

I glanced at those two as they started to bicker again. They are the last two Time Lords, so who was it that send him a signal?

My heart suddenly beats faster as dread filled me.

"The signal is getting close but something seemed to prevented it to come through..." the Doctor said as she pulled her sonic at the device that now emitting some sort of pulse. A portal suddenly appeared in the middle of the room.

I turned toward the shadow Doctor who look at me fondly. I couldn't decipher the meaning of it for a time. He suddenly started to fade away and my eyes widened as I suddenly have a realization.

"No!!" I shouted at both the Doctor and the Master trying to make them stop just as a pulse of energy exploded knocking all of us off our feet and I lost my consciousness once more.

7777

The portal opened. A man in bow-ties and dark purple suit stepped out of it.

The Doctor and the Master groaned on the floor. They looked up to see the newcomer.

The Doctor froze in shock when she saw her past-self. Her mouth dropped open.

He fixed his bow-ties with a grin. "Finally..." He turned and glanced at the other two Time Lords. "Hello there."

"Who the hell are you?" The Master asked.

"Victorious, at your service." He said, bowing mockingly at them.

The Doctor's face paled at the name. "But you can't be..."

"Oh? Why not?" He asked.

"You were me. And I never, he never..."

"You are the Doctor. Interesting." He said, eyes gleaming in excitement.

"You...are not me." The Doctor finally realized.

Victorious turned toward the unconscious human at the floor. His eyes softened considerably as he walked and squatted before the human, one hand gently removed the strand of hairs covering the face. "I guess even here, you couldn't escape a Me after all, huh?" he said. He sighed as he cradled the human into his arms. His forehead touches the human gently. "Seemed like you still keep some secret from me too..." He glanced at the Time Lady before him with a chilling smile before turning to look at his human again. "You bad, bad girl, what is to be done with this?"

A/N: I don’t know if there will be more. Maybe if inspiration hit, I will. Bear in mind, if I do write more, I might just add it in the same post instead of making another one so stay tunes? But for now, TTFN.

#doctor who x reader #thirteenth doctor x reader #eleventh doctor x reader #doctor who fanfiction #thirteenth doctor imagine #eleventh doctor imagine #shiefenwrites

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fatefulfaerie · 3 years

Text

Dearly Parted

The following one shot has no spoilers for Hyrule Warriors: Age of Calamity. Not only have I distanced myself from social media feeds, but I also wrote this quite a while ago. I promise this is safe to read and spoiler-free.

If you are reading this and are aware of spoilers that perhaps contradict it, please be mindful of your knowledge and respect that others would like to find out in their own time and space. Please do not tell me I got anything “wrong” or “right” or talk about Hyrule Warriors: Age of Calamity in any way. Just read it, appreciate that I took the time to write it before I knew anything canon to contradict it and keep scrolling. Thank you in advance.

“You’re going to be just fine,” Zelda assured him in her soft voice, yet Link knew she was really only assuring herself with that statement, that he already felt himself fading, and that the pain of his injuries subsiding did not in any way mean they were healing.

Link knew he was dying as he tipped his heavy head to lean on her shoulder, her arm supporting his upper back and her fingers clutching, grasping, holding for dear life onto the sleeve of his blue tunic.

Link stared into her green eyes and his heart panged with the ferocity of lightning, warm with love that burned a touch too hot and froze a degree too cold.

Her shoulder was soft and smooth and she looked at him with an angelic gaze that he couldn’t keep his eyes off of. The round, green emeralds danced like a flame, fuming with desperation, embers rising along with her concern, ashes forlorn with an unwanted grief.

Link brought his left hand to gently cup her cheek, his eyes already watering.

“I’m sorry,” he said with a coarse voice. “I’m sorry I wasn’t enough, wasn’t...” Link’s breath hitched as he clamped his eyes shut. Zelda searched with desperation and panic in her eyes before his eyes opened to hers again. “Wasn’t strong enough...to be what you needed.”

“No,” Zelda said, shaking her head as she brought her hand to Link’s on her cheek. “No, Link. You...” Her voice broke. “You mean so much to me. You are enough for me. Just...” Zelda sniffled her nose to ward away her coming tears as she brought her forehead to Link’s. “Just stay with me...please.”

Tears finally escaped Link’s eyes and his breath started to shudder and to hiccup.

“Zelda, I...” Link said shakily. “I’m not going to make it.”

“Of course you are,” Zelda insisted, her brow furrowing. “Don’t say that!”

Link’s blue eyes melted completely as his hand brushed from her cheek to splay around her ear. The feel of her blonde strands on his fingertips was as intoxicating as he always imagined it would be.

With a slight tug downward, Zelda knew what Link desired. He didn’t bring her lips completely to his, nor did he force the action to take place against her will. He merely closed the distance between their lips, resisting the temptation to go further as their breaths entangled and melded into one, one wild, untamable breath that held in its creation a great anticipation, a great disbelief, a great lust, a great and terrible love that had been both the doom and the savior of Hyrule.

Zelda finally crashed her lips down to to Links and their hearts itched for more as they closed their eyes and explored the sensation, the desperate, passionate exchange, the pressure and the depth that just wasn’t quite enough.

Link’s lips, however, began to shakily rescind, and it wasn’t long before he dove his tears into the crook of Zelda’s neck, clutching at her hair. His shoulders bobbed and his hiccuped breaths sounded like he was gasping for air as he bawled into Zelda’s shoulder.

“I don’t to want to say goodbye to you,” he blubbered. “To leave you alone. I need to protect you. I need to know you’ll be okay.”

“I will,” Zelda insisted. “I will because you’ll be by my side. We’ll go to Hyrule Castle and defeat Calamity Ganon together, like we’re supposed to, my sealing power and you wielding the sword that seals the darkness. And then...and then we’ll live happily ever after.”

Link, still tightly held in her arms, voiced no response. Although Zelda knew him as quiet in comparison to how much others typically talked, this silence and the way he was heavier in her arms was chilling.

“Link,” she said, tears streaming down her face in her utter fear of what those things meant. She moved Link off her shoulder to see her worries confirmed, Link’s eyes were closed and his head, his arms had drooped to the ground with no strength to hold them up.

Zelda had trouble finding her next breath, her shoulders shaking as she dove her head into Link’s chest, mourning her lost love.

“No,” she said, denying the truth. “No.” She inwardly refused to let go of him, her heart stinging and tears bleeding endlessly from her eyes. “No,” she repeated, the light drizzling of rain echoing the seeming perpetuality of her tears.

“Open your eyes,” she said, pleading and begging for his life harder than she had pleaded and begged to any goddess statue. “Please, open your eyes. It’s time for us to go. Please. Just get up.”

She cried and cried as she began to accept his death, her entire body starting to tremble at the new loss.

“Princess!” A voice exclaimed as two sheikah warriors ran quickly to her aid.

“Princess?” one of them asked when she didn’t acknowledge their presence. He hastened closer and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Are you alright,” he said, starting to pull her away from Link. “We must get you to safety.”

“No!” Zelda exclaimed as she resisted his pull, wanting nothing else to stay with Link, as if he were still conscious, as is she was still someone he needed, as if staying by his side meant something. “No!”

The sheikah looked at his companion with parted lips as he allowed Zelda to keep Link in her arms and bawl into his chest. The other sheikah came around to the other side of Link and brought two fingers to his neck.

“He’s alive,” he said.

Zelda’s head popped up immediately.

“What?”

“He has a pulse,” the sheikah explained. “A weak one but a pulse nonetheless. I’d say we can nurse him back to health in Kakariko but looking at the extent of his injuries, I don’t know know if it will be enough.”

“We have to try,” Zelda insisted. “He is Hyrule’s hero. We have no hope without him, he...”

Her words faltered as she heard a whisper from the sword, Zelda’s eyes widening at the prompt, and at the idea that struck her head because of it.

“Take him to the Shrine of Resurrection!” She exclaimed quickly, commanded even. “If we don’t get him there we are going to lose him forever. Now go!”

“Your Highness,” one of the sheikah said. “That technology is largely experimental. We only recently figured out how to turn it on.”

“I gave you an order!” She yelled, nearly crying. “The kingdom may be ruined but I am still its princess. Take him to the shrine of resurrection or I will do it myself!”

“Understood,” both the sheikah said with a nod, Zelda letting them take Link from her arms and quickly departing towards the dueling peaks.

Zelda stood up, still weak and shaking from the sudden loss of Link. She picked up the sword as she did, but it seemed she was left alone in a Hyrule doomed for ruin. The champions had lost and their leader blamed herself for their lives. Her love was gone and Zelda ached for him with her whole heart. Her kingdom reeked of death and she felt she was the last person who deserved to survive.

But, because she did, she closed her eyes and found the resolve to do all she can to remedy her failure.

And maybe, just maybe, Link would return to her for their happily ever after.

#zelink #zelda #link #tloz #aoc #botw #the legend of zelda #age of calamity #breath of the wild

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im-the-punk-who · 4 years

Note

Hi! I’m new to the fandom and I’m simply curious (not trying to start a feud or anything), why don’t you like Steinberg?

Hello dear anon! And welcome to the fandom!

Oof. That’s a question. xD

I’m going to try and stay as uh. neutral as possible. Because I’ve already written the post I know I failed but, the intent in answering this is also not to start a feud or hurt anyone’s feelings.

Okay, so I got fairly negative in this chilis tonight, so I want to start by saying that even in light of the opinions I’m about to express, Black Sails is one of, if not my number one, favorite TV shows of all time. Certainly in recent memory - I’ve been hyperfixating on this show for 18 months with no sign of stopping, and I have a tremendous amount of respect for everyone who worked on the show - even Steinberg. (The one exclusion is Michael Bay, he can go twist.)

AND I think Stienberg is an incredibly talented writer. Black Sails is one of my favorite shows because it does such a wonderful job of weaving stories, creating characters, and melding things in a way that is both unexpected and makes sense narratively. I have changed as a person because of the show, and they will have to pry James McGraw and Thomas Hamilton from my cold dead knives-attached-to-them hands. None of what I’m going to say is meant to detract from that.

I will also say that a lot of these issues are not particular to Steinberg and are in fact a systemic problem with American TV + Film. And I’m not leaving Robert Levine out of my criticism, it’s just that Steinberg had the biggest hand in the pot(he wrote a full half the episodes) and a lot of what I’ve heard as far as talking about the show comes from Steinberg. So, he gets the brunt. But it isn’t that I think Steinberg was the only problematic element of the show.

Also, these are all my opinions and are colored by how I interact with my fandoms. I am not only a fandom veteran, but I work and pretty much live in the entertainment industry. I work in indie film and theatre and am surrounded by artists and creators of all walks of life, like, constantly. I know what is possible, and when I see something that can be improved, I want to note it because it is important to me to always be striving forward. Like Miranda says about Thomas, this isn’t out of malice, or out of hate. It’s because I genuinely love this show, and I love entertainment as a whole, and I think in order to get to a better, more inclusive industry we have to have hard conversations and look critically at the media we consume, and it is frustrating to me to time and again see the same faces in the room.

But if that isn’t your cuppa, that’s fine! Fandom isn’t meant to be stressful and if all you want to do is watch a show about gay pirates that is your tomato and I applaud you. Have at it you funky motherfucker.

OH! One more. At some point I’m going to talk about Silverflint. When I do, it is NOT meant as a ‘you shouldn’t/cant ship this’ or ‘this pairing is bad’ or any negative attack on the people who ship that pairing. My criticisms in this post are exclusively about what it means for Steinberg as a writer and Black Sails’ representation of gay and mlm men. While it’s not my cuppa, this is a sail your own ship blog.

OKAY! SO!

My main criticisms of Steinberg & Co boil down to:

The homozygosity of the writers and directors shows a complete lack of desire to include marginalized people in the writing of a show that is about them. Which leads to:

The centering of white men while choosing a historical setting and time period that was in fact dominated by people of color and specifically a black woman,

The gratuitous inclusion of violence against women, particularly sexual violence, and again, that the female characters are often sidelined for the central male characters.

SO.

Black Sails is a show centered around queer, female, and black leads, and yet there were only two non white-male directors (one bi-racial man and one white woman) and only 7 female writers - one of whom was Latina. The entire rest of the major creative staff was white men. I’m not going to comment on sexualities but none of the writers or directors are out as queer according to a quick google search.

Let me reiterate the important bit there.

In Black Sails, where the last two seasons specifically feature around a real, actually-happened-in-history event that shaped black history in the Caribbean, there was not a single black writer on the entire show.

This is the main difference between inclusion for inclusion’s sake, and actually centering marginalized voices. Black Sails has a ton of gay, POC, and female rep in front of the camera but practically zero representation behind it, which leads to storylines and implications that Steinberg and his writers, as white men, simply would never realize.

It’s like why Silver and Miranda never realized the true reasons James was waging war on England. They just did not have the life experiences to realize they were missing a piece of the puzzle, and so they filled in their own without even realizing they’d done so.

Because no one in the room of Black Sails was a part of these marginalized identities, nuances get lost or mistranslated, motivations get muddled through a white man’s gaze(or a straight person’s) and implications that someone within those communities might think is obvious won’t even come up.

And again, because there were no writers or directors of color in the last two seasons (the biracial man directed episodes 2x02 and 2x04 - WHICH MAKES SENSE IMO) the entirety of the historical lore that the show bases itself on in its latter half is filtered through a white man’s lens. And so there is no discussion of how changing something changes the meaning, how leaving someone out or changing their role to be more minor might affect people for whom that is their heritage. How the entire story they’re telling might change with one simple exclusion or addition.

So, how does this relate directly to Steinberg, you ask? Well, simply, because it was his show.

Steinberg(and Levine) were involved in every major decision about the show, from its conception, to the script, to choosing the writers and directors. They chose how they wanted the show to look, to think, what stories to tell and how they wanted to tell them. Their decisions(and the biases that formed those decisions) are woven into the show.

And look. I don’t for a second believe any of this was willful or malicious. I don’t think that John Steinberg and Robert Levine sat down one day and said ‘you know what would make the gays really angry? If we locked the only two canonically gay men up in a prison camp.’

But the decisions that were made in the show were based in ignorance in a way that shows more than just simple negligence or laziness(especially given the attention to detail in everything else). The things they leave out or change in the Maroon War plotline for instance are not small details easily missed. They are big, giant waving flags. They are things that are irreplaceable to still have the same events and stories and tell them respectfully.

It shows an insane amount of privilege to, for instance, write a show airing during a time when the Black Lives Matter movement was at the forefront of the American conscience, include black characters and black storylines, and yet not include a single black voice on their creative team.

In a show that centers a gay man’s love and his journey in attempting to process the horrible things done to him and his lover because of it, we are given just forty minutes of the entire show dedicated to their relationship - and just fifteen of those minutes actually feature the lover!

(Relatedly, the entirety of the gay romantic rep is two kisses, and a forehead touch. That’s the entirety of your gay intimacy representation. And yet there are in the first two seasons alone - because that’s all I’ve clocked so far - something like twenty seven minutes of scenes involving a naked or half naked woman. Five minutes of that is explicitly wlw sex.

Again, I just want to reiterate this because it’s important in recognizing bias.

There is fully twice as much female nudity in the first two seasons, as the entirety of the time the two gay characters have together on screen. )

Steinberg is a perfect example of how a lack of understanding why the diversity you are representing is important, matters. I dislike Steinberg because he, just like every other straight white cis man I have known, profited off of marginalized voices without including them or creating with them in mind.

Art does not exist in a vacuum. You cannot create something - especially something as back breakingly, intensely a labor of love as Black Sails - without putting several pieces of yourself into it. But those pieces color your narrative. They will expose things about you that you don’t even realize. And it’s in these places we are weakest, and why a diverse group of writers with a diverse group of experiences can help a piece be stronger. But for whatever reason, John Steinberg thought that he could make art with only people who looked and thought and experienced like him.

The lack of representation behind the camera in Black Sails was evident in front of it and yet Steinberg is out here getting to pretend like he created the most inclusive groundbreaking show that ever existed. It is important to me, personally, to acknowledge that. And that it kind of makes my skin crawl in the way all media made by straight white (cis)men makes my skin crawl. I wish I didn’t have to feel that way about my favorite tv show just because it was created by a man of privilege, but here we are.

SO. I hope that helped? Feel free to take what you want and leave what you don’t!

Below the cut is a more in depth look at things that I think show what I’m talking about, but that up there ^^ is the gist. <3 |D

SURPRISE!

The Maroons and the Maroon War

So the first thing I want to point out is that the Maroon War was a real thing that happened. It lasted ten years, and resulted in the most substantial victory the Maroons ever achieved against the British. Not only that, there was in fact a KICKIN’ badass female leader of the maroons named Queen Nanny, who is to this day honored as a national hero in Jamaica. While they weren’t able to drive the British out, the outcome of this war led to a mostly self-governing Maroon population in Jamaica from the mid 1700s on. This was a long term fight that had a very tangible and real outcome, even if it didn’t end in the destruction of colonialism.

And what is this war turned into in Black Sails? A white ‘madman’s revenge’ that is doomed to failure after six months.

That, my dear pirates, is a problem for me. (And those familiar with my brand of spiceyness know that I do not ascribe to the ‘Flint is a Madman’ trope, but that IS what Steinberg ascribes to, what he seems to have written the show thinking.)

There was no narrative reason to include the Maroon War in the narrative of Black Sails. The Maroon War didn’t happen until a decade after the Golden Age of Piracy, and aside from Silver’s wife being a black woman there is no mention of Silver ever having contact with them. To me, this feels like the choice of a showrunner who found a cool historical event and saw a chance to up the stakes of their white male heroes while getting in some sweet sweet POC rep.

Except that they then took the major events of the Maroon War and gave them to their white characters, Flint and Silver.

Here’s the thing. If you’re going to take a piece of culturally important history and use it for your show, you NEED to have sensitivity writers. You need to have people who are at least familiar with those events and who care about them to do them justice. Have an expert come in and read your script or go over your ideas. Or just like. Hire a black writer. Hire ONE black writer. As a treat.

The important Maroon figures, Nanny, Cudjoe, and Quao, all get sidelined or ‘sexified’ and then used as plot points for the white characters. Nanny gets split into two women - the older mother queen and Madi, the young naive warbent visionary. Quao(Mr. Scott is the closest, or Kofi possibly) gets killed off because the writers realized they didn’t exactly have a place for him in their writing. Cudjoe(Julius) gets a few scenes and one good speech but his entire role in the war gets given to Silver. And THEN. That sexy Queen Madi figure gets used as emotional bait for Silver and then has to learn he has betrayed her and destroyed the hope and freedom she had wanted to bring to her people.

Gross, pirates. Gross.

Anne Bonny/Max/Mary Read - a heads up, this section includes a semi in-depth discussion of both Max and Anne’s sexual assaults. If that bothers you, the paragraphs talking about that begin with a ***

COOL NOW LET’S TALK ABOUT LESBIANS. Words my 20 year old self would never have imagined coming out of my mouth.

Specifically, I want to talk about Max, and Anne, and their backstories both involving extreme sexual trauma at the hands of men. And then Mary Read and the once again sexification of female characters.

(Actually while I’m here another criticism I have of Steinberg is that his writing does not seem to recognize how queer people existed in the past - again, likely because he didn’t have any gay historians to be like ‘actually buddy that doesn’t make sense also why is Anne not dressing as a man? If you want to fuck with anything and insert modern day terminology and ideas into this show, make her non binary and REALLY piss off the hetties.’)

(This same ficitonal gay dramaturg who is definitely not me has also questioned John Steinberg repeatedly about where Mary Read is, unsatisfied with the answer ‘well we wanted her to be hot so we made her a sex worker and then had Anne have to rescue her but then we realized it would be weird not to include her actual character so we gave her a five second cameo at the very end of the series and also made her like 13.’)

Anyway! So my main point in bringing up Anne and Max is the sexual trauma they are exposed to in the show, particularly being that they are the two primary wlw in the show, who Steinberg has said he views as being completely gay, and what THAT whole unexamined idea looks like.

***Max. My dear Max. There was literally no reason to have her be repeatedly r*ped(and for the love of god there was even less reason to make it that gratuitous and graphic). Max being assaulted like that did not add anything to the gravity of Eleanor’s betrayal. The traumatic event was being tossed aside by Eleanor, and that could have been just as emotionally damaging without the sexual assault. And the only reason for her to be continually assaulted was to bring her and Anne together.

***The reason imo that Max’s r*pe plot was added was because it was the only thing these white straight men could come up with that felt emotionally damaging enough to them. The act of betrayal itself wasn’t enough, the act of being thrown away, of having a lover put your life in danger because of her own ambitions wasn’t enough, they needed her to be r*ped to really drive home the point.

***Anne, on the other hand, is never shown being sexually abused, but we are given an explicit account of her own traumatic history and how Jack saved her from this vile beast who was passing her around to his friends.

But here’s the thing pirates - that never happened. According to every account we have of Anne Bonny, she chose her husband, and married him against her father’s wishes. They were probably relatively happy until her husband started being a pirate spy and Anne started cheating on him with Jack.

And yes, when they were found out. Her husband had her beat. That’s not fucking cool, and if they really wanted to go the damsel in distress route they still could have had Jack ‘save’ her from that. But at no point was she sexually abused by her husband(at least not in any accounts I’ve read.)

You know who did likely sexually abuse her or at least manipulate her and Mary for his own benefit? If you guessed our Rat man Jack Rackham, you would be correct, because when he found out about Mary and Anne’s (supposed, but probably real) relationship, it’s implied he extorted both of them into fucking him to keep their secret from the crew.

The addition of sexual abuse to Anne’s past isn’t done to be true to her character and was in fact explicitly untrue. Now of course I don’t know the reasons why they chose to do this, but I can guess. Just as with Max, the most traumatic thing a male writer can think of for a female character is for them to be sexually abused.

And the most disturbing part of this to me? The parallels it has to the real world of why straight men think lesbians exist. These characters who would be called man haters in present day are given these incredibly traumatic man-centered histories. It brings up something very uncomfortable in me about particularly wlw sexuality being viewed as a reaction to trauma at the hands of men. It’s just gross, I dont like it, and honestly there is no fucking excuse for it besides a room full of white straight men writing this bullshit. A room that Steinberg chose, because they fit his ideas.

In Fact heck, the women of Black Sails in general

***I honestly struggle to think of a single female character who I think was treated fairly in Black Sails. Miranda and Eleanor are killed for taking sides and not understanding their partners, Madi is betrayed in the worst way possible, Max is given a pseudo empowering ending but has that fucking terrible start. Idelle ends off fairly well, but tied to a man she may or may not have any actual feelings for, in what is essentially a political marriage. And Anne has her entire identity tied to a man who will be dead in two years as she is robbed of any agency whatsoever without him. (Oh, and the whole r*pe thing. And also her support for Max’s r*pe or death until she started having fee-fees. Who wrote this stuff. >_>)

Even though the characterization of each and every one of these women is PHENOMENAL - and again I will repeat that I absolutely LOVE these characters as they exist in a vacuum. I think they are well rounded, real, feeling people given motivations and drives and FEELINGS and they SHOW THEIR ANGER and i LOVE THEM.

But the show punishes them for it. Miranda is essentially fridged to move Flint’s storyline along, and to make room for Silver. Eleanor is killed for the emotional damage it will cause Rogers. Madi is placed at the center of a conflict she explicitly says she is willing to die for and then not only is her entire cause taken from her, but when she tells Silver to fuck off he - in possibly the most predictable white man move ever - says ‘no i will stay until you change your mind. I will never leave you. I don’t care about your choice in this matter, I will wait forever for you. I’m your biggest fan. I’ll follow you until you love me. papa, - paparazzi.’

And I touched on this before, but I want to talk in more detail about what is possibly my hottest take to date, the sexification of Mary Read and Queen Nanny, as they are presented in the show.

Max is to Anne what Mary Read is, historically. She is the lover that Jack Rackham discovers with Anne, and then he joins them in their bed. They form a triumvirate that upholds Jack at the expense of the women. But for some reason, Steinberg didn’t want to just include Mary Read as an actual character. For some reason he needed to make Anne’s love interest a sex worker who was in need of saving (and who, coincidentally, we never see working the brothel after she becomes lovers with Anne, because she is now a madam. :) Gross.)

And Madi. My dear sweet fucking Madi who didn’t fucking deserve any of this bullshit send tweet.

So, historically, Queen Nanny was the Queen, spiritual advisor, and the military tactician of the Windward Maroons. She would have filled both Madi and the Queen’s character roles(and Flint’s, but who’s counting. A BLACK GAY LEAD? Inconceivable. I digress.) But, I guess, because they were wishy-washing with Silver’s sexuality or felt they needed to give him a female love interest because of Treasure Island, or because they were leaning a bit too hard into the gay shit and needed to backpedal, they took Queen Nanny and split her into a character who is for all intents and purposes powerless in the war and Madi, who is young and naive and does not have any real world experience outside of the Maroon camp.

Because that’s sexy, or something. They could have had the Maroon Queen be a fucking badass lady who works and fights alongside Flint and Silver and one ups them and teaches them shit and has her own ideas about where the British can stick it, but instead they made her into the perfect caricature of a female monarch, letting the big strong men handle the dirty work or something. Because white male power fantasies.

Just let women be powerful and not nubile and let them have character arcs over fucking thirty and let them be CENTERED in their own. fucking. narratives.

God damnit Steinberg.

James Flint, mlm extraordinaire

Oh, my love. My most amazing child. The light of my life. My purest cinnamon roll.

~~And now we’ve come to the dreaded Silverflint criticism part of our programming. Please please know and remember this isn’t a criticism of people who ship Silverflint. As I said up top, Your Tomato Is Not My Tomato and that’s cool. Please don’t take this next part as an attack on Silverflint as a fandom ship.~~

My criticism of Steinberg as it relates to Flint is related to:

What a romantic/sexual relationship with Silver being the basis of the tension and plot means for Flint in particular as a gay or mostly mlm man.

Refusing to confirm Thomas and James being alive at the end and honestly the whole finale in general but like I’ll try and focus.

The major problem I have with Silver and Flint being coded as in love with each other is the implications there in terms of gay men’s relationships to other men.

From every corner, men are inundated with the idea that any close relationship between them must be gay. That intimacy cannot exist unless there are sexual feelings involved. That a relationship cannot be close, deep and soul shattering and life altering, unless one guy secretly(or not so secretly) wants to bone the other dude. That two men cannot value each other as partners or friends or truly know each other unless they are gay.

Seeing both of the meaningful relationships Flint forms with other men be sexually coded feels a bit the same way as Anne and Max’s sexual assault plotlines does vis-a-vis being wlw. (Even with Gates, Flint never spoke about Thomas or his plans - Silver is absolutely the closest person to Flint besides Thomas and Miranda.) And this is just as true for Silver. Having both Flint and Madi - the two people he trusts - both be people he’s in love with also just feels. I don’t know.

It feels like a confusion between male intimacy and male love that is so so familiar to me as a gay man I could choke on it. Where they wanted these men to have a deep and really lasting connection, but could only figure out how to do it if they were in love. Friendship wouldn’t have been enough - only romantic and sexual love is enough for the gay man(or men, at all).

Just because it isn’t queerbaiting doesn’t mean it’s good rep, and I would have liked to see truly deep male friendships that did not center on sexual attraction - particularly for Flint as a confirmed mlm(and Silver too, if you’re counting him. The same arguments for why I dislike Flint being paired with Silver are also true in the reverse.)

Even if both Flint and Silver were confirmed mlm I still would have LOVED to see a platonic relationship between them. In fact I would have loved that EVEN MORE. Men! Who fuck men! Not needing to fuck each other to be important to one another! Who made this. Very delicious.

But because there weren’t any queer writers on the show, writers who understand this kind of struggle that gay and mlm men face, they thought ‘oh, let’s also have them be in love with each other. More gay rep is better gay rep, right?’ False. THOUGHTFUL gay rep is better gay rep.

Okay and here’s my last thing. The fact that Steinberg refuses to say whether or not the explicitly mlm men are alive at the end of the show - that the words he specifically uses are ‘up for interpretation’ is. Fuck, it’s gross, okay? It’s fucking gross.

I have been around enough men, enough people in power, enough people with leverage who also know how to play the field, to know that when someone wants a group’s support but does not agree with them, their go to phrasing is that it is ‘up for debate’ or ‘up for interpretation.’

Say the gays are alive. Steinberg refusing to acknowledge the reality of the ending of his show to maintain his own sense of artistic integrity is what, honestly, really sets me off about him and I don’t care if this is a nuanced take.

Like yes, death of the author. I honestly don’t care if he thinks they’re dead or alive. What I care about is that he thinks he can get away with being clever and leaning hard into a story is true/untrue’ - doesn’t realize what the implications of that are, and didn’t when he was writing, and didn’t have anyone else in the room who would think about it either.

ANYWAY. So this is....my long drawn out explanation for why I do not like Steinberg. Uhhhhh tune in next week for more of my totally unpopular opinions!

#good....fucking lord #i am so sorry #how many opinions can milo fit in one post #i mean i have more but yknow lmao #black sails #behind the black sails #milos black sails meta #long posts #my increasingly devoted attempts to find tumblrs word limit #Anonymous #john steinberg #js critical but the js is jon steinberg

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rein-ette · 3 years

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Hi!

I was inspired by your asks, so I wanted to hear from you! What do you think of Canada as a country? I had a bit of a Canadian phase long ago and I tried to consume as much literature and history as I could, but reading about a place and living in it are very different experiences, so is there anything you'd like to share about Canada, about the culture or the people? Do you like living there? What are some of your favorites things? How do you survive the winters?

And also, as a character, what do you think of Matt?

(´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

Aaaaaaaaah okay okay *ahem*

If you’re not here for a Ted talk the exit is to your left, have a great day!

I do love Canada very much! I was born and pretty much grew up here, and as I’ve grown older I’ve become more and more grateful for everything that my country has provided for me! I remember my history teacher in high school said once that by being born into the middle class and as a Canadian, you’ve already won the lottery of life. That was not to disparage other countries, but to remind us of how remarkably privileged we are and how much we take for granted.

One of the first things you hear when you ask people what does it mean to Canadian is the word “multicultural.” I find this word realllyyyyyy cringeyyyy and not really reflective of reality, but I suppose it’s a good starting point for more in depth discussion. People often say Canada is a “cultural melting pot”, but the indigenous poet Marilyn Dumont pointed out in her poems that in some ways it’s more of a mosaic — there are many cultures, but they don’t always meld together. To say it’s a melting pot is ignoring the fact that racism and discrimination certainly have and do still exist here.

But I would argue that in some areas it is a “melting pot”, even if I kinda hate that word. I prefer to think of where I live as cultural delta — a place where many mighty tributaries meet as they thunder into the sea. (It is also literally a delta, funnily enough) Here, I grew up absorbing Canadian ideas, studying British history, reading American literature, learning French — but I also grew up listening to Kpop, watching Ghibli, eating rice. When I meet up with friends, we don’t grab a coffee, we grab milk tea. If you ask people here where they would like to visit or live, they will most likely say New York, London, Hong Kong, or Seoul — which tells you a bit about both how powerful and diverse the cultural influences here are.

Perhaps the thing most indicative of Canada’s “multiculturalism” and what I am most grateful for, however, is that I grew up here without fear. I didn’t even know the words “chink” or other words existed until I could access the internet. Recently, the beatings of Asian immigrants in the UK and US brought this home for me — how lucky I am to have such a privileged childhood. And I know this kind of privilege is hard won; in my research of WW2 I found that one of the amusement parks that I used to frequent as a child was built on land that once housed a Japanese internment camp. How fragile our lives are!

But enough about the serious stuff. I can’t really answer your question about how to survive winters in Canada lol, except to say that where I am in Canada it is absolutely necessary everyone own at least 3-4 umbrellas. That’s because this side of the Rockies in BC, the temperatures are pretty mild year round — the coldest it gets is usually 0, and the hottest around 25. But, by god, it rains. I did go to Ottawa in the winter though, where it was -13 one day, but honestly? Everything below 0 feels pretty much the same. Once it gets that cold, you can’t even tell anymore. I wore a skirt and tights that day, with a good, thick winter coat. And I survived :D

Besides not being heckled on the street for being Asian, my favourite things about Canada are probably the amazing diversity of good food and how tremendously beautiful the wilderness here is. And I say this as someone who loses her mind when a mosquito flies past (ie. I am not a nature person). You can kinda tell from these photos here, but the trees and water and whatnot here, are like, real. Maybe I just find that amazing because I lived in Tianjin, but it just feels like this is a city built among the trees and the sky and water that was always here, and not a city where humans have brought in nature for our amusement.

Okay, gotta move on to your other questions or I’ll go on forever. As a state I think Canada does a fairly good job of providing for its own people, but I wish we had a greater global influence. A lot of youth especially express the view that Canada is kinda...boring if your career doesn’t have to do with, like, sports, nature, or medicine, and I would tend to agree. We have great universities, but as someone who studies international relations I often wish Canada would like? Do more? On the global scale. The only thing we really have under our name is the UN peacekeeping, which PM Pearson started after the Suez Canal Crisis. I mean, I’ve heard that many people abroad identify Canada with peace and like ofc I’m not complaining about that, but I just wish our history was a little spicier, ya know? We did kick Americas ass that one time in 1812 and that was amazing. No regrets.

So that brings me to Matt. A lot of Canada’s existence has just been dominated by trying to carve a way between the US and the British while not being swallowed by either. Britain gave us the protection and strength and diversification of identity to not be annexed by the US, but at the same time it hobbled Canada’s relation with our only neighbour. One of the very first treaties Canada negotiated alone, if I’m recalling correctly, was a trade contract with the US over fishing (?) in BC and Alaska, where London was like no you can’t and Canada was like uh we gotta make money too, bro. So yes, while I do believe Mattie is just a very loyal person in general, he was also loyal to the empire because he needed to survive. A lot of Canadian identity was solidified around our prompt assistance of England and the sacrifices made in the two world wars, especially the campaigns in the Low Countries and Italy. Essentially, Canada has historically differentiated itself from the US through its loyalty.

Uuuuh just realized that has nothing to do with my opinion of Matt. Um. I like him? He’s real best friend/big brother material, and I do hc him as far more cunning and capable than canon portrays him to be. However, sometimes he’s just...too nice. He doesn’t have that edge that England has that makes me wanna slap him tf up and sob and call him my baby at the same time. Also, as oumaheroes mentioned here, that kind of selflessness can get pretty toxic. After all, by consistently not voicing or examining your own needs, you make it incredibly and unnecessarily frustrating for the people who care about you to help you, and that creates a relationship just as one sided as one where the person is extremely selfish. Actually, now that I think about it, my biggest gripe with Mattie as a character and Canada as a country is in that word: selfless. Without self. Perhaps because Canada is still so young, but it feels a little lost, a little like it doesn’t know quite know yet why it exists.

TLDR: If you’re under 18 or over 60, Canada is the place to be. If, however, you’re like me and wish you could touch a building that’s over 150 years old and maybe visit a square somebody’s been guillotined in, perhaps try someplace else. Personally Portugal’s golden visa is lookin especially tempting lately

#I’m not on my laptop and I don’t know how to add a cut on my phone #so I’m really sorry if this takes up ur dash #I will fix this as soon as I get home #it’s reining again #thanks for indulging me needcake #ask #also rip i was gonna give book recommendations but tbh does Canada even have literature #I mean we do we DO but #uh have you tried Margaret Atwood? lmfao #i mostly read American and European lit and I feel kinda bad about that #Canadian history is...kinda dry tho idk #maybe it’s cuz I learned it in school

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