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horizon-verizon · 9 months

Note

re: Laena and Daemon’s treatment of her.

I think the fandom tends to shift the blame for Laena, Baela and Rhaena being neglected onto Daemon instead of the writers/showrunners.

In their quest to make him as irredeemable as possible, the writers severed him from his positive relationships with non-Rhaenyra people. This negatively impacted his relationship with his Black wife and Black daughters.

The writers are quite possibly racist and anti-Black. We see it in the treatment of Mysaria, Laena, Baela and Rhaena.

However, the blame does not rest solely on them, the fandom is also racist, and they enjoy their fantasies about Laena and how she’s a Black seductress/Jezebel, who could not steal him away from his great white love.

They constantly champion the Driftmark scene where Daemon ignores his bruised, bleeding daughters and only moves when he sees Rhaenyra might be in danger, as a sign that Rhaenyra is the only woman he will ever love.

Response to this post.

I agree. I'll say something else about a thing I said: about HotD making the Velaryons/their scions Black and even though I do think canon!Daemon had a more passionate regard for canon!Rhaenyra is more than the canon! Laena, it is very true that many white or non-Black ASoIaF fans tend to disregard the dragon twins from just their names and shift it onto Jaehaerys and Jaehaera OR full out calling them "monkeys" and delighting in fantasies of their mistreatment or abuse. Ironic because it still has a different flavor to the fantasies of Rhaenyra's sons dying horrible painful deaths.

Then you may have art leaving them out of what was called "family" portrait as if the twins are not blood-related to Rhaenyra as her first cousins and to-be wives of her sons, and would-be mothers to her grandkids. Stepchildren who she raised alongside Daemon and helped develop into the young girls and women they eventually become, thus are her kids.

And to leave it at how the canon relationship may "support" the idea that LaenaxDaemon was an inferior relationship to Daemyra can effectively encourage racism against show!Laena. Because we already 1) face people mixing canon and show lore, cherry-picking facts, etc., 2) some events and how they went down aren't messed up too much in the show, HotD, and the original stories still yield a collective significance, and meaning to viewers of both book readers and show-only watchers. We're never going to get out of this rut until every person is as dedicated to reading the stories as much as a book reader, pondering for hours about characterizations and implications of some monarchial declarations and actions in the world.

*EDIT (forgot to add this)* Yeah show!Laena is black/PoC unlike canon, but I think that it is not her becoming black and then continuing with the Velaryon-suffering already in the original story (thus making as if there was racism when it is supposedly just the writers overlooking the optics once race is changed). We shouldn't pretend that the show!Velaryons have the exact same treatment or events happen to them in the same ways as in canon.

The writers did make some changes regarding how the Velaryones acted and the events surrounding them:

Laena gets that self-immolating treatment (a common wife-riddance social tool in some cultures' literature and actual history) when dragon riders actually don't die often in fire nor is that even a desired death by anyone in canon. It's simply a flashier way to go and to provoke watchers while giving more pain to an already dying, lonely woman (as she wasn't surrounded by loved ones like in canon, and in Driftmark her childhood and ancestral home).

Laenor got punched up by a Kingsuard while becoming the next Prince Consort of a ruling Queen, and yet doesn't recompense through Criston's exile or death.

Laenor loses his lover to a nonsensically-allowed outburst of rage from Colon in the midst of his engagement feast. In canon, Choler kills Joffrey in what could be reasonably excused, at least, during a melee, where anyone could get killed in a competitive fury. Thus Cholera escaped death and punishment that way.

And then some scenes they should have included. One is Laena bonding with Vhagar in her preteens, which would have provided its own significance being contrasted against Aemond's bonding moment with Vhagar. We get a clue that she used sailing rope to climb onto the dragon's back, but we do not see scenes of her getting to this point using her wits. We do not know how she avoided her caretakers to visit Vhagar or maybe how Rhaenys guided her into approaching Vhagar and teaching her commands or such. (We do not know how she processed possibly being married to a 30+ man, how the Velaryons broached that with her, either, and with Aemma's unnecessarily violent birth scene that centers Viserys' emotions more, this part especially reveals the writers' lack of concern for female character's development as they should writing a woman's story.) Laena's bonding with Vhagar contextualizes and makes real the visible mourning the show makes Vhagar have AND works to show why & how she came to be so loved by Rhaenyra and Daemon on her own merit.

Removing Laena from their lives or subduing that bond really just reduces the emotionality of all three characters, the bonds they had with each other, remove the reason why Rhaenyra announced that her sons would marry Laena's daughters and makes it seem more about politics than a blend of that and genuine love (thus a loss in complexity that is pretty inherent to these characters' family lives)

Which is very much a change. A downgrade and misunderstanding of the canon. The Dance was a war incited by many moments where the respective sides grew more and more suspicious of each other from domestic issues and misogyny-- "small" events of pointed insults or court-group censure, hidden meetings for plots, etc. and then there would be what we had with Laena, Rhaenyra, and Daemon where the life they had for a short while nonetheless created a stronger base not just for rhaenyra but all her kids. why wouldn't we want to see how the blacks/rhaenyra and Daemon's "blended" family operate and how each kid developed over the years to anticipate how they would act during the war itself? (Esp for the non-book readers coming into this story for the first time). *END OF EDIT*

#asoiaf asks to me #asoiaf race #fandom racism #hotd characterization #hotd racism #fandom critical #hotd critical

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daenqyu · 3 years

Text

— doing their eyeliner at 12AM

includes: bakugou, kaminari, kirishima, and hawks

warnings: suggestive (LOTS of making out)

a/n: did i write this just because i love doing my eyeliner and i really want to sit on a guy’s lap while i do his???? maybe. but that’s none of your business 🙄☝️

bakugou katsuki

it’s canon that he wears eyeliner and even if it wasn’t,,, he’d still try it at least ONCE

in this case you had to ask him

well more like beg him

“babe please, i promise i’ll make a good work!”

“how? you suck at doing yours”

you scoff before punching his arm, making him let out a hiss as he glares at you

“i don’t you idiot, now can you shut up and stay still for a second?”

of course he ends up giving in bc come on, he’d do anything just to make you happy and if that meant letting you put makeup on him at 12AM because you thought he’d look ‘pretty’ then so be it

bakugou doesn’t voice out any of this though

instead, he keeps complaining and even tickles your sides from time to time just to get on your nerves

“bakugou,” he frowns when his last name falls from your lips, not liking how it sounded at all. “stop fucking moving or i’ll stap your eye.”

“tch, stop telling me what to do, dumbass.”

but he does stop

after all, he didn’t really want you to get mad at him

he entertains himself by tapping his fingers against your thighs to the beat of the music playing from your speaker

his touch makes butterflies flutter in your stomach, but you ignore them and continue to draw on his eyelids

you decide to keep it simple; just a very defined line that’s not too thick, but enough so that it’s visible

“okay, i’m done”

after you put the eyeliner down and notice bakugou’s eyes were focused on you, you completely forget how to breathe

the black makes his vermilion eyes look even brighter and in contrast with his blonde hair...he simply looks beautiful

he takes your silence as a bad sign and thinks you probably did fuck up, but when he looks at himself in his phone camera, the makeup looks fine to him so,

why the heck weren’t you saying anything?

“what is it? do you not like it?”

didn’t like it? couldn’t he see you were practically salivating bc of him?

“uh no, you look really good actually,” you look away before continuing, not trusting yourself to look at him while you said the next words. “you look pretty”

bakugou is a little surprised by the compliment, but he wastes no time before teasing you

he leans in, and once he’s close enough, he takes your chin so you’re looking directly at him

a smirk takes over his lips when your eyes avoid his

“what’s got you so shy?” he teases

“i’m not”

“then look at me”

you didn’t want him to know how big of an effect he had on you, so you turn your head around and face him, even tho you’re flustered beyond belief

his eyes slowly look down at your lips and then back to your eyes, making you a little anxious as to what could happen, but bakugou decides to drags it out

just to have some fun of his own

he places one of his hands on the back of your neck, gently pulling you forward until your noses are almost touching

the other one caresses your cheek softly, then his fingers slowly trace out your jaw, eyes still stuck on your own

it’s infuriating really

the way his fingers carefully touch your lips, applying a bit more pressure on his thumb that’s touching your lower lip so he can open your mouth ever so slightly

the way he acts as if he has all the time in the world, as if he could do this all day

and you know he can

but you don’t

so you lean in to close the distance with a deep kiss

it’s messy and sloppy; his tongue clashing with your own as his hands roam all over your body to feel you

you end up sitting on his lap, lips still connected and hands all over each other

you pull away, chest heaving as rough breaths leave your mouth and smirk when you notice bakugou is looking at you

his hair is messy thanks to your gripping and the eyeliner fits him so nicely

for a moment you almost can’t believe he’s your boyfriend

“have i ever told you how handsome i think you are?” you ask him with a goofy smile on your face, fingers playing with the ends of his hair

“hm, once or twice but you can always remind me again”

“let me just show you”

he quirks an eyebrow at your implication, licking his lips as his eyes darken

“oh? bold, aren’t we now?”

“learned from the best”

“fuck yeah you did”

to keep it short, you guys didn’t sleep a lot that night 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

kaminari denki

he was DEFINITELY the one that came up with the idea

something just tells me he probably spends 90% of his time scrolling through tiktok

and if he feels like it, maybe he’ll even posts some of his own

so it’s no surprise that he’s caught up with all the trends and challenges

and even dances (which surprisingly, he’s damn good at)

i’m guessing you guys already know what i’m trying to get at

he had seen way too many tiktoks of couples doing their partner’s eyeliner and he thought it was the coolest thing ever

not only was he curious to see how the makeup would look on him, but he also just wanted an excuse to spend more time with you

he had been thinking about it for a few weeks now, but couldn’t seem to find the perfect moment to ask you

until one night you guys were having a sleepover on your dorm and a video of said trend pops up on his ‘fyp’

you’re cuddling, your head against his chest as his fingers trace random pattern on your back, when he brings it up

“hey babe?”

you hum in response, eyes fluttering open to look up at kaminari

he smiles before pecking your lips, thinking about how beautiful you look all cuddled up next to him

“do you think you could do my eyeliner real quick?”

the question takes you by surprise,

tho you’re used to yout boyfriend being quite spontaneous and random at times, so you don’t really question it

instead, you nod and move out of the bed to get the makeup product, which sits on your vanity

“where should i sit?”

he asks you once you walk over to him, but you simply smile before taking a seat on his lap

you position your legs on either side of his hips so you’re in a straddling position and kaminari almost forgets all about the makeup because of this

but can you really blame him?

you just look so perfect like this

he has to physically stop himself from flipping you over and kissing you all he wants

and you giggle when you notice a pout forming on his face

“what’s wrong?”

“nothing”

“you sure?”

“yeah, just hurry up and do it so i can kiss you”

you laugh, “yes sir”

when you start, he can’t help but giggle at the feeling and you have to hold his face in place so he would stop moving

he gets used to it after a while

almost even falls asleep from how soft your other hand felt on his cheek

since you know kaminari likes to be a little extra, you attempt to draw a lighting bolt right below one of the lines

it’s not the best, but it looks decent enough so you decide to leave it there

but when you finish, you feel like something is missing; like it could be better

then you have the fantastic idea to use eyeshadow

kaminari feels you getting up from his lap and he whines

“where are you going?”

“hold on, i’m feeling inspired right now”

“okay?”

he doesn’t understand what you mean at all, but he lets you be

you take a random eyeshadow palette and make sure it has a nice black color on it

then you reposition yourself on his lap

“open your eyes and look up”

he does as he’s told and you proceed to put some more black on his lower lash line and waterline (not too much)

when kaminari doesn’t feel your touch on his face anymore, he looks down at you with a smile, which inevitably makes you smile too

“how do i look?”

you chuckle lowly, examining his eyes once more

he always looks gorgeous, but the eyeliner just...makes him hit different

and the fact he’s wearing one of his chokers doesn’t make it any better

he looks straight out of alt tiktok

“you, my beautiful boyfriend, look very attractive”

he smirks at your teasing tone, “oh? is that so?”

“i’m afraid it is”

he doesn’t even bother looking in the mirror because all he could think about was kissing you

and that’s what he does

he holds your face with both of his hands before pulling you in to kiss you

his lips feel hot and so does your whole body when he grips your hips

after a few more kisses, he pulls away and looks at you with excited eyes

“can i do yours now?”

you chuckle at his cuteness before nodding and letting him draw on your face

it’s not perfect, but hey! baby tried his best and that’s all that matters

besides he looks so proud of himself, telling you how cute you look and how lucky he is to call you his

“you look soooo pretty! i mean you always do, of course, but you look even prettier which i didn’t know was humanly possible yet here you are”

he ends up going on a rant about all the things he loves about you and you’re pretty sure you have hearts in your eyes by the time he ends

“i love you”

“i love you too, my pretty girl”

kirishima eijirou:

this man has absolutely tried on eyeliner at least once in his life

has it been good? probably not

but he likes it and thinks it looks very cool

sometimes you do yours and kirishima lives for it

he likes the way it compliments the shape of your eyes and how happy you get when you get the line right from the first try

whenever you’re getting ready and he’s with you, he doesn’t take his eyes off you

a smile spreading across his lips when he sees you bite down on your lower lip in concentration, your fingers skillfully tracing the marker on your eyelids

and that’s when the idea pops in his head

he ponders on it for a while tho, not sure how to bring it up or if you’d be up to do it

it takes him a few days before he asks you and when he does, he looks all nervous

you’re both hanging out in his dorm cuddling as you just finished watching a movie

a yawn leaves your lips and you stretch your arms, looking at the time on your phone screen

it reads 12:33 AM

you hum, moving your head up to look at kirishima from your place on his lap

he looks down at you and offers you a sweet smile before placing a quick kiss on your lips

“i should get going,” he pouts at your words, his hold on your waist tightening so you couldn’t stand up and you giggle, turning around completely so you’re facing him

you wrap your hands around his neck to pull him closer, just until your lips touch

you teasingly smirk at him before kissing his cheek and he frowns

“what? don’t you like my kisses?” you pout at him

kirishima scoffs at your stupid question and grabs your jaw gently, looking you in the eyes

“stop being a tease”

you roll your eyes, “you’re so impatient”

nevertheless you comply and connect your lips with his, your hands now slightly massaging his nape

he hums against your mouth, prompting you to keep going

before things can go any further tho, you pull away

he huffs childishly, not liking the way you kept leaving him hanging

“i seriously should get going,” you press one last peck on his lips. “don’t wanna risk getting caught here”

“then just stay the night”

“baby i already did yesterday”

“uhh your point?”

you chuckle, “good try babe”

you attempt to stand up but once again your boyfriend stops you from doing so

you open your mouth to ask him what’s up

but he beats you to it

“actually, i wanted to ask you something” he’s looking away from you and that makes you a little nervous, not having a clue about what he wanted to talk about

you nod, silently telling him to keep going

“could you...do my eyeliner?” a blush creeps onto his neck, his eyes still not meeting yours and you think he looks adorable. before you can answer him, he talks again. “but i mean only if you want to cause’ i know it’s kinda hard so it’s okay if you don’t but i think i’d be really cool and-”

“oh my god eijirou it’s okay!” he finally shuts up and looks at you with big eyes

“it is?”

“hm, i’m more than happy to do it,” he lets out a sigh after hearing your comforting words and you kiss his nose. “besides you’ll look super manly”

if kirishima was already head over heels for you, then now he just wanted to straight up marry you

you got up and started to look around in kirishima’s bathroom drawer since sometimes you left some of your stuff behind just in case

luckily, the eyeliner was there

after you took it, you sat in front of kirishima once again, your legs crossed and you moved closer to him

he kept still and let you get comfortable, looking down at your lips briefly when you got a bit too close

“close your eyes”

and so he did

like i mentioned before, you’re a bit experienced with this since you practice on yourself quite a lot

so it doesn’t take you too much time

the line you drew was a bit thicker than normal but not too much

and instead of doing a straight line, you did it a bit more upwards

“and done!” you say happily while retracting your hand from kirishima’s face

he opens his eyes and offers you a grin

the action is small and meaningless, but it somehow makes you nervous

the makeup really suits him and you can’t help but admire him for a while

by admiring i mean shamelessly checking him out

of course he notices it

and he teases you about it

“does it look good?”

“yeah,” you answer while looking away, trying to hide how flustered you are. “really good”

he hums before placing his hands on your waist and sitting you down on his lap, making you look at him with a surprised expression on your face

one of his hands stays on your waist while the other travels up to hold your face

you let out a heavy breath at his actions, feeling your heart thumping against your chest

his fingers caress your cheek softly and you lean in to his touch, loving the way he was always so gentle with you

without any warning, kirishima smashes his lips against your own

your eyes widen for a moment, not expecting this at all, but you close them when you feel his tongue touching your lower lip

you open your mouth and let him take the lead, a whimper coming out of you when you feel his hand wrap around your neck, pressing slightly

he pulls away with a smirk, both of your chests heaving from the lack of air

“still wanna leave?”

you sigh while moving your head, yet a smile was evident on your face, “i guess i can stay”

“atta girl”

takami keigo (hawks):

another one who canonically wears eyeliner !!

unlike bakugou (who does his eyeliner to cover up the gap between his mask and eyes), keigo does his solemnly because he thinks it looks good on him

wait, let me rephrase that

he knows it looks good on him

it’s part of his morning routine, he does it every time before going to work

so sometimes while you’re both getting ready for the day, you see him doing it

you open the bathroom door sleepily, barely managing to keep your eyes open

you walk over to the sink next to keigo’s and splash water on your face to wake yourself up

beside you, keigo smiles at your antics

he thinks you look the cutest in the mornings, especially when you’re grumpy

feeling his eyes on your figure, you turn around to face him with a raised brow

“why are you looking at me like that?”

“like what?”

“like i have something on my face”

he laughs at your attitude and walks over to place a kiss on your cheek

his lips feel warm against your cheek and it makes you smile

“good morning to you too” his says teasingly

“morning birdy” your tone matches his and he rolls his eyes playfully before pulling away from you to finish doing his eye makeup

you brush your teeth quickly while thinking about what you were gonna have for breakfast, and whether keigo had time to eat with you or not

once you finish, you place your toothbrush on its place and look over to your right

only to be met with the number two hero doing his eyeliner

in one hand he holds a feather of his against his eyelid, as if to help him do a straight line, and with the other he holds the actual makeup product

he has a concentrated look on his face, his brows slightly furrowed

and you look at him with nothing but adoration in your eyes

he looks so effortlessly beautiful

his golden locks are messy, yet perfectly in place and his wings rest by his side

he has his hero costume on, except for his coat

meaning his muscular arms are in full display for you to see

you don’t realize you’re staring until keigo finally finishes the second eye, and puts down the eyeliner

he smirks at you through the mirror and you look away, embarrassment clear on your face

“come on, i made us breakfast”

instead of teasing you, like you thought he would, he simply grabs your hand and leads you to the dining table

your heart swells for the man and you look at the two plates in awe, “you did this?”

“is it so hard to believe?”

you roll your eyes before turning around and kissing him, a soft “thank you” leaving your lips as you pull away

that morning you can’t help but keep stealing glances at your boyfriend’s flawless eyeliner

and later that night, when you’re both cuddled up in each other’s arms watching a movie, you get the sudden brilliant idea

“hey babe, can i do your eyeliner?”

keigo doesn’t even question you, he just nods before pressing a kiss to your neck and you giggle happily

you stand up to get the eyeliner from your shared bathroom and once you return, you take a seat right in front of him

“do you even know what you’re doing?”

“shut up, i do my makeup too, you know?”

keigo laughs, “i’m just teasing baby”

“you’re mean”

he leans in towards you, pulling you closer by your hips until his lips hover over yours

unconsciously, your eyes look down at his lips, wondering whether he was gonna kiss you or not

but being the little shit he is, keigo doesn’t

“you should hurry up,” his lips are still inches away from yours, but he doesn’t plan on closing the gap any time soon. “i wanna finish the movie”

this fucker

you clear your throat and move away from him, enough so that you can actually do the makeup, but his hands stay on your hips

you try your best to do it the exact same way he does it

a sharp, straight line that covers part of his outer v and also a small portion of his inner corner

giving his eyes a cat like shaped form

to add your own touch, you draw two small hearts on both sides of his cheekbones

“m’kay, you can open your eyes now”

and when he does, your breath literally hitches in your throat

of course it’s not the first time you’ve seen him wearing eyeliner

but your faces are still close and his amber eyes are stuck on yours and you just feel like you’re about to explode

your reaction doesn’t go unnoticed by keigo and he smirks

“i take it you like how it looks?” his tone is flirty and it makes you snap from your trance

you smile at him, softly tracing the two hearts with your fingers, “hm, you look lovely”

“oh really?”

“yeah”

“not as lovely as you, i bet”

and before you can even disagree with him, he presses his lips against yours

you let out a soft moan when he moves you so you’re sitting on his lap and his tongue explores your mouth ever so passionately

keigo takes his sweet time kissing you, taking in every little sound you make and the way your hips slowly move against his thigh

when you pull away, your lips are swollen and you have some spit coating them

which is enough to make keigo go crazy, but before actually doing something, he takes the eyeliner on his hand

you furrow your eyebrows at his action

“what are you doing?”

“well it’s my turn now”

“why do you oh so suddenly want to do my eyeliner?”

he smiles, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “because i wanna see how it’ll look when i make you cry it off”

your eyes widen at his words, but you make no attempt to stop him

keigo kept his promise and he indeed made you cry all of your eyeliner off 😁👍🏼

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chaos-monkeyy · 2 years

Note

I've been wanting to get back into short-fic writing practice because it is not my strong suit. Do you have any short-fic recs that you thought were really good not just as a story, but as a short fic? Maybe with a reason why?

AND!

Please let at least one of them be by you. 💙🙏

Sorry for the homework assignment, feel free to pretend it doesn't exist 😂💙

Oh boy, fun homework!! 🤩🤓

Okay so I thought about this pretty much all afternoon and evening 😂 And I've picked a few that I think are good examples of different types of short fic, as well as being good fic. And also came up with silly category names because I could.

(I'm afraid some of these will be a little out of your fandom wheelhouse, but I do think they're good examples so I hope that's alright 🙈)

The wanky drabble

I learned this one from @revakah, who's still the master of 100-word-witchcraft in my books. Playing with formatting and throwing any concept of sentence structure out the window in favour of pure unadulterated vibes; and somehow winding up with a story that spans way, way more time and feelings than it should be able to. Two of Rev's I particularly like for that:

Blank Space (100 words - Sylvie & Mobius - Loki Series - Sads ahoy)

Grounded (100 words - Kaladin/Dalinar - the Stormlight Archive - Fucking Hot ahoy)

That One Scene

This is probably my own favourite and most frequent sort of ficlet / short... where you take the established world/canon and either situate readers with the summary itself, or with like one or two quick lines-- and write literally just that one single scene or idea and nothing. else. Leave the finer details of exactly how they got there and what happens after up to the reader's imagination. If those are even relevant, they might not be 😂 I love these cause they're so flexible-- they can be introspective, they can be kind of a character study or a What If, they can leave people pondering implications and going ..oh, they can be a quick n dirty little smut scene or powerfully moving angst or pure happy-making fluff; or any combination of the above.

A universe all its own by @jewelliffer (647 words - Thranto - So Fluffy I'm gonna Die)

Unending by saisei (405 words - SGA vegas!Sheppard/Todd the Wraith - impossible levels of characterization, canon backstory, and post-canon story for that many words)

In time by me (200 words - SGA one-sided Sheppard/Todd the Wraith - I'm just really proud of how creepy and not-quite-human I managed to make this Todd POV one)

Longfic speedrun

For when you have the idea for a long fic but don't actually want to write the whole thing. Instead, take the most important, core bits of key moments over time, and just... don't write the rest. It has a particular feel to it that's kind of hard to describe, but they tend to leave me feeling a little stunned. Because I only read one or two thousand words, but somehow they've beamed a year's or a decade's worth of story time directly into my brain.

The Taste of Him by @draculard (~2.5k - NightThrawn with background/nonromantic Thrawn/Palpatine - okay yes this is on the longer side for a short fic BUT in my defense it's incredible and oh yeah OW heartbreaking)

Still there is my attempt at a slowburn speedrun (~1.3k - more SGA - vegas!McShep post canon)

~waits patiently for homework assignment to be graded~

#this was fun!!#and i hope it's helpful #and also there is #lots of other excellent short fic out there #in addition to the ones I put in here #chaos answers #writing #short fic #wantonwhale #multifandom

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bearkkyou · 3 years

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Take your boyfriend to work day

Alright, another degenerate pico x bf post down. I’ve got some angst brewing on the way, so look forward to it, or don’t. Slight NSFW implication, there’s nothing explicitly mentioned, but it’s implied. Italics are thoughts. This one is 2493 words total. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “Alright babe, I’m gonna head out now.” Pico calls from the living room, as he grabs his keys. “Hold on, wait a sec!” Boyfriend comes running over from the kitchen, and hugs Pico from behind. “Stay safe, ok?” He hugged Pico tightly, snuggling into him a bit before letting him go. “Aww, are you worried about me? That’s adorable.” Pico gave him a smug look as he turned around and hugged Boyfriend properly, planting a kiss on his forehead, which made Boyfriend smile in a bashful way. “I just don’t want you to get hurt, you know this! Hmph.” Boyfriend lets go of Pico, and turns around, acting upset, when in reality he’s just trying to act tough like Pico. Boyfriend doesn’t like watching him leave the house, knowing that he’s putting his life in harms way just because he wants to, and he can. It doesn’t sit right with him, but, if it makes Pico happy, he doesn’t want to put a stop to it. “I’ll be fine, you know this.” Pico puts his hands on Boyfriend’s shoulders and turns him around while giving him a small, but warm smile, as he pulls him into another hug. “You promise, right?” He looks up at Pico, a worried look on his face, that was soon turned into a soft gaze as he stared deep into Pico’s eyes. “ Of course, babe. Don’t worry, I promise I’ll be fine. And if I do end up hurt, I’ll patch myself up to save you the worry, ok?” Pico gazed back at him and bent down just a bit to plant a soft kiss on his lover’s lips before pulling back to plant one more on his forehead. This made Boyfriend blush, as he nodded softly. Pico grabbed his guns and slipped them into his back pockets as he made his way out the door, waving a final “goodbye”, before he took off. This left Boyfriend all alone in the house, bored as always. He went back to the kitchen to grab a can of Monster, and cracked it open before sitting at Pico’s desk. As he turned to use the laptop sitting there, he started pondering. “What even is his job, anyway?” He understood that it was rather dirty work, mostly involving the killing of others, but what exactly was it? How was it done, and most importantly, why? Boyfriend knew he wasn’t exactly going to get answers, as Pico rarely talks about his jobs. Most of the time when Pico comes home, he hits the shower, Boyfriend patches him up and then they cuddle and watch tv until they both fall asleep. But this left Boyfriend wondering, and he was wondering hard. He just wanted to see what it was like, at least once, just to know what exactly is it that his lover does. As he sat there, Boyfriend imagined what Pico would look like in the current moment: he though Pico looked like some sort of secret spy, stalking the enemy from afar, taking quick and calculated shots to not alert the others, doing his job efficiently. The thought stuck with him, and it left him starstruck. To imagine his amazing boyfriend in a life-or-death situation where he just overpowers the enemy in their totality, it shook him to his core, and a warm sensation overcame him. He wanted to see Pico in action. He needed to see with his own eyes what Pico looked like, what was his expression like, what his tactics were, Boyfriend wanted to see all of it. He wanted that experience for himself. And with his mind fully collected, he threw on his sneakers and headed off on a mission to find and watch Pico from afar. He was confident that just watching him would be fine, and once he had his fill he would quickly head home to not cause Pico any problems. “I’ll be fine!” He thought, his overconfidence shining in the dark. “And if anything happens, I know Pico will protect me.” Boyfriend put all his faith into his lover, knowing that Pico would always prioritize him over anything. Boyfriend had no problem leaving his life in Pico’s hands, and it shows.

He set off on a mission to find his lover, no matter how long it took. Thinking back to the small details Pico had mentioned, Boyfriend could make a mental map of how far away his lover was, and he set off on foot, knowing that a 20-minute run would do him well to burn off the can of Monster he vigorously chugged down before leaving. He ran through alleyways, behind colorful, flashy buildings, and around desolate areas until he heard gunshots from far away, recognizing the sound instantly. “It’s Pico!” After listening to Pico fire his gun so many times in previous situations, he’s come to memorize the sound for his own benefit, in case if something were to happen. Running towards the harsh sounds, he turned ‘round the corner of a rather tall building as numerous neon signs shone their light down the long street, illuminating the silhouette of various figures. This was it. Boyfriend had found where Pico was. Now all he had to do was find Pico himself, which was a rather easy task, as he could be heard from afar but not seen. Boyfriend assumed that his thoughts were wrong, and that Pico prefers being the center of attention rather than shooting from the sidelines, but it didn’t matter to him, if anything, it made Boyfriend even more excited to be there, knowing that he would be able to watch his lover at full power. He snuck around some of the cars that were parked along the street, getting closer and closer with each step, making sure to stay as hidden as possible. He peaked over one of the cars to try and get a peak of what Pico was doing, and what he saw made his face flush, and he shuddered at the sight: Pico was fighting 3 people at once, throwing calculated punches left and right, seeming to read his enemies like books. Once one person was knocked down, he grabbed his Uzi from his back pocket and began to shoot at the other two. He took a deep breath for a second and allowed the others to come charging at him. Dodging a punch, he shot the offender, but after he turned Pico got kicked in the back, and was knocked to the floor, but he held onto his gun tight, and shot forward at the crowd that had soon surrounded him. Pico continued his onslaught of targets, still getting hurt in the process, although he kept the promise he made to Boyfriend fresh in his mind, and tried his best to avoid more lethal harm. As Boyfriend watched in awe, he felt the urge to cheer his lover on. He knew that he would be caught if he did, but he wanted to so badly, even if it meant risking his life. He wasn’t scared, if anything, he knew Pico would immediately save him if harm came too close. As Boyfriend contained himself, he continued to watch, his urge to cheer continuing it’s buildup as Pico overpowered the enemy with swift, merciless movements. Boyfriend said he would leave when he’s had a fill of Pico’s action, but if anything watching him fight in person only makes him want to watch more and more, and in a moment of pure adoration, Boyfriend lost himself and sang at the top of his lungs. “Go Pico! Yeah yeah, go Pico!” And as Boyfriend sang, Pico was caught off guard, and punched in the face, being knocked back onto the floor and dropping the guns he had on hand. Before he could get up, his enemies started moving towards Boyfriend, watching him stand atop the car he was previously hiding behind, singing his heart out, cheering his lover on. Boyfriend seemed fearless, and while Pico admired his lover for that, he was concerned more about his safety, so in a moment of desperation he jumped off the floor and grabbed the guns he dropped, making a break for his lover, shooting the crowd that formed around him as he tackled his boyfriend off the car, making sure to hold his head to not harm him. “What the fuck are you doing here, babe?!” He questioned, panicked as he grabbed his lover’s hand and ran as quickly as possible. Pico would’ve been running faster had Boyfriend not been dragging his feet, but he tried to not pay any mind to it as he looked back, watching the last few unharmed targets open a case and pull out various guns from them. Shit was about to go down, and Pico was concerned about Boyfriend’s presence so he ran far and turned into a tight alleyway, pinning his lover close against the wall to make sure they weren’t going to be seen. “What the fuck, Boyfriend…?! Are you trying to get yourself killed? Haven’t I told you to stay at home, you’re gonna get hurt, what were you thinking?!” Pico started rambling in a hushed voice, sweat running down his face as he panicked, trying to think of a way to hide his lover from harms way. But on the other hand, Boyfriend wasn’t paying attention to what Pico was saying at all, and he was rather focused on how tightly he was pinned to the wall, how hot Pico’s breath was against the side of his face, how his clothes were bloodstained and sweaty, and how hot his boyfriend looked when he was in the zone. When Pico realized that Boyfriend wasn’t paying attention to anything, he forced Boyfriend to look up at him by tilting his head up and staring him down with a seriously concerned look, that turned slightly confused when he looked at Boyfriend’s wildly clouded, starstruck expression. “Hey, are you even listening to me…?!” “…You’re funking hot when you’re killing people, you know that, right?” That’s all he could muster as his thoughts were focused elsewhere, thinking about other scenarios that he and Pico could be caught up in. Pico was confused. Panicked and confused. “Wh… What the fuck is wrong with him?! Doesn’t he know that we can die at any second?! Why is he so fucking amused by this?” “That’s not the point, babe! What the hell are you doing here? You’re gonna get yourself into deep waters if you stay here!” Pico was trying to act as serious as possible, despite his lovers current state. “Aw, Pico… I just wanted to see what you were like while you were working! I got so curious as to how it was, and what you did. What you looked like… How you acted…” Boyfriend’s voice trailed off as he started staring at Pico in inappropriate places in an obvious manner, which made Pico focus on Boyfriend even more. “Hey, hey, hey, not now, ok? Let’s at least get home first, I wouldn’t want to die while getting a sloppy toppy.” Pico gave his lover a smug smile, and in return Boyfriend flushed entirely, not expecting that for a response, yet accepting it wholeheartedly, nodding furiously. Pico led Boyfriend to a blind spot in the alleyway and sat him there. “If it’s a show you want, a show is what you’ll get, love. Just don’t peak your head out too far, yeah?” Pico winked and Boyfriend just melted in his spot, the warmness in his body escalating visibly, which Pico caught wind of, only giving him more reasons to tease his lover with his killing expertise. Pico walked out into the middle of the alleyway to finish the job, making sure to look back every few seconds to make sure Boyfriend was watching, not hesitating to show off for his lover’s entertainment. Trick shots and swift hits were all that Pico to finish the job, for now, at least. He knew reinforcements would be arriving soon, and he was a bit more hurt than he would like to be, but that wasn’t stopping him from entertaining Boyfriend. “So, how was that for a show?” Pico went over to Boyfriend to pick him up and urge him out of the alleyway, trying to get out as quickly as possible. He was bloody everywhere, most of it not his, but bloody, regardless. “You…” Boyfriend wiped the blood off Pico’s face, with the back of his hand. “You look really hot with blood coming out of your nose…” Boyfriend tried to match Pico’s pace, but to no avail as he was too focused on Pico’s appearance and what he just witnessed to move his feet correctly. “Heh, glad you think so, babe. Try and pick it up though, there are a few more people coming and I don’t want you getting hurt. We’re almost there, ok?” “Almost where?” Boyfriend asked confused, as he started moving his feet properly. In the distance he could see something that looks like a bike, but he wasn’t 100% sure what it was. “My motorcycle. We’re getting the fuck out of here.” Pico looked back lustfully at Boyfriend, which made him immediately start running the right way. Once they were by the cycle, Pico quickly handed his helmet to Boyfriend and got on, turning on the motor, and revving the engine. “Hold on tight, it’s gonna be a tricky ride.” As they took off, the last few recruits came after them, which made Pico turn the bike around, but he never stopped driving. If anything, he was going faster than before, and with the last reload of ammo he had, he took down the last few enemies. Boyfriend held onto Pico’s waist tightly, the adrenaline rush in him overflowed and he felt ecstatic to be able to witness his lover’s daily deeds. As Pico turned the bike around once more, the tires screeched loudly, only to abruptly stop, and continue on the way home. Pico popped a wheelie or two on the way, only to add to his lover’s adornment.

When they arrived home, Pico parked his bike in the front yard, and Boyfriend put the helmet he was wearing back in it’s place. Pico smiled at him mischievously, and as they walked through the front door of the house, he quickly locked the door before allowing Boyfriend to throw himself onto him. Kissing and stripping down, to nothing, they decided that it would be best to hit the shower first before doing anything too extreme. Pico decided that the best time to get a sloppy toppy was when he was clean and patched up. In reality, he was just teasing Boyfriend, making him wait for the better part of the night, but Pico made sure that the wait was worthwhile, and that it would be quite some time before Boyfriend decided to follow Pico to work again.

#fnf #fnf bf x pico #fnf pico #fnf bf #bf fnf #pico #picos school #pico friday night funkin #bf friday night funkin #bf x pico #pico x bf #friday night funkin #boyfriend x pico #pico x boyfriend

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skellfamily · 3 years

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I have a couple other Deltarune theories, one about Kris and one about the Angel. they aren’t connected to each other but I’ll just put em together in one post

My idea about Kris is that they were originally created to be a vessel, just like the vessel we create at the beginning of Deltarune. I first began thinking about this when I pondered what happened to Kris’s soul; after all, the red SOUL in Deltarune is not theirs. It is yours, the Player’s. When the heart materializes in the beginning, Gaster takes it to mean he’s connected with you. When the heart shatters, he asks if you wish to continue. At the end of chapter 1, Kris tears the SOUL out of their body, where we can still control/move it in the cage.

So what happened to Kris’s soul then? Well, what if they never had one in the first place? And then I realized - what if they’re a vessel?

The vessel we made was presumably going to be soulless. After all, a vessel is a hollow container used to hold something - we would insert our SOUL into the vessel to pilot it. If Kris was made to be a vessel as well, it would make sense for them to not have a SOUL of their own.

Speaking of the vessel we made - it’s interesting how all the choices look very similar to Kris. They’re basically just tiny variations on Kris’s design

Their faces are blank. Kris, meanwhile, always has a flat expression on their face with their eyes remaining hidden (except that moment at the very end of course). Then there’s this description of Kris:

LV1 Human Body contains a human SOUL.

It’s a very clinical way of describing them. Kris is a body that contains a human SOUL (which is not theirs) - in other words, that sounds a lot like a vessel. An empty container for our SOUL. So was Kris originally a body without a soul?

Kris being a vessel could explain a lot of things regarding them. Like, you know how their room is bland and empty?

Some people take this to indicate favoritism on Toriel’s part for Asriel. But what if it’s actually a reflection of Kris’s personality? It could mean that Kris doesn’t have many strong interests or skills or desires. Kris is also seen as a weird loner by the other townspeople and when they become more talkative due to the Player’s influence, it’s commented upon as being out of character.

And while the vessels would probably be fairly blank slates, we do give them a few traits like a "gift" (of mind, voice, etc.), favorite type of food, etc. So even without a soul of their own, they could still have a sense of individuality. After all, not having a soul in Undertale doesn't necessarily mean someone is totally empty, it means they lack certain traits. Kris obviously is their own person, with a mind of their own and capable of complex feelings (perhaps that’s the reason they came to reject being a vessel).

It could help explain why Kris is so similar to both Chara and Frisk - Gaster may have based Kris on the two humans he is familiar with or intentionally created them to be an amalgam of Undertale's humans.

If Kris is a vessel, then why did Gaster have us make another one? I have a couple of ideas. Maybe Kris was always simply a ‘test’ vessel.

Or Gaster really did want Kris to be the vessel but Kris grew beyond their purpose and became too willful to be a ‘good’ vessel. There's a good chance that the ending of chapter 1 wasn't the first time they had torn out the SOUL and thrown it into that birdcage, considering the red stain on the carpet near it and the narration that the cage has seen many crashes. If that happened multiple times, Gaster would presumably abandon the idea of using Kris and attempt to start fresh with a new vessel (though for whatever reason, the Player's soul ends up in them anyway).

(the implication that Kris has been possessed before is interesting by itself; obviously we/the Player aren’t doing it since that was the first time we arrived in Deltarune. was Gaster making artificial red SOULs and giving them to Kris? was he at first attempting to try to do...whatever it is that he’s hoping to accomplish without our help? or were those just test runs?)

Or, maybe Kris’s purpose is to be 'the human' of the game, to be adopted by the Dreemurrs? If Chara or Frisk don't end up with the monsters in the Deltarune verse for whatever reason, maybe Gaster needed a presence similar to theirs, someone else to fulfill that role? So he made Kris for that reason.

My other theory is a small one about the Angel. I’ve seen a lot of speculation on the identity of the Angel; I believe that at least in Deltarune, the Angel is us, The Player. Father Alvin says:

* Let the Angel's power light your way.

And in Deltarune, what are savepoints associated with? Power, shining within you. They are also bright white lights, “The light only you can see.”

The Dark Fountain is called “holy” and the name of the track that plays when standing in front of it is “THE HOLY.” Our soul, the red heart, is what can seal/close a Dark Fountain. There’s a light vs. dark contrast, too - the Angel’s divine light vs. ‘the holy’ Dark Fountain

When our SOUL enters the Fountain, it changes from being colorful to being white like the savepoints and the music that plays during is called “Your Power”

The Angel is worshiped in Deltarune, too. What better way to describe the Player than as essentially a god in the UT/DR universes? We are incredibly powerful beings who can control others, remake everything on a whim, come back as many times as we want, etc.

I’ve touched upon a similar idea in another post, but if the Angel = the Player, then that means that the three heroes banishing “the Angel’s heaven” will be destroying our heaven. Does that mean getting rid of us and our influence in the universe is the ultimate goal?

#kris dreemurr #kris deltarune #deltarune #undertale theory #it would make sense if the angel was the same being in both undertale and deltarune #but i'm not as sure about that #i think the angel = the player in undertale would make sense #but maybe multiple people can occupy the role #or maybe it changes depending on the route #it seems the angel should be someone who can occupy dual roles #of both a savior and a destroyer #someone who can empty the underground via freeing monsters from their prison #or by killing everyone #and the player is ultimately what guides frisk to either ending #so the ut angel also being the player is logical to me #but i think it could also be asriel or even chara or frisk

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c-is-for-circinate · 4 years

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So I was just chatting with @yfere about the sociological implications of a whole society based around consecution, and I mentioned that I had a ton of thoughts about how it messes with child-rearing, and I wanted to gather them in their own post.

Like, to start with, just imagine the regular citizens of Rosohna, or Asarius, or Bazzoxan, or any other city in Xhorhas, having children. All the un-consecuted regular citizens, living nearer or farther from the center of the town where the Important People live and die and are born and reborn. What must that be like?

(And--are the Beacons only in Rosohna? I had it in the back of my head that they were spread out in important cities, to catch anybody who dies, just in case. How does it change things if they are? If they aren’t?)

You live your life, and you know, you’re not ancient and undying like the members of the Dens, you’re not powerful enough to earn consecution--you’ll get this one life, and that will have to be enough for you, but you’ll have a family and maybe a little bit of a legacy and that’ll help, too. What the hell is it like to have a child, knowing that maybe they’ll grow up to be like you, and maybe they’ll grow up and turn out to be somebody else entirely?

Do some families deliberately try to get pregnant or give birth nearer to where the beacons are kept? If your child grows up to be a consecuted soul, part of one of the dens--maybe they’ll remember you fondly, maybe they’ll take care of you, maybe they’ll love you enough that they’ll sponsor you for consecution as well. Do some families deliberately try to get as far away from the beacons as possible? If your child grows up to be a consecuted soul, maybe they’ll abandon you in the dirt, maybe they won’t care at all any more, maybe they won’t ever really be your child, maybe they just won’t. I’m so sure that in some corners of non-consecuted society it’s a fairytale, like marrying rich, something that parents want for their kids and something that 14-year-olds giggle and daydream about at slumber parties, I hope that’ll be me. I’m so sure that in some corners it’s a horror story, one day you turn around and your child is Different, and then they’re not your child any more. (And yes--that is a horror story that people use in our world, and it’s bullshit and nasty and damaging in every way. It’s still bullshit in Exandria. It’s always bullshit, but it’s so easy for that story to go so, so bad.)

There has to be so much hope and fear involved in having kids, in Rosohna. And that’s for the average citizens.

And then, more and beyond: imagine you’re a member of one of the Dens. You’re hundreds of years old, or a thousand years old, or this is your first life but you’ve found your consecution and you know you’re set for as long as you need to be. You have a baby. And you look at this brand new infant, here in your arms, and you know for sure that there are two possibilities:

This child is already somebody else. They’ve lived at least one life before, maybe many, maybe dozens. In a short handful of years, they’re going to remember who they really are. Until then, they’ll be a child, and they’ll need you and tug at your hems and love you, and then one day they’ll remember who else they are and they’ll stop. Maybe, possibly, they’ll be a member of your den, and you’ll discover that you were always family all along. You’ll stay close as adults, bound in friendship by your experience of raising them when they were helpless and small, and remember it fondly centuries from now when you both look different yet again. Maybe, and probably more likely by the numbers, they’ll be a member of another den. They’ll reach an age when they realize they already have a family, and leave you cordially to go find the place they already belong. That could be useful, if you do it right: if you raise them with the appropriate amounts of tenderness, and they care for you even as an adult, that could be useful leverage with a political rival when they reclaim their place. Still, that puts you in the same vulnerable position, if you get too close. Best to be careful. Maybe this child you’re raising will turn out to be an enemy you’ve had for centuries. Maybe they’re an old friend, maybe they’ve been your parent before long ago. Maybe this child turns out to have the soul that used to belong to your one-time lover--you can’t tell me, in a thousand years of reincarnation, that’s never come up at least once. There are probably horror stories. No matter what, though, this kid isn’t really yours, if they’re already a consecuted soul. Not really.

Or: this child has never lived before, ever. They are a new soul fresh to this world. They have no den. They are full of possibility. It is possible that someday, they will prove themselves and be consecuted into your den, to really be your family forevermore. It could take centuries, of course, if they’re not an impossibly talented prodigy, and how many kids are lucky enough to be that? By the time your child is consecuted you may well be on your next life anyway. You might not even know them when you see them again, both of you two or three bodies down the line. And you’ll be members of the same den, and you’ll remember this childhood, and you’ll be family, but--not quite the same way. It’s possible that someday they’ll prove themselves and be consecuted into another den. After all, if consecution sometimes takes centuries to earn, who knows what could happen? Maybe that’s unlikely, in the social system; maybe new souls tend to stick around the dens they’re born near, but it has to be a possibility. Nobody is really part of a den until they’re officially consecuted into it, that’s been established. You can’t be born into a family unless you were there before. Or maybe your child won’t ever be consecuted at all. We-the-viewers don’t really know the rates at which children born to the members of dens become consecuted themselves, but it doesn’t seem to be a sure thing. Consecution has to be earned. How many kids are born and raised by members of dens, and live out their lives, and that’s it? What’s it like to be a parent looking at your newborn child and knowing, they may very well just be a short blip in your very very long existence? They could die while you’re off being a teenager of another sex or species on the other side of the city, and you’ll never even know.

Neither of these situations is really conducive towards building a strong bond between parent and child. Hell, there’s every possibility that at least one of your parents (from this life, or last life, or the life before) is wandering around younger than you right now, maybe in your den or maybe in another one entirely. The entire den system is set up to say: your Den is your true family, the family of your immortal soul. Your current physical body and its family doesn’t matter. It can’t matter. Not really.

And that has to be such a fucked-up way to grow up for a kid. Your parents love you (maybe), but they have a whole life and family that’s just theirs. They promise that when you grow up, you’ll remember your own true family and go off to be with them instead. They say that if you don’t have a true family yet, maybe in time you can find one and prove yourself. They say this is how life is supposed to be. And always, always, they’re being careful, because what if you’re not who they think you are? What if you’re an enemy? What if, what if, what if?

I started this train of thought when I was pondering Essek, of course, because he starts to make a lot of sense when you consider, well, all of this in terms of his childhood. (Is it less damaging, growing up with parents in a Den who always keep you at arms’ length, if you reach a certain age and actually do regain those memories of being truly loved by somebody else somewhere else who’ll take you back now in their stead?) The thing is the whole system has so many implications across the board.

It seems like, in the Dynasty, you have to be nice to kids, because you never know who they’ll grow up to have been. And yet also, in the Dynasty, you can’t ever actually get really close to kids, either, because not even they know who they actually are.

Man, what a screwed up way to live.

#critical role #driveby meta attack #the Krynn Dynasty #xhorhas #consecution #child abuse cw

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marnz · 3 years

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pausing my “”productive”” evening to be briefly insane with rage at this extremely stupid, imprecise, and ignorant essay about garth greenwell and ocean vuong, holy shit, i guess punching down is quite easy when you don’t even feel the need to make a point.

i haven’t finished On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous so I cannot speak to that aspect of the essay other than to say 1) the prose is amazing 2) writing to reach someone is the main function of a writer, you need to approach an emotional work in an emotionally open and receptive manner, 3) the critiques of the novel come across as jealous and a purposefully mean spirited reading. however,

if you READ What Belongs to You, if you READ Cleanness, you understand WHY these books are so sincere and WHY there is so much “”gay suffering”” and it is because the narrator fucking hates himself. This is not a secret. Greenwell’s primary aesthetic project in these books is tackling the intersections of shame and desire. What causes intense shame? The fact that the narrator’s father treated him horribly for his entire life because the narrator is sexually attracted to men--and so Greenwell explores gay sex and intimacy. I don’t think this could have been made more apparent? In the middle section of What Belongs to You the narrator reflects on his relationship with his dying father, and begins by discussing the innocent and familial intimacy between the two of them that vanished immediately when the father realized the narrator was gay, as a child.

The narrator is “”sincere”” and confessional about everything as a way to convey the intersections of shame and desire using prose that mirrors the looping, sometimes ponderous thought process of the self loathing. He is capable of reflecting on his terrible qualities and unsafe sexual choices, his obsession with self endangerment through sex and his self blame/culpability, because he thinks there is something not only inherently wrong with him, but inherently unlovable. This is something he obsesses about and it is why partially why the book reads as confessional (the other reason is it is the contemporary modern style. Almost every celebrated litfic novelist is doing it nowadays.) Sex is linked danger, shame, and rejection over and over again for the narrator and he struggles to move on from it because it’s all he thinks he deserves! The craft decision to use sex as a way to explore not just shame/desire but the narrator’s character is incredible! More people should do this! In one of the most harrowing chapters of Cleanness, “Gospodar,” the narrator goes to a professional dom and confesses to wanting to become “nothing.” He explicitly engages in humiliation play. Enough said!

The whole “gay suffering gay man sad” thing is NOT done as suffering for shock value or because it’s a sincere belief in what gay people deserve. This was a common critique of What Belongs to You and I agree it’s thankless to read if you went into it expecting gay Pretty Woman or a happy ending, l m a o, especially since one of the other craft projects of the novel is using Mitko to symbolize Bulgaria post iron curtain/””communism.”” Greenwell then uses Cleanness address the gay suffering critiques by exploring the narrator’s relationship with R....and these chapters are absolutely beautiful and moving and healing for the narrator, he finally gets to say shit like:

“Sex had never been joyful for me before, or almost never, it had always been fraught with shame and anxiety and fear, all of which vanished at the sight of his smile, simply vanished, it poured a cleanness over everything we did” and

“I caught my breath at [something R did for him], I felt a weird pressure and heat climb my throat. I felt like my heart would burst, those were the words for it, the hackneyed phrase, and I was grateful for them, they were a container for what I felt, proof of its commonness. I was grateful for that, too, the commonness of my feeling; I felt some stubborn strangeness in me ease, I felt like part of the human race.”

I don’t think it’s ever confirmed that the narrator in What Belongs to You is the same narrator as Cleanness but I think they must be because of the social implications of cleanness as related to gay sex and to aspects of shame, especially because in part 3 of WBTY the narrator learns he has syphilis, which is a very publicly disfiguring disease if not treated. It’s sexual leprosy, it is disfiguring shame. We read all of Cleanness understanding certain actions he takes as being because of what happened to Mitko, like insisting on condoms. I think the choice of it being syphilis as opposed to AIDs is purposeful but that is another post i will not be making.

The relationship with R is doomed to fail partially because R also experiences immense shame connected to being gay for a different reason and because the narrator is predisposed to self sabotage and other various reasons. It does end, the narrator goes back to his dangerous sexual practices, and Greenwell is careful to show that part of the reason the narrator does this is because he finds social as well as sexual gratification from it. With R the narrator did not do any form of kink except body worship, but body worship is not what the narrator craves because he craves humiliation play! I think the thing that is most interesting about Cleanness in particular is the way it explores different avenues of intimacy, different modes, you can be with someone for a very long time and feel felt and loved and understood and then be with someone else and feel felt and loved and understood in different, equally important ways. Every single relationship in your life is a trade off of these and your own prioritization of your own needs. Greenwell shows that the narrator’s sexual practices and his love for kink is an important need just as it is a self destructive one because of the linking of shame and desire. This is all made explicit in “The Little Saint” (which we are given to understand is post-R) narrator acts as a dom for once and explores being on the other side of the coin. He gets into it and later finds it very upsetting because for him all shame and humiliation is linked to being gay, which circles back to his father, and the sub ends up explaining to the narrator that you don’t have to dominate someone by humiliating them like that. Like what’s not clicking here!!!!!!!

My other main frustrations with this essay are:

the linking of sincerity = gay trauma when good art is often about sincerity and sincerity of emotion, either exploring it or eliciting it, even satire, even fucking...marvel movies, lowest common denominator writing wise, try to make their fans feel something

the fact HE CLEARLY DIDN’T READ THE BOOKS. i know Cleanness is set up as a collection of short stories so you have to take it apart line by line but WBTY is not like that. The shame = bad dad aspect could not have been more clear if it was underlined.

The fact that the essay says Ocean Vuong “is an artist of the memorably obtuse one-liner” as a derogatory thing which is SO rude and comes across as incredibly petty and jealous. Ocean Vuong is a fucking genius. Go after Rupi Kaur if you want to critique a poet who is actually over celebrated, damn

the idea of sincerity = cringe and the inability of many modern critics to moderate their response to a piece of work based on the project or any of its other qualities it is doing instead of like, how it made them feel expressed as sarcastically as possible. I am not a critic but I do not think this is difficult to do. What Belongs to You made me incredibly uncomfortable and sad for much of the book but I was still able to appreciate it? Even when I was like “ahhhhh i hate this” I could understand and appreciate aspects of craft/characterization/emotion/prose/whatever. This is basic shit.

the fact this essay doesn’t even explore the craft genius of Cleanness? it is really subversive to use sex like that in litfic, let alone gay sex...like I understand not liking something just based on your personal tastes but I’m like ?????????? so shocked that the whole craft thing and aesthetic project just doesn’t come up???????? At all?????? ALSO YOU WOULD THINK in an essay that tries to cash in on the outrage of ‘all gay art is suffering’ would explore why the wealthy, straight, white publishing industry and literary elite does invest in gay suffering and the homophobia/history behind it but no! this essay doesn’t even do that!

the fact this got published at all

anyway this essay is stupid and i am stupid for typing up basically an essay about it but like! where else can i do this! if you read all the way to the end pls read Garth Greenwell and Ocean Vuong thanks bye

#i really do not get mad on the internet anymore as a rule but this.....#ugh and what drives me even crazier is i know this stupid fucking essay was published for hate clicks AND IT IS WORKING #garth greenwell #cleanness #homophobia tw #if someone comes to me and says these novels are like toxic and not morally pure uwu i am going to unhinge my jaw and swallow them whole #long post

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alewyren · 3 years

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I dislike redemption arc culture.

I hate seeing arguments over which characters are “irredeemable,” and this notion that every villain story has to be a morally didactic narrative in which the bad guy gets punished, the end.

I’m almost tempted to say we were all spoiled by having Zuko as a formative experience, because he’s really just the picture perfect redemption arc. He started out as a legit villain, but he never did anything too atrocious, had a tragic backstory that explained why he was like that, and went through three whole seasons of gradual character development. Like, Zuko was an amazing character. That’s the problem, though; he set our expectations too high for what “the perfect redemption arc” should be. Everyone expects their “reformed villain” characters to follow those same beats, but not every story is that cut and dry. There are lines between redemption and reformation, reformation and rehabilitation, rehabilitation and just... continuing to exist but no longer hurting anyone, and there’s a lot of nuance lost when people try to cram all that into the box of “redemption arc.”

Gonna be bringing a lot of different examples to the table here, but let’s start with Azula for ease of transition. She went through the same abuse that Zuko did, but she never got a redemption arc in ATLA proper. Some people say this isn’t fair. I disagree. This is not to say I don’t think she should be afforded the opportunity for post-canon character growth, because I absolutely do. I fully think she is capable of Getting Better, and spinoff media has consistently portrayed her as a sympathetic character. But like... she’s done some shit. She was a straight up war criminal, and emotionally abusive towards basically everyone in her social circle. I understand why. She was a 14 year old raised in an environment that rewarded that behavior, and never given a healthy outlet for her aggression.

The difference, in my opinion, is this: Zuko was fundamentally a good person from the start. Far from perfect, but he has a strong sense of values even as a child. Azula is not. Redemption for someone like Azula would look much different than it did for Zuko. Besides, in ATLA proper she was already filling an important villain role. She’d need her own show. (Which would be awesome, actually.)

But I think that’s where you have to ask the question: what even is a redemption arc? Is it any story where a villain stops being a villain? Is there a scale for like, “must do X amount of good deeds equal to Y bad deeds to qualify for redemption”? Must they be sufficiently punished for their bad deeds? What if reformation is possible without punishment--is punishment for its own sake truly justice? The focus people have on penance and atonement feels very baked in Christian moral philosophy. People don’t work like that. There’s not a cosmic scale of right and wrong, or a cosmic sin counter, there’s just... actions and their immediate impact. Bad people being let off the hook too easily can leave a bad taste in your mouth, and there are of course things with unfortunate real world implications which can’t be divorced from real-world context which are... irresponsible to allow in the hands of Certain Groups, but I hate this notion of “villains must be punished appropriately for their crimes, always, even if they have extenuating circumstances, even if they have demonstrated the capacity for personal growth, because that personal growth will never negate their misdeeds.”

In real life, it’s different. In real life, you can never be sure what’s going on in another person’s head. But the prison system of justice is fundamentally broken. People are rarely fundamentally evil, but there are some people who are too twisted and dangerous to society to be allowed to live without, at the very least, constant supervision. True evil is banal, rooted in social systems, not individual “bad people.” People have individual will, but ultimately they’re just the products of the environment and systems that fostered them. Setting aside the questions of whether people can be born evil or at what age you become personally responsible for your actions, you will get bad apples in any sufficiently large group of people. If someone has to be punished and removed from society, that’s not a success of justice. The fact that they reached that point in the first place is a failure of society in and of itself.

In fiction, technically everyone is redeemable. You can get into the heads of the bad guys and do basically whatever you want with them. Fiction should be responsible when dealing with real-world issues that affect real people, but it does not have to be morally didactic. Sometimes there just... isn’t an easy, morally didactic answer for dealing with morally complicated characters or situations. And more importantly, sometimes the morally didactic answer isn’t the narratively interesting answer. 9 out of 10 times, what’s more interesting to read about? A horrible villain being put to death, or a horrible villain being forced to live and grow?

Some hypothetical examples to ponder, purely in the context of fiction.

Horrible war criminal villain with a body count in the millions has all memories of their crimes wiped, or is forcibly brainwashed into being a better person. Setting aside the ethics of brainwashing: are they still required to “repent”? Would a victim still be justified in seeking penance from this guilt-free shell? Would this change at all depending on who was responsible for the mind-wipe?

More realistic: horrible war criminal villain with a body count in the millions straight up retires. Gets older. Bloodlust, national zeal, whatever once motivated them to do such evil loses its edge. They fall in love. Start a family. As they grow as a person, learn the value of life, the weight of their crimes starts to sink in. They atone in little ways, through little random acts of kindness and helping the people around them, but for one reason or another (not wanting to risk harm to their family, knowing they’ll be tortured for information? you decide) don’t turn themselves into the proper justice system and are never punished. Should they be punished, or allowed to continue existing? Would this change at all depending on the surrounding political circumstances, i.e.: whether their public execution would hold any symbolic value, whether affected groups are calling for their death? Does it matter at all in deciding justice whether this hypothetical villain feels personal guilt or regret over their war crimes? Why or why not?

Child villains. IRL there are documented cases of violent crime in children as young as grade school age, not all of whom had violent backgrounds. Should they be held to the same standards as adult villains, even if the scale of their crimes are the same? What’s the cutoff age? Are all villains under 18 capable of rehabilitation, no matter how horrible their crimes? How about 16? 14? 12? What about villains whose ages aren’t really clear, ie Cell from DBZ being like, six?

How much does backstory matter? Should it matter if there’s a good reason someone is Like That, or should their actions be judged as-is? It doesn’t matter to the victims whether or not the villain had a bad childhood, right? Moreover, does it matter at all whether someone is “fundamentally a good person,” at least insofar as genuinely caring about the people around them and caring about a moral code? People do evil things for reasons other than “being evil people.”

Morally bankrupt person who regularly fantasizes violent harm on the people around them, wholly selfish with no love for any other human being, fundamentally incapable of meaningful self-reflection or growth. Just a complete piece of shit all around. But they never have, and never will, commit any crimes, either due to some divine ordinance or just plain self-preservation/fear of getting caught. They might, at worst, just be a toxic asshole, but not one who holds any power over others. Should they be punished solely for their moral character, rather than actions?

There aren’t always easy answers. It’s okay to acknowledge that, and it’s okay to tackle hard moral questions like this in fiction. And I hate seeing this boiled down to “stop trying to redeem villains who are Actually Horrible People” or whatever. Especially in kids’ media which takes an optimistic stance on people being capable of change in the first place. Y’all gotta stop holding it to the same level of moral realism as gritty stuff for adults.

On the whole, I think we should do away with the term “redemption” in the context of morality entirely. Like redemption arc, redemption equals death, what does that mean? It implies one has sufficiently made up for their past deeds, that that’s the gold standard, but is that really ever possible? Like I said, there’s not a cosmic good deeds | bad deeds counter for every person, or at least not one that living people have any way of knowing about. And that’s a flawed way of thinking to begin with. Those bad deeds can never be erased, ever. There plenty of examples of villains who commit crimes they can never realistically atone for. Regardless of whether they want to atone in the first place, it’s like I said: in fiction, it’s often just... more fun to force them to live and deal with the consequences. But on the flipside, there are so, so many people who see themselves as “good” and use that to justify their own bad deeds. Which ties back into what I said about the whole discourse reeking of Christian moral philosophy, because lmfao @ corruption in the catholic church.

The point is. There are shades of grey. Not everything has to be a full-blown bad guy to good guy redemption arc. You don’t need to “properly atone for your sins” to be worthy of life or love.

Here are some better questions to ask than “is this character redeemable”:

Is it believable, from what we know of this villain as a character, that they are capable of becoming a good, law-abiding citizen?

How about capable of love?

Guilt?

Are they capable of any personal growth whatsoever?

Are they capable of being a positive impact on the lives of the people around them?

Is it actively harmful to leave them alive, even with clipped wings?

Is it interesting to leave them alive?

How morally didactic is the narrative as a whole?

How much forgiveness are they offered, versus how much could they possibly ever deserve?

How abstracted is this character from reality, ie: are there any real world parallels that make it uncomfortable to frame this character in a sympathetic light? (be careful not to fall into a black and white abuser/victim dichotomy)

Would further punishment or suffering be productive? (Productive, not justified, that’s a key distinction--punishment for its own sake is just pointless cruelty.)

Even the most vile, irredeemable bastards can still be dragged like... an inch. And that’s still a fun and valuable story in and of itself, even if it’s nothing remotely approaching a redemption arc and they’d very much still deserve to rot in Hell by the end of it. I don’t believe Hell is real, as much as I personally wish it were sometimes, but like. If it were, or in fictional universes where it is.

But also, there really are some characters and botched “redemption arcs” that just come off insanely uncomfortable. And there is a subjective aspect to that as well, but more than once I’ve seen people say “X villain did not deserve redemption/forgiveness” and 9 times out of 10 I’m like “that’s... really not what they got, though?”

It’s complicated.

#idk how coherent it is #i just saw a tweet that annoyed me #''villains deserve happiness and redemption arcs *guy who murdered 20 million people* no not him''#i don't even entirely disagree but it's... complicated #musings

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justreadingfics · 5 years

Text

Looking For a Heartbeat (ch.18)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Series Summary: You and Bucky used to be in a relationship. Feelings were hurt, you left. It’s been two years and you’re back. You both will handle the reunion well, won’t you?

Chapter Summary: Bucky meets Anna.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings for this chapter: no reader in this chapter.

A/N: @suz-123 is my angel and I love her. Sorry this is so short, but I thought it worked better that way. Links are ruining posts, you can find the masterlist link on my description.

More A/N at the end.

Bucky takes a long sip from the coffee. The drink sliding hot and thick down his throat. It’s never been this way. The air has never felt so heavy when he was around Anna. But now, sitting on the couch of her living room while he drinks from the coffee she politely offered him, he feels nothing but on edge. Unspoken words and unshared feelings weighing between them as he spots her fidgety fingers beside him on the other end of the couch.

He clears his throat after placing his cup back on the coffee table, “Thanks for agreeing to meet me.”

Her eyes lift from her hands to him, almost as she’s startled by his voice cutting through the uncomfortable silence, “Of course, I have actually been meaning to call you before, but…” She licks her lips and shrugs, “I didn’t know if it was ok.”

Bucky nods before he presses his upper lip between his teeth, suddenly finding the cup of coffee in front of him very interesting. God, why is this so hard? He’s been thinking about a lot of things to say to her but now the words don’t seem to reach his senses. He sucks in a courage breath, “Listen, Anna, I-”

“Can I talk first?” She swiftly interrupts him, “Please?” She says steadily, but by the way her lips twitch as if she’s holding them from trembling and how she keeps rubbing and fidgeting with her hands it’s obvious that steadiness is far away from her true emotions.

“Ok,” he mumbled, actually relieved for not having to be the first one to talk.

Her chest heaves as she breathes deeply and turns her body towards him, tucking a leg under the other. She takes a moment looking down before speaking, saying each word carefully, “This past month I didn’t see you… I had plenty of time to think. I started seeing my therapist again, and I was able to understand things from a different perspective.” Her jaw is tense when her eyes flick to him.

Bucky recognizes what he sees in her eyes. He has plenty of it. Regret. He has seen it there before, when he last talked to her, but then there were too many feelings boiling inside him, - not all of them pretty - for him to really care about it. Now…he does. Steve was right. Anna is important to him and he needs to set things right with her.

“No one has ever made me feel like you did, Bucky.” She continues. “I fell for you hard.” A sad smile twists her lips, as Bucky keeps his eyes trained on her in silence. “I tried to fight it, because I knew you loved someone else.” Her throat visibly moves as she swallows and blinks, eyes flicking momentarily to side.

Bucky shifts in his seat, spotting the single tear running down her cheek which she quickly wipes with a finger.

“But I’ve never really pondered the implications of the fact that, before everything, I was your therapist and you had trusted me with your mind.” She whispers, letting her gaze fall.

“Anna…” Bucky tries when she pauses.

“The only thing on my mind, Bucky,” She resumes, looking up at him and he let her talk, because he can see it in her voice, her whole demeanor - tense and restless- how much she needs to. “Was that I knew exactly what you needed and that I could provide it to you.” She lets out a scoff, shaking her head bitterly, “But the thing is, at some point, what I thought it was good for you started to convert into what I thought was good for me. With what I wanted for myself.”

Shame crosses through her face as she puckers her mouth and her eyes drop. He becomes aware of how tightly his grip is on his thighs through his jeans. His chest is heavy with something that feels like… sorrow.

“When I saw an opportunity to live that overwhelming, wonderful feeling with you, I didn’t think twice.” She doesn’t look up at him to talk, “I didn’t consider the possible consequences, not for you, and not for me. And then I caught myself doing things I never thought I would, like… lying to you… creating situations I thought would favor us as a couple, I… I lost myself into loving you and it was my fault.” Her watery gaze finds his again before she whispers, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Bucky.”

Bucky sighs. Letting a deep intake of air fill his lungs before he shifts his position to face her, moving slowly to sit closer to her on the sofa. “Anna, I’ve been thinking a lot too,” He confesses, “And I owe you apologies, as well.” The corner of his mouth curls downwards and she frowns at him. “You told me that when you signed me up to another professional you had just realized you’d started developing feelings for me and all the time we’ve remained close after that, not once you tried to act on them. I had no clue about how you felt until Y/N blurted it out to me.” He scoots closer and take her hand between his, feeling how cold her skin is.

Her eyes follow his gesture, stopping at their joined hands.

“You only confessed them when I ran to you after that mission and I was the one to make a move on you, Anna. I did so knowing I was still too caught up on Y/N, there was still a lot to figure out with her, and I jumped into a relationship with you to run away from it.” The regret sweeps into his voice and cut through his guts as their eyes meet, “You said you didn’t ponder the consequences, but I’m the one who started this without pondering them myself. When I talked to Y/N about us the day after we decided to get together, she said I would hurt you and I did. I did hurt you.”

“I knew what I was getting into, Bucky.” She squeezes his hand. The drops of tears running down her cheeks expressing how his words are painful to her.

He smiles. Sadly. “You were only being guided by the way you felt for me and I feel like I took advantage of that. Of you.” His teeth clench to the point it becomes painful, “I’m really sorry.” He finally says the words which he’s taken this past month to realize he owed her.

She looks down at their hands and gently places her other one on top of his. “I’m sorry, too” Her voice is teary and croaky.

An instant of stillness takes place between them, as they both take in their apologies and then just nod at each other, expressing with the simple gesture the mutual forgiveness.

“Bucky,” She calls quietly, “Do you feel like we would’ve worked out if things were different? Did you feel something for me at some point? When you touched me,” Her finger caresses his skin softly, “When I kissed you, when we… when we slept together?” She directs her pained and pleading look at him.

“Anna…” Bucky breathes, “You’re so important to me.” He pours all his sincerity in his voice. It’s essential to him that she knows this, “When I looked for you that night, when we opened up about our feelings, I really thought I could love you the way I…” His breath caught in his throat, “I care so much about you. But not in the way you expected me to. Not in the way you deserve.” He knows he didn’t really answer her question, but how could he tell her that when he kissed her, when he had her between his arms, when he had her on his bed, he always ended up with you on his mind? He’s such a fucking jerk. He knows this. But he doesn’t have to make the pain he sees on her face even harder.

Her forehead creases as she moves her gaze downwards and lets out the air that was trapped in her lungs, “Not in the way you love Y/N.” She affirms, as if reading his mind.

He doesn’t say anything to that, because there’s nothing more that has to be said. He would only lie or hurt her further with the truth. He wants none.

“Have you two talked?” She mumbles out her question.

“Yeah.” He answers, “We, um, we decided to put everything behind us, for the sake of the baby, learning how to be parents to them is all we’re gonna focus on.”

She quirks an eyebrow at him, “And do you think this is going to work out?”

“It has to”

“Bucky” She pulls away her hands from his touch before she wipes her eyes and straightens up her posture, as he lets his hands rest again on his thighs, waiting for her to speak, ”Listen, I won’t pretend this is easy for me to say. It’s not.” She shakes her head and sighs deeply before she swiftly licks her lips, “But haven’t the two of you tried to ignore your feelings for each other for long enough? I think you should talk to her about it.”

Bucky studies her. There it is. The Anna he treasured and has been so central in his life the past couple of years. The one who always said what he needed to hear, hitting right into where would make him see things how they really were… Also, he has heard something familiar before… He chuckles, filling the gesture with fondness.

“What?” She frowns.

“She said almost the same thing. About you. That I should talk to you.” He clarifies with an amused soft tone in his voice.

“Oh,” Her brows wiggle as she’s surprised by the information, after her expression becomes sullen, “I still need to apologize to her. Maybe someday I could talk to her, but not right now.” She shakes her head swiftly.

Bucky doesn’t argue with that. He’s happy he’s finding his own peace with Anna, but he doesn’t know how a whole new encounter between her and you could affect you and he wants nothing but to keep you safe and sound from any kind of distress.

“She doesn’t blame you about the accident, and I don’t either.” Bucky props an elbow on the backrest of the sofa, leaning forward, “Not anymore. I shouldn’t have acted that way, but...” He looks to the side and sighs. He knows he shouldn’t have blamed her, but at the time all he thought was about his baby and what could’ve happened.

“But you’re a dad now. And it was your baby safety at stake.” She states, making him turn to her and see an understanding look aimed at him, “Are you happy with the baby, I mean?”

The smile that curls up his lips comes out easily, just like every time his baby is mentioned, “So much.”

Anna smiles back, “I’m happy for you, really. You’ll be the best dad in the world. No doubt about it.” She reaches out and takes his hand into hers again.

Bucky gazes at the touch, his chest feeling lighter, just like his mind. He feels like he's finding his way back to Anna again. To the Anna he cherished the friendship and company, before he ruined everything by trying to change it.

“Anna…” He says her name softly, “We have made mistakes, I know I’ve made tons of them, but like I said, you ́re so important to me… I would really like having you in my life.”

“You want me in your life as what, Bucky?” She doesn't say this in a scolding way, instead there ́s gentleness and a hint of sadness in her voice as she tightens the hold on his hand. “A friend? A lover? A therapist? It doesn’t matter because I can’t be any of that. I still love you, Bucky.” A new tear falls down her face when she makes the confession with a pained smile on her lips as Bucky keeps his eyes on her, gulping down the lump of emotions on his throat, “So much. And not in the way you say you care about me. I really love you. Being around you without you loving me back…” She takes in a shuddering breath as her eyes close for a second, “It’s too painful.”

Bucky uses a finger to gently and slowly wipe a tear from her face as his other hand keeps enlaced with hers. He can sense how she holds back to not lean into his touch.

“I’ve neglected my feelings before, when my love was still a secret, but I can’t do this anymore.” She bites her inner cheek, “I need to work on myself. To understand my emotions and, hopefully, learn how to move on, how to live past my feelings for you. I need space and time to do that, at least for now. I hope you understand.” She holds his gaze with expectant eyes.

“I do.” He nods once and truthfully, “You´re right.” He agrees, “I just need you to know I do care about you and whatever you need of me for you to be ok, I’m in.”

A relieved breath slips out her lips, “Thank you, Bucky.”

They keep talking for another thirty minutes, tops; before he decides it’s time to leave, to what she shows no resistance.

“Bucky,” She pulls his hand before he walks out the door.

She smiles tightly at him when their gazes meet.

“Please,” She says, “Try to be happy. I need you to.”

He locks his eyes on hers when he brings her knuckles to his lips and place a kiss on them, “You, too, Anna… You, too.”

~~~

Ch. 19 coming soon (ish)

A/N: Heey, it’s me again. I know a lot of you wanted hell to fall upon Anna, but to be honest, I never thought her as a villain. I understand why most of you doesn’t like her but the way I see it, she’s not perfect, but she’s also a victim of her own feelings, you know what I mean? I hope the way they worked things out between them didn’t disappoint too much.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes angst #bucky angst #looking for a heartbeat #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfiction

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zhonglisimper · 3 years

Text

`` the city of unity `` | dystopia au

⇢ 1,028 words of a flash-forward several millennia of a godforsaken world.

⇢ Contains profanity, dead animals, implications of rotting corpses, mentions and/or implications of police corruption (bribery).

⇢ Any similarities between characters, timelines and places is purely coincidental. This is nothing but a work of fiction. All rights reserved to Mihoyo Inc. for the canon characters, titles and locations to be named.

⇢ Cr. to Liam Wong for the banner used below. Retrieved from https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/articles/5Lnn9Lg48jv1RvvvLnKKrJK/neon-dreamland-atmospheric-photographs-of-tokyo-after-dark

OTHER NOTES:

will be cross-posted on my AO3 once i finally set that account up. ();u;)

oh shit school will be coming in like 30 hours at the date of posting on tumblr so i can’t promise i’ll post regularly, especially since i signed up for this one event,, fuck

another reason i can’t promise i could even continue with this is because 1) this was very impulsive and was actually an attempt for me to go to sleep at 4-5am 2) i didn’t plan far into this, the last thing i worked on were the characters and even then i doubt i’m finished bc i’m not satisfied bye

also this doesn’t strictly follow the official lore, whether from the manga or not. the official lore definitely did serve as a basis, but there might be statements in the narrative that are deviated from the official facts and that is perfectly intentional! damn right i beta read but only bc i had to write everything from my broken phone to my laptop manually

Only the dead archons from long ago know what millennia it currently is.

In any case, speaking from the perspective of a human being currently reading this - presumably one from a distant present, considering the methods I have undertaken to preserve this: my envisioning.

I’m sure the overbearing gods and goddesses in Celestia will strike at me with a snap, which is why I am in a hurry to note as much detail of my revelation as possible. I am no priest, nor chieftain of a tribe, but a mere... dreamer? Or delusional? Perhaps both; regardless, my identity is but a trivial matter, now and in the future.

Let me begin by the strong iron gates I envision myself stumbling upon every weekend. The gates are tall and proud, and thicker than Madame Lisa’s bookshelves. It is evident that this holy gate is meant to keep away the unwanted. Which is understandable - for the world beyond the gate, once one looks behind themselves, is nothing but the never-ending void. It is dark and will certainly suck the life and joy out of someone.

Perhaps that is why so many outcasts line themselves up to get to enter the sacred City of Unity, the only cluster of civilization left standing after the Interstellar War. Surely, the darkness beyond the walls of the thriving city are all because of the towering mountains of garbage that take up all the light. The dusty haze of unknown substances wafting in the already-putrid air don’t aid in letting sunlight in either.

This, my lieges, is the price the denizens of Teyvat shall pay for being blinded by words and revelations of Celestia and its power-hungry archons. They (the archons) are just as much of tyrants as the Lawrence Clan was. You’d think that they had it all - beauty, grace, brains and power - so what was there to thirst for, especially in the mortal realm?

Much to my dismay, even I, who is but a mere mortal, cannot answer such a complex thought.

Nevertheless, the city appears to be very futuristic; there are significant technological and scientific advances. Alchemy is but a dead folklore, and the mysterious denizens have evolved to “cyberpunk” technology. Visions have also become nothing but dead folklore. After all, what on Earth would any of the denizens need a Vision for when cutting-edge technology was at their feet, giving them the power to alter their godforsaken appearances? Their physical and mental capabilities? Their senses? It gave that damned civilization a sense of security, a sense of wealth and elegance and power, regardless of social status.

But tyranny has revived itself once more; the ever-so-humble wishes of the Lord Barbatos have blown away with any sanity left during the War. All of the Geo Archon’s hard labor into shaping the lands into precise perfection have gone down the drain, and Fontaine’s famously just system has evaporated into nothingness. Tyranny hails in the City of Unity, and the wealthiest of entrepreneurs take their holy seats. For in the City of Unity, it is widely believed (and affirmed, even a drunken fool can see the facts and statistics) that the said city would certainly not be where it is now - eternal florescent lights, advanced machinery, unparalleled science and evolutionary bio-alchemy that not even dear Miss Sucrose can match - without the diligence and intellect of the leading entrepreneurs. After all, they are the ones that funded the scientists who discovered and created all the blessed machinery that the city so desperately depends on like a drug and its pusher. Like an alcoholic and his wine.

Because of their seemingly endless wealth and sheer social power, the military turn a blind eye to the graft and corruption of the famed entrepreneurs. Even when a brave soul speaks up with the appropriate evidence, that evidence will never be able to compare to the five lawyers hard at work for their single client.

And it’s not like Miss Angelica, founder and chief of Honey Entertainment, can indulge on the secrets of her fellow business partners, for everyone in the business realm has something to say about everyone. One misstep could lead to the ultimate downfall of any entrepreneur, with all of them equally knowing the way the general public despises them. They are arrogant, but not ignorant - no good businessman would get where the holy seven are now if ignorance to the general public’s opinions blazed in their cores.

But who are they (the general public) to comment, the rich ponder, when it’s all thanks to their ‘philanthropy’ that the rats below their aristocratic asses have food to eat in the first place.

And at the end of the day, the rats below can only hope to make it another rainy day in the ever-raining city as they snake through the cramped alleyways that still hold the scent of cigarettes, beer and cup noodles, all combined in one nauseating scent altogether. And goodness, it’s been two weeks, haven’t the exterminators stopped by yet? The corpses of the actual rats are beginning to pile over the dark corners behind the trash cans. Do they not get paid enough? Probably not. No one in the general public ever does.

Mora is still a thing of the future. No one has ever bothered to change its name, despite the God of Mora dead during this future. Honestly, it’s not that they still want to honor him, rather, nobody cares. In this world, money is money, and it’s only the value and profiting this money long money that matters. Where it came from, how it came to be, what the fuck others call it is irrelevant. Besides, it’s not like the entrepreneurs could think of a more fascinating title befitting for the very currency that feeds their mouths and provides all their pleasures.

And although Mora had been a name for eons, its value had, for once, been disputed. ‘Tis but a powerful curse laid upon the techy city by the entrepreneurs. Still, Mora has, fortunately, been the only currency the City of Unity uses. Even if they’ve converted to online banking and “ATM.”

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thespacenico · 5 years

Text

to the future (2.2k word klance oneshot)

。·:*:·ﾟ★。·:*:·ﾟ☆

Socializing is hard.

This is one of the many reasons that Keith has never been a particularly big fan of social events, in any capacity. It’s one of a number of things he wishes he could change about himself sometimes.

Sometimes, he wishes that he were better with people, or at the very least that he enjoyed being around them in the first place. Maybe if he were more personable, they would enjoy being around him, too, but that’s never really been the case.

Connecting with people has never exactly been his strong suit, although there are the few people in his life now who make him think that it can be worth the effort. First it was Shiro, then Adam, then the entire team of Voltron—eventually his mom, even, although that’s a relationship they’re both still learning to navigate.

It’s not that he’s asocial, necessarily, but he truly doesn’t understand why anyone would want to constantly subject themselves to something that to him is so draining. There’s only so much he can take of polite smiles and obligatory handshakes and small talk with strangers he’ll probably never seen again and yet are scrutinizing his every move, as if they’re just waiting for him to mess up.

To think that there are some who voluntarily do things like this on a daily, weekly, or even a monthly basis and genuinely enjoy it is utterly bewildering to him.

This, being the post-saving the universe intergalactic diplomacy ball that he and the rest of the former paladins were invited to. And some, being Lance, who Keith has seen interact with more people tonight than Keith thinks he’s interacted with in his entire life.

He’s watched Lance bounce around from table to table, group to group, corner to corner all night, with no sign that he’ll be stopping anytime soon.

It’s admirable really, the way he so effortlessly moves throughout the room with so much grace, acting in all the right ways and saying all the right things. He’d be jealous if he weren’t so caught up in the frequent flash of Lance’s smile, and the sparkle in his eyes every time he cracks a joke, and the long column of his throat when he throws his head back to laugh along with whoever he happens to be talking to. Not to mention how the blue theme of the suit tailored just for him (they’d all received one) brings out the blue of his eyes infinitely more than usual.

Not that he’s been staring. Very openly. All night. For no reason whatsoever. He’s gotten enough grief from Shiro already.

Only there is a reason, because eventually it’s not enough to satisfy the tugging in his gut—the one that’s been bothering him for long enough that it’s begun to make him tired, and restless, yet he doesn’t have the courage to follow.

He slips away the first chance he gets, stepping out of the noise and the crowd of the ballroom and into the quiet of a small, secluded balcony outside, overlooking a vast expanse of the planet that’s essentially one enormous garden, he’s realized. The sounds of friendly chatter and upbeat music immediately dims once the doors are closed behind him, and he takes a moment to breathe before finding himself leaning against the delicately ornate banister, arms folded, staring out at the stars scattered across the darkening sky.

Time always seems to go by faster this way. It’s easy to get lost in his thoughts once they have his full attention, and he’s been alone with them long enough that he doesn’t mind it too much—except for times like now, when the topic of his thoughts are something that’s been bothering him long enough that he desperately wants to share them with someone. One person, in particular. That’s something else that sets him apart from everyone else, he thinks, although he doesn’t have much time to ponder that before he’s interrupted by a familiar voice.

“Thought I’d find you out here.” Keith starts slightly, glancing over his shoulder to see Lance carefully closing the balcony doors behind him. “Mind if I join you?”

He doesn’t really wait for Keith to answer before making his way over to stand beside him, but it’s not like Keith was about to turn him down, anyway. “Just needed some air,” he says by way of explanation, turning back to look out over the greenery and flowers and foliage below.

Lance hums, crossing his arms over the banister and leaning forward. They’re close enough that their shoulders brush, and usually Keith prefers to have his personal space, but he’s found that he never really minds when Lance is the one to invade it. He doesn’t mind a lot of things about Lance, actually.

But it strikes him then that Lance is out here, instead of in there, and he’s confused enough about the why that he glances over questioningly. “What about you?”

“Hm?”

“Why are you out here?”

“I noticed you were missing,” Lance answers easily, face still tilted up to the sky, and then continues before Keith can even consider the implications of that. “What are you thinking about?”

“You,” is what Keith might have answered, if he were braver. But he’s not, so he turns away and settles for something vague. “A lot of things.”

“What are you gonna do?”

Keith thinks he has whiplash from how quickly the conversation keeps changing directions. He doesn’t even register the question for a moment, blinking up at the stars before turning away again to find Lance peering curiously back at him. “What?”

“After all this,” Lance clarifies. “With the war being over, and the restoration efforts Allura’s putting into place, and everyone going back home—what are you gonna do?”

Keith stares at him, frozen and unresponsive under the intensity of Lance’s gaze. It’s something he’s thought about a lot, but never really spoken to anyone about. Now that he has the chance, the uncertainty of it all seems so much more palpable, somehow.

“Do you think you’ll go back to the Blade?” Lance prompts.

That snaps Keith out of his daze. “No,” he answers firmly. Then falters, shoulders slumping slightly as he looks away. “Maybe? I—I don’t know.” He shifts his weight from one side to the other, studying a small cut on his hand that he doesn’t remember the source of. “I kind of had something else in mind.”

“Like what?” Lance asks, and from anyone else it would sound prying, and intrusive, but from Lance it only sounds genuine.

Keith already feels like he’s said too much, but for some reason he’s not so afraid of that anymore. That doesn’t necessarily make it any easier, though. He bites his lip, fully aware of Lance’s gaze still on him as he considers what to say. “Do you remember… on our way back to Earth, we got stuck in that weird game show.”

“The one where I was almost burned alive?” Lance breathes out a slow, thoughtful sigh mixed with a laugh. “How could I forget?”

“I wasn’t exactly fair to you.”

Lance’s quiet laughter fades, and out of the corner of Keith’s eye he sees Lance turn to better face him. “What? It’s not like that was your fault—”

“Not that, I mean—” Keith huffs in frustration, and Lance immediately goes silent, brow furrowed as he waits for Keith to collect himself. “I mean at the end. When we were all forced to choose one person to leave and… I picked you.”

They both know exactly what he’s talking about without actually saying it, if the following quiet is anything to go by. “Oh,” Lance says softly.

Keith clenches and unclenches his fists against the banister, because he still can’t quite bring himself to look at Lance anymore. “What I said about you—I didn’t mean it, the way it sounded. And I’m sorry.”

“Keith,” Lance starts. “You don’t have to—”

But something has shifted in Keith’s chest, something heavy and all-encompassing, and he doesn’t want to let himself lose that momentum so he grips the railing and looks up to meet Lance’s gaze. “Do you remember what you said?” he interrupts, trying to ignore the nervous fluttering in his stomach. “About me?”

Lance’s eyes are searching, flicking back and forth between Keith’s as he gauges his response. “Why?”

The yes is implied. They both know this.

“Do you still want that?”

Something strange passes over Lance’s face then, something entirely unreadable and therefore terrifying. He slowly, deliberately pushes himself up and fully turns to face Keith properly, one arm still resting across the banister. “What do you mean?”

Keith feels out of breath, as if he’s just run an entire marathon instead of standing motionless in the exact same spot for the past fifteen minutes. “I mean—do you… is it too late?”

Lance’s expression is something careful and calculated, as if he understands entirely but is still afraid of being wrong. “Keith, what are you trying to say?”

It all comes pouring out at once, altogether exhilarating yet horrifying because it feels like his entire heart is on the line now, stripped bare just for Lance to see. “I want to be it,” he breathes, his voice remarkably steady despite the furious churning of his stomach and the desperate ache in his chest. “I wanna be the future you talked about. Or even just a part of it, if you’ll let me.”

The lengthy silence that follows is almost unbearable. Keith doesn’t even realize that he’s abandoned the railing in favor of standing almost pleadingly in front of Lance, who only has his hand laying across the railing now. His heart feels like it might burst out of his chest the longer that Lance keeps looking at him like that. Because Lance’s eyes are wide, his lips parted slightly, a small gust of wind ruffles his hair across his forehead, and it’s not fair because Keith wants to kiss him.

But he can’t, not until he knows for certain that he’s allowed to.

He doesn’t have to wait long before Lance makes the decision for him.

Lance’s hand disappears from the banister and finds the back of Keith’s neck instead, and before Keith even has the chance to speak, Lance swiftly closes the little space that remains between them and kisses Keith himself.

Keith forgets how to breathe. But the initial shock dissipates instantly and then he’s kissing back just as eagerly, eyes falling shut and one hand coming up to take a fistful of Lance’s suit, if nothing but to steady himself. Lance’s other hand slides around to the small of Keith’s back and presses him closer, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, and Keith lets him, following his every touch, his every movement.

Which is telling, he thinks absently, as Lance pushes and backs him up against the railing without ever breaking apart, and Keith’s lucky he has Lance to anchor him or he may have gone toppling over the side. Either way, he would follow Lance anywhere if he had the choice.

“Dude,” Lance pants, breathless, which is a strange thing to say just before he presses another kiss to Keith’s lips. “What took you so long?”

“I was scared,” Keith mumbles, distracted, as Lance begins to press more kisses to the corners of his mouth, his cheeks, underneath his eyes. “I didn’t know if you meant it the way I wanted you to.”

“You,” Lance murmurs, an answer to the unspoken question that still remains between them, Keith clinging to Lance’s waist as Lance kisses the underside of his jaw, and pulls back to look him in the eye. “You’re it for me.”

And he captures Keith’s mouth again with his own, and it takes everything in Keith’s power not to collapse against the banister behind him with how overwhelming all of this is, in the best kind of way he never knew there could be.

They never do go back inside to join the others for the rest of the night. Neither of them have to say anything to know that they don’t quite want to let go of this moment yet—new, unfamiliar, and maybe a little bit scary, but theirs, nonetheless. Even after they’ve broken apart they stick close to each other’s sides, speaking quietly or not at all, never not touching in one way or another.

The future is never certain, Keith decides. That’s been one of the few constants in his life, and he’s got a long list of things to prove it. He would say it’s scary if he hadn’t grown accustomed to it over time, although that doesn’t make it any less disheartening, or difficult to think about.

But it’s infinitely easier to take on, and infinitely more exciting to look forward to, when he has someone like Lance by his side. Keith has never been the most sentimental person, but Lance has always had a way of bringing out those parts of him.

To us, Keith thinks later, head resting on Lance’s shoulder, Lance’s thumb tracing lazy circles across the back of his hand as they stand together and watch the stars.

And to the future.

#klance #my writing #voltron #vld #keith #lance

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chibikinesis · 4 years

Text

Got to thinking about first kiss scenarios for the post-redemption ending au... thing and I’ve got one idea I’m really clinging to ♥

I imagine at this point it’s been, like, a year and a half or so since Sean ran into Jacob and Sarah Lee a few months after he got out, and by this point into things, much fondness has grown and lots of mutual pining has taken place, but they’re both too chickenshit to act on their feelings. But someone’s finally gotta’ reach a breaking point, right?

It’s the second night into Sean’s umpteenth visit to their place. It’s quiet; they had dinner, as usual, with Sarah, who’s gone out with some friends on this particular evening. Sean’s helping Jake clean and dry the dishes. There’s usually friendly chatter here, but Jake noticed that Sean has been a bit... off during this visit. Quieter than usual, having trouble keeping eye contact with him, and he wonders if he’s withholding something. But it’s not the first time he’s seen this sort of behavior from people he cares about, and the implications usually aren’t good, so paranoia is really starting to chew at him, against his better judgement. But, God, he’s trying not to let it get to him.

The whole house is only dimly lit by the remnants of sunlight streaming in through the windows, and the cute string lights that were hung all around. The radio yammers away in the background, and aside from the trickle stream of running water in the kitchen sink, it’s the only sound.

“You don’t quite seem yourself today.” He coaxes softly, toweling off a dish and handing it to his guest. “Is something wrong, Sean? I know I’ve already said it, like... a thousand times by now, but, you can talk to me... about anything.”

It takes Sean a moment to ponder his response as he puts the last dish away. Out of his periph, Jake dries his hands and turns around to lean his weight on the counter, and he knows he’s on the receiving end of an expectant gaze.

“Actually, yeah... something has been bothering me, but I...” Sean hesitates for a moment. “I don’t really know how to talk about it.”

“You already know I won’t pass judgement on you for any-”

“N-no, I don’t know how to talk to you about it, Jake.” he huffs. His tone is tired and uncertain and frustrated. “Because it has a lot to do with you. Hell, everything to do with you.”

His tone and his words are all too similar to things Jake’s heard before. He feels a pang in his stomach, and the slightest wash of nausea as he thinks back on those occasions. Is this what he’d feared the whole time? He feels the air flee his lungs and all he can muster is a small “Oh” as he casts his gaze down.

“Listen, Jake, I... I don’t want to ruin our friendship, but I can’t keep kidding myself.”

Not even dating him and it still feels like I’m getting dumped somehow. Is this what I get for opening myself up to the possibility, after all this time? There’s a stinging in his eyes as he tries to fight back his emotions. He wonders what he’s possibly done this time. Because it was always his fault, after all. Too clingy. Too needy. Too much of a worrywart, because after all those years of having to step up and fill the position of not one, but both parents, old habits died hard. Too-

“Damn it...” Sean grunts and wrings his hands as he tries to find the words. Jake’s gently scolded him over holding turbulent emotions in for too long, but how else was he supposed to get this off of his chest? “This is driving me nuts. I just want...”

Jake stands patiently, somehow simultaneously only half-listening as he wrestles his own thoughts, and hanging on every syllable. It feels like an eternity as he finally lifts his gaze to meet Sean’s, and he prays that the turmoil isn’t too apparent on his face. He’s not entirely sure what did it, but something managed to capture Sean’s attention there, and his lone eye darts from feature to feature for a full minute before his expression softens, and he finally takes a step closer.

This was new. Maybe his assumptions are wrong. God, he hopes they’re wrong, because if they’re not, that makes things especially awkward now. He draws what he swears is his first breath since his soft little oh a minute, or two, or five prior, as Sean raises his hands and ghosts his fingertips up Jake’s forearms, and come to rest on his biceps in a not-quite-holding position, where his thumbs trace playfully along the folds in his shirtsleeves.

A familiar, warm expression overtakes Sean’s features, finally, and he worries at his lip, and he swallows in an attempt to rid the lump in his throat, because fuck if he knows what he’s doing when it comes to these sorts of things, or if he’s being suave or smooth or cool enough, but he sure as hell knew what he wanted. And, god, he was this far now, wasn’t he? No use holding back anymore.

As if his eye riveted on that pair of lips he’d admired far too many times and much too thoroughly to just be friendly, parted ever-so-slightly, Jake’s front teeth just barely playing peek-a-boo like they did so often when he was holding his breath, or when he was nervous, or both, didn’t already make him too obvious.

“Jacob...” there’s such a tenderness and vulnerability in Sean’s voice that it makes Jake feel more than a little wobbly in the knees, and suddenly the mental whiplash of his expectations versus the reality unfolding before him doesn’t matter so much anymore. “- can I kiss you?”

As long as it took for the question to register, for complete, utter relief to wash over Jake, and for him to nod just once was all the longer it took before his face was between Sean’s gentle hands, for an eager thumb to trace along his lower lip, and the soft please that he mutters is all but swallowed up by the weight and warmth of Sean’s mouth against his.

It’s dizzying.

He takes a second to readjust and to take it all in. He could still smell and taste apples and cinnamon, and somehow, it made this all feel even more like home, and gave him even more incentive to move in for more once Sean finally broke away. But he didn’t do it immediately - instead lifting his hands to touch Sean’s face and to feel his skin and to remind himself that this was all really, actually happening, and not just some left-field vision or fever dream.

Reaching up, he brushes the hair away from Sean’s forehead and leans in to press a kiss there, and he leaves a trail of sweet, gentle pecks all along the signature scars and nicks on his cheeks and his jaw. He stops for a moment to give a bit more attention to a sunken, scarred eye lid, and Sean feels the breath leave his lungs as those lips find his again, entirely too content to return all attention they’d just been given, and then some.

There’s an affectionate, if not playful, push-and-pull for a moment before they both break away to catch their breath and recollect.

Sean flashes him the sweetest, most contented smile before his face seeks refuge in the crook of Jake’s neck. His arms wrap around him in a tight, almost desperate embrace that takes him by surprise. He breathes him in, and takes comfort in the warmth and closeness he’d denied himself. His mind strayed back to that morning at camp, waking up in his arms, feeling more safe and warm than he cared to admit at the time - as Jake returned the gesture. His head nestled against Sean’s hair, one hand raking through his dark locks, and the other tracing a vague oblong shape along his back, open-palmed and so very warm.

Sean’s struggled with the notion of what home really is for a long time now - but damn if this isn’t the closest thing to that ideal that he’s ever actually, tangibly felt.

“I know you said you weren’t really looking for anything right now, but...”

“I don’t think that’s quite what I said...” Jake smiles, his expression grown thoughtful. “I do recall saying that if something came my way and felt right,I might consider it.”

“And how does this feel?”

“Better than it has any right to.”

#seacob #sean diaz #jacob hackerman #rachel writes #life is strange 2 spoilers #life is strange 2

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theravenclawlover · 5 years

Text

Monster

Parings: James “Bucky” Barnes x Reader.

Warnings: +18 Mentions of torture, mature language, future smut, mentions of death, slight depression, mentions of kidnapping.

Word Count: 3,768

Summary: You are one of the youngest members of the Avengers, and you love it. Out of the blue an impossible mission is assigned to you alongside Natasha Romanoff, and it was sure to change your life. Lies, and betrayal from the closest people in your life; they never told you who you really were.

Chapter Number: 1

Chapter Tittle: You.

A/N: You guys already know I suck at summaries, so there’s no surprise if you think this is shit. This is my first fanfiction work that I wrote back in 2016 but I have edited this so much that the original script is nothing compared to the new one. It has the same plot, but better played out (hopefully). I’ll be posting the newer version for the first time here, but the original drafts are still up on the other websites except for chapter 1, which is already edited. I’ll be posting the other parts randomly, so do not expect me to be updating it regularly. I hope you guys enjoy this!

It has been almost a year since you became an Avenger. You were sixteen when S.H.I.E.L.D first contacted you. You helped them a lot doing some intel work and data coding, that for some reason S.H.I.E.L.D didn't have people for. You always wanted to ask why they couldn't find someone older or with more experience, but you didn't want to stop helping, so you never bothered asking. Among everyone in the team you were one of the youngest members. It was fair to say that when the Avengers had first asked you to be part of the team, you didn't believe. All of them tried at some point; the first one being Tony Stark.

Flashback

You were training, hard, like you always did. When you were finished and ready to leave, you saw Tony Stark grinning your way, folder in hand. Surprised to see the billionaire, you glared at him trying to figure out why he was there standing against the doorframe while a seventeen-year-old trained.

"You shouldn't train that hard, you could hurt yourself, Sweetie," he said with the same grin on his face.

"Mr. Stark," you said a little annoyed at the implication that you could possibly be fragile.

"I'll make this fast. We need you, Y/n, to join the Avengers," he had said it as if it was something normal to say to someone.

"I... excuse me, but what?" You were stunned at his words. You couldn't wrap your head around the thought of being asked to become an Avenger, it was too surreal.

"Well, you see, I was doing some 'research' one night and somehow I ended up looking at your reports." He had started to approach you, the hints of a smile on his lips. The folder you had eyed earlier was, what you now had guessed, your reports.

"First, you hacked S.H.I.E.L.D? Again? Second, Why me? It's not like I have superpowers or anything remotely interesting about me," you exclaimed, eyebrow raised at him.

"Yes, and yes. To answer your last question: Romanoff, and Barton don't have powers either, but they have great abilities when it comes to combat, and they have party tricks too. You, Y/N, with what I've read, you are at the same level as Romanoff in IQ; both of your reports have great feedback from Fury, and we all know that doesn't come by easily. You can have your way with coding without being detected, and just with your phone. You would be great with your intel alongside me, and I'm sure if you're up to it, you can easily be trained to be just as skilled along everyone else so you feel more comfortable in the team." Tony's voice had turned to a serious one the minute he had entered business mode.

"Well, I really appreciate you coming here and telling me all of this, but I don't know what to say. I don't feel like I'll fit in the role of an Avenger, but I will let you know," you said while grabbing your stuff. You wanted in, but you just didn't feel ready nor it felt right. God! You were friends with Natasha and Clint. If you'd said yes, it would had been so much fun to be part of the team and being able to hang out with people you looked up to.

"Well, never had anyone rejecting becoming an Avenger. We would really like to have you in the team. Call me when you have an answer," Tony said before extending a hand for you to shake.

"Will do, Mr. Stark."

End flashback

You didn't called him back. They didn't reach out to you until a month had passed. The next time around, they had decided to try with heavy weapons—Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff.

Flashback

You had been training all morning with both of them. It was fun training with them because you got to hang out with people you considered family. You'd managed to pin Clint while Natasha was already on the floor after you had managed to surprise her from behind. You were surprised. For once, you weren't the one pinned down. After you had let go of Clint and Natasha, they got up all sweaty, Clint groaning a bit. You had made your way towards the other side of the mat where your water bottle laid. You hadn't noticed that Clint and Natasha were walking towards you while they talked in hushed voices among themselves.

"So, Y/n, you haven't called Stark to announce that you are joining the Avengers," mused Natasha, tiny grin on her face. Nevertheless, eyeing you for your reaction.

"I still don't think that I should accept the offer, it doesn't feel like the right time. I don't know, but I feel like...I don't know what I feel like," you sighed and took a seat on the closest bench.

"Well, whatever you're feeling right now seems to be truly affecting you, because I remember when you had just started, and hacked S.H.I.E.L.D. Remember, Nat? When she found out about 'The Avengers Initiative'?" Said Clint, smirking at you, taking the seat next to you. Natasha just chuckled at the memory.

"Alright, I was pretty young back then and let me tell you, thinking about it seemed unrealistic, and it still does. It sounded like something incredible to partake it, but I don't feel like I can be as great as everyone in the team.

"You know what, I don't want to talk about it anymore. I want to go eat! I'm starving!" You exclaimed getting up from the bench, trying to evade the whole talk about the Avengers and their offer. There was silence for a whole two seconds before Clint broke it.

"So, how about we eat pizza and watch a movie in your room, Y/n?" Silently, you thanked Clint for understanding your wish to evade the whole thing. At least for the time being.

End flashback

After two long months of pondering the idea, you decided to join. Before you had said yes to the offer, they had sent Steve Rogers to try to convince you to join. You still said that you'll call when ready, and a week later you did.

Not soon after, you were officially part of the Avengers, and you got to live in Stark tower. You loved it there; hanging out with everyone, and the thrill of training alongside everyone—a God, a super soldier, 2 ex-assassins, and a dude in an armor—was something you didn't expect to love. Working with Bruce and Tony in the lab was great, although you weren't allowed to touch many things without having Tony telling you not to break it. You felt like a child when they worked on their projects and when you got the impulse to reach and touch something, Tony would immediately sense it. Furthermore, doing pranks to the Avengers with Clint was always something to look for and gossiping and training with Natasha was a whole great deal by itself.

A whole year of being an Avenger had gone by so fast that it felt like you had blinked one second to open them the next to see a whole new life. You still felt a little weird when the guys (or people in general) called you an Avenger. It just didn't really stick to your brain that now that was your 'title'.

The very first mission you had as an official Avenger was when Ultron had decided to destroy the world. You still wondered how you never realized what Tony and Bruce had been working on had been a genocidal robot.

Soon after, you were not the only newbie in the team. Wanda had joined the team after the fight in Sokovia. You two had become close after Wanda lost her brother Pietro. The poor thing at first rarely left her room. You were there for her, and she would always tell you that you needn't be. Of course, you didn't listen, and always stayed. Wanda hadn't been the only addition to the team: there was Sam Wilson (who you had met before) and dear old Jarvis, now, Vision. They were great, Vision being your favorite, especially because he seemed to make Wanda happy.

Those times seemed to be long ago, when your life seem to be just perfect. You didn't know that the things to come were going to taint all those memories.

°°°°°

You found yourself in the living room with Nat, going over your last mission when Steve came in. He greeted you both, his usual demeanor tainted with something.

"What's wrong Steve? You look like you could kill somebody with that stare you've got," said Nat a little amused, but the concern could be heard by those who paid attention. He looked up and let out a long sigh; you thought maybe he felt a little bored or something else, but no—you wished it had been that, though.

"S.H.I.E.L.D found Bucky, Nat. They want the two of you to bring him in." He looked as if he'd wished you would turn down the assignment.

"I feel like as a S.H.I.E.L.D agent I should know who this 'Bucky' person is, but no, it doesn't ring a bell." You felt a little sheepish. You had one job and couldn't even do that, but in your defense, you just had a bad memory when it came to names—or anything, really.

"We know him as the Winter Soldier, Y/n. We have just been assigned to bring him in." Nat, for once, looked a little uncomfortable with a mission. That look only lasted enough for you to witness, and if you'd blink you wouldn't had been able to see it. Her discomfort just made your nerves rise.

"Oh." That's all you managed to say. The Winter Soldier had been found and your superiors wanted you to bring him in. Were you allowed to resign or was it too late?

"I tried telling them that I could do it myself, but they said that I could compromise the mission because of our relationship," huffed Steve, the man looking angrier by the second.

"Well, I guess you have the folder for the mission?" Nat looked at Steve with sympathetic eyes. Her eyes always seem to glimmer with a softness that rarely was shown, and Steve seemed to always be the one to receive it, and that made the woman glow—unbeknownst to her, though. You still haven't managed to make her come clean about her obvious smitten state for the Captain—well, obvious to you and Wanda.

Steve just sighed once more before handing the folder to Natasha. "Here," said Steve with what sounded like a defeated tone. You and Natasha took a good 10 minutes to read it thoroughly. Steve looked ready to hear what information it held, or at least any he hadn't been told.

You looked at Natasha, debating whether to tell him about it or not. She gave a low sigh before fixing her eyes on Steve. "He obviously has been on the move for a while, because he wasn't easy to find. He is not too far from the city, though. We just need to try and convince him to come with us, but we are to use force if he resists. They are honestly hoping he doesn't. Seems too risky, but what else is there to do?"

"We'll call you, Steve, if anything happens." You added, giving him a little smile before leaving him alone in the living room, heading to get ready for the mission.

You just hoped everything went smooth, with no bumps down the road.

You couldn't afford to mess up.

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jewish-privilege · 5 years

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...My weary tone doesn’t mean I’m not upset by [John] Cusack’s actions. The meme he shared is indeed unambiguously antisemitic: An image of a Jewish hand, marked by the star of David, crushing the people, accompanied by the quote, “To learn who rules over you simply find out who you are not allowed to criticize” — erroneously attributed to Voltaire, but actually from a neo-Nazi called Kevin Alfred Strom. Cusack added his own gloss, a glibly hateful “Follow the money.”

This was all bad enough. But in some respects, it was his confused attempts to atone that frustrate me most. He first defended the tweet, citing Israel’s “atrocities against the Palestinians,” then conceded that “even if you don’t have an anti-Semitic bone in your body, it is still an antisemitic cartoon”. He then explained that he initially thought the start of David signified Israel. Now he understands that yadda, yadda, yadda. He never did address the “Follow the money” quip.

My frustration is partly because, given the incessant controversy over anti-Semitism, it’s extraordinary that anyone can claim ignorance anymore. Was Cusack asleep during the firestorm surrounding Ilhan Omar’s “All about the Benjamin’s” comment? I’m also frustrated because the implication of his apology was that, had there been a symbol that could signify Israel without implying Jews, it would have been fine. I say this not as a defender of Israel, but as someone who believes that the Palestinians are being oppressed not by a world-conquering venal conspiracy, but by regular human beings.

...It’s the easiness of social media that is our downfall. Did John Cusack ponder his post for hours until he got it just right? Almost certainly not: I would guess that he was in the queue for the dry cleaners, sitting on the toilet, or half-watching TV when he lazily pushed the button.

None of that means that there wasn’t something real behind his desire to post. Anger on behalf the Palestinian people is of course not, in and of itself, illegitimate or anti-Semitic. Cusack may have been moved by very real suffering.

But what is truly poisonous about social media is that it provides a constant temptation to respond to genuine concerns in a facile way. Too often, we are drawn into a simplistic logic: I am angry about something, I want to address the cause of that anger, I will express my anger in the strongest possible terms, I will hate, I will draw on the most convenient way of expressing that hate.

And in the case of Israel-Palestine, anti-Semitism offers the most convenient form of hatred.

I don’t think we really know how to respond to convenience anti-Semitism of the Cusack-variety. Too often, Jews are working with an implicitly essentialist model of anti-Semitism in which a particular anti-Semitic incident is evidence of a wider world view that is implicitly or explicitly anti-Semitic. But what if there is no world view at all? What if all that exists are the lazy pleasures of hating, generated by equally lazy forms of empathy?

...John Cusack’s tweet didn’t help the Palestinian cause and it didn’t stop him from ruining his reputation.

What we desperately need right now is a collective effort to try and nurture a more reflective, less convenient, online discourse. This is probably a generational project and it’s difficult to know where to start. Still, it’s worth considering how, when we call anti-Semitism out online, we can refrain from the lazy hatred that Cusack expressed.

Might a patient, clear and calm explanation of where Cusack went from work better than mass derision and anger? One challenge here is that even those tweets that are carefully expressed can, if joined by many others, create a cumulative effect that ends up looking like a hate campaign — so-called “dogpiling.” I spent a portion of yesterday being accused by one tweeter of doing just that, despite trying (sometimes successfully) for years to be as civil as I am able. It may be that online restraint, posting only when one has something new and different to say, is the model to follow.

Restraint is not a fashionable virtue these days. Perhaps though a counter-cultural emphasis on not saying immediately what is on your mind could popularize the practice. Even then though, for a film star with declining name-recognition, the desire to be heard and state that “I am still here” may be too strong to resist.

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