#this is *my* degree and my choice so stay in your fucking lane

[roseofcards90]

I'm like so mad lmao like why are parents the absolute worst

#like y'all really just decided to be racist when I told you the research opportunity is in Uganda #like I fail to understand what the hell is wrong with a PAID internship over the summer that pays for all the expenses #and not only that but it gives me actual international experience for my degree and pays me so much more than my shitty job ever fucking di #that's legit fucking bullshit with you calling it a “waste of time” you know what a waste of time is for you sir? you hoarding #a bunch of atvs you won't even fix and sell and you being a shitty partner to my mom because you won't do jack shit #literally shut the fuck up I am not letting you decide things for me now #this is *my* degree and my choice so stay in your fucking lane #you can't even support me in the slightest you just to have to fucking criticize me for everything #my posts

[coffeenonsense]

I usually try to stay in my lane most of the time (mostly bc I am far too old for fandom drama) but what the hell, it's friday, let's put that lit degree to use:

the way people are playing morality politics with fiction is really starting to genuinely irk me and I think some of the responses to ascended astarion are a perfect example of why this type of thinking is actually hugely detrimental to one's ability to meaningfully engage with fiction and also to the future of art.

astarion is one of the most well-written complex characters I've seen in recent years bar none (and I'm clearly not alone given the explosion of his personal fandom lol) and he has a truly compelling, emotionally resonant character arc whether you ascend him or not

If you keep him a spawn, you get a deeply touching, realistic character's journey to healing and personal growth where he learns who he is after the experience of his trauma and depending on the player's choice, explores his relationship to sex, romance and intimacy

If you ascend astarion, you get an equally emotional and well-rounded character arc where he chooses the power that allows him to have the desperate freedom and safety he's wanted, but in the process eschews any hope of real healing or personal development, and again, depending on the player's choices, restarts the cycle of abuse by taking cazador's place.

These options offer vastly different paths for the character and experiences for the player, but while yes, ascended astarion is the evil ending, and yes, ascending astarion is a tragedy, and a fucking incredible one (not only do you have astarion reigniting a circle of abuse but you have the narrative weight of KNOWING he could have actually overcome his trauma...hats off to the bg3 team tbh) but that does not mean ascending astarion MAKES YOU AS THE PLAYER EVIL

Ascend astarion because you love tragic story arcs, ascend him because you want to indulge in a master/slave vampire fantasy, don't ascend him because you want a healing character journey, don't ascend him because you want a sweet romance; all of these choices carry the same moral weight for the player, which is to say, none, because they are an exploration of fiction.

I know I'm saying this to the villain fucker website but it bears repeating; just because someone wants to engage with evil, fucked up characters or content does not mean they support evil acts in their real life, and furthermore, exploring dark, taboo or tragic concepts safely is part of what fiction is for. It enables us to look at those things from a distance, work through difficult feelings and develop greater understanding of what makes our fellow humans tick — and before you get it twisted there's also no moral issue with exploring fucked up media bc you're horny or just, because. You can take it as seriously (or as sexily) as you want.

It's starting to really concern me how many people not only do not get, but are violently opposed to this concept, because equating what someone likes in fiction with their real life moral code and actions is an incredibly dangerous and let's be honest, immature way of thinking that not only stunts your ability to engage with fiction but ironically, hampers your ability to deal with complicated issues and emotions in real life.

I don't know what's driving this trend (though purity culture is certainly playing a role) but it's definitely something that's not just impacting individuals but contributing to the commercialization of art, where we get games and stories and tv shows and books that regurgitate the same safe, mass marketable plotlines and character archetypes over and over and over again so corporations can squeeze out as much profit as possible.

Anyway, remember kids: There's no such thing as thought crime, reaching for morally pure unproblematic media is directly contributing to the death of art, and this is why funding the humanities is important.

#so...yeah #idk man i have thoughts and feelings #and i love astarion so much lol #astarion #ascended astarion #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #fandom analysis #media analysis #fiction #a personal rant because i need to vent about this and i just recalled i have a blog where i can indeed do so lol #astarion ancunin

[mike-el]

I really hope that once season 5 comes out and we get the inevitable ending we all want, the duffers do an interview in which they talk about all the things they didn’t do and explain why they didn’t do them and why they wouldn’t even work (Bylerrrr— amongst other things like certain deaths but mainly—-Byler) so the bylers can stop theorizing (cuz I KNOW even after the show ends and the message is CLEAR they’ll still be theorizing) and if the duffers explaining why certain fan analysis was fucking stupid gonna make them leave the fandom, not like the show or creators anymore and deem it bad then so fucking be it, because I need this fandom to stop being annoying and delusional. You’re welcome and thank you!!!

PS. I know you are like super nice and love to stay in your lane and I LOVE you for that. But you need to understand that I have TWITTER and these bylers are fucking insane they make me feel like I’m losing brain cells no joke, so I know I’m being petty but please let me vent :(. Also they deserve it like please tell me you agree. Like what I’m wishing on them is a potential choice for them to leave the fandom and let us beeeee. Clearly they only like the show for the potential relationship and not it’s content. Anyways I sound insane but love you bye xxxxx

Truthfully the only thing that worries me is that all the negativity and noise would affect the way the duffers choose to write the final season. I have stated many times that b*ler is not going to happen and mileven will not break up just to break up - I truly believe that. But it does sadden me to think that mike & el might get less screen time than they would have before the fandom got so loud and angry.

Beyond that, the theorizing doesn’t bother me. And if the final season is good and satisfying, other people’s interpretations and theories will be even less significant, like dull background static. That’s really all the negativity is anyways: noise. I also genuinely do believe that the real people losing here are this particular group of b*ler shippers - they’ve invested so much of themselves into something that doesn’t exist, convinced that they see something that others don’t, and it’s going to be all the more painful when it doesn’t materialize in the final season like they thought it would. I’m not saying every person that ships b*ler perceives the show like this, but there are certain people who have convinced themselves it’s going to happen and it just isn’t. But I do get why some of the things they say can be hurtful, especially when they rely on prejudice to validate their story.

I would never try to tell you how to feel, but I can say that keeping some degree of distance between myself and the media I consume is really important for my well-being. I think sometimes it can be easy to forget that all of this fandom stuff is supposed to be something we engage in for fun. If it’s making us feel bad, then what purpose is it serving in our lives? I don’t mean this to sound patronizing. Your frustration is so valid, and loving and investing energy in a show isn’t bad - it’s natural! But part of what makes fandom a positive experience is to remember that this is a space for fun and to make your fandom space (whether it be Tumblr, Twitter, or reddit) the safest space you can — blocking tags, blocking users, etc..

I often get wrapped up in the heat of the debate, I’m right there with you. But at the end of the day, these are just people - most of them younger than me — and their opinions don’t hold any more weight than yours just because they speak with a lot of conviction. So if they want to continue theorizing past season 5, I say let them. It won’t change anything for us.

In any case, I hope with this rant you were able to got some of the bad feelings off your chest. Be well 💕

#asks #tw discourse #I share a thought

[thevindicativevordan]

You did one for Hulk (incredible btw). Got any thoughts on Spider-Man?

He used to be one of my favorites.

It's easy to see why Spidey took off as Marvel's premiere character, and competitor with Batman for the most popular superhero ever. If you'll indulge my DC bias, Spider-Man sits at the intersection between Superman and Batman. Like Superman, Spider-Man never knew his birth parents, and was instead adopted and raised by an elderly couple. Uncle Ben and Aunt May are the people Peter thinks of as his mom and dad, and it's their lives that help shape Peter. Both Superman and Spider-Man wear colorful red and blue costumes, both have iconic jobs working for newspapers with cantankerous bosses, and both have a lot of Jewish DNA in them because of their creators. Like Batman however, Spider-Man has a tragic parental figure's death to motivate him, he has a very poor reputation with the public, they both style themselves on animals, and both have strong roots in the cities they protect. That Peter's greatest foe, the Green Goblin, also stands at the intersection between Lex Luthor and the Joker makes for a great parallel. Add in that Spider-Man has the second best Rogues Gallery in comics, and it's clear Peter drew on the best attributes from his predecessors as a foundation.

What separates Peter from them though is that he was the first hero with real problems. Neither Superman or Batman had to worry about paying rent regularly like Peter did. Both stood apart from their peers by choice, while Peter wanted to make friends but wasn't able to do it. Krypton and the Waynes died through no fault of Supes or Bats, but Uncle Ben's death was something Peter was at fault for if indirectly. Then you had Gwen Stacy killed as a direct result of Peter's superhero career, introducing the idea of heroes who could fail. Spider-Man was pitched as the flawed hero, the human hero, the guy you could think of yourself as being if you got superpowers. You would screw up and make mistakes, but you'd try your best regardless. Of course the readers would be drawn to, and identify with him, and that's both the secret to his success and what keeps fucking him over. A lot of guys see Peter as their self-insert, so they keep trying to return to their youth through him which keeps derailing him as a character. My entry into Spider-Man fandom came during one of the brief lulls from Marvel trying to reset him to what they see as his "roots".

I remember seeing the Rami Spider-Man movies in the theater and being utterly entranced. I played the first Spider-Man movie tie-in game pretty religiously as a kid (fuck that level where you infiltrate OsCorp, those robots were insane), as well as other Spider-Man games such as Web of Shadows. Can still hear the theme song of the 90s animated Spider-Man show in my head, that show's versions of Green Goblin and Venom are still my favorite takes. All this is a rambling way of saying that "my" Spider-Man was formed during a period where Marvel seemed ok with Peter being more adult, something they've been trying to roll back ever since.

Peter was a college student in the 90s cartoon, the comics had him and MJ married (my first Spidey comic was vol. 1 of JMS' Amazing Spider-Man run, so Peter and MJ being married is the "default" for me), the video games were set in the Ramiverse so he was a college student there as well. It's such a weird era to look back on in retrospect given what's to come and what came before. Peter had problems and was flawed, but he was also so much more mature and thoughtful, intelligent in a way beyond just being a science whiz. He and MJ had a great dynamic as a couple under JMS. They were so clearly in love and also utterly unwilling to take each others shit that it was just a joy to read. That relationship really was something I dearly loved, and of course I took it poorly when Marvel broke the two of them up. Making it a plot where not!Satan comes down and takes their marriage away only rubbed salt in the wound.

Suddenly Peter was a lot more immature and stupid, and Marvel was insisting that this was "how he should be". Marvel was claiming that Spider-Man was all about youth, thus he needed to remain young and marriage free in order to work, which flew in the face of the character as I understood him. To me, Spidey was a character about the opposite, he was about growing up.

More than any other character in the MU, Peter was the guy who embodied character development. In his early years under Lee and Dikto, Peter was an asshole with a chip on his shoulder. Far from being the martyr figure everyone sees him as today, Peter initially just kept trying to make money with his powers. He was constantly moaning and bewailing his lot, because he was a fucking teenager! EVERY teenager treats ANY setback like it's the end of the world. Yet over a period of years, both in universe and out, Peter grew into the great hero everybody sees him as today. He became kinder, more charitable, and made friends with his peers. He acquired a steady stream of super hot girlfriends, ultimately marrying MJ. Peter married MJ before Clark Kent married Lois Lane, that's a huge freaking accomplishment! Totally makes sense that Peter would get married first because while Superman was more or less frozen in place like all DC heroes, Spider-Man was the one who embodied the Marvel trait of growth and change. The world kept throwing shit at him and Peter dealt with it as best he could, and that gave me hope because if he could overcome the forces arrayed against him to find some degree of happiness, so could I.

One More Day completely obliterated all of that. I didn't recognize this character anymore, I didn't care about the shallow relationships they teased him entering, relationships we all knew didn't matter. If Peter couldn't stay married to MJ, he wasn't going to last in a relationship with Carlie Cooper or any of the girls Slott set him up with. Peter being immature worked great when he was actually in high school and college, but Marvel wanted to write him as a high schooler without actually deaging him. The contrast between how he was characterized before and after OMD was just too jarring for me.

Ultimately I left for a while. I read Superior and Spider-Verse, but I was no longer religiously following Amazing Spider-Man any more. Checked out Ultimate Spider-Man which I had never read, and I enjoyed it, but I also held a grudge against it's success. Clearly this was the series that enshrined high school Spider-Man as the "ideal" status quo for a lot of people, and I couldn't help but blame the series for Quesada's successful torching of a more mature Peter Parker. I also read Spider-Girl which took place in an alternate continuity where Peter was still married and he had a daughter with MJ named Mayday. I loved that series a lot, and Mayday became my favorite Marvel superheroine. Eventually I came back to ASM with Spencer because a few of my fellows told me he reminded them of JMS, and I've enjoyed his characterization of Peter. Doubt the marriage will be coming back any time soon but it's nice to read a more adult Peter after how he was characterized under Slott.

Hard to say what the future holds for Peter. Tough to say for certain but with the end of high school Peter in the MCU approaching, it feels like we're on the edge of another shift in status quo for Spider-Man. May be that the creation of Miles is allowing Peter to finally start to mature again since Miles can be the corporate wet dream of an eternally young "diverse" Spidey. The insistence on putting Miles into more and more of Peter's stuff, with Peter mentoring him, makes me hope that Marvel is becoming more ok with Peter growing up. The Insomniac Spider-Man is a college graduate, he feels the closest in tone and character to the Spider-Man I grew up with under JMS and Rami. They even got to kill Aunt May off, something Marvel is still terrified to do in the comics, and the relationship between Peter and MJ is portrayed as crucial to both (as it should), even if MJ is a little too Lois Lane lite for my liking.

Hopefully Spider-Man can shake off Quesada's lingering influence and start being what he was created to be: the guy who moves forward rather than running in place.

#spider man #peter parker #marvel

[qqueenofhades]

I really don’t want to start a discourse™, but I want you to know that I really appreciate how you write joe and Nicky in deo volente. So many of the fics I’ve read have placed yusef in the role of more sexually experienced and less devoted to god, while Nicky is depicted as an inexperienced and virginal priest/knight/monk and so forth and so on. Your narrative of joe out there rescuing people and being faithful, while Nicky looks back on his life of gambling and pleasures of the flesh ...(1/?)

Not to say that there’s anything wrong with either, obviously. I love guilty priest Nicky and repressed Nicky and p much every Nicky. But in the vast array of fics out there, it’s rare to see the opposite. Not that you’re working in a binary morally good/religious vs. not way. Your writing in the fic is really subtle and and your characterizations reveal a lot of depth. I just think it’s cool to see Nicky, average second son of a duke, drinking and gambling and feeling terribly guilty (2/?)

Guilty about the crusades and the fucking horror of crusade 1 without being excessively devout. Just an average dude. Not some paragon of virtue (btw, I’m on chapter 2 of the fic, so I don’t know how much your characterization changes moving forward. You have a lovely ability to combine your incredible knowledge of history, your beautiful writing, and these intimate details of the characters that make them fit— fit the canon and fit the history. (3/? Shit I’m sorry this had gotten way too long)

I enjoy the way you’ve really inserted us into the quotidian aspect of history. Aaaaaanyway— the discourse that I was afraid of: I think that a lot of fans of the movie that are generating fan content (tysfm to all of you beauties, btw 🙏🙏♥️) are westerners (which is a whole nother kettle of fish) and that carries a sort of ignorance about the Muslim world in the Middle Ages and this desire to simplify Europe as “Christian” “fighters for faith” etc. (4/? Fuuuuck. One(??) more)

And when we do that, we end up as characterizing the brown people as “not that”. The thing I love about this fandom is that people are definitely down on the crusades. I feel like all the fic I’ve read has been particularly negative about those wars, but the thing I love about your fic is that you don’t just say war is bad because people died and it was despicable and this pious white dude says so and this one brown person agrees. (5/6, I see the end in sight I swear it)

Instead you give us a larger cast of Muslims and Arabs and really flesh them out and give them opinions and different interpretations of faith, and I really appreciate that. The crusades were terrible, and we know this because these regular dudes who struggle with their different faiths and lives say so. And I just. I think that’s really great. Also, I fucking love yusef’s mom. I feel like more people would be accepting of the gift in this fashion and I think she’s lovely and (god damn it 6/7)

Aaaaaaaand. The bit where yusef returns and she’s already gone breaks my fucking heart. Also the moment where he’s like “I’m not sure about Abraham’s god, but my mothers god is worth my faith”?? Just really fucking great. So. Excellent fic. Excellent characters. Excellent not-being-accidentally-biased-towards-white-Christians. That is what I came here to say. Thank you so much for your amazing stories. I love them and I love history. Sorry about the rambling. idek how I wrote so much. (7/7)

Epilogue: tl;dr: you’re great.

Oh man! What a huge and thoughtful comment (which will in turn provoke a long-ass response from me, so…) I absolutely agree that no matter what fandom, I don’t do Discourse TM; I just sit in my bubble and stay in my lane and do my own thing and create content I enjoy. And I don’t even think this is that so much as just… general commentary on character and background? So obviously all of this should be read as my own personal experience and choices in writing DVLA, and that alone. I really appreciate you for saying that you love a wide range of fan creators/fanworks and you’re not placing one over another, you understand that fans have diverse ranges of backgrounds/experience with history and other cultures when they create content, and that’s not the same for everyone. So I just think that’s a great and respectful way to start things off.

First, as a professional historian who has written a literal PhD thesis on the crusades, I absolutely understand that many people (and regular fans) will not have the same privilege/education/perspective that I do, and that’s fine! They should not be expected to get multiple advanced degrees to enjoy a Netflix movie! But since I DO have that background, and since I’ve been working on the intellectual genealogy of the crusades (and the associated Christian/Muslim component, whether racially or religiously) since I was a master’s student, I have a lot of academic training and personal feelings that inform how I write these characters. Aside from my research on all this, my sister lives in an Islamic country and her boyfriend is a Muslim man; I’ve known a lot of Muslims and Middle Easterners; and especially with the current political climate of Islamophobia and the reckoning with racism whether in reality or fandom, I have been thinking about all this a lot, and my impact on such.

Basically: I love Nicky dearly, but I ADORE Joe, and as such, I’m protective of him and certainly very mindful of how I write him. Especially when the obvious default for westerners in general, fandom-related or otherwise, is to write what you are familiar with (i.e. the European Christian white character) and be either less comfortable or less confident or sometimes less thoughtful about his opposing number. I have at times tangentially stumbled across takes on Joe that turn me into the “eeeeeeeh” emoji or Dubious Chrissy Teigen, but I honestly couldn’t tell you anything else about them because I was like, “nope not for me” and went elsewhere rather than do Discourse (which is pretty much a waste of time everywhere and always makes people feel bad). This is why I’m always selective about my fan content, but especially so with this ship, because I have SO much field-specific knowledge that I just have to make what I like and which suits my personal tastes. So that is what I do.

Obviously, there’s a troublesome history with the trope of “sexually liberate brown person seduces virginal white character into a world of Fleshly Decadence,” whether from the medieval correlation of “sodomite” and “Saracen,” or the nineteenth-century Orientalist depictions of the East as a land variously childishly simplistic, societally backward, darkly mysterious and Exotic, or “decadent” (read: code for sexually unlike Western Europe, including the spectrum of queer acts). So when I was writing DVLA, I absolutely did not want to do that and it’s not to my taste, but I’m not going to whip out a red pen on someone else writing a story that broadly follows those parameters (because as I said, I stay in my lane and don’t see it anyway). Joe to me is just such an intensely complex and lovely Muslim character that that’s the only way I feel like I can honestly write him, and I absolutely love that about him. So yeah, any depiction of hypersexualizing him or making him only available for the sexual use and education of the white character(s) is just... mmm, not for me.

For example, I stressed over whether it was appropriate to move his origin from “somewhere in the Maghreb” to Cairo specifically, since Egypt, while it IS in North Africa, is not technically part of the Maghreb. I realize that Marwan Kenzari’s family is Tunisian and that’s probably why they chose it, to honor the actor’s heritage, but on the flip side… “al-Kaysani” is also a specifically Ismai’li Shia name (it’s the name of a branch of it) and the Fatimids (the ruling dynasty in Jerusalem at the time of the First Crusade) were well-known for being the only Ismai’li Shia caliphate. (This is why the Shi’ites still ancestrally dislike Saladin for overthrowing it in 1174, even if Saladin is a huge hero to the rest of the Islamic world.) Plus I really wanted to use medieval Cairo as Joe’s homeland, and it just made more sense for an Ismai’li Shia Fatimid from Cairo (i.e. the actual Muslim denomination and caliphate that controlled Jerusalem) to be defending the Holy City because it was personal for him, rather than a Sunni Zirid from Ifriqiya just kind of turning up there. Especially due to the intense fragmentation and disorganization in the Islamic world at the time of the First Crusade (which was a big part of the reason it succeeded) and since the Zirids were a breakaway group from the Fatimids and therefore not very likely to be militarily allied with them. As with my personal gripes about Nicky being a priest, I decided to make that change because I felt, as a historian, that it made more sense for the character. But I SUPER recognize it as my own choices and tweaks, and obviously I’m not about to complain at anyone for writing what’s in graphic novel/bonus content canon!

That ties, however, into the fact that Nicky has a clearly defined city/region of origin (Genoa, which has a distinct history, culture, and tradition of crusading) and Joe is just said to be from “the Maghreb” which…. is obviously huge. (I.e. anywhere in North Africa west of Egypt all the way to Morocco.) And this isn’t a fandom thing, but from the official creators/writers of the comics and the movie. And I’m over here like: okay, which country? Which city? Which denomination of Islam? You’ve given him a Shia name but then point him to an origin in Sunni Ifriqiya. If he’s from there, why has he gone thousands of miles to Jerusalem in the middle of a dangerous war to help his religious/political rivals defend their territory? Just because he’s nice? Because it was an accident? Why is his motivation or reason for being there any less defined or any less religious (inasmuch as DVLA Nicky’s motive for being on the First Crusade is religious at all, which is not very) than the white character’s? In a sense, the Christians are the ones who have to work a lot harder to justify their presence in the Middle East in the eleventh century at all: the First Crusade was a specifically military and offensive invasion launched at the direct behest of the leader of the Western Roman church (Pope Urban II.) So the idea that they’re “fighting for the faith” or defending it bravely is…

Eeeeh. (Insert Dubious Chrissy Teigen.)

But of course, nobody teaches medieval history to anyone in America (except for Bad Game of Thrones History Tee Em), and they sure as hell don’t teach about the crusades (except for the Religious Violence Bad highlight reel) so people don’t KNOW about these things, and I wish they DID know, and that’s why I’m over here trying to be an academic so I can help them LEARN it, and I get very passionate about it. So once again, I entirely don’t blame people who have acquired this distorted cultural impression of the crusades and don’t want to do a book’s worth of research to write a fic about a Netflix movie. I do hope that they take the initiative to learn more about it because they’re interested and want to know more, since by nature the pairing involves a lot of complex religious, racial, and cultural dynamics that need to be handled thoughtfully, even if you don’t know everything about it. So like, basically all I want is for the Muslim character(s) to be given the same level of respect, attention to detail, background story, family context, and religious diversity as any of the white characters, and Imma do it myself if I have to. Dammit.

(I’m really excited to hear your thoughts on the second half of the fic, especially chapter 3 and chapter 6, but definitely all of it, since I think the characters they’re established as in the early part of the fic do remain true to themselves and both grow and struggle and go through a realistic journey with their faith over their very long lives, and it’s one of my favorite themes about DVLA.)

Anyway, about Nicky. I also made the specific choice to have him be an average guy, the ordinary second son of a nobleman who doesn’t really know what he’s doing with his life and isn’t the mouthpiece of Moral Virtue in the story, since as he himself realizes pretty quick, the crusades and especially the sack/massacre of Jerusalem are actually horrific. I’ve written in various posts about my nitpicking gripes with him being a priest, so he’s not, and as I said, I’m definitely avoiding any scenario where he has to Learn About The World from Joe. That is because I want to make the point that the people on the crusades were people, and they went for a lot of different reasons, not all of which were intense personal religious belief. The crusades were an institution and operated institutionally. Even on the First Crusade, where there were a lot of ordinary people who went because of sincere religious belief, there was the usual bad behavior by soldiers and secular noblemen and people who just went because it was the thing to do. James Brundage has an article about prostitution and miscegenation and other sexual activity on the First Crusade; even at the height of this first and holy expedition, it was happening. So Nicky obviously isn’t going to be the moral exemplar because a) the crusades are horrific, he himself realizes that, and b) it’s just as historically accurate that he wouldn’t be anyway. Since the idea is that medieval crusaders were all just zealots and ergo Not Like Us is dangerous, I didn’t want to do that either. If we think they all went because they were all personally fervent Catholics and thus clearly we couldn’t do the same, then we miss a lot of our own behavior and our parallel (and troubling) decisions, and yeah.

As well, I made a deliberate choice to have Nicky’s kindness (which I LOVE about him, it’s one of my favorite things, god how refreshing to have that be one of the central tenets of a male warrior character) not to be something that was just… always there and he was Meek and Good because a priest or whatever else. Especially as I’ve gotten older and we’ve all been living through these ridiculous hellyears (2020 is the worst, but it’s all been general shit for a while), I’ve thought more and more about how kindness is an active CHOICE and it’s as transgressive as anything else you can do and a whole lot more brave than just cynicism and nihilism and despair. As you’ll see in the second half of the fic, Nicky (and Joe) have been through some truly devastating things and it might be understandable if they gave into despair, but they DON’T. They choose to continue to be good people and to try and to actively BE kind, rather than it being some passive default setting. They struggle with it and it’s raw and painful and they’re not always saints, but they always come down on the side of wanting to keep doing what they’re doing, and I… have feelings about that.

Anyway, this is already SUPER long, so I’ll call it quits for now. But thank you so much for this, because I love these characters and I love the story I created for them in DVLA, since all this is personal to me in a lot of ways, and I’m so glad you picked up on that.

#history #medieval history #queer history #dvla asks #long post #the old guard meta #anonymous #ask

[thiswasinevitableid]

winter prompt fill 5, indruck, nsfw?

5: your car slid into a snowbank and i’m the mechanic that comes to tow you

Two hours.

Two fucking hours, that’s how far this guy is from town. But because he’s three hours from the one to the west, it’s Duck’s company that got the call from AAA for a tow. On night three of what's forecasted as a week-long snowstorm.  And because it’s that kind of job, the call came in at 4:45 pm. At least he’ll get overtime for this. 

Being out of Kepler means the radio has real stations, half of them playing blocks of pop hits and the other half blaring Christmas carols. Duck doesn’t mind either, settles on listening to crooning about sleigh bells and winter wonderlands as he tries to keep the truck from sliding into snow piles. 

He’s all prepared to be aggravated at whoever was clueless enough to get themselves stranded and stick him with the four hour round-trip, but the closer he gets to his destination the more he sympathizes. Because this is a rural two-lane highway and not a major through-road, the maintenance is spotty at best. Couple that with the still-falling snow and he’s just glad the guy was in the kind of accident where he could still make a call after it.

The last half-hour he’s down to thirty miles an hour, lets out a groan of relief when the dead  taillights of a car reflect back at him. Once he positions the truck and hops out, he rolls his eyes; the sedan doesn’t have snow tires or chains on, something even a person with a Nevada license plate should have known to carry north.

Duck wonders if being unprepared is a habit when the driver steps out in far too light a coat for the weather, shuddering and stuttering out an “Th-thank g-goodness.”

“Guessin you’re Mr. Wilde?” 

Pale hair falls over red glasses as the man nods. With his hood up, he looks owlish, guarded. He’s all limbs and edges, and Duck can’t help but think of a stray cat that needs a warm bed and some food. 

“Go ahead and get up into the passenger seat. Heat ain’t runnin, but it’s sure as heck warmer than out here. I’ll get her hitched up and we can get going.”

Another nod, the man hunching forward as he scurries into the truck. This is the easy part, getting the damaged car hooked to the truck and freeing it from the snow. The hard part comes when they turn towards town, two hours of darkness and icy roads ahead of them. 

“I’m so sorry you had to come all this way. I, ah, did not intend to crash, nor to do so this far from help.”

“Hey, it’s what we’re here for. Gonna be slow goin on the way back, since it’ll be real fuckin embarassin to call a tow truck for a tow truck.”

A snicker, “I picture them as growing exponentially larger, like nesting dolls. A tow truck towing a tow truck towing a tow truck towing a car would be the size of a semi.”

Duck chuckles, “Yeah, it’d be a sight. And a fuckin nightmare for anyone who got behind it.”

The cab is warming nicely, so his passenger pulls back his hood. In the darkness he can tell the pale hair is metallic silver, and there’s a hell of a bruise blooming on his forehead. Duck’s never seen anyone quite like him, and if their survival didn’t depend on his concentration, he’d spend the next hour studying him.

“Damn, got banged up in the crash huh.”

“Yes.” The man gingerly touches the bruise, sighs, “It’s my own fault for being careless.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, nearly spun out on the way to get you from the damn black ice.”

“I wish I could say that was the sole cause, but I was also asleep.”

Duck bites back the urge to scold him; he wants him to be comfortable around him and besides, even if Duck is having a crappy night, this guy is having an even worse one.

“Wouldn’t be the first person who thought they could make it one more town before stoppin for the night and was wrong.”

“True. It’s just that, ah, I’ve been driving three days straight without sleep.”

“Jesus Christ, you on the lamb or somethin?”

In his periphery, he swears the taller man flinches. 

“No. Just having bad luck with a chaser of poor choices.”

“Gotcha.” Duck drums on the wheel, “so, uh, Mr. Wilde, what do you do when you ain’t stuck in the snow?”

“I draw. And Indrid is fine…” he peers awkwardly at Duck’s name tag, “Duck.”

“It’s a nickname.”

“Ah. Are you a mechanic as well as a driver?”

“Yep. Do it part-time when I’m not workin at the national forest. Friend of mine, Ned, runs the garage attached to the Cryptonomica.”

“I recall seeing that when I drove through. Quite the Jacks of all trades, you two,”

“Most of Kepler’s got more’n one job. It’s the kind of place that’s always losin fundin or people, just barely stayin afloat.”

“One sympathizes. Do you like your jobs?”

“Trained in forestry, so it’s always what I’ve wanted to do. The mechanic stuff,” Duck shrugs, “nice workin with my hands and beein able to help folks out. And I ain’t half bad at it.”

“I certainly appreciate your efforts. I--wait, hold on, I’m sorry but I need to…” he turns up the radio, playing what Duck assumed was Santa Baby from the melody.

“He is saying ‘buddy.’ What in the world? Why would you change it?”

“Can’t have the fella in the red velvet suit thinkin you’re gay.” Duck jokes. 

“Heaven forbid.” Indrid smiles, and Duck likes the expression so much he decides to see if he can get him to do it again.

“You wanna hear a slightly inappropriate joke?”

“Absolutely.”

“How come Santa don’t have any kids?”

“How come?”

“Because he only comes once a year and it’s down a chimney.”

There’s a beat and then Indrid guffaws, covering his face with his hands as his whole body shakes with amusement, “that was horrible, do you have any more?”

Thank god he’s got a wealth of bad jokes tucked in his brain. When he exhausts those he and Indrid trade brainteasers, stopping now and then to talk about their lives. The taller man asks Duck about his jobs, about the woods, and the town, and offers a few anecdotes in exchange. Duck senses they’re about they’re set in a time in his life that’s further away than Indrid would like. 

Indrid also readily shares the snacks from his small backpack. Duck eats what he can while still safely piloting the car. Then nearly takes them across the yellow line when Indrid unwraps a Starburst with his tongue, and prays the man will stay in Kepler long enough for Duck to take him to dinner.

-------------------------------------

Given he was expecting a painfully awkward trip at best, Duck’s friendliness is a welcome surprise. Now that they’ve been stuck in the car together for close to two hours, Indrid is confident saying this is most fun he’s had talking to someone in a long time, even before things went all to hell. 

It helps that Duck is the picture you’d get if you googled “Indrid Cold’s type”; sturdy, handsome in an unassuming way, undoubtedly pleasant to cuddle, with muscles that Indrid is positive could hold him up against a wall for at least a few minutes. In another life, one that’s so far away he fears he imagined it, he’d wait until they were done with the business portion of this evening, then slip Duck a card with his name in silver letters and his hotel room number on the back. The man is so genuine in his kindness too, Indrid feeling safer in the dark with him than he’s felt in years.

Which makes him feel even worse about what he’s going to do.

“Not too far now.” Duck turns the windshield wipers up a notch, “thank fuck for that.”

Indrid curls forward, holding his stomach, “I, ah, I really hate to say this, but I’m afraid my gas station lunch is coming back up.”

“Shit, okay, lemme pull over.” Duck guides the truck onto the side of the road, “do what you gotta do.”

His hands are on his lap, keys still dangling from the ignition. Indrid lunges over, grabbing them and trying to shove Duck into the door in one go. The mechanic is too fast, yanking the keys to his chest.

“What the fuck man!?”

“I’m so sorry about this!”

“Then fuckin stop!” Duck kicks, misses, and Indrid knees him in the stomach as gently as he can.

“I can’t, I need the truck.”

“Are you fuckin car-jackin me right now?”

“It’s not personal.” He gets the keys away, only for the world to flip ninety degrees as Duck tackles him backwards.

“It sure feels like it is!”

Indrid hoped that his survival instincts would kick in hard enough to make up for the exhaustion and that coupled with the element of surprise would bring him success. Instead, his limbs have no power behind them, and all he can do is curse when the driver flips him onto his stomach, trapping his hands behind his back and pinning him with his body weight. 

“Fuck.” It’s a pathetic noise for a pathetic man.

“Explain. Now.” Duck growls.

“I, I, you were right when asked if I was on the lamb.”

“....fuckin what?”

“It was a set up, and I finally, finally got free, and, and I will not go back, I can’t, but if I’m out a car I need a replacement and-”

“And you almost stole a truck that’s got a goddamn tracker in it.”

“Oh.” He presses his face to the seat in shame.

“Somethin tells me you ain’t a seasoned crook.”

“I’m not a criminal at all! I have no idea what I’m doing. I was just going to drive and drive until I hit the coast, I hadn’t even decided what to do after. I, I’m sorry, I waited until we got close to town so you wouldn’t be too far away to walk home safely. I, ah, I wasn’t prepared for having to do this to someone I like.”

Duck shifts above him, mutters, “what the fuck do I do now” to himself, and tightens his hold on Indrid’s wrists. 

Indrid whimpers, realizing with horror that his body responded to the mechanics of the fight but not it’s context.

Duck freezes at the noise, and when Indrid hazards a peek the mechanic is staring down in disbelief. 

“Are you fuckin hard from this?”

There’s no use in lying, he’s faced worse humiliation than this, “Some. Not on purpose. I, ah, I enjoy rough treatment.”

Duck’s face fills with bitter amusement, “And I like givin it. But not to fellas who nearly steal my truck. Fuckin figures the first guy to flirt with me is doin it for some other reason.”

“That’s not true, my plan involved no flirting.” Indrid huffs, “I was flirting because I think you’re handsome.”

More pressure on his back as Duck leans down to whisper in his ear, grinding against his ass, “Yeah? Were you hopin I’d fuck you in here? Or over the hood when we got back?”

“Maybe.” He manages a smirk.

“Hopin I’ll fuck you now?”

Indrid nods, but Duck doesn’t notice. The mechanic sits all the way back, releasing his hands, “too damn bad, because unlike you, I only take things with permission.”

“C-consider it granted.” 

The hand finds his back again, but instead of shoving or grabbing it strokes up and down, “Indrid, I’m serious. I ain’t doin anythin if the only reason you’re offerin is because you think I’ll hurt you if you don’t.”

“I’m not. I want this, Duck, I want to be with you.” He’s going back to jail one way or another after this, unwilling to consider the thought of hurting Duck to get the keys. He’d rather go back with one happy memory and a few minutes of fun freshly stored in his mind. 

There’s silence, Duck’s hand still as he thinks. Then it comes down hard on Indrid’s ass, “Okay sugar, happy to oblige you. Besides, seems to me you owe me an apology for that sorry excuse for a car theft.” 

Indrid moans loudly when Duck hauls onto his elbows and knees, though it’s the pet name that hits deeper than any of the much-welcome pain. The waistband of his dollar store sweatpants hits his thighs, there’s a pop of something plastic, and then a slick finger is teasing between his asscheeks. 

“Vaseline. Great for keepin your skin from cracking in the cold.”

The finger disappears and he whines, pushing his ass back and getting it slapped so hard he yelps. 

“Nice try. But this ain’t for you, it’s for me. Don’t got a condom and only got a tiny bit of this left and it ain’t enough to fuck you full on.”

“It’s alright, I like the pain, you could use spit or-”

“Nope” another slap, “that turns into the bad kinda pain real quick. Now open your fuckin legs.”

Indrid does so, gasps happily when Duck slides his lubed-up cock between his thighs. 

“Close ‘em and keep ‘em closed. Good, ohfuckyeah that’s good.” The thrusts are already fast, Ducks hands holding his hips in place, “fuck, tell you what sugar, you may be a shitty crook but you’re a damn good lay.”

“Yes.” Indrid moans, scrabbling for a hold on the upholstery.

“Shit, you do like it rough. Like it when I talk like that?” One hand comes down, petting Indrid’s head and brushing his hair away from where it’s stuck over his eyes. 

“So much, Duck, please, please, more, I want more AHgod!” Tears slip past his glasses as Duck hits the right side of his ass over and over again. He’s been treated like a criminal mastermind, made miserable because of it, so being nothing more than an eager piece of ass is a welcome change.

“Then I oughta tell you this is what you get for tryin to get one over on me. Think you can throw my ass out in the cold? Gonna turn yours so red you won’t be able to sit for a week.”

He’s so hard it isn’t even funny, and beneath the wonderful cycle of pain-relief-pain-relief his mind chants safesafesafesafe.

“Fuck, Indrid, I’m so fuckin lucky you tried that stunt on me, can’t wait to cum all over that cute little ass, ohyeah, fuck, fuckyeah.” He pulls out, cum spurting onto Indrid’s ass and legs and Indrid hears his own voice saying “thank you” as he does. 

As he’s contemplating what form of begging will earn him an orgasm, he’s flipped onto his back, one calloused hand pressing him down by the shoulder while the other jerks him off. He squeaks and squirms, one palm thwacking into the door as his right leg catches the steering wheel. 

“Sensitive, sugar?”

“Yes.”

“Shoulda thought of that before you bent over for me.”

“TechnicallyAH, you, you’re the one who bent me over.”

Duck jerks him extra hard in reply, grinning. The sight of him is just the right balance of menacing and protective that Indrid only needs two more bucks of his hips before he’s cumming. The mechanic works him through it, squeezing him roughly just to hear him whimper (Indrid’s certain of it).

He sits back and starts putting his clothes in order as Indrid lays there, panting from exertion and the weight of reality on his chest. 

“I don’t suppose you have something I can, ah, wipe off with before you take me to the station?” He asks softly.

“I’m not taking you to the police, Indrid.”

“What? Why?” He bolts up, his mind screaming that he shouldn’t ask too many questions lest it make Duck change his mind. 

“I’m not sure what kinda guy fucks someone and then hands them over to the cops, but I’m damn sure I don’t wanna be one.”

“You’d do that without even knowing the full truth?”

“Wouldn’t mind if you told me.” Duck starts the car, adds “seatbelt” as he pulls back onto the road. 

Indrid gets his pants up and buckles in, huddling in on himself, “As you probably guessed, my name isn’t Wilde. It’s Indrid Cold. Wilde was the man I stole that car from, who also had a very nice AAA plan it seems. I am, or was, an architect. Quite talented, if I do say so myself. And many other people said so, once upon a time. My firm got a contract with a certain large city to design and help build a bridge. I was head of design, and I was certain this would be the project that made my name. It did. Just not how I hoped.”

Duck slows down as they reach the edge of Kepler. 

“Have you ever heard of the Silverlake Bridge?”

“Ain’t that the one that collapsed a few years agooh, oh shit was that your bridge?”

“Yes. Halfway through the project, I became concerned that certain elements of the design would not be as stable as they needed to be and might collapse without warning. The higher ups said it would require a larger budget to do the new, far safer design, but gave me the go ahead to finish my proposal of the securer model. They accepted that design, and I thought that was the end of it. Turns out, they funneled the money needed for the better bridge into their own pockets, both my bosses and the representatives from the city. Unbeknownst to me, they built the weaker bridge. When it collapsed I” he takes a deep breath, the memories surfacing in a tidal wave, “I was shocked, and prepared to accept responsibility, as I could not understand how the design failed. It was only when the investigation revealed how it failed that I understood my warnings had been ignored and I was being set up as a fall guy. Not only for the collapse, but for the missing funds, my bosses swearing up one side and down the other that they’d given the money to me to manage. They’d had this planned for months, and so had built our communication in such a way that I had no proof the money hadn’t come to me. Thus I was blamed, tried, and convicted, and in the minds of many I am responsible for the death of 67 people.”

The engine shuts off and he looks up to see them in an auto garage. Duck is turned to him, face so sad and sympathetic that Indrid could almost believe..

“You think I’m telling the truth.”

“I know you are. Not sure how, but even though I ain’t much of a liar myself, I can usually tell when someone is bullshittin me.”

“I don’t want to go back to prison.” 

“You won’t.”

“Duck I, I can’t ask you to hide me, that could put you in danger of arrest.”

“There’s all of four cops in Kepler, and I’d bet my life no one here could pick you out of a line-up as a ‘disgraced architect Indrid Cold.’ And if we need a cover story, Ned’s got a knack for ‘em.”

“We?”

Duck cups his cheek and Indrid leans into it, “You and me. Indrid, I think fate is a load of bullshit, but I can’t shake the feelin me pickin you up tonight was meant to be. Lemme help you, please.”

Indrid sets his hand on Duck’s own, “Okay. Ah, where do I stay? I have fifty dollars left.”

“Could stay with me if you want. No strings attached.”

“Is that your way of letting me down gently?”

“My way of saying you don’t gotta fuck me to have a place to live. If you wanna fuck me just because, say the word and I’ll rail you into next week.”

“I’d like both those things so very much. Though right now all I want is to sleep.”

Duck leans forward, kissing him so chastely that the following lovebite is all the more thrilling.

“In that case, sugar, let’s get you home.”

#Indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #winter fills #mechanic au #on the run

[strangcrdoctor]

∞So here’s a headcanon that I’ve been meaning to put into words for a long while but have never taken the time to. But I’m going to put it under a cut because it has to do with the details of Stephen’s accident and the medical trauma he survived therein.

This is specifically based off of the 2016 film (which I also think did a spectacular job of justifying the crash, btw - road conditions, model of car, impact points and all), but I’ll toss in a few cents about how comic iterations in previous generations might be different just for shits ad giggles and because I love shit like this. 

First and foremost, especially working from the earliest DS comic canon, the cars were of the age and variety of “screaming metal death-trap.” Seatbelts weren’t required by law in the 1960s, and in fact many cars didn’t even come with them from the manufacturers because they weren’t considered a safety requirement. Granted they were made of hard body steel and could take impacts well by virtue of being fucking tanks, but the tire quality and torque ratios were... not made for the speeds they could suddenly get to, which did top out at 80-110 mph (in luxury models) with suspensions that were not clement for sustaining speed and road grip at the same time. It was statistically common that even non-reckless driving could result in horrible injuries under the wrong circumstances, therefore. Add in a 1960s inflated male ego, and frankly it’s amazing Stephen didn’t just die. Which is the entire plot point, I’ll grant. I also headcanon that in that era (and even regarding modern Stephen’s collector’s dream cars) Stephen would likely have been in a Rolls Royce Phantom or a Cadillac Coupe de Ville. He would definitely have his eye on a Jaguar E-Type (still does), but back in the 1960s maintaining one would have been more trouble than it was worth even by his standards and budget.

All that aside, let’s talk about the crash in the 2016 Doctor Strange movie. First and foremost, the overall accident itself is totally feasible for the model of car Stephen was driving. Lamborghini and other luxury super-car manufacturers have exceedingly specific impact testing, which is focused - unfortunately - more for track condition impacts than civilian driving conditions. In essence, super cars are built to handle rolling and lateral shear impacts to frankly insane degrees. They are not, however, well built for head-on collisions by nature of the priority of aerodynamics in the design. This feeds into why the Lamborghini in particular was undoubtedly an active choice on behalf of the producers. What’s notable about the crash is that in spite of the glance off of the side of the other car, the Lamborghini stays relatively solidly on the road surface which is design accurate. (There’s actually an entire other tangent I could get off on about this, but I will refrain.) Where things go haywire, however, is where that glancing blow hit on the vehicle. Now with many super-car companies, they mount the engine in the “trunk” of the vehicle, which improves traction and opens up space for the frankly insanely large engine blocks that, oh, I don’t know, V12s require. This pushes the cabin toward the front of the vehicle, and leaves the “trunk” space on the front end where most standard cars keep the engine. This makes the front light, but because of air intake and drag it maintains traction via the aerodynamics of the front grille. The back also has improved traction from the weight of the engine sitting over the rear axel, which is a big additive benefit because most sports cars are rear-wheel drive, and in front-engine vehicles this makes the back axel lighter and prone to fish-tailing on tight corners. Not so with Stephen’s Lamborghini. In essence, the weight of the vehicle sits on the axel that bears the drivetrain.

That rear traction is precisely what makes everything go wrong for this particular crash. Because the weight of the vehicle and the wheel drive are all centered in the back, having that portion of the vehicle get bumped is like flicking a coin to get it spinning. The front end of the vehicle, which is substantially lighter and only has the steering column and brakes to counter the inertia of that rear engine, is abjectly disadvantaged for regaining control of the vehicle. Even the most experienced racer doesn’t have the reaction time to regain control on a two-lane mountain highway, in the rain, at night, from an accident that realistically takes less than 10 seconds from impact to exit through the guard rail. In essence, there was zero chance of Stephen being able to recover as soon as the front end of the vehicle impacted the rock wall and put the car’s trajectory onto “death frisbee” instead of “manageable swerve.” 

This is also the second instance where the super-car design seals Stephen’s fate. So because Lamborghinis have an empty front end - again the “trunk” is where the engine is on most other cars, so essentially empty, un-structured, un-reinforced space - head on collisions absolutely crush the front ends. This also explains and in fact makes viable why Stephen’s hands go through the dash in the compound impacts: the front end is getting folded in like a tin can.

Now we get to the dark and scary medical part of the accident. Obviously the accident was catastrophically bad considering the car careened off of a steep mountain slope and impacted all the way down until it reached the river at the bottom of the ravine. But as we saw from the post-accident scenes, Stephen’s injuries weren’t isolated to his hands only. As was made clear from the state of his face, he definitely had cranial trauma - to the point that it seems very lucky he didn’t lose his left eye - which involved contusions at least to the orbit of his left eye and very probably a concussion, and it seems all but impossible that he didn’t also have thoracic and potentially leg trauma as well. Thoracic either from directly impacting the steering column (which I find very likely), or impacting the door (feasible, and does feed into why I think his left hand is worse off than his right, given from the production stills his left hand has eight - five pins and three plates - of the eleven in his hands). He definitely would have had broken ribs and internal bruising or bleeding from those impacts. The leg injuries are also probable for drivers especially because of impact against the dash and steering column.

Now we start getting to the painful part. Yes, just now. So as Christine mentions after Stephen regains consciousness (probably not for the first time but probably the first time cogently), the “Golden Hours” passed while he was in the car waiting for the mercy flight crew to find him. Now, the Golden Hours is actually the Golden Hour - it’s the span of 60 minutes immediately following intense trauma and injury. So not only was Stephen upside down, in and out of consciousness, alone, half-submerged in a river, in a car that could blow at any moment, for more than an hour, it surpassed the hour that was most vital to his potential for nerve recovery. It’s also frankly astounding that Stephen didn’t die from shock, hypovolemia, or hypothermia during the hours it took for them to find him. I will also just mention in passing that jaws of life situations are touchy enough as is with cars, but with someone as injured as Stephen was, in the exceedingly precarious position his car was in, the emergency responders would have had a hard fucking time getting him out alive at all.

But wait, there’s more! So after all of this, he has to get flown back to New York where the actual work of saving his ass begins. And again, I will emphasize that it’s unavoidable that Stephen - who was canonically on the table for ELEVEN HOURS - was not only in surgery for his hands. As a matter of fact, medically his hands would have been the lesser of many priorities. They would have spent some preliminary time trying to make sure his circulation was intact, but to be frank, amputation is a safer, viable option for hands, and they would have openly made that choice on his behalf and prioritized any cranial or thoracic injury. Hell, even prioritize saving his eye, because the trauma of eye removal/optic nerve disruption has a greater chance for fatality than amputation. So Stephen’s hands didn’t just lose the Golden Hour, but would not have gotten operated on for up to three to five additional hours, and that’s under-estimating the complexity his other, higher priority traumas.

Put it all together and what do you get? A man that, by rights, shouldn’t be alive at all. And who, rather than valuing the life that he got to still have, held it against himself that he could no longer inhabit the life he’d had. 

Secondarily, in light of all of the above and the seven consecutive surgeries that Stephen put himself through, you can absolutely bet your lunch money that this man developed an addiction to pain medication. It takes the body up to six months to filter out anesthetic, and given Stephen surely pushed his surgery scheduling to be more quick than advisable for recovery, his endocrine system would have been in free fall. To say nothing of the fact that the only way to deal with that much invasive surgery isn’t just eating healthy and hydrating...

Also please never forget that Stephen’s intern, Billy, was on the phone with him when the crash happened. So Billy was absolutely the one that made the call, and was undoubtedly sitting there, watching the clock as the Golden Hour slipped by and Stephen’s chances of survival dwindled by the second.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.∞

#''CV #:') #medical trauma tw #substance abuse tw

[violetsystems]

#personal

As promised, I am projecting less frustration this morning.  I think maybe just because the rhythm of things in my life.  I read that ritual during the pandemic has been a reliable coping mechanism for many.  I have very small rituals.  I get a bowl of Yukejang from down the street on Sundays.  Same order.  Same price.  I tap it into a spreadsheet somewhere in the cloud and plan around it.  All the way back in September, I chiseled out a budget for myself to figure out how to weather out this situation.  The situation as it is continues to morph and shift towards the edges of chaos.  This is why I try to keep things normal through planning and maybe a little ritual.  I’ve been writing the same three paragraphs here for too many years for me to count.  There are actually people out there who get what I’m saying.  Sometimes people just like to read them.  Other people just like to skim them.  But these rituals kind of keep the element of control over your life in focus.  Some rituals can go a little overboard.  And sometimes some pandemics can go longer than a year.  I try to plan for the future all the same without having much to go on.  I know that a vaccine needs to happen first.  At this point I won’t see that until earliest June.  I’ve been seeing jobs in my salary range but nothing I want to spend the rest of my life doing.  I’ve made enough money by myself this year to worry about paying taxes.  But it isn’t something I really feel is sustainable.  And this is where thoughts start to spiral out of control.  Which is what brings me back to rituals.  I make it through week to week in probably one of the most bullshit situations by looking forward to things.  Broadcasting on Fridays is fun even if nobody watches it live.  I’ve learned that creating content for output is more important than worrying about the results.  For all the intelligent words I write, a lot of the things that come out of my actual mouth on the fly are incredibly stupid and funny to me.  I like that that brings me down to earth somehow.  Because most of the time I’m wondering if I’m even visible to the naked eye.  You can fade away into your own self doubt even if you seem the most confident and together person.  This can happen because the world ceaselessly throws shade.  People don’t want you to succeed because it complicates things.  Doesn’t fit into whatever plan or main questline you haven’t been briefed on.  These days I’ve grown less sensitive to suggestion.  I follow my own path and rules no matter what feelings it evokes.  And yes I feel a sense of dread more often than not.  I feel actual mental pain quite often.  And that pain doesn’t come from inside of me or the result of things I do other than work out or ride my bike.  The pain is the pressure from society to put it all on you.  People out there are just as confused, lost and fearful.  To have some sort of closure or something to blame lifts that temporarily.  It’s not always true.  Paranoia and isolation does that to people.  Even to me.  So I like to focus on the sacred parts of my life that I’ve kept to myself.  And ritual keeps me in a predictable mood.  That you keep going on week to week because you’ve created space that you and you alone value.  

Sometimes other people value it too.  And that gets tricky to manage.  It isn’t really in my best interest to be at odds with society all the time.  I am a loner mostly because I grew up an only child.  But I’ve become a lot less sensitive as a result of whatever crucible of destiny I’ve been forged in.  I think sometimes when you walk the path of ritual, it’s easy to stay in your lane.  For me, for all these years I’ve been doing pretty much the same exact thing in real life often.  Mostly to not cause anyone cognitive dissonance enough to fuck with me.  Society is a nightmare anywhere you are it seems.  Chicago can be batshit insane.  It makes me project that like a mirror sometimes when I’m exhausted.  And the things that keep me going aren’t always there front and center to hold my hand.  I’m tough enough at this point to take it.  But it’s a lot of disappointment to live with.  The ritual of having a salaried job working with people who seemed pretty much like they were your friends was disrupted by all this a year ago.  I got ghosted.  I never really understood why.  Over the months, I blamed myself over and over again.  And then I started to realize people were hopelessly locked within themselves.  They couldn’t communicate anything meaningful so they just decided to let it go entirely.  Or I did.  Communication to me over the years is funny.  Sometimes people say the most to me without saying any words.  If you walk away from a job after twenty years and everyone you work with pretends you never existed that’s a message.  The opposite is true.  If you wake up every morning to cryptic interactions on your phone that probably means something too.  If you write three paragraphs every week for three years on the internet to nobody in particular, it’s true somebody will read it.  Maybe somebody will even have the reading comprehension to enjoy it.  The ritual of it is pretty sacred to me.  I think people know me well enough to realize I err on the side of authenticity.  I don’t like to betray the things that keep me going.  I know how it feels to be betrayed.  It sounds so cold saying that.  But I’m sure we all know it to a certain degree.  Some people get so abandoned that they have no choice but to move forward.  And how you keep yourself moving at a regular pace in these times is anybody’s guess.  Sanctuary is something more than ritual.  It’s a space where you feel safe enough to protect the things that keep you alive.  A safe spot to pursue your life, liberty and happiness despite the world’s encroaching bullshit around you.  After years of pacing the streets here people have varying opinions of me and my rituals.  It’s not the most ideal situation by far.  But if anyone knows anything about maintaining sanctuary in one of the world’s most in your face cities, it is me.  I’ve been to New York enough to know.  Chicago is some sort of nightmare zone mix of both coasts.  It’s also still fairly affordable to live.  It’s also fairly free enough to go about your business with more than a few stares.  People are bored, hungry, and anxious.  People are looking for rituals and ideas for their own.  And sometimes people cross the line of sanctuary and the holy ground gets smaller.  I can’t even take out my trash without a dirty look sometimes.  And I have to manage it just the same.  When I shut the door and mutter to myself about politics and the government or whatever, nobody comes knocking.  Or I’m over it quick enough so nobody does.  Kind of like here.  The good news is spring is here.  I can open up the windows and listen to music alone.  I can continue to work on my search for meaningful employment wherever that may take me.  I honestly think after all this time someone has better ideas on where I belong.  

That somebody has most always had to be me.  I had to take the initiative in this entire situation.  And it’s become something else entirely.  I build rituals around that.  Some outdated rituals I retire.  Kind of like how I was.  I used to travel to New York every couple of months before this all went to shit.  I think I may go back this summer for a few days.  I don’t really have a solid answer for the future in my head.  I’ve had more time to enjoy things.  I spend way more time learning how to block in Tekken and it actually becomes a whole new game.  I could be harassing people in public and on the internet but I’d rather just keep to myself.  I am lonely just like anyone would be in this situation.  But people communicate with me just the same.  And it’s on me to value it enough to interpret whether it’s worth my time.  I keep hearing the president proclaim that July will mark our independence from the virus.  It’s ironic.  I was let go two days before the fourth last year.  Still nursing those wounds as you would expect.  Simply because there’s no closure.  No acknowledgement of anything.  And this is what I’ve had to read into.  I’m on my own in this.  And then again I’m not.  I’ve led myself through an absolute shit show daily.  And I’ve maintained sanctuary enough to keep doing it.  The rituals and sacred things I hold dear are protected by the reputations I uphold.  The moral capital I reserve is the real hard work.  Because often I would like nothing other than to go apeshit in the face of all this misunderstanding and hallucinatory bullshit.  It’s like being a celebrity and a pariah at the same time.  Banging your head against the wall trying to read into everybody’s sudden interest in whatever it is you represent in real time.  I don’t really know what people want from me at all.  And in some ways it doesn’t matter here in America.  This is what I’ve come to realize in some respects about freedom.  It’s complex, messy and not easily managed efficiently.  And yet no other country in the world has this many layers to navigate.  If you hold your ground long enough, nobody dares cross the line.  I mean nobody.  For as funny, sardonic and self deprecating as I can be, people are still ultimately scared shitless of me.  I’ve grown to understand that and work on that as best I can in a bullshit situation.  And through that I’ve found that staying true to the things you love and care about require meditation.  Self awareness and self care are the only weapons to guide you through a process that is meant to break your individual will.  I could blame capitalism.  I could blame the government.  I could unite and tear down the very fabric of society that has kept me invisible and be forgotten all over again.  And then I realize both sides are to blame mostly because nobody is really talking to anyone.  Entire political parties acting like they meet you eye to eye on the street when everyone has their head slung down low at every moment of the day.  And I’m not exactly interested in inviting more people into my life to violate my already questionable boundaries of privacy.  Rituals give us the focus to concentrate on the things that really matter to us.  Maybe they help us define what is sacred to us.  If people respect that the sanctuary grows.  If people challenge, question or hijack the narrative, you write them out of the story.  It’s definitely easier to control the pen when nobody is on your back to tell you how to write your dreams.  I wholeheartedly want that for everybody.  A real sanctuary for people to be themselves.  It’s not easy to manage.  But where ever I end up I know want thing is true.  I will always keep things sacred when it comes to you. <3 Tim

[mismerccray]

Took Your Time

OMG, ITS MY FIRST STORY!!!!! Feel free to leave comments and opinions. My request line is open, enjoy the story!!!

Bruce Wayne x FemBlack!Reader

Sometimes, life is good. I mean, it isn’t great, but sometimes it's pretty good.

 Growing up in The Narrows and generally trying to survive in Gotham as a black woman? That’s hard. No college degree and a working class family that moved back to the south? That’s hard. Now let’s add being discriminated against by employers, just because you aren’t a size 6, in anything and refuse to perm your hair. That brings the difficulty up to damn near impossible. Let’s not even get started on the sexual harassment and misconduct for the few employers who thought I’d agree to sexual favors in exchange for employment.

I had a brief run of luck about three years ago. I started working at the main office for a charity that worked closely with the rich upper crust of Gotham, but they were cool with my usual braids or twist out hairstyle and paid $20 an hour with benefits and pension plan, so I will suffer in silence with a smile. The rich assholes that keep all the minorities under their thumbs and on their toes by voting in lawmakers that side with them and their money. That was our main clientele: Bigots who wanted to make it seem like they actually cared with charity galas.  As difficult as it is to bite my tongue when these jack asses say terrible things, there was always someone there to make my day.

Bruce Wayne. 

He was one of the few regulars to this office and one of the few that actually acknowledged that I don’t work for him. Didn’t hurt that the man had a brilliant mind and was a pleasure to look at. The first time he came in and we had a conversation that wasn’t about politics or business, he accidentally bumped into me as I was taking paperwork to my supervisor. Did I mention his lukewarm coffee got all in my hair and all over my only good button up shirt? No one had ever apologized to me so much in my life. This man convinced my supervisor to let me take an early, extended and PAID lunch just to put myself back together.

“Crap, I don’t have another shirt to change into. Maybe I can change into one of my old church dresses after I shower and do my hair again...” I start muttering out loud, trying to figure out how I can keep working while dealing with the sexist ass dress code. I never even notice Bruce smile at me, somewhat sheepishly until he spoke again. “I really am sorry about your shirt, crap, and your hair. I could give you a lift to get a change of clothes if you want?” he said with all sincerity. You smiled politely at him and waved him off. “It’s fine. I’ll just wash it in the bathroom and hope it doesn’t set a stain. But I probably will have to go and wash my hair though.”

Bruce looked guilty, but still very much composed, as one would think of a businessman. Honestly his name and wealth didn’t sway me one way or another, but when he offered to have my shirt professionally dry cleaned, gave me his spare crisp white button up shirt and came back the next day with four large boxes, I started seeing the measure of this man.

He walked in as if he had an appointment and came straight to my desk, two young men I recognized as his son’s Tim and Dick, following closely with the boxes. “Hello y/n. I wanted to apologize for yesterday again. Normally I’m not that careless, but I suppose that’s what happens when you rush” he says with a soothing tone, as if he expected me to be angry at him? Odd. “It’s really alright. I need to be thanking you for the shirt and having my shirt cleaned. Speaking of which, I want to pay you back for that, it must have been expensive to get that stain out”. 

He looked at me confused one moment and like he was staring at the sun the next. A small smile crept onto his face and he leaned on the counter. “It was nothing, but if you insist on repaying me, accept this small gift and maybe get coffee with me after you get off?”, his son’s set the boxes on the desk and pat their father on the back before making an exit. I idly notice that one of them really does have a fantastic ass, kinda like Beyonce or J-Lo. 

I shook off the thought and open the first of the four boxes and gasp at the contents. Clothes. This man bought me clothes. Expensive clothes. Ashley Stewart, Lane Bryant, and international plus sized brands that only make clothing that costs more than Gotham Electric bills. This man bought me boxes and boxes of clothing. I open and close boxes and find even more clothes. The final box is what brought me to tears. It was full of the most expensive natural hair care products known to the world. Products I could only dream of owning and using....But this almost felt like too much.

I wiped my eyes and before I could say anything, he’s taken my hand. “Please accept these. I overheard you saying that was your only work shirt. I figured the least I could do is give you more choices. And I don’t know much about hair care, but I did research and saw these were the best of the best. I really love your hair. Too many businesses here force women to change their hair, but you’ve embraced it and it is a marvel to behold. Even if you don’t want the coffee, I want you to take these as gifts”. Then this man has the audacity to give me the most gorgeous megawatt smile I’d ever seen. That was the moment he had me. 

(Later on, he’d tell me how I got him with my smile the moment he saw me and my twist out that looked like a floating chocolate cloud, “Gravity defying curls” as he calls them)

Things were going great. I was dating Bruce, we would go out on the town every few nights, He even came over and had movie night with me (That ended with us making out before we were an hour into the movie...) and bought us chinese food from my favorite take out joint. I was making enough money that I bought a good studio apartment in the city by the office and could still afford my bills. Life was good. 

Until the fucking Joker came along.

In one night, my life was ruined. Joker took me hostage (Why me, I’ll never know), blew up the entire block that the charity building was on, which included by apartment and all of my information. Thankfully Bruce was late picking me up, so he wasn’t caught up in this, but I kinda wish he was. Heck most of Gotham had heard the rumor that Bruce Wayne was Batman, but no one really believed it. Either way I knew that Batman would be coming soon, but damn if he wasn’t taking his time! Joker was breathing his stank breath in my face while he tied me up. If it weren’t for my years of customer service, I would’ve made a stank face that matched his breath. Thankfully he got out of my face and left the room to wait for the bat, leaving me to panic in an attempt to free myself.

As I’m trying to calm myself down and undo the ropes, thinking about how I could’ve just stayed in North Carolina and I wouldn’t be in this mess, I catch some movement out of the corner of my eyes. A swath of black enters the room without a sound. Batman is here. I look him in what I assume his eyes and glare, holding my now freed hands up.

“Took your time didn’t you?”

I saw the ghost of a smile grace his face before he hefted me over his shoulder and passed me to someone. I saw an ass like J-Lo and knew it was Nightwing. I was almost too shocked to be outraged at being handled lack a potato sack.

“Nightwing, take her out of here, I’ll deal with Joker.”

It wasn’t until Nightwing turned about that the voice and the jawline matched to me.

Holy shit. Bruce Wayne really is Batman. 

I mean, everyone knew Dick was Nightwing, you can’t say those asses are different.

But Bruce is BATMAN! 

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

I feel a tap on my shoulder that brings me out of my nostalgia. I open my eyes and look up, only to see the man of my dreams. Bruce smiles softly down at me and sits on the edge of the tub, two glasses of champagne in hand.

“Mind a little company, Beloved?”

I grin up at him and gesture for him to join me scooting up to make room. He sets the glasses down on the edge of the tub, disrobes and gets behind me. I lean back and lay my head on his shoulder as he lovingly strokes my warm caramel skin that makes my heart sing. Well that and the memory of him helping with wash day the night before.

Bruce kissed my shoulder and then my cheek.

“What have you been thinking about?”

“The day I realized you were Batman and that you have no issues about picking my ass up.”

Looking over at him, I see a sensual grin form across his lips. 

“Oh, I’ll show you a bit more of that after this bath.”

Mmmmn, I’m in for it tonight.

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne fluff #bruce wayne #black!reader #batman #batfamily #Bruce Wayne x Black!Reader

[dimples-of-discontent]

Don’t you think Jensen always denying that dean is bi is because it hits close to him? Like Dean’s behaviour around men and Jensen’s around Misha is kinda similar so?

Hello Nonnie,

Whew, oh boy! Ok, I got this ask in a few different forms so hopefully one answer can serve for them. 

The first thing I’m going to do is remind everyone that Jensen has never commented publicly on his sexuality at all and that, therefore, it’s none of our business. It never is, actually, unless someone brings it up themselves and indicates that they wish to discuss it. That’s just a rule for life. Private is private, even if you’re an actor. The second thing I’m going to do is assume that you know what kind of blog this is and that I backstroke through the garbage fire pretty regularly including speculating about Jensen and Misha. So, yes, I am guilty of engaging in this type of posting. 

But there’s rules! The main rule being that these things we say for our entertainment (curiosity, whatever) in fandom spaces are never in a billion years to be brought into the actors lives in any way. Do not ask them about it. Do not show them posts or fic about it. Do not tag them in Twitter posts about it, even if those are adorable posts collecting all the Cockles cheek kisses or whatever. Fandom spaces are ours; they’re imagined communities and we behave differently in them than we would in the real world. 

Plus–again this should be obvious–we’re just posting shit we infer from a very limited viewpoint. Jensen and Misha give us a lot to work with (hoobooy they do!) but we’re seeing them in the public eye, at cons mostly or on livestreams. We have no freaking clue what they are like alone…and that’s how it should be.

And now that I have attached that upfront (I know I do this all the time and that if you read a bunch of my posts you may be getting sick of it…apologies, but RPS is very tricky and I feel like I need to foreground some of the boundaries for newcomers) let me put a cut below which you will find my thoughts on this.

It’s no secret that Jensen has a very high degree of character bleed with Dean–he straight-up admits that. I wrote a long post that’s been going around about how Jensen views Dean very experientially, knowing what Dean knows and doing what he thinks Dean would do, and about how that makes it tough for him to distinguish what he thinks of Dean from what DEAN thinks of Dean. Dean is a part of Jensen, as he has said.

What’s slightly less obvious, though intuitive, is that Jensen is a part of Dean. The vulnerability that Dean has had from the beginning is, to my mind, all Jensen. A lesser actor, or a lesser sweetheart, in that role would have made Dean pretty unsympathetic with his sarcasm and his machismo and his dumb, smirking face. To me, this is the same thing that happened with James Marsters on “Buffy.” He was supposed to be a straight-up villain, in just a couple episodes, but audiences went nuts for him. He got more episodes but Whedon still wanted to keep him a villain…except that James couldn’t keep that vulnerability and uncertainty and humanity out of the character. So instead we got a love story and a big, ol’ redemption arc. (I realize that it also sounds like I’m describing what happened with Misha and, in a sense, I am.)

Now, Jensen is a better actor than James Marsters (even though I think James is an amazing actor…and I love that he dropped out of Juilliard), but I’m willing to bet that what James did with humanizing Spike was more deliberate than what Jensen did with Dean. I think Jensen feels things intuitively about Dean and that he just goes for it without additional self-reflection. That’s why when he’s called out on something that he hasn’t deliberately chosen to do–like many of the bi!Dean or Destiel moments–he’s confused and slightly defensive. He makes some deliberate choices, obviously, but especially at this point he’s going on mostly instinct and doesn’t HAVE to examine those choices.

That is, unless we ask him to. I think often his encounters with questions about playing Dean a certain way (bisexual, in love with Cas) DO ask him to reflect on himself and ask himself why he made particular choices. And that’s not easy to do, especially onstage and in front of a crowd!! It’s like we’re always going, “Ok, Jensen, so clearly your instinct is to [insert non-hetero thing here]…why IS that?”; no wonder he will freeze-panic and sometimes say something thoughtless and/or rude! (Personally, I would like us to stop asking, largely for this reason.)

So, I suppose my answer to your question is “yes, exactly.” I think Jensen is an intelligent, meticulous, and thoughtful actor. I also think, subconsciously, he channels a ton of himself into Dean and that his being defensive of certain aspects of Dean (e.g. his sexuality) is indeed also his being defensive about those aspects of himself. Look at how much more easily the other cast members are able to analyze their characters, including comments about their sexuality. Just this weekend (at Jaxcon) Rich pretty much confirmed that he sees Gabriel as non-straight (pansexual?). Jared has said that he sees Sam as straight but that it’s ok by him if other people don’t. Ditto Misha about Cas (though he usually gets asked about his being Ace). And, yes, that is Jensen’s party line on the Dean question too. “You have your version and I have mine.” But his reactions to it are, to me, notably different from the rest of the cast.

I haven’t mentioned Misha yet but, well, if there’s any time we see Jensen acting non-straight it’s around Misha (in character or not). I’m not fully on the train for “Destiel is Cockles’s fault” because “Destiel” is a complex phenomenon 10 years in the making. But I’m not ever going to deny that their chemistry was a huge part of it taking root and growing. And it’s impossible–absolutely fucking impossible–not to notice the overlap between the trajectories. The first time Jensen met Misha was the first time Dean met Cas; they were both freaked out by this kind of alien being as much because he inspired “weird” feelings in them as because he was so “weird.” Jensen had Misha’s handprint applied in makeup before he met him just like Dean was branded by Cas. They had kind of an enemies-to-friends-to-lovers thing. They experienced some kind of betrayal and breakup and then a tentative reunion. They’re basically married now. 

So, yeah, when Jensen is asked about Dean’s sexuality I do think he experiences it as a question about his own sexuality. And when he’s asked about Cas I do think he experiences it as a question about Misha. And, as others have said, either he’s been subtly playing Dean’s attraction to guys (including Cas) the whole time or he’s kind of lost control of himself and enabled his own attraction to men, and particularly Misha, to creep in unintentionally. (Note that I don’t think that makes him a “bad actor”; like I said, I think he acts Dean very intuitively at this point so his decisions may be unexamined but are not “bad” choices.) 

This is already long, so I’m not going to comment here on what I think of Jensen’s sexuality. Well, actually, you’ve stayed with me so long that I feel I owe it to you. The short version… I do think that Jensen isn’t straight. I think he’s a guy who thinks of himself as straight even though he sometimes hooks up with dudes. The fact that that is inherently not straight doesn’t bother him. He doesn’t think it’s a big deal (though he used to, and that panic can still get activated). He doesn’t care about the labels and he finds the idea of seeing himself in the LGBTQA acronym ridiculous. 

He and Misha may argue about this. It is, after all, a form of enormous privilege as an incredibly attractive, cis-het, white dude to just choose not to join a marginalized group. I do think that’s one reason he and especially Danneel support a lot of LGBTQA causes. (I don’t think she and Misha are straight either and I think they probably don’t self-identify that way.)

Maybe in another post I’ll go more fully into the long version of sexuality speculation. It’s such a delicate thing to do and I want to do it as respectfully as possible and I just don’t have the energy at the moment. I have written about this before, though, if you’re looking for more; I have a tag for “jensen is not straight” and (I think) “jensen is bi” although I dropped that b/c it was too definitive. There’s also one for “sexuality speculation” and “misha is not straight” and “misha is bi” (same reason for the tag change…too definitive.) 

Remember the rules, though, and keep everything respectful and confined to our own lanes.

#asks #dean is bi #character bleed #actor bleed #cockles #destiel and cockles #cockles and destiel #jensen feels #dean feels #jensen meta #jensen is not straight #sexuality speculation #sexuality speculation for ts #long post for ts #how to rps #ethics of rps #team dumpster mansion #life in the trash can #my cockles meta #cockles meta #rps for ts

[bigskydreaming]

Hey, so ppl who have followed me awhile, you know how occasionally I toss out random concepts as like, just general prompts because they were a thing that happened in my brain and I thought they were a cool idea but have no time/plans to write them ever so I’m always like....dude, run with it if it sparks something for you?

So due to my physiological incompatibility with Being Subtle Ever and my many many rants on how much it annoys me when people who openly state they’re not a survivor themselves then go on to share writing that clearly views Law & Order SVU as viable Research Material like....its not exactly a shocker that I’m a big believer in the idea that there are just some stories that some people aren’t meant to write. Like full stay in your lane premises, stories where it doesn’t matter how thoroughly or sincerely you research experiences outside your own - its just not your story to write.

And occasionally I also definitely come up with novel ideas that fall in this category. Some even make it all the way to extensively plotted/worldbuilt stages of outlining before I clue in that the basic premise is just unworkable for ME, due to my specific axes of identity....like sometimes I just really love an idea and so try and workshop it and come at it from a different angle that is more approachable for me....but ultimately, there have been a number of times when I’ve just had to put aside even a really in depth world or idea because it was just too innately connected in my head to various lived experiences or cultural identities that I don’t feel comfortable writing towards.

Like for example, years ago I plotted out this one YA novel idea that’s like....historical sci-fi, ‘alienpunk’ - like the basic idea was what if a First Contact scenario with aliens coming to Earth happened, but in the 19th century, like late 1800s. Steampunk style aesthetics, but instead of it being ahead-of-its-time steam powered technology, it was the anachronistic results of combining advanced alien technology with early or mid-Industrial Age science.

The thing was, despite trying out various different eras or locations, the story that kept coming out in outline was pretty firmly centered in America in the late 1800s, and like, it would be a huge glaring omission for ME to write that story and not have any black characters or acknowledge the social aspects of it being set during a post-Civil War era, and like...that’s not really For Me to write IMO.....and so as much as I loved the general idea, I felt pretty strongly that as it was, it just wasn’t a story I needed to write, when I have plenty more that are much more based out of my own lanes.

And to be clear, the story isn’t ABOUT slavery, that was never the issue, its not thematically built around related concepts, nothing like that. Its a sci-fi ‘aliens came to Earth and shit inevitably happened both because Aliens and also because People’ adventure....that is also historical fiction, with the era in question being post-Civil War America. Its just a story SET during that time, because that was the way it unfolded for me and I couldn’t get it to click creatively any other way. But still, its just disingenuous to pretend that any story set during that era doesn’t have a ton of room for expansion or commentary or bringing in more themes - with me just not being the right author to do that. Not my place, it just is what it is, and I’m wholly fine with that.

Anyway, my point with all this is I have a pretty sizable number of basic premises and even full outlines along those ‘nope, this isn’t actually for me after all’ lines that I’ve set aside over the years because like....my brain literally never shuts off and I write a fucking lot lot lot. And I do think a lot of them are pretty good ideas that someone could make some really fun stories out of, because I’m biased and occasionally do manage to love myself, like yeah, I do write good shit if I say so myself. But given that I’m not that person to write those particular stories, like I’d love to offer them up to other writers who might be interested in doing something with them.

And again just to be total clear - I am very much an ‘any time I say do whatever the fuck you want with this, I really mean it’ kinda guy. These would come with zero strings or expectations. If you like one of these ideas and want the outline or notes I made for it, its yours to do whatever the fuck you want with. Stick to the outline, don’t stick to it, just run with the basic premise, use the notes as a springboard to launch your own creativity into entirely new directions that didn’t even occur to me - sky’s the limit, have at it, I wouldn’t ask for or expect any compensation or official credit or royalties or whatever the fuck, not the point of this. Literally my only request would be like, hey, if you finish something off of one of these and do something with it, maybe gimme a shout out in the acknowledgments section and drop me a copy when you’re done because literally every story idea I’ve ever had, I’ve had it because at the end of the day its a story I want to read so....I’d definitely want to read whatever you come up with lol, but its YOUR story at that point. No hidden strings or whatever, you can cite this post as your official proof of that if needed I guess? Idk, its all pretty bullshit to me. God, I’m a publisher’s worst nightmare.

But I mean, the entire reason I didn’t ever write any of these specific stories and don’t think I ever will is because I quite literally don’t think I’m the right person to write them which means I quite literally believe there’s a metric fuck ton of people who could write them better than me and do things with them I never could and would never even occur to me, so like...lmfao, please don’t worry that I’m gonna be sitting here ever thinking like ugh how dare they not stick to my outline and notes and think they knew how to write this idea better than me. Like, you can. I want you to. That’s the whole point.

So yeah, basically the endpoint of all this rambling is if any writers out there would be interested in this kinda thing, drop me a reply or a reblog or even just an ask with what you think is a good way to handle that. 

Like, I was thinking just whenever I’m thinking about one of them I’d maybe make a post (maybe tagged with a specific tag I use as a catch-all for any one of these ‘up for grabs’ outlines) about the general idea or a couple of the characters I came up with and a list of the kind of materials I wrote out for that story and their extent, like does that one have a full outline, is it more just worldbuilding and character notes, etc. And if someone’s interested or is like “oh I read this and it totally gave me all these ideas for what to do with a story like that” or whatever, just hit me up and first come first serve, the full file is yours. 

But like, that’s just my ‘puts the lazy in laissez-faire,’ pulled it out of my ass two seconds ago idea for how to approach this, so if anyone has a better or more coherent idea, or even just a thought for what to tag this kinda thing, I’m all ears.

(Just final additional disclaimers: I’m super duper aggressively not interested in being like ‘mmmm, lemme judge your writing first and pick whomever I think is the Most Qualified To Write Mine Idea Properly’ like eww, gross, and similarly I have no desire to ask for identity credentials.  Like if you’re a white writer and you read all of this and hit me up about a story I say I decided not to write because its heavily influenced by Mesoamerican cultures to a degree that I was like, I personally don’t feel anyone but a Latinx writer needs to be profiting off this story - I mean, you could definitely be like ‘oh I’m Latinx’ y’know, like a liar, and I’d be like okay sure, and if it ends up published later and I’m like hey I recognize that story and hey that author is as white as me, like.....you could do that I guess, and that’s a thing that could happen and like....that’s between you and your own choices and reasoning at that point and if you’re comfortable with that I mean, you do you, just be aware I probably think you’re an asshole then. C’est la vie. The world will keep turning.)

[hirazuki]

I’m going to try and summarize what bothers me about VLD from as objective a standpoint as possible. A lot of people, including myself, have already made posts pointing out specific issues, especially with regards to the messages it sends to abuse victims, so I’m not going to touch on that or any type of emotional issues here at all. I’m going to skip specifics except where needed as examples, and just talk about the nature of story telling itself. As someone who not only has used fiction for escapism, but who has studied story telling both in terms of literary analysis of novels and of religious texts, it’s a subject that I feel very strongly about.

Warning: long ass post.

Okay, a couple of disclaimers first.

One, I am a firm believer in the “don’t like, don’t read” mentality. If I don’t like something, I don’t talk about it, I just move on. Y’all have never seen a single discourse post about The Dragon Prince, right? Yup, that’s ‘cause I really didn’t like it. It goes for countless other things too. I don’t expend time and effort and energy on things I don’t like, that’s just wasteful. So, why am I harping on VLD? Because I really enjoyed it, despite a couple of what I felt were minor issues at the time, for most of its run. That’s why I -- and I imagine the same goes for many other fans -- am so bitter.

Two, I came late into the Voltron universe. I joined in a couple of days before s6 dropped, and only watched DotU as well as the other Western versions in the past couple of months. Haven’t had a chance to see the original Japanese anime yet.

Three, I’m not a shipper, in general. I don’t ship anything in VLD except Zarkon/Honerva. Romance/sexual stuff is just not my thing, I’ll take swords and explosions any day over that. So my saltiness regarding the series has nothing to do with ships.

Alright, so I think my major gripes with the series can be sorted into three categories:

1. Inconsistency of Story Type:

This is, of course, my own opinion, but through my time of consuming fiction, I think there are three types of stories:

Good vs. Evil: the most basic type of story. The good guys are good, the bad guys are bad, and everyone stays well in their lanes. Think Disney movies, typical Saturday morning cartoons -- the heroes are exemplary of good traits, the villains are one-dimensional and unrepentant, evil for the sake of being evil. There is absolutely nothing wrong with this story type imo, and there are several stories of this nature that I really do enjoy.   

Grey Morality: a much more nuanced take on the concepts of good and evil, right and wrong. Due to the very nature of grey morality, there are varying degrees to which this can be implemented. Probably the most common one I’ve seen is where the heroes do some bad/questionable things, the villains/antagonists do some good things or have the right motives or are “noble” in some way; but overall, there is a sense that there are certain lines that shouldn’t be crossed, certainly by the heroes but also sometimes by the villains/antagonists too. An excellent example of this is Firefly. Another example, that puts a total twist on it by having the protagonist also be the “villain,” is Death Note -- even though the story resolves in a way that to the audience is, really, the only sustainable way possible, it still leaves neither the characters in-show nor the audience with any sense of victory. This concept is taken to the extreme by a series like Tenpou Ibun: Ayakashi Ayashi, where no one is right and no one is wrong, but at the same time everyone is right and wrong, and simply just human. There is no good and no evil, just context, circumstances, and choices. 

Combination: this type of story starts with the Good vs. Evil dichotomy but, as the story progresses and the protagonist becomes more acquainted and involved with their environment, both the protagonist and the audience come to understand that the picture is actually much more complicated than that, and it evolves into Grey Morality. Bleach is a great example. We start with seeing the Hollow as evil, mindless monsters that need to be killed; we learn that they are actually human spirits that have transformed into “monsters” through pain and grief and, therefore, we pity them but also understand that it’s a mercy to put them down; we then find out that, actually, not all are mindless and they have a complicated society and culture of their own; and, eventually, come to accept them as (reluctant) allies against a bigger threat, understanding that they are creatures in their own right. 

From the moment that Keith -- arguably the character within the main cast that had the most time/character development spent on him -- was revealed as being half-Galra (that is, half the “evil” race of the show), VLD promised to be that third type of story. Because there is no way that the writers would make one of their protagonists evil by default because of his blood in a kids’ show, duh, so by logical conclusion this means that that race is not all evil, after all. This was further emphasized by Lotor’s introduction to the plot -- a severe departure from his character in any previous incarnation -- and cemented by the episode, “The Legend Begins,” where we finally get to see the other side of things and the fact that not even Zarkon and Haggar were “born evil,” as well.

After the Keith reveal, we got shocked reactions from his teammates, notably and understandably Allura; got only an apology from her and not the rest for their treatment of him (which could have been better but, whatever, it was a step in the right direction, great!); and then... back to a weird strained relationship in working alongside Galra without another word on the subject.

Okay. Fine.

Then we get Lotor -- again, some of that initial resentment/treatment could be understandable to some extent, and eventually on the road towards, seemingly, genuine acceptance. Cool.

I won’t go into details about the colony episode, because that’s been done to death already, but, woah, major setback there. Back to the knee-jerk reaction of treating individuals of a race as complicit and responsible for the actions and perception of that race as perpetuated by a handful of individuals. And then -- flash forward to s8 -- we are welcoming Galra allies in our cause! Please join our Coalition! We want to help you!

Look. I’m not saying that you can’t retcon stuff; that you can’t go Good vs. Evil, develop into Grey Morality, and then reveal something and BOOM, jk, it was Good vs. Evil all along, gotcha! I’m sure that there is an author somewhere out there that has pulled that off effectively (I can’t think of any examples myself right now, but I’m sure it must exist somewhere).

I am saying that if you’re going to do that -- if you are going to pull the rug out from under everyone’s feet and sacrifice some crucial character development (and crucial characters themselves, let’s be honest) -- you better have a DAMN GOOD IN-UNIVERSE reason for doing so. And no, shock value or getting rid of a character because they were overshadowing the protags doesn’t count. Otherwise, your protagonists will look like giant jerks. Unless, of course, that’s what you’re going for, but I highly doubt that was the thinking here.

And then, we proceed to flip flop between “I knew it, the Galra are irredeemably evil, what’s wrong with these people?!” (I think Hunk -- HUNK, by far the most empathetic character -- said this at some point in s7?) and “Here, we can work together towards a brighter future” or some shit. You can’t do that. I mean you can, but you’re gonna get major backlash from your audience. Pick a fucking direction and stick with it.

For the past three seasons, it has really felt like the story line is being pulled into two different directions: 1) staying true to the original source material of Paladins = good, Galra/Drule = bad, and 2) providing the viewers with a groundbreaking, nuanced interpretation. 

My dudes. You can’t have both. Trying to implement both of these approaches means having morally grey, nuanced characters operating within a narrative framework that is subject to an overarching principle of a strict Good/Evil dichotomy. Do you know how fucking hard that is to pull off effectively without diving headfirst into the pitfall of punishing your morally grey characters by default, simply because they happen to exist in a universe that cannot, by nature, support them???? I can think of only a handful of authors that have managed that and, I would argue, that the man at the top of the list only managed to be so effective and influential because what he wrote was, in essence, a mythology. Mythologies have a totally different set of concerns surrounding them. And even then, he went to great lengths, both in his works and outside of them in discussions/interviews, to note that the “evil” in his world could never have happened without it intentionally being part of the larger cosmological design, i.e. balance. I’m talking, of course, about Tolkien. 

Why the fuck would you attempt to pull something like this off in a kids’ cartoon?! Avatar: The Last Airbender, since everyone loves that comparison, was defined by a black/white view that developed into a very simple grey morality, and it was this limited scope that allowed it to be presented so effectively. None of this sashaying back and forth. 

Especially when this flip flopping is done for le dramatic effect/shock value, with seemingly no good in-story reason?? Of course it’s gonna fall flat.

2. Concept vs. Execution:

This is probably what drives me crazy the most about VLD. 

As an idea, it was fucking brilliant -- anyone who has watched DotU, even with all the nostalgia, I imagine, can admit that it was very much a cut and dry 80s cartoon, with simple concerns; Vehicle Voltron attempted some nuances, but the Lion Voltron part of the show, which was by far the more popular part, was pretty stiff in that regard. VLD took that and introduced themes like: being biracial (Keith, Lotor, etc.), having to choose between duty and family (Krolia), having to choose between personal dreams and important relationships (Shiro), having to overcome deep-seated understandable prejudice and work with people you never thought you could come to stand for a greater cause and through that see that not everything is black and white and attain a greater understanding of the world (Allura), leaving home and learning to survive in a totally foreign environment in the worst circumstances possible (the paladins), dealing with disability, mental illness/ptsd while also dealing with issues of being in a position of leadership/power (Shiro), parental abuse (Lotor), substance abuse (Honerva and Zarkon), being a clone and coming to terms with that (Shiro/Kuron), learning to compromise and sacrifice personal integrity/morals for the betterment/survival of those you have made yourself responsible for (the paladins), and so much more than that. Lotor’s relationship with Honerva/Haggar had serious undertones of both Mother and Child symbolism, as well as Arthurian legend. The whole quintessence thing drew pointers from ancient and medieval concepts of alchemy.

The inclusion of any of these things, injected into a pretty straightforward and tame original source material like DotU, was inspired. What an absolutely fantastic take, with incredible potential.

... and it was the shoddiest, shittiest implementation and execution of any concepts that I have ever seen. Like... how? How did they manage to not be able to successfully see any of these themes to a close, and to actually offend the vast majority of their fanbase (regardless of background, age, race, sexuality, literally from all walks of life) by the way these themes were handled???? 

I’m sure time restraints, direction from above, etc., played a big part in it, but still. If you don’t have time to properly develop the interpersonal relationships between the core members of your main group of characters -- to the point that, say, Keith and Pidge? Hunk and Shiro? Did they ever properly, truly have any meaningful interactions? -- there’s no way you could properly handle all of this.

Don’t bite off more than you can chew. 

Also? As stories are being fleshed out, they and their characters tend to take on a life of their own. The Lotor/Keith parallels? I totally believe and understand how it’s possible that it was unintentional. But when that happens, you go back and rework the rest of your plot to make sense with what you now have before you. You adjust and adapt. You don’t barrel on ahead headless and not acknowledging it, and you don’t force your characters into straitjackets just because you want to doggedly follow this one idea.    

3. The Female Lead: 

Let me begin by saying that I really, really wanted to like Allura, and the way she was written was one of the biggest turn offs and disappointments for me. I won’t go into specifics regarding her, as there many posts that already address the problematic nature of how she treats people of her race vs. anyone Galra, but I will just look at her character development as a whole.

Perhaps the easiest way for me to voice my frustrations here would be with a comparison. Let’s look at my favorite female protagonist of all time, Nakajima Youko, from Juuni Kokuki (aka. The Twelve Kindgoms).

Youko starts off as a very meek high school girl, from a typical modern Japanese family. Class representative, top grades, is scared of conflict and wants to live up to everyone’s expectations of her, which makes her very submissive, a total coward emotionally, mentally, and physically. She seeks to please everyone and, as a result, harms her own development by never giving any thought to her own desires and ends up bullied by everyone around her. Magic happens, shit goes down, and she is whisked away to a different world that is parallel to our own, along with two friends from school; ripped from her home, her family, with absolutely no way back. This other world has a different language, people who end up in there from our world are treated like garbage and are slaves, has a medieval level of tech/advancement, and Youko with her friends has to figure out how to survive. She finds out she is actually queen of one of the realms in this world, which makes her a target of various groups. She is betrayed by literally everyone around her, everyone she places her trust in, including the two friends that got transported to this world with her. 

She goes from meek and mild to bloodthirsty and brash; lashing out at everyone around her, plotting to kill those that offer her a helping hand, becoming unreasonably suspicious and racist and way out of line. Understandably so, but the narrative doesn’t, for one moment, present this as okay. Some more stuff happens and she finally snaps out of it, comes to a couple of realizations, and has major character development. She develops the attitude that, yes, people have betrayed and hurt her, but their actions towards her and their opinion of her is none of her business. It will not stop her from acting in ways that are in line with her own morals; if people choose to betray and use her, that’s on them. She will simply do what she must, and treat everyone as an individual according to their actions. This doesn’t mean that she adopts a pushover mentality -- it just means that she loses her knee-jerk reaction, and doesn’t rush to conclusions. She becomes a badass warrior and queen, strong and just, and, frankly, one of the most well-developed female characters I have ever seen.

Do I think this is the only way to write a strong female character? Of course not. But I’m convinced this is what the writers wanted to do with Allura, this kind of progression and path, from being angry, lost, and alone to being a confident, capable, magnificent ruler. And, imo, they totally missed the mark.

I think that the writers were so focused on giving us a “strong” modern female character, and getting as far away from her DotU damsel in distress depiction as possible, that they ended up writing her as, basically, a bully. Sure, they tell us -- both through other characters’ words in the show and through interviews -- about her diplomacy, peaceful nature, leadership quality, open-mindedness, etc., but they never show it to us. In almost every key moment in the series, she has been written to be combative and suffering from tunnel-vision.   

And a huge part of this is that they simply didn’t give her any room to grow. Youko’s character started off at maybe... 5% of her potential? She was honestly so “weak,” I thought about dropping the series. But by the point the anime ended (because the story itself is unfinished and unlikely to continue, unfortunately), I’d say she’s at around 70%. That makes for an extremely dramatic, fulfilling, and believable character development. The VLD writers started Allura off much higher than that. Too high. From the get-go she’s a highly accomplished martial artist, has incredible physical strength due to her Altean heritage, a seemingly natural affinity for leadership and for appealing to people, she’s very attractive, well spoken, had a loving and supportive family, is a princess, had a brilliant alchemist for a father, has access to the universe’s greatest super weapon -- I mean, yes, she’s had to deal with immense loss and grief and come to terms with it in a very short period of time, and lost her father a second time so to speak with Alfor’s AI -- but overall, everything has been set up and handed to her in a nice package. Other than overcoming her hatred towards the Galra and idealization of Altea/Alteans, really, there’s nothing left for her to do that would be defining for her character.

That’s not to say that characters that are extremely accomplished from the start are a bad thing. But in their case, their emotional and mental development and maturity is that much more important, because that’s all that’s left to work with. The writers didn’t really give Allura any significant room to grow in terms of any of that. (And no, I don’t consider her new alchemical powers from Oriande as her growing; she expended no effort for that, it wasn’t really a trial at all for her; it was like me playing a video game on casual mode with the “killallenemies” console command enabled). Her overcoming her racism towards the Galra, beginning with Keith and BoM and continuing to do so with subsequent Galra allies, had a TON of potential and I had been so excited to see where it would go; but that fell flat, totally forgotten by the story.

In contrast, you have Lotor -- we see him struggling to claw his way out of the hand that fate has dealt him, to grow beyond his family’s influence and abuse. Both on and off screen, even described by his own enemies in great detail, we see just how much he has had to fight and to earn everything he has and he is, even things that shouldn’t have to be “earned” in the first place. He’s lost Daibazaal and Altea, both his father and his mother, he’s too Galra for anyone who’s not and not nearly enough Galra for anyone who is. Literally nothing has been handed to him. The juxtaposition between him and Allura, had Allura been given more breathing room by the writers, could have been fantastic and I would have shipped the hell out of it, like I do in DotU. She’s had everything he’s ever wanted (loving family, supportive father, Alfor himself, exploration, alchemy), etc.; envy would have been extremely appropriate on his part, and very interesting to work through, but that was never explored either.

So, I feel like what ended up happening was that a huge imbalance in how these two characters came across was created, made only more evident when their relationship with each other was what was front and center. And, at least for me, this is what makes me completely unable to see Allura’s side of things, and I freely admit it -- I simply don’t understand her or her actions, because I don’t feel like I’ve been shown enough of her inner workings as a character to be able to care about her in the slightest. I can definitely see where the writers were going with her, or where they thought they were going. But unless they actually meant for the character that is, for all intents and purposes, their female lead to be a  racist, abusive, immature person playing at being an adult and at being the leader of a coalition spanning galaxies, who has no problem condemning millions of lives to death and devastation at a whim of her emotions because they are Valid™, and who wades dangerously close to “Mary Sue” territory many times due the way the narrative frames her... then all I see on screen is an unfinished character. Unfinished, because the writers didn’t take any opportunities in the narrative for the flaws and issues she does have to be addressed and overcome, opportunities of which there were plenty! I absolutely don’t mind that she has flaws -- flawed heroes are amazing. But, you gotta do something about them, i.e. address them and work through them. Otherwise your heroes remain static in a plot that is evolving and that’s not a good look.

And, you know, I honestly think DotU Allura is a much stronger female character. She works for everything she gets. She works her ass off. She has to fight to not only be allowed to be part of the team and fly a lion, but even just to do everyday common things like be out in the fields or swim or whatever; forget practicing martial arts. Coran literally ties her up at one point to prevent her from participating. Nanny is a constant battle for her. Over everything, from her clothes to her manner of speaking to where she’s going. But she doesn’t stop, she doesn’t give up. And she fucks up, BIG TIME, several times, she does TONS of stupid shit. But she learns, acknowledges it, gets called out on it, tries again, and keeps on trying. DotU Allura’s biggest battles, in my mind, aren’t with Lotor or the Drule forces or Zarkon, but with her own team and those she considers family, and her struggle for the others’ acceptance of herself and her skills within the group. And for that, she is a much stronger, more solid female character than VLD Allura, despite all superficial appearances and frilly pink dresses and 80s voice acting.

Again, like I said in a previous post, I don’t conform to the view that creators owe their fans anything. Write things however the fuck you want. You want to kill Allura off, fine. Do away with Lotor too? Cool. I completely understand people who want happy endings in fiction because, it’s true, reality fucking sucks; there are several fictional works I turn to whenever real life is too much. And I would be lying if I said that I don’t crave stories where characters like Lotor are given happy endings; of course I want my favorite characters to be okay. But overall, I’m the type of person who, as long as things make for an effective, compelling narrative, I’ll be content with it, regardless of whether the ending is tragic or happy or anything in between. 

So you want to kill off your morally grey character and your female lead, who is also one of the only women on the team, who is also a princess figure, who has also been completely visually redesigned in such a way that you know women of color will relate to her? That’s fine by me, go right ahead. But do so in a way that is meaningful and makes sense within the larger narrative you created, and isn’t some empty, sensationalist gesture. 

And also be aware of your fanbase. This is a reboot -- that comes with certain expectations attached, as a number of the viewers will very likely be fans of the old series, watching out of curiosity, nostalgia, etc. Expectations like, the princess lives, the heroes aren’t assholes, etc. (and I’m referring to expectations from DotU and other Western iterations, rather than the original Japanese series). You don’t have to conform to these expectations -- personally, I’m a big fan of tropes being subverted -- but you need to be aware of them. You need to know the rules before you break them, and if you break them, you better break them damn well.

Imo, VLD ultimately failed to deliver on these fronts, and pretty much fell prey to what a lot of series do -- it couldn’t handle the shift from being primarily episodic in nature (i.e., each episode is self-contained, with a clear beginning, middle, and end, while operating under a distant general goal, like defeating Zarkon; so, s1 and s2) to becoming a more complex narrative unraveling a hidden agenda (s3 onwards). Kind of like how the paladins made no provisions for how they would handle things after Zarkon’s defeat, it feels like the writers didn’t really have one solid plan for how to develop past that point as well.

tl;dr: Whoever is responsible for the way VLD turned out should write a book: how to offend your entire audience in eight seasons or less.

#okay i think this is my last personal post on the matter #i think i've vented about everything that's been bugging me for the past couple of seasons #i'll still reblog and comment on things i find interesting #but i'm gonna focus my energy on constructive stuff #like plucking the hairline of lotor's wig and writing fanfic :) #talk: v

[datauthorress]

Ashes of Night [Chapter 2: Cowboy in Public]

Pairing: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character

Summary: A young college student stumbles upon a man from the past, right in her very apartment. The man doesn't know why he's suddenly 119 years in the future, but maybe this is a second chance at a better life.

Warnings: None, really.

“Ya got any whiskey?”

“No, I don't have any whiskey. That shit is gross.”

Shelby lifted the top cover of the tank and lifted Ghost off from around her neck, putting the ball python back into his tank. The snake yawned, before slithering under his log for the night. She rubbed her eyes, smoothing her hair away from her face before she glanced at the clock. It was only midnight, but she was exhausted.

“Okay, cowboy, bedtime.” she replied, shutting the television off. “We've got a busy day tomorrow, and I need a good night's sleep.”

“I get t' sleep in a real bed?” Arthur questioned, surprised.

“What else are you gonna sleep on? The couch?” Shelby shook her head and motioned for him to follow her down the hallway. She opened the door to the guest bedroom, which she had set up after dinner was over and she took her shower. “This will be your room.”

“Very nice.” he complimented as he walked inside, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“Your clothes are on the dresser. I found a pair of socks from when my brother left them, so they should fit.” Shelby said, leaning down to pick up Kirby, scratching the back of her ears. “If you need anything, you can knock on my door. My bedroom is right next to yours.”

When no questions were asked, Shelby shut the door behind her and went to her own room, shutting the door after her. She set Kirby down on the bed and crawled underneath the covers, setting an alarm for 9 AM before plugging her phone in to charge. Kirby meowed and made her way towards her owner, circling a few times before kneading the covers with her paws and laying down, curling up into a ball. As soon as Shelby's head hit the pillow, she was out like a light.

The next morning, Shelby woke up to her alarm and got up, dismissing the alarm. She yawned and stretched her limbs, hearing them pop before she left the bedroom. She fed Kirby and knocked on Arthur's door. “Arthur, you awake?”

When she didn't hear an answer, she opened the door and peered inside, finding the man sprawled out on the bed, the blanket only covering up to his hips. Shelby felt her cheeks flush, but she couldn't help but to look for a moment. The man was toned, and she could see that he had multiple scars adorning his torso. Despite his age, he seemed to be rather fit and had small, wry hairs covering his torso, though not too much. She shook her head and walked inside, grabbing the other pillow and smashing it onto Arthur's chest.

Said man let out a yell of surprise, and bolted up on the bed, looking around frantically. He then calmed down once his gaze landed on Shelby, and he rubbed his eyes with a groan. “Did ya really haveta do that, kid?”

“No, but I had a hunch you wouldn't wake up easily, so it was the best choice.” Shelby replied, tossing the pillow at him. “Once you wake up, get dressed please. I have to measure you.”

“Measure meh, eh?”

“Shut the fuck up.” Shelby grumbled, leaving the room. She went to her bedroom and got dressed, dressing in a pair of dark blue jeans that hugged her legs, a black tank top and a black and red plaid shirt. She fixed her hair and put black ankle high socks on, then left her bedroom. Arthur wasn't far after her, walking into the living room after she did. Shelby grabbed the measuring tape from the junk drawer and approached Arthur. “Stand still, and raise your arms, please.”

He did as requested. She measured the length of his legs, his arms and the wideness of his waist and torso. After writing down the information in her notebook, she slipped that into her bag and shoved her boots on, zipping them up.

“Alright guys, we'll be back later.” she said to her animals, grabbing her bag and her keys.

Once Arthur had slid his boots on, she let him walk outside first and she closed the door behind them, locking it. She pulled on the doorknob just to make sure it was locked, and guided Arthur to her vehicle, which was a 2013 black truck.

“This is.....way different than a wagon.” he commented, hearing a click as the vehicle unlocked and Shelby opened the driver's side door.

“Yeah,” Shelby agreed.

Arthur pulled open the passenger's side door, holding his hat onto his head and slipped inside, sitting down. He squirmed a bit, getting use to the feel of the seat on his backside. It was certainly way softer than a hard bench on a wagon.

“Okay, so when riding in a vehicle like this, you always wear your seat belt. It's to prevent you from getting killed.” Shelby spoke, reaching over him to the seat belt and guiding it over his chest and waist, clicking it into place.

“And how, per say, does a vehicle get ya killed?” he questioned.

“When a vehicle crashes into another.” Shelby replied, getting comfortable in her own seat and clicking her seat belt into place. She started up the vehicle, the radio blaring to life, still set on the country station. She had grown up on the outskirts of the town, in the country, so her life was revolved a lot around horses and the country.

“We'll stop for breakfast, then we'll head up to the mall.” she said, backing out of her parking spot and heading onto the road.

“What's a mall?” Arthur asked.

“Just a large space with a variety of stores.” she replied. “I know it's all very confusing, Arthur. Honestly, I still don't know whether to believe you're from the past or not...but....I don't know what else to do, really.”

“Trust me, kid. I'm confused too.” Arthur sighed quietly.

“Glad I'm not the only one.” she nodded in agreement.

About ten minutes went by, and Shelby pulled into the drive-thru of McDonald's. She didn't eat their food very often, but she did like their fish and chicken sandwiches. She grabbed four total of the McChicken sandwiches, two for each of them and a drink for each of them. She ate one of her sandwiches quickly, before they were on the highway, heading towards South Bend.

“What is 'his?” Arthur questioned in confusion, looking at the sandwich.

“Just eat it. You might like it.” Shelby said.

The cowboy took a bite out of the sandwich, and was immediately greeted with the seasons, and taste of well-cooked chicken. Even the lettuce and the white sauce on it made a good taste for it. He decided, hey it's not so bad, and ate the sandwich.

“Welcome to the 21st century, Arthur, where fast food is dominant in everything.” Shelby joked, turning the radio up slightly and rolling the window down. It was quite nice today, with it being about 70 degrees right now. The radio said it was going to be around 80 today, which wasn't bad at all for June. After about a half hour, she switched hands, using her right hand to drive and leaned her left arm on the windowsill.

Arthur was mostly quiet, observing the scenery as they drove past it. He enjoyed the open fields, the smell of dirt and grass, the sounds of cattle and horses. It reminded him too much of home....wherever home was right now. It wasn't long before the fields began to disappear and buildings began to take over.

“Fucking-! Nice turn signal, prick!”

Arthur glanced over to the young woman, as she grumbled to herself about 'stupid drivers'. She ran a hand through her hair, leaning back. “We're almost there.”

“Wha' happened?” he asked.

“Some dumbass cut me off at the last minute.” she shook her head, looking behind her before switching lanes. “If I ever teach you to drive, be patient. I have some road rage.”

“I'm sure if I can steer a horse, I can steer this thing.” he said.

“You'd be surprised.” Shelby said, coming up to the stoplight.

After another fifteen minutes, they pulled into a large parking lot, with several vehicles of all different kinds parked, driving around and people walking down sidewalks to get into the building. Shelby found a decent parking spot, and parked, before turning the car off. “Okay, now, this place is big, so stay close to me, okay?” Shelby said.

“How big can it be?” Arthur arched an eyebrow.

“You'll see. Just stay close to my side, and we'll be golden.” She said, grabbing her bag and her keys. Once they were both out, she locked the car and guided him across the road and onto the sidewalk. Small crowds of people walked by them, some of them giving sideway glances to Arthur.

“Also, don't be surprised if people stare at you.” Shelby said as they walked into the building.

“I'm used t' it.” he drawled.

A few times he stopped by to glance at the windows of stores, and Shelby had to actually drag him away so they could move on. They went to Men's Warehouse first and Shelby went to a store associate, asking if she could help them with helping Arthur pick out clothes to suit his style. She was ecstatic to help, and with the sizes, she was able to find clothing that would fit Arthur nicely. However, when he had trouble putting on jeans for the first time, Shelby had to help him, telling him that 'this is a one time thing'. Of course, he stuck to the 'no overalls' rule and Shelby waited outside while he dressed.

“Is he your boyfriend?” the store associate asked.

“Nah, roommate. He's a little far from home and needed somewhere to go, so I took him in.” Shelby replied.

“Aw, you're so nice.” the associate smiled.

The door to the fitting room opened and Arthur came out, wearing a pair of dark blue jeans that showed off his butt nicely, and a button up with the first few buttons undone.

Shelby felt heat creep onto her face, and the associate whistled. “Very nice.”

“Fits mighty nicely. Thank ya, ma'am.” Arthur nodded.

“No problem!” she said.

After about another half hour of being in the store, the clothes were all dragged to the counter and Shelby sighed, knowing it was going to be utter hell dragging all this shit out to the truck. Good thing she grabbed a cart at the entrance.

“Ya sure ya can afford all that?” Arthur asked the young woman.

“I'm a professional author, I can afford pretty much anything.” Shelby replied.

“Oh? You write?! What's your name?” the same associate asked as she rung up the clothes.

“Shelby Hartford.”

Two minutes later, Shelby was getting a picture taken with the associate, who had squealed and said that she loved Shelby's writing. Shelby smiled for the picture, and was appreciative that her writing was well-liked. The associate had given her a hug and told them to have a wonderful day before the two left the store.

“That was....interestin'.” Arthur commented.

“Hm.” Shelby said.

“Oh, what's that place?”

Shelby looked over to see what he was looking at, and her ears went red. Of course, he was looking at the Victoria's Secret sign. She grabbed the sleeve of his shirt and dragged him away from the store, telling him it was a 'super, secret fancy store for women'.

It was another three hours before Shelby decided they were done. She had stopped at a few stores for herself, picking up some books and some clothing. They dragged the bags out of the building and shoved them into the back of the truck, which thankfully had a cover on it. Shelby leaned against the side of her vehicle, leaning her head down on her arm. She was exhausted.

“Where we goin' now?” Arthur's voice met her ears.

“We'll go for lunch.” she replied, unlocking the vehicle and getting in. “Golden Coral isn't too far from here. You'll like it. They have a large variety of different foods.”

Lunch was good. They went home afterwards and the two dragged the bags up into the apartment, and into Arthur's bedroom. Shelby had made sure her own bags were separate. They had stopped at Wal-Mart for shampoo and those kinds of things. “Alright....so just...focus on getting your stuff put away while I make a phone call.”

Shelby went into the living room, sitting down on the couch as she called her mom. It rung two times before it was picked up on the other end. “Hello?”

“Hey, mom.”

“Hi, baby. How was the interview? You sounded great on TV.”

“Thanks. It went good, better than expected. I'm tired though.”

“I bet. Were you still planning on coming over for dinner this Sunday? Your father's off for the week, vacation.”

“Yeah, are you guys making beef and noodles?”

“When do we not make beef and noodles when you come over?” her mom laughed.

“True, listen mom.....is it okay if I bring my roommate over? He's-”

“Your roommate's a guy? Is he hot?”

“Mom!”

“I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Yes, he can come for dinner as well. Your sister is coming too.” The older woman said, and Shelby groaned. “I know, I know....but, please no fighting, okay?”

“Alright, though I can't say the same for her, though. You know how she is.” Shelby said. “Alright....I'll see you guys this weekend.”

Shelby hung up once her mother said goodbye and she tossed her phone onto the other side of the couch, just as Arthur came into sight. “Who was that?” he questioned.

“You're meeting my parents, and siblings this weekend.” Shelby replied. “We're going to make up a story. We're going to tell them that you're from Texas, and you lost your home and came here hoping for something better. I found you, and am letting you stay here. That's the story. Nothing else.”

“And they aren't gonna believe ya when ya say I'm from 1899?”

“No one is gonna believe you're from 1899, besides me.” she retorted. “My sister already thinks I'm a fucking lunatic. I don't need her thinking that about you too.”

“Jeez, protective ain't ya?”

“Fuck off.”

#red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x original female character #shelby hartford [OC] #Shelby Hartford/Arthur Morgan #au: modern verse

[xz017]

.

oof. okay so imma do the latest tea???

got out of shower to hear my mum talkin to Agnes spillin the tea abt their friend/coworker

the one with that Kid my mum wanted to have a playdate with or whatever the annoyingly studious and clearskinned halfasian lookin girl i really envied.

her mum has a live in boyfriend who is basically like...an alcoholic mental case rip god i hate alcohol and i hate people who drink it like i only do it so i hate myself more and die but like this guy basically playin with knives n guns in the house and the kid who is like 19 idk why im callin her kid is so Over it like apparently she hasn’t been coming home and like

basically me in 2016 era when my mum was too generous n Helpful lettin ppl back into our lives and our House so i spent christmas morning 5am walkin in the cold n watchin 3 films until it got dark and stuff like that

girl be actin homeless---mood

so it came to a head today so Agnes is spillin the tea n her husband in the bg(omg it weird hearin him rip he was my military hs instructor wild) n my mUM is so selfrighteous n mad like

‘blablahblah well rosalie is being dumb she should put her daughter first she being sick in the head it her Choice’

n im like eavesdroppin havin warflashbacks of the dumb hypocrisy she has DOne lmao

‘has she no thought like what if Tyler gets raped/sexually abused by that man she’d let her daughter be in that environment???’

i mean it wouldnt be fair of me to be like...eyemoji on this cos she technically doesn’t know? but 19 may 2018 never4get lmao

anyway so my mum’s like our room is for rent and it’ll be far cheaper they dont even have to pay rn!!!

cue me being like...um...Money...generosity...i dont...LIke

i was conflicted here like idk i met the girl like 3-5 times im envious of her work ethic n her better asian disposition than mine cos she obviously prettier but she has better prospects and that’d suck if her life be like that

but also??? like...life be like that it was like that to me like who saved me????????????????????? 

um...no one

like why is that on me or US TO BE NICE n helpful im so tired like damn which is relevant to the next point anyway

cos earlier had a convo with my mum i was eyemojing healthcare profs i was like ‘pls stop bein on ye phone pls tell me info on ye opinion on respiratory therapists...what abt PA’

n deadass she be eyemojing me like STICK TO YOUR COURSE

n i was like...-ugly pleadin emoji eyes- n i was tryin to explain that i didn’t want to be so focused on one thing that if i decide this medical thing is what i want to pursue i’d need 1-2 years just for the PREREQS which is like 5 classes and 1000 clinical hours or minimum 6 month healthcare paid job. like if i decide i want to go to school for that i already have the Stuff and just Apply.

n she was like...you had your chance i bothered you to be a nurse a few years ago you were stubborn if you did as i said you’d be earning good money now but you wasted time

n i was like...oof i can’t say anything to that it’s tru. it real life tea it fax i wasted time n im old n im ruunnin out of time i hate myself alot i hate hate hate

and idk we got to talkin abt money n life cos she was like you have to find something you can learn to LOve

n i was like??? WHY I GOTTA SETTLE N FOOL MYSELF TO DO SO im super annoyed abt that mindset

cos the thing about a bloody Arts degree is there’s too fuckin many broad possibilities n they all aint even that good. like deadass if i was a STEM major ugh like if i was a Bio major prospects are so clear: forensics, research, premed,labtech. Meanwhile polsci for example: uhhh teacher? prelaw? politician? uhhh government work? n there’s like 111 different subdivisions of that n it’s like??? wat the fuck

deadass what am i gonna do with international security is that even gonna pay well like...the fuck do i know is it relevant ??? Doubts

n she was all like...PEOPLE JUST GOTTA DO WHAT THEY HAVE TO TO SURVIVE YOU GOTTA FIND YOURS N STICK WITH IT

n i was lowkey panique n frustrated cos i really REALLY hate being stuck in 1 ting n im like i HAD ACTING YOU SAID NO

n she was like pFF i wanted you to have something REAL cos if you dont make it in acting you’d be on the STREETS

n i was like...lmao lil did she know imma be on the streets next year smh this year actually

n she was like talkin abt the harsh reality of the workforce and how you gotta make do at how ppl treat you (patients) n how you might not even like your coworkers but you gotta deal with it because that’s what ppl do to survive

n she was talkin abt undeserving patients with no healthcare n i was like did you just hear yourself so you want them to die cos they dont got money and she was like 

no??? why get hooked up in the ICU when you’re braindead wasting government money taxes we payed for you don’t understand cos you dont have a job and dont get your salary cut cos of taxes and these people come in acting like they got something to give when they yell at your face acting like they know what they’re talking about they act entitled when they have nothing homeless ppl getting money and illegal immigrants are selfish bringing their kids to be hurt here

n im like...theyre life is ...shitty what are you talkin about n she was like so? why dont they stay and make it better??? one of my very first patients asked me why i was in america and i said i come from a poor country and they said why didn’t you stay and try to make it better? and i couldn’t say anything cos u know what they were right why dont illegal immigrants do that??? n im like...

cos theyre literally...RUNNIN and they want ppl they care abt i.e. children to be far away from that as soon as possible bruh ye think imma wait for change deadass there a reason why we suffer duterte he actually get shit done??? we dont have to wait for change the same way ppl who speak nice n are polite do but is stuck with bureaucracy and lowkey bein corrupt deadass stay in ye lane

n she’s like well i hope you’re right im done bein an idealist im a realist now i believed in good i wanted to help the world now no more

n im like...no you’re not a realist, you’ve just been hangin out with a republican

and she gave me a sideeye 

but deadass im ...scared like i really hate the empathy because when she was being serious n talkin n being honest abt things for once i started to unwillingly see things from her point of view i really felt it n i was scared i’ll be like that im scared she’s right

im scared i’ll end up Real n selfish like...i already am ? n bitter? like i care about so very few Personally and am willin to let others suffer to keep it safe n prioritised?

im scared.

like especially with racism all these years my mum’s been telling me it’s not that im racist just wait til you work with them they act so entitles and loud and make everything about race

n i almost told Her abt it earlier i skyped w her earlier we had a tea spillin moment about our ethnic relations bein racist but then idk we talked alot i guess the text got buried or unseen

like i said i was scared n didn’t get to unpack it like im scared because ive been livin with my roomate and like...ive been excusing it as a personality thing and that if it were anyone else different skin colour id still hate them just the same which i still maintain is true but like?

my RM is loud n she makes everything abt race like deadass me n my FM be just eating dinner and she passes by us and goes on a rant about harvard asians being a Blok to black ppl from getting There n im like...im tryna have dinner so i can get energy to deal with this stressful ass school

n she always talks like she knows what she’s talking about like ‘jewish ppl control the federal bank’ n im like...it 1am in the dark quiet of our shared room deadass i dont wanna tell the binch thats antisemitism cos she gonna be like im black how can i be racist smh

im!!! scared alright like i hate my roomate for proving my mum right when i try so hard to set things right like maybe that’s why i dont tell anyone about my situation other than Her. i never told my parents about the berkeley livin situation they already warn me enough to be careful n i just keep tellin them thats racist

i have so much........THOUGHTS n........DILEMMAS...n FEARS but like i just have this blog i cant trust anyone else to talk abt it n the only person i am willing to talk to abt it will be busy and im so ashamed abt these things but she was so sweet about givin me the heads up about her schedule 

like i hated that i had to get an ugly ass haircut today cos she came back to me n we couldve talked so i guess rip she was complacent n did stuff cos she replied late from then on like that dumbass haircut was 15 minutes ugh. our talkin pattern today was like...dashed lines timereply wise? i asked her if she packed earlier (pre haircut)n she said yes but rip a few hours later she was like...I need to pack 

wat is the truth rip

the tablet bein emo like...mood but my child rip.

my love be packin n spendin time with fam before leavin for london tomorrow

n even after that she doin...Stuff. rip.

which is ye know good for her rip.

i just hope she dont go iceskatin deadass one slip n she can crack her head open or break her neck or paralyse her spine like...??? why do humans wanna do dumb activities

like omg she admitted to me today she a serial jaywalker and WORSE with music n headphones like

binch thats why i didnt wanna enable you further by gettin ye airpods deadass bye

n she was like??? tryna equate it with my risky risk like ummm

mine is for science n validity

hers is just carelessness n chosin lazy convenience over idk...the responsibility of self vigilance like...

bruh ppl shouldnt promise someone 91 years if they be continuin to do dumb stuff consciously oof rip

but other than that like...im...really proud of this resolution she be undertakin officially on the 14th?

im nervous abt it cos i really want it for her too. i want her to get the proper sleep n i always hated her givin excuses like ‘IM FINE ON 4 HOURS OF SLEEP’ ‘I NAPPED 3 HOURS 38293820 HOURS AGO IM FINE I MADE UP FOR IT’ um...blokt. get proper sleep binch i love you tf???

prioritise work cos ye gonna regret not givin it yer all??? n ye payin for this???

what fun??? we capitalists now we want that money rip.

i see that shift you know rip i saw it comin a year ago.

that dont mean we republicans rip we still care about others n the inequality? but like i foresaw us getting acquainted with the harsh reality of the world n how difficult it is to get a job--which she experienced along the way.

n rip she wants many things bookmarkin them n honestly same rip

i want a stable warm home for this family n a shiny diamond to get disassociated by extra im a simple man

meanin im selfish n im ready to prioritise meanin im ready to make the choice for others to fall apart/behind if it means puttin This first rip

god pls dont make me a republican this so ugly

# 1 she’d hate me #2 i’d hate me

now im sad

im dead.

omg rip earlier too as she said goodbye i told her i loved her and she was like ‘i love you more’

DEADASS I WAS LIKE LMAO!!! girL i dont think you understand im literally Ready to put you and our possible future First like...im not messin around what skitrips with rich ppl what friends my love is potent n extreme n COncentrated like im sorry ik you feel love for me but you cant top This rip she not ready 

like the um ‘partially wanna make my life’s work abt knowin what might hurt n kill ye so i can kill it first or blok it well’ kinda love

the ‘im already savin for at least HALF a first month deposit in an overpriced london in case you wanna settle down wit me Mayhaps n im not touching it for ANYTHING’ kinda love

the ‘im thinking of a winter home in the tropics so you suffer less n im plannin the floorplans already rip just in case’ kinda extraness

but anyways the gall of this cute lovely human rip ‘i love you more’ ummm try Again smh

bruh i love her too much i bet that’s scary for her rip it might be a Burden tbh she so young rip 

meanwhile im old n ready to rot but like...

i wanna be mortal wit ye before i do

but ye know wat lads i saw myself in the mirror today like 5 times OOF. this meatform...keepin me...Humble. 

bitter but like...humble

‘like of course sHe not ready not only is my personality like dis but also...my outward form how could she introduce me as a Spouse’

‘wow i look like that oof it good i remembered i am undeservin of full intense love like in the films n fanfiction they always between attractive ppl after all it only 1/2 it not Equal’

‘wow bruh ye really upset she spendin time n resources elsewhere when you be lookin like That? ye dont have much to offer bro take the L’

oof so that’s the personal tea i can think of?

had a meghan marke talk rip i can’t believe i was right??? i had twin vibes!!! but i was hoping for like a variety situation rip im worried a lil abt the whole birthin Late ting but she can afford the highest care rip it fine she rich.

my love was talkin abt how pretty MM was n i was like rip is she triggerin Her a lil rip worrirooni

rip speakin of babies like she was showin me this smol gummybear n im like same das me heart n she was like :( n i was like it only fits you

n she was like so no children then:(

n i was like!!! rip if it Ours of course that Counts n i was a lil shook like rip she said she didn’t want them Really so i always get guilty when i talk abt the future or realise i mentioned kids or carelessly name drop Hyaline n Benzion like...im dead rn just typin that like what if she read this big shame bro

but ye know what this is already long n she gonna be busy maybe that’s the key. TOo Much puts ppl OFF so ye mayhaps we sneaky ! ?

anyway i was tryin to get her thoughts on it rip but like she was all iDK ASK ME IN 13 Yrs n i was like...

sighemoji + sandemoji + resignedemoji

rip we talked FAaC a lil. cos she Dared!!! to liken me to her brother just cos i showed her my cheap youth boy shoes smh

At first i was super offended n disgusted but then i was like rip eyemoji if ye into that

then she was like ew nO

then i was like um ye already play the ‘daddy u like me young huh’ card

which is like idk is like technically? joking but it’s like that post ye know abt ppl bein ‘whether or not im actually jokin or flirtin depends if you into it’ but also like schrodingers racism like ‘it was a joke bro!!!’ but they actually bigots.

so it DIFFICULT for my brain to Confirm rip like...eyemoji what is the truth

but like??? im rip. willin. rip. to. rip. Try. rip.?

really i am rip. it Her. bruh. im only hopin she dont have a golden shower kink but. trust i...Will follow thru.

nO IM REMEMBERIN THE DOO DOO POST DESPAIR

rip anyway that whole thing reminded me of FAaC origins which was porn n then somehow sHe was like imagine if egggsy was a singer he’d sing like ‘age is just a number’ shit n i SPILLED THE TEA ABOUT A TING IN PT 3 im so weak sand

i miss the gays

i wanna give them justice n happiness but the 2027 excuse is rl nice for my ugly procrastination issues oof but i wish them well

add: rip had another talk with my mum i really wanted her to understand my thought process about wanting to get the prereqs for medtraining done beforehand

n she was like...I UNderstand but Normal people--

n i was like ‘IM NOT NORMAL I DONT KNOW HOW TO CHOOSE I HAVE NO IDENTITY’

n she’s just like SHOOKE n mad n clearly dont understand that im fukt up in the head ‘...IC AN’T BELIEVE YOU!!! iF YOU’RE ABNORMAL YOU WONT GET HIRED N YOU WONT HAVE A NICE JOB’

n im like...well i mean what can i say to that it’s not like it’s not tru rip

Big sand honestly.

it gonna be a long few days imma do my best to leave her alone she needs her time rip i love her so much rip sand

i feel like a dumb ugly dog god fljækadfkøad h8

#personal tea #read more only #entry

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

AgentCorp, pt 4 - Sam Returns

Lena's idea works. The bloodbloom leaves her with pain that has yet to leave-- makes them wonder if it ever will-- but it saves Sam's life. Alex watches Reign's essence diminish, and holds her breath as Sam's eyes stare glassy and unseeing at the ceiling before Sam resurfaces with a gasp and a cry.

She lets Lena be the one to convince Sam that it's real, that it's permanent-- that she's safe. She turns away when Sam bursts into tears and clings to Lena, and Lena holds her until there's nothing left but exhaustion. She doesn't sleep-- won't sleep, lest the next time she opens her eyes she'll be back in that valley, slowly forgetting.

This time, they have to discourage Sam from seeing Ruby, not the other way around. They don't keep the development a secret, but Ruby knows not to push this time, and Alex wonders if maybe nerves have something to do with the teen's quiet acceptance of "not yet". After all, last time she saw her mom, Reign had been trying to kill her. Sam is harder to manage.

Alex leaves that to Lena too.

"Just give us another week, Sam. We need to be sure there are no adverse effects---"

"I feel fine, Lena. I'm fine and I want to see my daughter--"

"You asked me to help you both, Sam. This is what that looks like."

Alex has never heard Lena snap. Even with Supergirl, her ire had been cool, calm, measured. Now her voice trembles, and her hands shake as she forces breath into her lungs. "We have to do this right."

They do. They make certain that Reign is gone, and when it's finally time, Alex drives them all to the Arias home.

"It should be on their turf," Lena told Alex one night. "Sam doesn't need a reminder of how long Ruby's been staying with you."

She's right, of course. Alex has long since learned to trust Lena usually is. Ruby is waiting in a professionally clean house with Kara when Sam hesitates with her fingers around the door handle.

"Sam?"

"What if she hates me? Or is scared?" Sam gasps sharply as panic sets in. "Lena, I can't... I couldn't live with myself if she were afraid of me."

"Well, for one, the lack of eyeshadow is pretty good indicator you're yourself again." Against all odds, that earns Lena a long-suffering eyeroll and the closest thing to a grin they've seen yet.

"And secondly," Lena continues, "Ruby has asked to see you every day for months. She loves you, and she's missed you. Whatever horrible outcome your brain is cooking up, I promise it won't happen."

Alex watches them from the rearview mirror, catching Sam's eye. "You can do this."

Lena reaches across with her good hand and curls five fingers around Sam's wrist. Sam meets her gaze, until her eyes close as their foreheads touch. "We're right here with you, Sam. You're not alone."

When Ruby finally launches herself into her mother's arms, Alex can barely keep from crying. Lena doesn't stand a chance. Within seconds she's wiping her eyes and trying silence her sniffles. She curls one finger around Alex's, and in the touch Alex understands how joy can be bittersweet.

The future is bright for the first time in almost a year, but tarnished by the realization that Ruby would no longer be a daily figure in their lives. Ruby gets her mom back, but Alex loses the closest thing she's had to motherhood.

And Lena... now Lena has to confront the trauma of her abduction and her new handicap without Ruby waiting for cuddles at home.

Finally, Lena is the one to call it.

"We should let you guys catch up," she says softly. She's dried her eyes, but her voice is thick with emotion. "We'll check in--"

"Do you have to go?" Ruby asks, tight and quick in near panic. But when she looks at her mom, there isn't an ounce of fear. "We can order pizza for dinner, right? Can they stay for dinner?"

Sam smiles. "Of course they can, baby. If they want to."

She looks to both of them, and Alex knows she should withdraw now; it'll only be harder to do so later.

"Sure," she says instead, with Lena echoing the same only a second behind. "So long as there's no pineapple."

They stay for hours, until Ruby falls asleep in her mom's lap. In the quiet, Alex feels her chest tighten again. Lena rises first. She and Sam seem to communicate through a single look, and Sam reaches out to cup Lena's right hand. The lack of fingers doesn't seem to register, and Lena startles at the touch, but doesn't pull away.

"Thank you," Sam murmurs. "Thank you for keeping her safe."

Lena smiles gently. "That's what family's for."

They escape into the night air, and their ride back to the city is quiet. Alex drives on autopilot, until Lena speaks up at the light on 20th and 3rd. "This is my turn."

It takes Alex a moment to realize what she means. She's taking Lena home, to Lena's condo, the one she hasn't been to in nearly a month, as far as Alex knows... which ends up being a hotel of all things.

Alex idles in the valet lane, neither of them all that eager to see her go. Across the console, their eyes meet, and electricity rockets down Alex's spine.

"Thank you for the ride," Lena offers. Alex can barely nod. But when she reaches for the door, Alex blurts Lena's name, making her pause.

"That talk you mentioned."

Lena regards her with a long look. "Yes?"

"Breakfast tomorrow?"

Seeing the wariness evaporate from Lena's gaze sends warmth spreading through Alex's chest. The following smile dazzles her.

"I'd like that."

Lena arrives at 10am after texting to confirm Alex is awake. Even though she's eaten breakfast with Lena almost every day for over a month, she suddenly realizes she has no idea what Lena likes. So she panics and gets fresh pastries from the patisserie on the corner and picks up ingredients for a jogurt parfait, and is halfway through cooking chocolate chip pancakes when Lena knocks.

She sits at the island while Alex finishes. Even when they have stacks of pancakes in front of them, Lena doesn't speak. The uncertainty radiating from her is unfamiliar to Alex. With Reign there'd been plenty of doubt, but in this moment Lena seemed to exist in the complete unknown.

Kara's never spoken of Lena dating. Alex knows about her history with Jack Spheer, but to her knowledge Lena hasn't had a date since moving to National City. With a jolt, Alex realizes that if it were true, it gave her the more greater experience-- her, the recently discovered lesbian, more experienced than Lena fucking Luthor.

Calm washes over Alex as the mantle slides onto her shoulders. With newfound confidence, she reaches over the island and covers Lena's fingers where they worry the corner of her napkin.

"Hey," she offers quietly. "This can be whatever you want it to be, okay?"

Alex doesn't know if this is the talk or whatevertheir relationship is. Either way, Lena takes a deep breath and lifts her gaze.

"I'm not familiar with this," she confesses, spreading her hands to indicate the space between and around them. "I don't want to mess things up. I-- I really care about you."

"I do too," Alex breathes. It feels so good to say aloud that it takes a moment to register what she'd said. "I mean, I care you too."

Lena shares a small, short-lived smile. "But the people I care about... they don't exactly have a great history for staying hale and healthy. Part of me wonders if it's fair of me to even try--"

"Okay, no. Nuh-uh." Straightening, Alex levels a hard stare at the woman across from her.

"I am so sick of people doing the noble thing, trying to anticipate seven degrees of negative outcomes from a single decision. It's stupid! As smart as you are, you can't predict the future, and even if could, even if you made all the right, altruistic choices, shit still happens!"

Lena stares at her, eyes bright and shining. Jesus. Like Lena needs a reminder that life is shit when she's missing half a hand and just spent three months of her trying to save Sam's life.

"Sorry." Alex softens her voice, lowers her tone, and holds Lena's gaze. "If you don't want to change anything between us, I will accept that. But Lena-- can't we make this choice on what we want? On what will make us happy?"

Lena doesn't answer. Alex sees her throat working, but no voice comes. Taking advantage of the quiet, Alex crossed to join Lena on the far side of the island. Lena looks like she's about to bolt, so Alex keeps her hands to herself, keeps some space between them. But not having the island serving as a physical barrier, Alex feels herself opening up.

Her heart pounds, races when she detects the faint fragrance of Lena's perfume. Happiness is right in front of her, staring at her own bandaged hands and waiting for her to speak.

"All my life I worked so hard to do what was expected... I shaped everything about myself to fit around what Kara needed, to be what my mom wanted for me. And look, I don't know how this is going to go between us, Lena. I really don't."

Finally, Lena meets her gaze, swivelling on her stool to face her. It takes all of Alex's self control to keep her hands to herself, to keep from running her fingers through long dark haor or cupping those soft cheeks dampening from tears. Her own tears burn behind her eyes, and a sudden lump forms in her throat.

"But what I do know," Alex continues, "is that I never knew true happiness until I finally accepted what *I* wanted, and made the choice to fucking go for it-- and damn the consequences."

Lena's breath hitches dangerously in her chest, and for a moment it's like she can't stand to look at Alex. Her gaze travels the room, searching for something else to focus on but inevitably returning to Alex. When she wipes her eyes, Alex finally tempts fate and laces her fingers with Lena's.

Lena doesn't pull away.

"If you don't want this, fine," she says. She squeezes Lena's hand. "Just please, please make that decision because it's what you want."

For a long moment, there's absolutely nothing. And then, at long last...

"Will you have dinner with me tonight?"

The question comes so gently that Alex almost has to double-take. Lena gives her a  tremulous smile and a shaky laugh when Alex blinks at her dumbly.

"Y-yes!" Alex says. The nerves are back, and she feels adrenaline flood her system. "Of course, yes."

Lena straightens in her seat, and Alex fills the space to wrap her arms around her. To her surprise, Lena's arms curl readily around her waist.

"You give really good pep talks," Lena murmurs.

"Ah, well... that's my impeccable DEO agent leadership training at work right there."

A snort answers her. "Right."

"Okay, fine, it comes with the big sis territory. Hard to turn off sometimes." Alex pauses. "Especially when I get a free dinner out of it."

Lena's laugh makes her heart soar.

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 5a, part 5b

#i wrote dis #agentcorp #lena luthor #alex danvers #sam arias #ruby arias #wall of text #written and posted via phone #not quite agentreigncorp yet #but its coming #like a heart attack #these two #god i love it #and i hate everyone who is enabling me #i have a problem #i cant stop #send halp #edited to add links

[thehelleniclunarwitch]

Choice

Prompt 73: All you have to do is make a choice.

Pairing: Reader gets to choose: Seth Rollins x Reader, Finn Balor x Reader

Fandom: WWE

Warning: Cursing

I am trying something new. I will start off a prompt with a basic introduction between 2 to 3 choices and at the end, you can decide whose ending you’d like to end up with. Feedback would be great and appreciated!

“I don’t even know how I ended up in a pickle like this,” You stated. 

“Don’t see it as a problem,” Nikki said. 

“What do you mean?” You asked. 

“You have two great guys who like you for you and definitely want to spend more time with you. You just need to decide who is the right one for you,” Nikki explained. 

“It can’t be that easy,” You replied. 

“Why can’t it? Seth and Finn have made it perfectly clear that they would want to take your friendship to the next level so it’s not like you have to play the guessing game if they like you or not,” Brie added. 

“But how do I know?” You asked. 

The twins looked at each other and just smiled. 

“Trust us, you’ll know,” They said in unison.

Sighing, you left the twins’ locker room and headed back down to yours. As you wandered down the hallway you were greeted by Finn’s large smile. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him. 

“Hey lass,” Finn greeted. 

“Hi Finny,” You greeted in return. 

You and Finn hopped up on one of the shipping containers. Your legs swung back and forth as you two sat next to each other.

“What’s on your mind, lass? You looked troubled,” Finn asked. 

You glanced away from him trying to hide the look on your face. 

“Oh nothing really, I just need to make a choice that’s all,” You replied. 

“Well lassie, is it anything I can help you with?” Finn asked. 

You bit your lip as you mulled his question over. 

“Actually, Finn, what’s your favorite memory of us?” You asked. 

Finn just laughed. “Is this gonna help your choice?”

You just nodded and Finn sighed. 

“Do you remember last winter? When you got stuck riding with me and Aj?” Finn asked. 

You nodded quickly. “It was the worse! You two stunk so bad and you refused to roll down the windows to air out the damn car,”

Finn laughed. “You were so fucking mad, but you were a trooper and hung in there, but then the night only got worse when we got to the hotel and they had lost your reservation,”

“I remember. I was asking every single one of our co-workers as they walked in if anybody had a spare bed for me. Dolph was just about to take pity on me when you swooped in and saved the day. You gave me your room and you bunked with Aj,” You added.

“You know I can still clearly see that look of relief wash over your face when I held out the room keys to you,” Finn said. 

“You literally saved my night, Finn. I’ve always been so grateful to you and the many times you’ve come to my rescue,” You smiled. 

“The way you were jumped into my arms with excitement and kissed me on my cheek several times I’ve never forgotten that,” Finn said. 

“So your favorite memory of us you stinking me out of the car and coming to my rescue?” You asked. 

“Not just that part, but the after part. We both couldn’t sleep that night and I found you sitting down in the lobby curled up on the couch watching the snow fall,” Finn said. 

“Oh yeah, we stayed up way too late talking,” You remembered. 

“Exactly, I like listening to you talk, you always have the best stories,” Finn grinned. 

You grinned back at him. 

“Balor you’re up!” One of the assistants shouted. 

“Not that I haven’t been enjoying our walk down memory lane, but I’ve got to go show Miz who is boss,” Finn teased and you chuckled. 

“Good luck tonight!” You called after him. 

“Thanks, lass,” Finn said back before disappearing into the gorilla. 

Hopping down from the shipping container you headed back down to your locker room. You stopped every so often to chit-chat with your other friends before entering your locker room. 

You had just plopped down on the couch when there was a knock on the door. 

“Come in!” You yelled from your spot. 

“Hey you,” Seth said with a warm smile. 

“Well if it isn’t Mr. Architect himself,” You teased. 

Seth sauntered over to the couch, you lifted your legs up so he could sit. When he was seated you dropped your legs into his lap. 

“I heard your match got canceled tonight,” Seth said. 

“Yeah, I guess Alicia is being treated for an injury and they don’t think she’ll be able to compete,” You explained. 

“Sorry about that,” Seth apologized, you shrugged. 

“Are you going they going to assign you a tag team for the mixed gender matches?” You asked. 

“I don’t know they haven’t told me one or way another,” Seth answered. 

“Well, who would you want as your partner?” You asked. 

Seth gave you a look. “You really have to ask?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m not a mind reader,” You pointed out. 

Seth chuckled. “Right, well I would want you as my partner,”

“Awe you’d want little ole me?” You teased and Seth rolled his eyes. 

“Are you really that shocked?” Seth asked. 

“I mean you do spend a lot of time following Alexa around,” You pointed out. 

Seth scoffed. “Please, I like Alexa, but she’s half the talent you are,”

You could tell by the tone of his voice and the look on his face that he was completely serious. 

“Hey, Seth?” You said breaking the silence. 

“Hmm?” Seth hummed as his eyes focused on the television. 

“Can I ask you something?” You said. 

“Of course you can,” Seth replied. 

“Do you have a favorite memory of us?” You asked him. 

“Jesus, where to start? We’ve started at NXT together,” Seth said. 

“We do have a lot of great memories together,” You agreed with a soft smile. 

“You know if I have to choose just one it has to be my last birthday. I was really upset about not being able to make it home and my family couldn’t make it out to the show, but you made it all worthwhile,” Seth said. 

“Seth I didn’t do anything too spectacular,” You said. 

“To me it was. Y/n, you made me a cake from scratch, surprised me with happy birthday wishes from my family, and binged watched my favorite cheesy movies with me, and surprising me with my favorite album on record,” Seth said. 

You shrugged. “You’re one of my best friends Seth,”

“Don’t say you would do it for anybody, I mean yes to a degree for any of your friends you would go above and beyond, but this one was different. I’ll never forget that birthday,” Seth explained. 

There was a knock on the door and then Roman was popping his head in. 

“Hi sweetheart,” Roman grinned. 

“Hey Ro,” You smiled. 

“Sorry to break up your little cuddle time, but I need my partner for our match,” Roman said.

“Oh, I guess you can have him,” You said lifting your legs so Seth could go join his friend. 

“I’ll talk to you later,” Seth said.

“Definitely. Good luck out there,” You smiled and then Roman shut the door behind them. 

Sighing, you stood and quickly left your locker room. You weaved your way through the halls back to the twins’ locker room. You knocked once before entering. 

“You both suck,” You pouted before plopping down across their laps on the couch. 

The twins laughed. 

“Have you made up your mind yet?” Brie asked. 

You let out an annoyed huff. 

“Close your eyes and look down real deep. Your heart will tell who is the right one,” Nikki whispered as she started to braid your hair. Closing your eyes you thought about Finn and your memories with him and then picturing Seth and all of the memories with him. You took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. 

“Yes, my choice is...”

Now this is where you decide, is your happy ending with Seth or with Finn. 

Seth’s Ending          Finn’s Ending

#Seth Rollins #Seth Rollins x Reader #Finn Balor #Finn Balor x Reader #The bella twins #Nikki Bella #Brie Bella #Alexa Bliss #Roman Reigns #WWE #Raw #Smackdown #fan fiction #insert reader #choices #choose your own destiny #prompt #stories #writing