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stillness-in-green · 1 year

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Chapter Thoughts: 370 — HIStory

Sorry for how late this one is, all. Between Spinaraki Week, Life In General, and having, holy crap, SO MUCH I want to talk about this chapter, I'm running a bit behind. I may come back to try to finish out some fills for the rest of Spinaraki Week eventually, but I wrote all my really burning ideas at the start, so my desire to get back to my reams of meta was much more pressing. I'll try to hit the ask backlog before the next big post! (As you might be able to guess, I'm going to have a lot to say about Chapter 371, too.)

That said, hey, guys, guess who’s in hella Talking Point instead of Bullet Point Mode this chapter; that’s right, it’s me. WHAT a chapter. I’ll work my way through it in a broadly chronological fashion; the big stuff starts in the third section.

Kurogiri At the Hospital:

The narration calls Kurogiri “the closest thing to a masterpiece out of all the High Ends,” and I wonder just whose value judgment that is? After all, Kurogiri was completed years ago and Ujiko clearly isn’t the type to rest on his laurels. He’s never called Kurogiri his masterpiece; indeed, he explicitly says Hood-chan and the other High Ends are his finest work to date. So who else would talk about Kurogiri like that?

The narration tends to default to Deku, but it’s a weird statement to give to anyone other than AFO or Ujiko. What exactly makes Kurogiri the nearest thing to a masterpiece in the narrator’s opinion, anyway? His capacity for independent action is the only thing he really has up on his competition, and his independent action has been shut down since Aizawa and Mic pulled out the might-as-well-call-it-a-vestige of Shirakumo Oboro.

That’s a long-winded way of saying that if the story’s going to call Kurogiri the most advanced High End, the only thing Kurogiri can be said to be the best at is his ability to mimic a human being, so we’d damn well better see him getting another chance to do that as Kurogiri, not as the remnant of Shirakumo.

While we’re talking about Kurogiri, I do have to ask who tipped off AFO about his location and when. Per Chapter 325, if you’ll recall, it was supposed to be a secret.(1) Of course, AFO has ever so many conveniently placed friends who can do anything the plot needs them to do, but I can’t help but think that if he found out where Kurogiri was prior to this clash, he’d probably have done better to, I dunno, send in Toga or something, especially if he could have had her rendezvous with someone on the inside.

(Note that if we get AFO’s inside man next week, it will make for a nice parallel to Endeavor and company being greeted by their plant inside Jakku General Hospital in 259. Since a certain 1-A student wants to bring up hospital raids and all.)

As to Present Mic thinking of Kurogiri solely as Shirakumo, I can only continue to hope that this stubborn refusal to acknowledge even the possibility that Kurogiri might in some way be a meaningful existence will be back to properly bite him and Aizawa in the ass. The heroes have a consistent pattern of refusing to acknowledge the humanity in villains—their trauma, their motivations, their close relationships—beyond whatever little personal tidbit they trip over that they can’t look beyond. I would very much love it if, with Kurogiri, we get a direct consequence of that via Kurogiri choosing the boy he basically raised for a decade+ over the school friends the person he was constructed from knew for like a year and a half.

In and About The Crowd:

First things first, I want to mention that I got a few asks about racism in response to the leaks for this chapter—one about the way the fandom talks about this plotline and one about how the story itself is handling it. I do want to answer those, as I definitely have thoughts on both fronts (especially considering the content of Chapter 371), but I also want to do some research first.

If I haven’t said as much before, I’m white myself, so when I talk about these topics, I always want to make sure I’m doing so carefully and respectfully. In the case of Rock Lock's role this week, that’s going to take me some time. Be expecting an ask round-up about fandom shorthand, the iconography of the CRC, the heteromorphs shouting ignorance at Rock Lock, and anything else I get on that topic in the interim, sometime in early-ish November.

That said, this certainly is a crowd with some…accessories, isn’t it? CRC heads on pikes! Or possibly just masks, though if that’s the case, they’ve stuffed something else in there that fills the cowls out more than just the bare pole.

If it is just the masks, though, it’s in line with something the mob does three times in this chapter: unmasking. They pull Koda’s mask and mouthguard off, tear the helmet off one of the police officers, and, of course, my favorite pint-sized firebrand consciously chooses to unmask himself. The count goes up yet again if you include Shouji’s mask being torn apart, though in his case, it’s just the rigors of battle, not anyone specifically removing it.

(The above is another post I might write eventually on the extremely consistent pattern of heroes only being unmasked against their will, while villains—usually—choose when and under what circumstances to unmask themselves, and how that ties to the overarching themes of heroes staunchly resisting any sign of weakness while villains are more open to showing vulnerability, be it for the strategic value of doing so or out of a genuine desire to connect. Keep an eye out!)

On top of the crowd’s growing mask collection, they also have Spinner flags! You love to see it. Or you would, if Spinner weren’t in such dire straits right now. I’d still buy one, though.

As to the actual characters present, it’s nice to see some familiar faces with the Spinner fanboys and the USJ guy, who’s particularly notable here for being the very first person in the series to use the term heteromorph. He self-identified with it, exhibiting—at least on the surface—none of the distaste Spinner would later express for the word.

I’d love to know what the percentage breakdown is on this crowd’s membership. We have dissatisfied civilians, PLF remnants and, as evinced by the USJ guy, also some prison escapees, for the completely wild total of 15,000 people. While my primary response to that is, “I don’t think Horikoshi understands numbers very well,” taking it at face value, no matter how you cut the numbers, it is a bad look for the heroes.

I suppose we can assume there aren’t too many prison escapees here, since the narration didn’t even see fit to mention them as a factor, so that leaves mainly PLF and civilians. So is what we have here mostly civilians—nearly fifteen thousand people willing to take their lives and their futures into their hands for this cause? Or do we instead have many thousands of escaped PLF members, quite contrary to the pathetic number we were told were in the wind after the war arc?(2) Or is it about half and half?

There’s no good answer! It’s Real Bad no matter what!

That all said, we all know who I’m really here for, right? Let’s talk about the returning PLFers. (Alert: Incoming non-canonical advisor names.)

It’s long been eyebrow-raising to me that Spinner’s Number 2 advisor (hereafter called Scarecrow) does all the talking, while his Number 1 advisor (hereafter Nimble) never says a single word. While I appreciate that it’s yet to joss my headcanon that she actually can’t talk because she doesn’t have a mouth, I would really like it if we could get some demonstration as to why she outranks her extremely verbal subordinate.

We saw her exactly once in this chapter, on the second page, advancing through the crowd just ahead of Spinner. If she’s managed to keep up with him, this would seem to suggest that Shouji ought to be getting up close and personal with her next week, especially if the pattern of MLA types getting very angry when people attack their leaders holds (and it seems to be doing so; more on that below). I’d be really quite happy to watch her and Scarecrow tag team this, with her taking on Shouji physically while Scarecrow fights him for the crowd’s morale.

(Edit in light of Chapter 371: *pause for bitter laughter* Well, maybe she can be sneaking into the hospital instead.)

As to Scarecrow, while I didn’t get everything right, I’m thrilled that I did call him correctly as an insect heteromorph! I initially thought that his hands and fingers looked the way they did because they were prosthetic replacements for missing limbs; now I think it’s just that they’re segmented in an insectile fashion. Here, they look more consistent with the way his shoulder-mounted bug legs are drawn than they did at first,(3) and, with the clarity of the official scans, you can see that his knees and possibly his ankles are also segmented.

I love his row of mandibles, I love his head stripes (and wonder what color the anime will make them, since his coloring as of Season 6 Episode 2 is a very uninteresting light gray), and I have definitely noticed the prominent scar.

But enough about how Scarecrow looks. Far more interesting are all the things he says.

Scarecrow’s Speech | Historical and Modern Discrimination:

Everyone and their mother has talked about the Star Wars references, and I don’t have enough Star Wars knowledge to say anything new or compelling there, save to note that the implications are incredibly grim.

Much more interesting to me is the variety of phrases that crop up this week in regard to heteromorphic discrimination. The first of those was the phrase the Viz translation renders as “those who don’t fit the mold”—the same phrasing Re-Destro used when he was talking to Giran back in Deika about how societal mores lag behind the new reality of the world. I immediately wanted to know if the wording was the same in Japanese as well, as that would be a good tell about how consistent the MLA messaging is.

Having checked the raws, as it turns out, the wording is completely different! I can’t be mad, though, because the language Scarecrow’s using is exactly in line with a phrase I’ve been using in my (ongoing) evidence-gathering about heteromorphobia, and I love it when I’m right about things.

So, the phrase Scarecrow uses there is kotonaru katachi, katachi meaning form or shape, kotonaru meaning to differ/vary/disagree. Thus, being more accurate to Scarecrow’s use of punctuation: “The history of the Paranormal is that of oppression of ‘differing forms.’”

This is important because one of the big gotchas a lot of people try to use to discredit this whole plotline is the protestation that people like Hawks and Jirou and Iida are all technically heteromorphs, and they aren’t being discriminated against, so clearly heteromorphobia is totally bogus. If you look back through the series with Scarecrow’s phrasing in mind, however, the pattern becomes much clearer. It isn’t about quirk types; it’s about body types. There’s overlap between the two categories, the same way there’s overlap between heteromorphic quirks and “villain quirks”, but they’re distinct categories nonetheless.

Interestingly, if you look at the kanji—異なる形—the phrase is very close to the kanji used for “heteromorph”: 異形, igyou. Literally all the phrase does is tack in some verb conjugation and use different readings of the kanji, and suddenly the whole tenor changes!

Speaking of igyou, though, for a chapter that’s all about anti-igyou discrimination, the term hardly crops up at all this week—even in the narration! It calls the civilians there, “ordinary citizens who sympathize with [the PLF’s] cause.” Scarecrow, as discussed above, uses “differing forms.” There’s also a lot of “our kind” in the Viz release that’s implicit rather than explicit in the Japanese text (e.g. the old man who snarls at Koda calls him merely a traitor, not “traitor to your kind.” But “heteromorph”? It’s used exactly once: by one of the people throwing rocks at Shouji in his chapter-opening flashback.

Yikes.

The flashback people use much worse language than that, though, language the Viz translation particularly gets at it when it uses the word “defiled.” As that word choice implies, the vitriol being hurled at Shouji in that scene is specifically telling of religious belief. The two terms to consider are kegare (汚れ) and imi (忌み), both more tied up with Shinto practice than Buddhist.

Imi was translated simply as “dirty” in the line about “dirty blood.” Online dictionaries give translations such as mourning, abstinence, or even holiness or religious purification, but the throughline—and another offered translation—is simply “taboo.” Imi isn't necessarily a bad thing,(4) but it is that which is to be shunned and denied, especially in the context of religious rituals. It is clearly intended as a negative thing here, though!

Even more charged is kegare, a concept of spiritual uncleanliness that is thought to further be spiritually contagious, the sort of thing that can spread if not purified and/or contained. Crucially, kegare is not nominally about moral failing necessarily; it’s not quite the same thing as sin.(5) Kegare is a natural state that one picks up via exposure to things like death, disease, and waste, but also childbirth, menstruation, and so on. Obviously, those are things that everyone is going to encounter eventually; the solution is appropriate acts of purification and boundary-setting.

…Except that’s just the party line on kegare. People who have enough sustained exposure to sources of kegare—butchers, tanners, executioners, morticians—came to be considered incapable of purification, and so were classed prior to the pre-Meiji period as something very like an untouchable caste,(6) eventually coming to be called burakumin, and subject to severe discrimination in housing, marriage, and employment, as well as more generalized oppression that endures even today to those of burakumin lineage.

Shouji’s story here feels very akin to that. The people hounding him are not doing so because of any exposure he’s had to a source of kegare, but because he himself is said source! If he personally is the source of the corruption—corruption that will spread to his entire village, spiritually polluting other people and even the land itself—that is not something that can be purified. Rather, the only thing to be done is A) drive him away or B) force him to never leave his house.

More on this next chapter, where we get even more awful details.

The last bit of descriptive terminology I want to touch on is ”human-faced people.” I’ll talk about it more in the ask round-up, but I’d really love to know where the phrase came from, in-universe. The heteromorphs are human, too! Therefore their faces must de facto be considered human faces! But that Spinner fanboy sure is yelling it with enough vitriol to suggest that he doesn’t agree, and I wonder how many times he had to be told that himself to internalize it in such a raw way.

Terminology aside, what else can be gathered from Scarecrow's speech? Well, one thing that stands out is the conflation of the history of quirks with the history of heteromorphic discrimination. And he's obviously over-simplifying—there are emitters in some of those early images of meta-abilities, and there are cases where it can be difficult to tell transformers and heteromorphs apart when a transformer's quirk is active, so they'd have been targets as well. Still, whether Scarecrow is omitting that because he's priming this specific crowd to be angry or because he truly believes it himself, the words are not entirely without basis.

I can't remember if I've talked about this before here, but something that's always been very striking to me about the timeline of quirk acceptance and historical villainy is the suggestion that the original Meta Liberation Army and the Creature Rejection Clan are contemporaries. Both groups are dated to the period in which society was beginning to stabilize after the chaos of the advent of quirks.

So, while Destro and his cohort were getting angry about laws that would restrict the outside-the-home use of natural-born abilities to only those with a license, the CRC were getting angry about laws that would tacitly admit the equal humanity of people the CRC considered to be much less than human. They started with protests, but soon moved into hate crimes, and in that, we get to something else that's very notable about the group: they were never banned.

The volume extra note on them says that, because people disapproved of their turn to violence, they lost popularity and splintered off into factions. But this is a group that was and is committing hate crimes, that bases their whole identity around that hatred. Why in heaven's name weren't they targeted legally?

Well, firstly, because while Japan has ways to limit the freedoms and financial prospects of certain groups (primarily organized crime and terrorist groups), it doesn't actually criminalize membership in such organizations.(7) Still, there's no indication that even the controls the government can enact were ever utilized against the CRC—again, the thing that led to their diminished influence is simply that people at large thought they were going too far.

This, I think, is down to the other issue: Japan has basically no interest in anti-hate crime legislation. From my research, there is exactly one federal law about hate crimes, one activists regard as woefully insufficient because it contained absolutely zero criminal provisions targeting offenders; the only things it actually required at the time of its ratification were that the government "begin implementing preventative measures"—things like community education or banning displays of hate speech/writing in public areas—as well as respond to "requests for consultation" from victims. Consequences for offenders? Absolutely none.

There have been one or two prefectures that have gone one small step farther in the institution of fines for repeat offenders, but one crucial thing that's nowhere to be found is one of the most basic features in hate crime legislation: the enactment of stricter sentencing guidelines for crimes proven to be committed due to demographic bias.

Finally, if those laws have remained unchanged in HeroAca Land Japan, none of them would protect heteromorphs anyway, because they're only aimed at discrimination against those of non-Japanese ethnicities! Which plainly doesn't apply to ethnically Japanese heteromorphs! Here again, we can connect heteromorphs to burakumin, who have only been granted legal equality (way back in the Meiji Era, when the laws declaring them a separate caste were repealed), but no greater legal protection.

Small wonder this crowd is so big.

Moving on, Nedzu's presence in that image of accepted-and-well-off heteromorphs is really fascinating—Nedzu is really fascinating. Like, we know he has a nasty history with humans, and he certainly doesn't consider himself to be one of them, as we see when he talks about the various failings of humanity as a species. But there he is, being considered a successful and integrated heteromorph.

And sure, by the base considerations that go into determining quirk type, he is a heteromorph: his body is permanently altered from the baseline state of his species(?) by his quirk. But I wonder how much oversight he's subject to, what his citizenship (if he even has it) was contingent on, and stuff like that. Nedzu feels very much like someone whose acceptance could be revoked at any time it became inconvenient, so he's worked hard to make himself as indispensable as he can. And, in fact, he's done such a good job of it that he can even push back against government officials sometimes!

As the heteromorph giantess demonstrates, however, no matter how stable such positions seem, there's always a level of chaos that can destabilize them. (More on her next time.)

As a final note on the content of Scarecrow's speech, I will point out that we can see just a smidge of his MLA origins here. He doesn't ask for justice or reparations; what he says Spinner and this movement will do is lead heteromorphs to "prominence in society." It's not enough that they be equal; they have to be, if you will, the new main characters.

That aaaaall said, let's turn to Shouji's response.

Shouji’s Response:

It’s a mess. The whole scene is, but since I’m running behind, I’ll save the full breakdown on why for next time, as 371 will round out Shouji’s response somewhat more than just the little we get here. Focusing just on that little opening, then, let’s break down—as a lot of people already have—the fallacies involved here. Because there are a ton of them in only the one penultimate page, holy shit.

“What’s any of that got to do with attacking a hospital?”

Shouji, please. Spinner said it right before you hit him with a x8 punch multiplier: they’re here for Kurogiri, without whom they won’t win this, and society won’t change. It’s the exact same reason the heroes raided a hospital at the start of the last arc; they believed that securing the creator of the Noumu was an essential part of guaranteeing their victory.

The villains are not just attacking a hospital for kicks; they are doing it to secure a valuable strategic asset. And it’s not as if this hospital is completely defenseless, so the heroes can’t claim ignorance of this outcome! They saw an attack coming because an attack was easy to predict, and they chose to leave Kurogiri here anyway, rather than—at least temporarily—moving him back to more secure holding.

That doesn’t magically make the people who masterminded this attack blameless, of course, but the heroes do have to take some of the responsibility here for the same reason UA had to take responsibility for Bakugou’s kidnapping(8) and police had to do the same for the League’s highway attack on the convoy transporting Overhaul.

Bakugou’s safety was UA’s responsibility just as much as a prisoner’s safekeeping is the responsibility of the state once they’re in custody. That’s why it’s called custody—because it confers custodianship.

“Back in Jaku, the first thing the heroes did was take action to make sure the patients and staff were safe.”

No. No, it was not. In fact what happened was that they stormed the building without warning with part of the team dedicated to evacuation and the other part dedicated to securing Ujiko. The two teams took action simultaneously. They didn’t even have everyone out when they confronted Clone!Ujiko in the middle of a hallway within line of sight of two innocent (and clearly not notified of the ongoing evacuation!) staff members. They still didn’t have everyone out when the Noumu came up through the floor.

The fact is, the heroes couldn’t spring their trap with a more generous lead time to guarantee civilian safety because doing so would have tipped off Ujiko. And, indeed, given that Ujiko was already talking about the heroes' presence when the POV cut to the real man in the lab, he clearly did get tipped off, though the story doesn’t say how exactly.

*** Minor tangent:

I might guess he found out via Mandalay’s telepathy, but, again, it didn’t seem like the pair of staff members that came to his defense had been notified of an emergency, which suggests the telepathic message only initially went out to the people in the immediate lobby, rather than "everyone on the premises except Garaki Kyudai the clone I have mistaken for Garaki Kyudai."

When I worked at a hospital, there were emergency codes for various circumstances; I would think something like that being called would be the immediate reaction to a bunch of heroes showing up and saying to evacuate the building, and yeah, of course a facility-wide evacuation code would do the trick for alerting him!

Frankly, it’s a heap of nonsense that the heroes got everyone out as quickly as they did. For heaven’s sake, given Mirko’s speed and the ease with which she ripped through the Noumu in the basement, it cannot possibly have been more than ten minutes between her leaping through the main entrance and her kicking down Ujiko’s front door, and Mandalay reported a completed evacuation mere moments after that. The hospital is four stories with at least two sizeable wings, and given that it was the middle of the day, it’s very likely that there would have been surgeries and other such procedures in progress. Unless the heroes snuck Quicksilver onto their team, evacuation categorically could not have happened in ten or so minutes.

But, me griping about how flawlessly the heroes’ raid plans tend to go off given the hurdles they ought realistically to be facing is not new. I now return to the rest of the chapter post. ***

Shouji, in any case, wasn’t at the hospital, so his word on what the heroes did is unreliable. The students didn’t even know what they were doing at the start of that day, so anything he knows about the details of the Jakku raid is going to rely on hearsay from classmates or the media, none of whom were in the hospital advance team, either.

Moving back to the hospital currently in question, I have to ask Shouji how much authority over the space does he think a mob of 15K people actually has? Even though the Jakku team wasn’t holding the building to start with, they still had the societal cachet to walk unimpeded into a bustling hospital, say, “Everybody out,” and be listened to with minimum fuss and maximum police backup.

The mob, conversely, is attacking a building from which they are being vigorously denied entry. Their number is composed of malcontents and villains, people who have no authority to make any demands of those inside the building save whatever obedience they can brute force their way into commanding with numbers and threats.

And even so, you know what the mob spends most of the chapter saying? Spoilers: it’s not screaming for blood and vengeance. They have a few very common refrains—make way, clear a path, push the enemy back. When they come up against Rock Lock, there are calls to get his hands, to tie him up. Their intent is to restrain him, not to kill him, not even to knock him out! When the crowd briefly overwhelms Koda, the elderly beaked heteromorph does nothing but tear off the kid’s mask and call him a traitor.

I’m not saying no one would get killed in the case of a villain victory; certainly, when violence has already broken out and emotions are running that high, with so many angry people there, it’s entirely likely that things would continue to escalate (though if Scarecrow were able to continue rallying the crowd, he would likely be able to direct them somewhat(9)). Still, Shouji asks what their plan is to avoid innocent suffering, and I would point out that their modus operandi seems to be to not inflict undue suffering even on the people actively opposing them, much less the civilians inside!

No, one thing changes the mood of the crowd for the worse, and that’s Shouji’s attack on Spinner.(10)

That’s when the content of the cries suddenly gets more bloody-minded, calling explicitly for death, just like back in Deika when the MLA rank-and-file would go nuts when their leaders were attacked. (Though, honestly, Spinner’s guesses back then notwithstanding, it’s not like that’s so strange or cult-like. Attacking leaders of social or political movements directly is always going to piss off their followers. Feels a bit like a foul, you know?)

I don’t have a lot to say about Spinner this week, because frankly the situation with him is just too damn depressing. More on that—and on the matter of who’s expected to plan and who gets away without plans—next time.

“Do you have a plan here? Because if not, I won’t let this stand!”

“I won’t let this stand” lolol does that mean Shouji would let this stand—just step back and roll out the red carpet for them—if they did have a plan?

Well, no, because his actual line there is the well-worn, “I won’t forgive you.” According to Translator Sis, it’s kind of a Whole Thing in the American translator community that no one wants to just translate that line straight, so you see all kinds of weird permutations to get around it. I'd venture to guess this is because the phrase has Cultural Baggage in Japanese that it lacks in English; I remember reading once, years ago, that the reason Sailor Moon concludes her speech every episode with, "I won't forgive you!" is that forgiveness is considered a Very Big Deal in Japan.

Of course, I should think forgiveness is a pretty big deal in most parts of the world, but Japan values societal harmony very highly, so yeah, I can see that declaring one's refusal to forgive someone (et tu, Natsuo?) would be regarded as a very grave statement indeed.

(More on that next time, too.)

Stray Notes:

O The chapter opens with, “Turning back the clock a bit…” and it strikes me that there’s not much point in turning back the clock if Spinner isn’t going to win here. I mean, I obviously thought that already—there are far too many loose plot threads on this battle for it to be wrapping up yet—but as VFO foreshadowed last chapter, I think we must be right on the cusp of a shift in fortunes.

After all, if Spinner and the rest were just going to be defeated here, it wouldn’t matter that all this was happening slightly earlier than the (seeming) climax of ShigAFO’s defeat. So while things look dire here, and look even worse in 371, I’m all but positive at this point that the hospital fight will represent the tides turning again. We wound back the clock so that no one would be confused when Kurogiri and whoever-all else teleport into the middle of the UA battlefield right where we left Deku and ShigAFO last time.

O My schadenfreude at the police and Rock Lock’s complaints about how organized the mob is cannot be overstated. Lolol, “There’re only 200 of us, we’re so short-handed, and they’re so mean for splitting us up, weeeeh!” YEAH, THAT’S HOW IT FEELS. SUCKS WHEN THE ENEMY SPLITS UP YOUR FORCES AND CUTS YOU OFF FROM BACKUP, DUNNIT?

O A point to Horikoshi. I’ve been complaining for months now that the alleged shortage of heroes is empty talk because Team Hero still always had all the people they could ever need to attack and defend all their objectives. Well, here we finally, finally have a shortage that matters: not enough people to defend Kurogiri is going to mean they fail to defend Kurogiri, with all the consequences that come after. It’s about time.

O Koda is a sweetheart, and he doesn’t deserve to be called a race class allegorical discrimination victim traitor to his face. I do, however, feel less bad for him in the wake of 371 than I did just after this chapter.

O The blood splashed on the ground is an evocative touch, and I particularly like the panel layout of Scarecrow, arms up and reciting his toll of grievances as the image of the crowd he’s talking to today gives way to that image of spilled blood, and then to a crowd from times past, where heteromorphs are on the opposite end of the violence, and then even further to the image of the surface peace people fool themselves into believing exists today.

It’s really excellent in the way that it matches Scarecrow's verbal addressing of all this—the crowd, the history, the social veneer—with an image of his visually addressing it. He’s even the only one who isn’t contained in a panel, the ledge he’s standing on jutting out subtly in front of the other images, giving the impression that he’s standing in front of this gallery of horrors and explaining them to an audience like a particularly fire-and-brimstone museum guide.

Fantastic work!

O In terms of translation, I don’t love the choice to render Spinner’s broken language as caveman-speak. I realize that it’s not really possible to get at the same effect in English—indeed, it wouldn’t be possible to get across the effect in spoken Japanese, either! Still, I think a closer equivalent would be to leave Spinner’s language as-is, but spell it all phonetically, like a grade-schooler trying to write words they’ve heard but haven’t learned how to spell yet. That’s a much closer replica of the way regular kanji are broken down into their component sounds or the wrong system of writing is used.

O With Scarecrow waving Spinner onward like that, I have to wonder how cognizant he is of Spinner’s dysfunction, and what he thinks of it if he does know? Next week’s chapter is unclear on this as well.

O Someone please save me from civilians standing around with slack looks of shock on their dumb faces the moment a hero makes an ill-considered rhetorical point. Cripes, I’m so tired of civilians in this story not being allowed to have opinions, beliefs, or motivations that are well-considered enough to stand up to a single conversational parry.

----FOOTNOTES----

1: So much a secret that Horikoshi himself hadn’t figured it out at first, judging by Kurogiri’s presence in Tartarus circa Chapter 297.

2: “Gigantomachia’s rampage allowed one hundred and thirty-two of them to escape. Their bases scattered around the country were hit too, and the sympathizers were rounded up.”

3: In his villa raid appearances, his shoulder-mounted bug legs and his hands looked different enough that I didn’t read them as being of the same material. In particular, the segments of his bug legs had a very ball-and-socket joint look, whereas his hands and fingers looked connected by cables in between their individual segments.

4: I might compare a sacred avoidance to, say, the Jewish prohibitions on how the names of God are to be written or not written.

5: Tsumi would be a better word for that concept.

6: There's a certain amount of scholarship around exactly how the burakumin came to be, and to what degree their status was as a result of a sincere belief in kegare or more political in nature. Much of said scholarship is paywalled or in Japanese, but from what I can find, kegare was certainly used as a justification, even if there were other factors in play at the time.

7: Largely because the idea of giving the government the power to start reenacting the March 15 Incident is massively unpopular with the voter base.

8: It shares a lot of circumstances with that, in fact. Both the location of the training camp and Kurogiri being moved to Central Hospital were supposed to be cloaked in secrecy. Both the training camp and Kurogiri were recognized as possible targets. The training camp attack involved the villains getting information from an inside source, which is likely how AFO found out Kurogiri’s location as well.

9: Direct them to do what? Well, he’s got no reason other than crowd morale management to spare the hospital’s defenders, but much less reason than that to call for anything very awful to be done to the hospital’s civilian occupants. I’d have said the same thing about Hose Face bringing up Midnight’s death, though, so far be it for me to deny the possibility of nonsensical cruelty from the villains Horikoshi isn’t asking us to care about.

10: In fairness, because Spinner is about to crush a pair of cops with his Mega Sword-Sword. Spinner is not thinking straight enough to be thinking at all about incapacitation versus maiming versus death; he’s just cutting a path ahead.

#bnha #bnha 370 #plf advisors #octolad #heteromorph discrimination plot #bnha civilians #chapter thoughts #bnha meta #my writing #bnha worldbuilding #(musing about the canon's worldbuilding that is)#stillness chanting that advisor's name like she's cheering him on at a cage match #SCARE-CROW SCARE-CROW SCARE-CROW

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scandalsavagefanfic · 3 years

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Hello! I am a huge fan of ur writing. I've loved everything I've read of yours. I've read alot of what you've posted, except for a couple of the tags that are squicky for me (so I'm very thankful you tag very thoroughly). No judgement for the squick, it's just not for me. & when I'm having a bad day, I usually just go thru ur ao3 and find something to reread. I think about Therapy's Bruce & Jason every damn day. While I obvs appreciate ur darker more "problematic" content (I really vibe with some of the themes you write about bc of my own trauma, & so it's very cathartic to read about in a fictional setting), I am truly a sucker for ur more happy content. The Happily Ever After verse also lives in my head rent free. Idk more wholesome stuff just seems more special when you write it. Anyways. I would die for you. But the point of this ask is cause I'm curious as to why you don't like Urban Legends? I'm sorry if you already talked about it here or on twitter and I missed it. I was just wondering because I really enjoy your take on things and would love to hear why you dislike it. I've been enjoying it so far personally, but I am always open to DC comics criticism.

Aw thank you so much! I'm so flattered by everything you just said. You're so sweet ❤❤❤❤❤

I haven't talked about Urban Legends here or twitter (I haven't been very active in either place lately. Just a lot going on and no energy 😔) but I'm happy to do it here.

Before I start though, I just want to add a standard disclaimer and make it clear that if you like it, there's nothing wrong with that and you don't have to let me ruin it for you lol. Like what you like.

That said, since you asked...

I said this when I was talking about it on discord, that there is a difference between hope and expectation. I always hope that a new story centered on Jason (or anyone really, but things have been especially egregious for Jay for 15 years) will be good or at least treat the character with a minimal level of respect (to be honest, the bar is super fucking low). But my expectations always temper my hope, to keep it from getting unrealistic. Because my expectations are based on experience.

The long history of Jason Todd, since even before his resurrection, has been one of retroactively trying to make him "a bad seed" in order to absolve Bruce of any responsibility in his death.

I don't even expect DC or their writers to start honoring the fact that Jason was not an angry, reckless Robin (and less of the later than Dick or Tim and definitely Damian). There plenty of ways that retcon can be folded into his history and be compelling and sympathetic. And if they're going to stick with that retcon, I'm only asking that they do it in one of those compelling and sympathetic ways because Jason was 15 when he died, heroically, in one of the most selfless acts in comics, to save a woman who literally handed him over to be brutally murdered. He was 12 when Bruce plucked him off the streets, he'd been homeless and fending for himself for at least two years. I personally think that Jason's story hits harder for him and Bruce if their original, canon relationship, of Jason as starry-eyed and eager to learn and absolutely devoted to Bruce and Bruce to Jason, is preserved. But Jason's origins does leave room for a meaningful interpretation of him as angry and frustrated at the lack of meaningful results of Bruce's methods.

And that's really where my irritation at stories like Batman: Urban Legends, Cheer and Batman The Adventure Continues has it's roots.

Every time one of these stories comes out, I think (or hope, rather) that this will be the one that remembers and respects the origins of the Jason and the Red Hood, that takes into account the changed sensibilities of comics readers in the 30 years since Jason's death and the subtle, 20 year, retroactive campaign to make him the "bad Robin". The "born bad" trope is played out and literally no one likes the message it implies. That some kids are just bad eggs and there's nothing parents or the adults around them can do. Especially when it's played as the kid's fault. If Jason's time as Robin is going to be characterized by anger, then it should be rooted in anger at the social injustices he witnessed as he grew up in an impoverished, crime-ridden, area and the horrors he faced raising himself when every day was a battle for survival. There are topical, meaningful, stories to tell with that backdrop.

But those are never the stories we get.

⚠⚠ Spoilers for Batman: Urban Legends, Cheer ⚠⚠

I'm particularly disappointed in Urban Legends because for the first issue, it looked like that was the kind of story we were going to get. I was put off by the first flashback of Jason being mesmerized by Bruce's guns, and I got that feeling in my gut that it was a bad sign. Jason depicted as impatient and overconfident and the scene with the guns is heavy-handed foreshadowing that got my spidey-sense tingling. I had a inkling then (in the first three pages) of how this story was going to play out, but it was early and I could still see many narrative paths that could lead to a satisfying story. My concerns were soothed somewhat and the little flame of my hope fanned, with the flashback of Alfred scolding Bruce, with Barbara's concern for Jason. A bit of worry returned with the way Jason ruthlessly pursued an addict who didn't appear to be a dealer and with the ending of the issue. The stuff with the addict sat wrong with me but the ending was tempered some by how despicable Tyler's dad was written. The scene was clearly set so that the reader could sympathize with Jason's decision and the scene with the addict could be brushed aside as a side-effect of comics over-the-top need for constant action, so I still held hope.

Issue 2 made me uncomfortable and it's where my hope starts to take a backseat to my expectations. I can dismiss Jason's self-deprecating internal monologue as unreliable narration, except that the flashback reinforces his thought process to explicitly show that it's not unreliable narration, and should be taken at face value. Jason faces physical abuse at the hands of his mother's drug dealer and when the flashback continues later, Jason kills the drug dealer. To be clear, this is a pre-Bruce Jason. His mom is still alive. He's like... 10. He kills this guy for shoving his head into a wall and implying Jason's mother paid for her drugs with sex. This is a scene that serves a single purpose. To show that Jason has always been prone to violence.

In the spirit of full disclosure, there is the small chance the drug dealer might not be dead. But the story obviously wants the reader to think he is, and it hasn't done anything to change that yet.

Starlin already did this story with The Diplomat’s Son in 1988 and he did it infinitely better. AND that’s still technically canon. So now I’m supposed to believe that Jason lost his cool bad enough to kill two douche bags before his sweet 16? Like it’s totally normal for abused kids raised in poverty, who’ve led hard and heartbreaking lives to just... haul off and kill people? That’s bullshit, and when taken with the Jason in the third issue, who is little more than an idiot thug, this story is really doubling down on some fucked up stereotypes.

Which brings us to the most recent issue. I went into this installment with very low expectations. I thought this story was going to be about Jason, through this experience with Tyler, a young boy with a similar background to Jason's, coming to the realization that Bruce's way is the best way and that Bruce did his best by Jason.

That would be annoying (in no small part because it takes increasingly absurd levels of plot armor to keep Bruce's no kill rule relevant, let alone irrefutably right). But I can probably live with that, if only because maybe if Jason officially falls back into line with the Bats crusade, maybe I'll get stories that treat him with respect, stories that don't relegate him to comic relief, dumb brute, or a background body with no lines in a story about the Joker burning Gotham (like Jason would just fucking stand there quietly for that).

And that may still be where the story is going, Jason realizing Bruce is right.

But holy shit do I not have the right words to describe how fucking insulting and gross issue three is.

From start to finish--including the flashback--Jason is written as cruel and fucking stupid. Like straight up dumb.

The entire issue is Bruce explaining the fucking basics to Jason like it's his first day. And Jason flies off the fucking handle and terrorizes a doctor he knows isn't a part of making the Cheerdrops, beats the shit out of some random addicts, and finally, when he can't accomplish anything on his own because he's a dumb brute he calls Barbara for help and rushes in with no information where he's promptly incapacitated and must now wait to be rescued by Batman.

This panel is the least of the issues sins but I can’t screenshot the entire story but it’s representative of the tone for the whole issue (and retroactively tainted the prior two issues).

This is beyond insulting. The only conclusions Jason comes to in this issue are the ones Bruce leads him to by talking to him like he can’t make the simplest connections. And like... in this story Jason can’t make the simplest connections.

This (and the Jason throughout the entirety of this issue) is a far cry from the Jason we fell in love with in Under the Red Hood, who was competent and strategic and intelligent enough to seize control of Gotham’s underworld from Black Mask (who’s no fucking slouch, he’s the first and only person to unify organized crime in Gotham) AND elude and manipulate Bruce until the time and place of his choosing.

This is a far cry from even the Red Hood and the Outlaws Jason who is competent enough to fight the League of Shadows and Ra’s al Ghul (among very dangerous and skilled others) and smart enough to create antidotes for mind control nanotech viruses.

As he should be, by the way. Jason Todd is one of the best, most comprehensively trained fighters in DC’s stable of non powered vigilantes. He’s not irrational or hot headed. He’s pragmatic, tactically minded, and patient. He’s a detective. Right now. Has been since he was 12. Bruce doesn’t have to make him one because he already is.

Jason is not a stupid thug who uses his fists because his brain doesn’t work. And I can’t tell you how so very exhausted I am by this narrative.

This is actually the most egregious example of Jason’s skills and intelligence being not just undermined but dismissed entirely. Even Morrison’s Jason had some degree of competency.

The one, single redeeming factor of this story is the art. It’s beautiful. And Marcus To is a godsend he seems to be one of only a couple of artists who remember that Jason was a child when he was Robin and I’m literally only buying this book because of him.

Anyway, I’m sorry. I didn’t want that to come out so... um... passionately lol. I’m just very very tired. My intention with this isn’t to ruin it for you, if you like it, that’s fine.

But this issue shot this story to the top of my "Vehemently Despise” list. 1) Batman: Urban Legends (Cheer), 2) Battle for the Cowl/Morrison’s Batman and Robin, 3) Batman The Adventure Continues.

I hope the next issues somehow salvage this dumpster fire. But I’m not expecting it.

(Damnit. That sounded harsh again. To reiterate, I’m not trying to judge anyone who enjoys it, I just personally hate it and you asked me why lol 😅)

#Batman #red hood #batman: urban legends #nice art #shit story #or at least shit characterization #jason todd deserves better #this response got long and I didn't edit it #please forgive any errors #and/or unclear spots #spoilers

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well-its-not-human-anymore · 3 years

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Okokok here this: april, reader and casey try to prank the boys. How does it go. With who does it fails/success, what was the prank, do they get caught? Do the boys get revenge, and if so, how?

Also, splinter sees it all unfolds, does he just gets himself a snack and watch, or does he tries to subtly join in without getting caught? (We all know hes got a playful side cmon)

Bonus: they try to prank vern too, maybe the boys join in to prank him? What do they do? Does he retaliate?

Okay so I admit I let my brain go nuts on this one, so it's a little long but I was cackling the entire time I was writing it.

TMNT Headcanons

Prank Wars

Leonardo

In your complete and utter defence, Leo had 100% started this

And also in your defence, you did tell him not to

Twice

But he tricked you into watching a horror movie and ended up dying your hair green

This meant war

You'd even wrapped up April and Casey into it

Their problems were your problems

Which meant that April was the one who convinced Splinter not to say anything to his sons

He was perfectly happy to oblige

Casey was just there to help set things up

And you liked the way his mind worked

The objective wasn't to go unnoticed, there would be no point in doing it and having no proof

You were doing this to prove that you could

Leo had emphasized that he couldn't be distracted

That you were to obvious and clumsy to prank him without him noticing

Challenge fucking accepted

And that's how you ended up at the kitchen table eating lunch with April and Casey when the boys were coming back from meditating with Splinter

April kept having to shove food in her mouth to hide her laughter

Casey just decided to wear sunglasses

And you kept overpowering the urge to smirk

"Hey guys, good to see you. Y/n have you seen my katanas?"

With the obstruction of water in your mouth you just nodded at him, pointing to the other room

He sauntered off, none the wiser to your victorious grin

When he came back in only a moment later his expression had done a complete 180

Leo made direct eye contact with you and you held that stare like a wolf cornered in its den

"does someone want to explain why my katanas are encased in blueberry jello?"

You raised your hand like a child in class

"hate to break it to you, but it's actually berry blue you uncultured bitch"

Raphael

Ohhhh you were so undeniably dead

A whole other level of six feet under

It wasn't a surprise that April and Casey had backed out on this one

It also wasn't a surprise that Splinter had offered to stand up for you if things went sideways

Donnie even gave you a sheet of paper with a list of hiding spots before hand

All of this went completely unnoticed by Raph, the target of your latest scheme.

And that was fine, you had only one objective here-

Make it out alive

But it was amazing what 1 person could do with some extra cash and internet access

So that's what led you to your current position.

Cross legged on the bench, watching the large red terrapin get ready for his first set, that in itself wasn't unusual, you always watched him lift just in case you needed to run and grab someone if something went wrong

Raph was none the wiser to your plan

At least that's what you thought

Your book was in your lap and you were calmly scanning your pages, somewhat comprehending the words but keeping a very close eye on the turtle across from you

"Hey y/n?"

You peeked over the edge of your book to meet his eyes

And your heart sank to your stomach

"Yeah Raph?"

He smirked at you, taking a lumbering step forward

"You ever seen that episode of the Office where Jim fills Dwight's phone with nickels so when he takes 'em out Dwight punches himself in the face?"

Shit shit shit shit shit shit-

"Uh... No, can't say that I have, why do you ask?"

That damn smile got even wider and all of your muscles tensed, you were ready to bolt

"I'm giving you a fifteen second headstart. Starting right now."

You flew to your feet and sprinted out of the weight room

"DONNIE WE GOTTA CODE RED!"

Your lungs were ready to burst by the time you made it to your decided hiding spot. Heavy footsteps went right underneath you and you held your breath, you wouldn't dare move.

You didn't come down until hours later when Splinter came and coaxed to you out of hiding

But deep down you knew you'd started something you couldn't finish.

Vern Fenwick

You didn't even have to convince the guys to partake in this

You didn't even get the chance to tell them what you were planning

They were already brainstorming

None of you let a word of it slip to April, she would've shut you down faster than you could blink

A complete buzz kill

But fake blood was relatively cheap and all of Vern's flooring was tile (meaning extremely easy to clean and bleach)

Donnie had really been the mastermind behind the execution, none of you had any idea how he'd rigged the apartment plumbing

But he'd assured you it would only affect Vern's suite and no one else's so you didn't concern yourself with it further

And after the fact you had to wonder what exactly the former cameraman was planning on the date he'd been in the middle of

All you knew was that you got a very frantic call from the falcon himself yelling about blood coming out of his tap and the sink wouldn't shut off and it was everywhere and what the fuck was happening?

You all knew that Splinter thought it was hilarious, he'd never been particularly fond of Vern

But he did make his sons assist in the clean up and bleaching of the victims apartment floor

You went too and offered moral support

Vern had hit on you one too many times, so there was no way you'd feel bad about this

Michaelangelo

As far as pranking went, you and Mikey were partners in crime

He always had great ideas and you always came up with the best ways to execute those ideas without getting caught

But when you separated those two chaos was guaranteed

You weren't entirely sure how you had been pitted against each other but you weren't entirely mad about it

You couldn't say the same for anyone else though, the others had been on edge all week.

Pranking Mikey was a challenge, he knew how you worked and vice versa

You'd been brainstorming with April for weeks now, maybe a new perspective would help

That's what the two of you told yourselves anyways

Much to your dismay, Mikey and Casey had been plotting against you as well, the traitor.

And perhaps even more unfortunate was the fact that both of your pranks somehow overlapped and backfired on the rest of the family

Because Mikey and Casey may have replaced the family tea set with a edible sugar replica that looked identical to the original

So that when you were asked to make tea for Splinter and Leo it would dissolve the second you poured the hot tea

But they didn't tell anyone else so Leo was left with an impromptu anxiety attack when he made his own tea before sitting down to meditate and it melted into sugary leaf water

And you and April had planned the 'cutting off your finger in the kitchen' with the knife, fake finger, and fake blood

Which in theory should've worked because Mikey was in the kitchen the most, that was his territory

However once you'd started your plan you couldn't stop it

so when you 'cut your finger off' and screamed for Mikey you didn't have time to yell "wait it's a prank!" before Donnie caught a glimpse of the scene and fainted

In your defence you didn't know the purple turtle could move that fast

And to Mikey's relief he was going to throw that cutting board out anyways

Splinter explicitly banned the two of you from pranking each other after that incident

Donatello

Per your own common sense you had come to the conclusion that pranking the families resident genius was a horribly stupid idea

So for once, you'd practiced some self control and refrained from any pranks involving Donnie

Now that's not to say that the turtle vowed from aiming any pranks towards you

He had morals but messing with you walked the line separating adorable from batshit crazy

And he was all for it

April advised against it severely and even Splinter seemed to think it wasn't the best idea, but that was a lesson his son had to learn on his own

On the flip side, the second Casey heard about Donnie's plan he was all for it

So when you came over for dinner they both had to hide their excited smiles as Casey passed you your spaghetti

He knew it was your favorite

Everyone else was oblivious, which looking back on it was a very bad thing

April had her suspicions that Donnie was pulling something this evening, but she couldn't put her finger on it

That wasn't until you swirled a mouthful of noodles around your fork and shoved it into your mouth, you were starving

Here lies your predicament-

You swallowed thickly and blinked like you were in pain, your hand went to your throat and you reached for your water, ending up chugging almost the entire bottle.

Your eyes met Donnie's in a serious type of concern

"Is there hot sauce in this?"

April choked on her breadstick and quickly covered her mouth

Casey hadn't picked up on it yet

"Awh yeah- how'd you figure it out so quickly?"

You erupted in a coughing fit that sent April rushing to your side before you could tumble to the floor

"You fucking assholes! Y/N has a capsaicin allergy! Casey go start the car we need to get them to the hospital!"

On the bright side you were fine after you were rushed to the ER

But you didn't speak to Donnie or Casey for two weeks following the accident

You eventually forgave them for it and they haven't targeted you since

Sorry if it got a little dark at the end, but I felt like it was more realistic. Also that has actually happened to me but it was a nut allergy (and that's how I found out I was allergic to cashews) But I feel like the ending was a good example of how pranking someone can go horribly wrong, you should always consider the possibilities before doing something that could cause harm to a person. (Unless they really really deserve it)

I really enjoyed writing this one and I hope you guys like it as much as I do! 😁🧡👍

-Mars 🌠

#tmnt x reader #tmnt raphael #tmnt leonardo #tmnt donatello #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt vern #prankwars #tmnt headcanons #tmnt bayverse #bayverse donatello #writing requests

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wings-of-a-storm · 3 years

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I have a question. My favorite character is obviously Benji, but this season I started to get an ultimate rancidity of him.In the end I understood why he was acting like this, he has a PTSD because of dating Derek, his parents shitting him and alcohol and the accident. It's about the accident I wanted to know about, I didn't quite understand what this accident was and why he started drinking. I get upset that Benji's story is the least explored in the series, in my opinion, it should be explored more

Sorry for late reply to this, Anon! I know a few others already replied to this but I figure I’d still add my take into the mix for you. :)

I think many of us share your frustrations about Benji’s story being drip fed to us instead of being looked at more deeply. It’s a very interesting history so I really hope that in season three we might actually get a more decent look at it…

BENJI’S HISTORY / WHY HE STARTED DRINKING:

Throughout both seasons we learn that Benji has struggled with mental health.

In the most simplest of summaries: Benji struggled with internalised homophobia -- he hated himself for being homosexual and fought against it. He even experimented sexually with girls (which he briefly mentioned in S1), but in the end, he couldn’t deny that he was gay. But acknowledging he was gay and being able to accept it are two different things. He hated being gay.

In order to cope with that self-hatred and fear, he turned to alcohol to dull his reality and in turn everything he felt. He’s still learning to like himself even now in season two.

In Benji’s own words: “Before I came out, I was kind of a mess. I knew I was gay but I didn't want to be. So I drank. A lot. (1x07)” And: “Coming out was really hard for me, Victor. And it is still hard for me to be who I am. (1x05)”

BENJI’S CAR ACCIDENT:

Benji said that when he was younger, he drank 'a lot'. From that statement alone we can infer that he knew he was drinking more than his peers were. Most likely that went beyond social drinking -- he was probably also drinking by himself at any opportunity.

There is an age limit for drinking for good reason: our brains don’t fully develop until we are in our twenties, and as such, when we are younger we are more likely to make riskier choices. Adding alcohol into the mix is just asking for trouble -- as Benji found out when, one night, severely inebriated, he lost control of his vehicle (or misjudged his surroundings) and drove through/into a building. “One night I got super wasted and decided that I wanted Wendys real bad. So I took my Dad's car to the drive thru and that's exactly what I did -- drove through the Wendys. (1x07)”

That is some serious stuff right there! On so many levels!

Firstly the physical toll: he ‘totalled’ his dad’s car. To have a car written off as too smashed to be driven, that car had a huge impact! And not surprising since Benji said he drove through the building. Whether that was through glass or a into a sturdy wall, to crunch up the metal of his car, that is a massive hit. We don’t know the extent of his injuries (he just said he was ‘banged up’) but we do know that he was at the very least knocked unconscious and/or had a head injury from it (“Waking up in the hospital with my parents standing over me…” 1x07).

Secondly, the emotional toll: when Benji gained consciousness and woke up in hospital, he said he “realised that I could have died." (1x07) That is a very frightening thing to confront -- your mortality. It spooked him enough that it was the catalyst for his Coming Out. He didn’t want to die without “ever really being who I was” (1x07); to have only lived his life as a lie and not known his true self…

Most of us, I’d wager, haven’t had to confront our mortality at such a young age -- like truly confront it after going through a life-threatening experience. In that sense, he is on a different level to his peers and Victor -- a big part of his innocence has been broken and re-formed.

There is more to the emotional toll though -- not explicitly mentioned in canon but pretty much common sense:

The pain of recovery in hospital and at home (whatever “banged up” means, he was injured in some way)

The guilt of knowing his actions could have caused innocent people to have been hurt or killed. No one was hurt, he said, but just knowing they could have been is a really heavy thing to have on your conscience.

The stress of dealing with insurance (for the Wendys, for the car). He would have had to burden his parents with sorting that all out.

Police would have been involved to investigate the incident and lay charges. That’s pretty darn scary.

Losing his licence and thus part of his independence

Seeing the physical damage of the Wendys if he ever went past it again -- knowing he had done it, knowing he had been in the car that made that damage and reliving the knowledge he could have killed himself…

He was so ashamed by it all, he didn’t want anyone at school knowing about the accident or about his drinking that caused it. In 1x07 the school still didn’t know so he really guarded that secret hard.

There’s just so much heaviness linked to that accident. And Benji has only had one year to process all of that. On some level, that stuff has got to linger.

THE INITIAL AFTERMATH:

We learn that after the car accident, Benji was in an ever worse state of mind than when he was drinking his life away before it. His mother reveals: “After your car accident last year you were so hard on yourself and things were pretty dark for a while there. And you decided to put in the hard work [to go to AA and get better]. (2x07)”

Referring to Benji's post-accident self as being in 'a pretty dark place' is a pretty big alarm bell. His mental health sounds like it was pretty much destroyed. It is so hard to rebuild yourself after falling into such a dark well, but over the year he must have pulled himself back from the brink. That is so, so heavy!

It’s hard to gauge whether Benji chose to go to AA himself (which seems to be implied), or whether it was a condition of his charge through the police, but he went there none-the-less to change his life and learn healthier coping mechanisms to handle stress/his inner conflicts.

Something else worth noting is that, timeline-wise (as messy as that always is in LV), Benji was dating Derek through all of this. His one year anniversary with Derek was in S1 but his one year sobriety was only in S2. Who knows how that would have complicated things. He wasn’t Out to his parents or anyone but he was dating a (adult) man. So he was simultaneously hating that he was gay and drinking his mind blank but still dating a man. That is a super stressful and conflicting dichotomy that he was dealing with in amongst all this… (“It is still hard for me to be who I am.” 1x05)

THE MOST IMPORTANT INSIGHT FROM BENJI’S DRINKING AND AA:

It is so important to take time and realise what being in AA means about Benji: as a young teen, Benji self-medicated his way through his worsening mental health by drinking to handle stress and internalised homophobia. He didn’t have any proper methods of handling stressful situations. He is now having to unlearn those behaviours and learn new strategies through AA and his sponsor. But he has only been doing that for one year! That is a blip of time in the hourglass.

Now let’s look at the events of S2: Benji has been inundated with stress while still learning how to cope with it without drinking. And he’s had to learn and practise these new coping strategies while:

Being in high school

Holding down an assistant manager job

Watching his significant other being emotionally wrung out by his mother’s treatment of him; dealing with his own rejection and banishment from Isabel

Reliving both his own coming out stress and homophobic aggressions at school directed this time at his significant other

Trying to deal with the shame of being in AA and keeping that a secret from all of his peers at school

Like far out, that is a ton of stress! Anyone would crack under all of that, let alone a young and recovering alcoholic!

So yes, when faced with stressful situations, Benji is not always going to react in the right way or say the right things. He’s still learning how to do that with his sponsor and AA meetings. He might come off as ‘rancid’ in S2, but really he is just a kid who is struggling and trying to do his best.

#LV ask #Love Victor #LV S2 analysis #Benji Campbell

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aeondeug · 3 years

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So while I was reading GtN and HtN I occasionally stopped to be like “Wow, it’s great how these can be just so gay!” And like. That is really great. Super great. I love that about them. But I also remember at least once stopping and going “Wow, it’s great that there’s no homophobia here!” And like at the time I just kind of nodded along to myself. Around when I just finished GtN, I remember being very fond of the bit after the book with like the guy explaining like. The deal with necro/cav relationships in The Media and throughout history and how actually none of these things have ever been romance. This is just a pure relationship, unaffected by naughty things like ROMANCE. WHY DOES EVERYTHING NEED TO BE ROMANCE?! shouts the author of this paper. And I laughed at this. Because it reminded me a lot of people who do this shit with queer love. They do it with history and just go “Why does Sappho have to be gay, why can’t she just have passionate feelings for her BFFs”. Which is mindbogglingly stupid to me and anyone who has so much as LOOKED at some of the poem fragments. But like people do say that shit. And they do this a lot over like queer anything in fiction unless it like punches you in the face with rainbows immediately. “Why do Bubblegum and Marceline have to be gay? They’re just friends!” is a take that I legitimately saw on the day of the finale. And not just once. I saw it a few times. And I’ve seen that happen over so many ships in so many things, whether or not the ships end up canon. “Why does it have to be gay?” and the specific sort of outrage over it I’ve seen in essay length posts is just common, and that sort of outrage reads very similar to the argument that dude made about necro/cav relationships. It reads like that and close enough so that I made a joke about it even. I didn’t think too, too much on this at first though because I mean. We have Abigail and Magnus. They’re right there. A man and a woman, a husband and a wife. So like I was able to simultaneously go “omg it’s just like those why can’t they just be friends WHY DOES IT NEED TO BE GAY people” and also “wow it’s nice that there are spooky negative queer experiences of SADNESS here”. Which has got me thinking. Ok. So we have that essay. Now what else do we have in the books? I suppose could point at the entirety of Gideon and Harrow’s just furious refusal to admit that they might actually be in love with one another. Even though it appears to be obvious to literally everyone else in the galaxy. And is obvious to the readers. Hell, Gideon even has a moment of feeling like she needs to tell Harrow something the day before she dies. Something which is heavily romance coded, I don’t know the word for it. But like a “Wow I feel a need to tell them something and it’ll be my last shot” before a death just kind of always reads “It was an ‘I love you’. They needed to say it and didn’t get a chance”. So we’ve got that and, specifically, we’ve got their outrage at the suggestions. Gideon stresses that she’s JUST Harrow’s cav. And she’s very fucking insistent on that. Part of the why is that she knows Harrow is in love with a fucking dead girl in a casket but like. It just hits a certain way. There’s also Harrow’s just repeated disgust she expresses towards the concept of necro/cav relationships. She needs to explain away to herself that like, well, Abigail and Magnus were ALREADY married before he was named her cavalier primary so maybe that makes it fine. And even then she’s not like super duper comfy with the idea. A taboo has been broken, Harrow feels, and she needs to get really rules lawery to find any comfort with that. Other small things that feel of note to me here are the nature of the ways we know that these two are gay outside of like. Their weird thing for one another. With Gideon we’re introduced to it basically immediately with her joke about titty mags. Harrow specifically makes a comment at some point that some of the magazines Gideon gets are very gross, yes. Her interest in women is explicitly made sexual from the get go, and the idea that The Gays are just weird sex fiends and there is no love there is a frequent one. With Harrow meanwhile we know because she says she’s in love with the girl in the Locked Tomb. Who is very much dead. A thing that is fucky enough that like there is an entire song and dance about “GIDEON THE FIRST IS MAKING OUT WITH A CORPSE??????” and how Harrow is a hypocrite for being so offended by that all. Also the girl is behind the door. She is something that isn’t supposed to be seen or known about or, heaven forbid, woken up. That is all the ultimate taboo and Harrow not only fucking broke that but she looked at the girl and went “Wow I’m in love” on the spot. So we have this collection of things that could be read as some sort of metaphor for like...The taboo nature of queer love. “Why can’t they just be friends?” and issues of purity and the lack thereof. And we have characters who are very clearly in love but who can’t just admit that because they think there’s something fucking wrong with that. Gideon’s JUST her cav and Harrow is also in love with a dead chick. We also have Magnus and Abigail around who are just like. Happily married and fine with things regarding their whole necro/cav aesthetic. Ianthe doesn’t seem to give a shit that Gideon’s into Harrow at all. There’s a fondness for necro/cav relationships enough that there’s an entire romance genre centered on them and like characters in the cast are fond of those, some of them. Things appear to be Fine, at least as far as their friends are concerned. Maybe the asshole writing the essay that kicked this pondering off would have an issue and a stuffy old grandma would pitch a fit. But like their friends don’t have a problem with necro/cav shit. But we still very much have Gideon and Harrow being “Well no. We’re just a necromancer and their cavalier. GOD.” Now part of what got me thinking about this is that I recently decided to start watching Bly Manor. Because fuck it we haven’t yet. And specifically part of why is I remember seeing an analysis of it done by Rowan Ellis which had this bit where like the argument that “Bly Manor proves you can do queer stories without homophobia being a part of it!” is brought up and like...Ellis is like “Ok but we very much do just lock a queer woman in a literal closet while she screams to be let out”. And lo and behold in the first episode we very much do just lock a queer woman in a literal closet while she screams to be let out. In an episode showing that she’s like just unable to go back home for...some reason. And that she has some sort of difficulty with her relationship with her mother. No, the show is not having the character literally go “Wow I sure am in the closet and I kind of fucking hate that woe is me I am so gay”. But figuratively? It’s all over the place in that first episode. I’m not sure about the others because I haven’t watched them, but it is there in the very first one. And that’s something horror does very well. It takes things that are scary and uncomfortable and bundles them up in shades of metaphor. It hides them from you by showing you the thing cleverly disguised. Maybe you do not notice it the first time through perhaps. Maybe you felt that a certain thing like the closet scene resonated very hard with you and you’re not sure why. But you perhaps don’t consciously go “Aha! It is the horror of being closeted!” Upon looking back on it or back through it though you might notice it. And be like “Oh that was there. Holy fuck.” Now maybe you’re also someone who isn’t like. Comfortable. With straightforward depictions of specifically queer suffering. Maybe it’s just too scary. But with this show hiding it in a metaphor you got to sit through that. You got to be brave enough to sit through a very, very scary thing. And afterwords you go to think about it. This is the power of metaphor and it’s something horror has been very, very good at doing for ages. Maybe racism or homophobia or whatever else is too nerve wracking for you to look at face on in media, but maybe you can watch a movie or a show where the horror of those things are very much there but cloaked in metaphor. And so maybe we are getting that with Gideon and Harrow’s weird issues around how “taboo” their feelings are. Two people who are just unwilling to believe that it might be that thing, in part because that thing is “taboo”. Except instead of the taboo being literally “They’re lesbians, Harold,” it’s instead cloaked in a comforting metaphor of necro/cav relationships and some dude who is really fucking offended at people’s space ao3 fanfictions about his historical favs. Which is important because every fucking scrap of anything one gets is an argument. It can’t just be that they’re in love. It’s that you must PROVE it and some asshole with a degree or just a bone to pick is going to come by and be like “WHY CAN’T THEY JUST BE A NECRO AND A CAV” about it all. And like I’m someone who’s known they’re into other women for a long while now. At least half my life. We have conquered that hurdle. But we haven’t entirely unpacked all the weird little societal bullshit that is still in there. Hiding. Lurking. And that societal bullshit specifically frames that sort of love as something gross and taboo and “Why Can’t They Just Be Friends?”. With that last thing hurting a lot. I’ve constantly run across people going “Why can’t they just be friends?” or going “They just have a sisterly relationship!” about things I shipped. Even when those things involved shit like the characters kissing on screen or mentioning that they’ve been dating in a sequel series. I can’t simply like my ships. I can’t simply see myself in romance. Because my sort of love is so taboo that it is, in itself, a debate. Maybe being shown the thing cleverly disguised as another thing might help me unpack that. At the very least it helps me look at it. When it’s something that hurts a lot to this day.

#the locked tomb #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #spoilers #this is a bit painfully long #but i have FEELINGS about uncomfortable things being hidden in metaphor #and that metaphor being the thing that helps you be brave enough to look at it

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leviiattacks · 3 years

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Two Faced | Chapter Eight

↳ levi ackerman, the very person who was about to kindly behead you by a surprising turn of events manages to become your loving husband? you would be elated if this was true love, but it’s all thanks to a mysterious magic spell that your life is spared, for now at least.

pairing :: duke!levi x duchess!reader genre :: royal au ??? (at this point idek) angst, fluff, slice of life etc ?? word count :: 4.8k author note :: i’ve been very ill so yeah, not the best writing but i really can’t go that long without wanting to write so i ended up writing an update, i hope you enjoy it, it’s longer than usual :D sorry for any mistakes it hasn’t been proof read at all :-( → next part coming soon!!

“Hey, newbie you haven't spoke about your home town much have ya?"

You lift your head, verifying Reiner's suspicions with a nod. You recall he's the same distasteful blonde brute who made those snide remarks about Hange. He must be at least a towering six foot if his shadow is able to cover the majority of the Sun's rays from hitting you.

You would maybe bother to give him and his inquiry more attention than you currently are if he hadn't been so unnecessarily impolite during the morning speeches.

Calves yelping in stinging pain from the first tastes of the full time training regime you simply cannot find the effort to strain your mind with small talk.

Temples throbbing it feels as if a sword has been forced through the side of your head, but that's not it at all. Reiner has thrown a small rock at you and you hear him chuckle under his breath.

Twisting your position so you face him you glare in displeasure.

Although you don't particularly enjoy the idea of joining Levi's unit and having to become a concealed agent of sorts you can't really take your pickings at how it is you wish to survive. You're going to have to deal with it and you've come to the stage of acceptance now.

However, you are not willing to respect the attitude some of these cadets are giving you, it's clear there's already a strong hierarchy in place.

Reiner just so happens to be one of the big guns from what you've been able to observe. He possess strong upper body strength and his hand to hand combat isn't a laughing matter either. That means he's higher up in the ladder of cadets, that's for sure. To top it all off you know you're not as powerful as other members in the team in terms of skill and he's probably silently making a mockery of you for it.

Pursing your lips you decide to play this game cautiously, asking him what it is he needs from you isn't the best option. You're aware he's after something, it's written all over his face. You practically know every deceptive look in the book off by heart. You suppose it's the only perk you got out of living in a noble household for most of your life.

"Why do you care?" You bluntly question him.

"Ohh, you're feisty. Might not want to butt heads with Annie."

"Not sure who that is but I don't plan on it."

Turning away from him it look like you're distracting yourself by collecting pieces of firewood. Trailing around you act as uncaring as possible to annoy him. You need to gauge this man's reaction somehow.

Your plan seems to be working in your favour because you're able to see his footing shift from his natural stance, it looks as if he's about to risk charging at you due to your vulnerable position but you rotate again offering him a knowing smile.

You don't tell him you're conscious of his suspicious nature but if he's quick witted enough he'll be able to figure out you aren't a threat and apparently don't have a clue what it is he's up to. The only reason he'd even consider attacking you would be if he saw you as an issue. For now your act should at least keep him at bay.

"Fine. I'll tell you about my hometown, I'm just..." You pause to make yourself look believable and proceed to look up at him through your lashes, you dart your gaze away and awkwardly scratch the back of your neck exuding coyness.

"I'm incredibly homesick. I miss mother. I always made supper for her, now I can only pray she's not eating burnt chicken." Your act has to be working because his eyes soften and he takes half of the firewood in your arms offering to help you carry it.

"My mum's a great cook, can't relate squirt."

"Who you calling squirt?" You playfully snap back.

"I call everybody that, even Captain Levi... Well, when he isn't around to hear it."

You bite the inside of your cheek at the mention of the Levi's name.

“So you and the Captain? What’s that all about?” His question makes no sense at all, one minute he wants to prod and poke in your personal home life yet the next minute he's asking questions about Levi. The doubts you have surrounding him only thicken.

You take a moment to consider his question,

“Whatever do you mean?” Clueless, you're delivery is excellent. Acting naive is easy enough, everyone within the corps has already decided that's what your automatic disposition is.

Reiner gives you a skeptical look then smiles faintly, “Glaring daggers at Jean after he got handsy with you?”

You cover your mouth with your free hand and laugh so hard the firewood nearly flies out of your grasp.

“Me and Jean are friends, and Levi? He just wanted to find a reason to get mad at us probably.” You hope the explanation suffices because you truly have no idea why Levi had done what he did.

Reiner hums in approval at your answer but he then grins.

“You on first name basis with the Captain?”

Fuck, you called him Levi.

Play it cool.

“Huh? When have I ever said his first name?” Clueless. Your delivery is still perfect.

“Just now.” He fires back, Reiner doesn't seem to be letting up but he doesn't know how smooth of a liar you are.

Living with your father for all those years conditioned you in ways you hadn't even noticed until quite recently.

“Did I? Pardon, I didn’t mean for it to slip out. Sometimes I silently curse him out in my head and forget to add his title.”

Your acting is impeccable, Reiner has no reason to doubt you. As you expect he doesn't instead he shifts the conversation to his hometown, just like you he doesn't explicitly mention a name. Reiner is sharp but he hasn't noticed the way you've left a name out just like him. He's terrible at catching out his own kind.

You decide at that moment that Reiner Braun is a liar. The accusation is more of a hunch meaning more investigation is required.

You won't inform any of the higher ups about it just yet.

The walk back to base is filled with excruciatingly troublesome small talk and you make a mental note to take Mikasa along with you next time it's your turn retrieve the firewood.

You can't afford any more close encounters with Braun or any of his possible accomplices.

Sniggers batter your ears as soon as you step foot onto the grounds, you have a sixth sense when it comes to spiteful bad-mouthing and after the abysmal day you've had you anticipate there will be unpleasant commentary.

"Seen the way Y/N ruined the assault course today?"

"We're the finalized cadets across all the regions of Paradis. That means we have to rely on that embarrassment to fight titans."

"Good Lord, someone have mercy on our souls."

Fellow cadets press on in their criticism thinking you aren't within earshot. That, or they purposefully aim for you to pay attention to the disapproval they have of your presence.

But, you do understand where they're coming from. You make another mental note - practice a bit more later today.

The gossiping isn't anything you're unfamiliar with, your father's palace never offered kindness to you or your existence. In fact it's rather comforting being talked badly about behind your back.

That statement sounds absurd but you can't explain it. Maybe it's due to Levi typically hurling his unnecessary remarks right at you without warning. Then again he does provide everyone with that treatment, even Commander Erwin.

As you hurry away increasing the distance between you and your loud mouthed team members you spot Levi from the corner of your eye. He's in conversation with Hange but you notice how his jaw is clenched in frustration, you feel a pinch over your skin when he spares you a fleeting look. Eyes acquainting yours. Paying no attention to him you walk away as fast as you can.

The cadets only blow up in volume now, they definitely want you to hear what they have to say.

"Maybe we should ask the higher ups to throw her ou-"

"Questioning authority? Pesky mutineers aren't you?" Levi's booming voice shakes anyone within a five metre vicinity, he comes out of nowhere and seems nothing short of furious.

"You're all," He continues, voice rising, "Incredibly spineless aren't you?"

One of the cadets embellishes their face with a scowl, it doesn't go unnoticed by Levi but he astonishingly doesn't lash out, physically at least. His deathly glare is more than enough to finish the job.

Stupidly you suffer feeling your heart palpitate in your chest watching him talk to the group of three. Stupidly, you're getting your hopes up again.

He scoffs coldly, "If you're all talk why not offer to duel her?"

It doesn't take long for your heart to stop throbbing with its previous intensity. You know it was too good to be true. Levi suddenly defending you that is.

The gesture isn't done to protect or shield you. No, you're sure this man loathes you and is intending to persist on making your life as bleak and dreary as possible.

"Up to a battle Y/N?" The unnamed blonde cadet's scoffs in derision and you find yourself wanting to punch her square in the jaw.

Irritation sears through you but you meekly shake your head mumbling a weak "No thanks.", you're much too afraid to duel anyone just yet and you don't remember her from the training sessions. She must have been in a corner keeping to herself.

With all that being said and done you pathetically withdraw, and just like the past few days you sense Levi's piercing gaze erupting into your soul.

The blistering Sun hits every nook and cranny of the training ground. Waking up early already has you wanting to pass out and the heat isn't any help.

The crowd of cadets mumble in fatigue but observant Mikasa jabs you in the shoulder pointing out how far away Jean has stood from you.

You feel guilty that Jean had to suffer through the humiliation tossed at him yesterday but you are grateful to not deal with his constant questioning and talkative self this early in the morning.

All the way at the other side of the throng of soldiers he stands with Bert, who might you add is a mammoth of a man.

Through some digging (more like asking Mikasa) you've discovered he's close with Reiner and the blonde cadet from yesterday's confrontation, turns out she's the Annie that Reiner warned you off.

"ATTENTION!" Hange sing songs at the front of the training ground. They're jumping around along with Squad Leader Mike checking if everyone's in the correct uniform - Apparently the year prior a cadet showed up wearing a thick cardigan and fainted from heat stroke...

“Today’s exercise is a time to redeem yourself!” Hange’s eyes dart towards you and you smile at one another.

“A FIGHT TO THE DEATH!”

Everyone murmurs looking at each other in pure confusion.

“A fight up against another person. Whoever wins their individual fights will receive extra special privileges." The explanation seems simple enough and you’re confident that if you’re put up against the right people you can make it out safe.

The promise of a reward is also enticing.

The 104th Training Corps are thrilled, there’s nothing too hazardous about the task and it’s nothing difficult to ask for. Even you’re looking forward to it. The chance to rescue your reputation has you pumped up with adrenaline.

“My, my my. Don’t excite yourselves just yet little hens, there’s a pretty little catch.” Hange's voice is laced in mischief. This can't be any good.

Everyone stops breathing in unison and it’s pin drop silent.

“You must cause harm to your opponent in some way. Whether it be making them faint, breaking an arm, breaking a leg. There are no rules when it comes to playing dirty!”

With a playful shrug of their shoulder Hange hops off the podium.

Squad Leader Mike pulls out the list of competitors. He’s decided the line-up on his own and begins the announcement with Bertholdt.

“BERTHOLDT HOOVER..."

Bert turns to look back at Reiner hesitantly and for such a giant it’s adorable how worried he is when everyone else is perturbed thinking about the poor individual who has to go up against him.

"AGAINST Y/N L/N!"

The crowd falls silent and your mouth is wide, this is unjust there’s no way this is allowed.

“Hey, don’t you think that’s kinda unfair?” Krista speaks out for you even though Ymir is by her side trying to talk her out of getting involved.

“She stands no chance against him.” Reiner is supporting your cause too.

Mikasa takes a step forward. “I agree, it’s not right, may I take her place instead?”

“No, no! It’s alright, I’ll go for it.”

Honestly you don’t want the corps to see you as a coward. Bravery and courage is what brought everyone here. Your story is different. You’re here to selfishly save your own life, you aren’t anywhere near as valiant as the rest of them. The very least you can do is partake in activities correctly.

Stepping up to the podium you stand by Bertholdt he gives you a pitiful look whilst he mutters an apology.

Mike continues announcing the names. A few include Jean against Mikasa (Jean may as well forfeit), Marco against Annie and Connie against Reiner - that pairing eases you. At least you aren't in this alone. You and Connie stand no chance against those beasts.

Everyone lines up in their separate areas and again Bertholdt is profusely apologizing asking if you want to fake faint or anything of the sort. You shake your head and promise to give it all you've got.

And then the games begin at the sound of the bell, and damn that Bertholdt because he isn't keeping to his end of the bargain. He lunges forward viciously aiming to crush your entire body but you swiftly dodge, he tries the same approach but when you duck out of the way again he stops knowing he needs to rethinks his strategy.

"Just give it up I'll win either way."

Well, the Mister nice guy act was definitely a believable performance. He was so convincing you even contemplated feigning unconsciousness when he proposed the idea to you.

Bertholdt is much slower than you giving you more time to deliberate your incoming moves. If you can get him to edge close enough to a nearby tree and deceive him into colliding with the oak trunk you should win - only on the condition that he passes out.

The scheme is far-fetched but it's your only hope.

Dashing from various corners he flies after you, each time unable to catch up to you.

That is until you stumble and lurch to the ground. The wind is knocked out of your lungs and you panic when a large hand clutches at your ankle. Your solution? Booting him right in the teeth.

However with an earth-shattering amount of force Hoover's hold on your ankle doesn't weaken. Instead he tightens his hold like a vice. You feel it bruise and the violet discoloration that'll be present in a few hours makes you wince.

Entire body going limp on command, you stop yourself from breathing - another talent you picked up back at the palace to avoid extra beatings.

When you no longer thrash around Bertholdt stalks in to check in on you and as expected he’s now towering over you, blood overflowing in terror.

"SQUAD LEADER HANGE, CAPTAIN LEVI SHE'S NOT MOVING!" He's roaring for their help frantic and anxious. If he's caused any permanent damage he's as good as dead meat.

"Oh my Lord. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry."

Bertholdt's voice is fractured in unadulterated horror and judging by the direction you hear it at he has to be facing away from you.

Unbolting your eyes you learn your assumption is correct and despite hurried footsteps being within audible range you take your chance by the reigns.

Leaping to your feet and with no forewarning you swing your leg to the back of his neck. Stunned by the surprise attack he falls to his knees and you situate yourself in front of the oak tree you've been eyeing from the time the exercise began.

"You cunning bitch." Staggering back up he makes a swift rebound. At this point all mercy has left him and his one true aim is to completely pulverize you.

Everything is falling into place. All you need to do is wait for the right moment and finally you come across it when he suddenly pounces for you. Darting to the left you leave the space open for your prey.

Poor Bertholdt falls right into the palm of your hands like a rag doll. His momentum can't be controlled and he smashes headfirst into the trunk with a loud crunch sounding out. Bark splits and scrapes off the tree upon impact.

His head has to throb and you don't want to imagine how painful it is to feel the rivulets of soreness.

He doesn't get up and only groans, you feel half bad but after the tricks and antics he pulled you come to the conclusion that it's all deserved.

"Well, Y/N, you've proven yourself to be quite quick witted." Hange's praise is strange to hear but you beam proud that you've proven your worth.

"Oi, don't get ahead of yourself." Levi orders. "It could have been pure luck."

In spite of Levi's pessimism you bask in the glory of your win.

A week into joining Levi's unit you're becoming more accustomed to the new environment, in fact the gossiping and horrible rumours stop completely after your win and interactions with your fellow comrades feel easier and lighter.

You think the taunts will have only got more relentless after the duel fiasco but you suppose Annie chose to be considerate and take pity on you.

"Your progress has been remarkable so far." You jump when you hear Jean's deep voice appear right next to you.

Looking around to see if any other cadets are around you finally release a breath you didn't even know you were holding in.

"Ah. Thank you." You murmur quietly.

"I know it's been a week since I was scolded by the Captain but this won't count as flirting will it?"

Impeding the one sided conversation you're reflecting, you're not sure what exactly about. Probably whether or not you should maintain the discussion - if it can even be referred to as such.

Forget it. You know what they say, you only live once.

Flicking his forehead you roll your eyes, "We were never flirting he's just an over dramatic, bitter hag. I put my money on the fact he's never felt the touch of a woman before."

Jean's eyes widen in disbelief, you half expect he'll split open in tremendous laughter but he looks terrified. Then you become conscious of the fact he's not even staring at you, his eyes are engrossed by whatever is behind you.

Unfortunately for you your body tells you all you need to know. His cologne floods into your nostrils, you can't even reassure yourself and pretend it's anyone else, you know he's the only one who smells that strongly of fresh linen.

Being unable to see him doesn't stop you from imagining his dark lifeless eyes accompanying themselves with what is before them.

It doesn't even take Jean a minute to abandon you, he breaks out into an awkward smile, hurriedly pats your shoulder before dashing away, dispersing all the way to the other end of the hallway in a matter of seconds and turning the corner away from you.

Heart rate soaring you hesitantly spin on your heel. Levi's stood there, looking beyond unimpressed.

You intend to breeze past him, cool and collected. You take a step forward but God has never been one to bless you with luck, stumbling and tripping over thin air lands you flying.

Ready for impact you brace yourself but it never comes, instead solid hands are firmly placed at the small of your back steadying your position and your palms have unceremoniously landed atop his torso.

"Play along." Levi's voice is low and rumbling, and you can't look him in the eyes. Not out of fear or dread, more so exhaustion but you muster the energy to look to your left. There Erwin and Hange stand giggling to themselves like children. As quick as you spot them they vanish in the same fashion. It's as if they were never there.

You're worn out and fatigued wanting nothing more than a good night's rest. If there's one thing you haven't grown used to it's the lack of sleep.

"Let go." Moving to shift his hands away from your waist you halt your movements when he without warning lets go of you, not even giving you the opportunity to renovate your balance.

Flying to the ground and landing with a thud you rub your backside at the blow.

Mirthlessly chuckling the lack of amusement is clear in the way he composes himself.

Making a dash for it sounds tempting but you may as well let him have his way. There's no action you can take to avoid him reprimanding you. It's your fault for having the gall to make that crude and foul-mouthed comment in the first place.

You gulp comprehending the situation is even worse now since you really only said it for the sole reason of Kirstein's amusement.

"Y/N, I'd like to have a word with you."

Hesitantly you look up at Levi, he has an indecipherable expression on his face, it's been a while since you've last been left in his company alone.

The two of you are stood in his office, his desk is flooded with papers, they're haphazardly scattered all over the place and spikes of worry weirdly make them self present in your belly. This isn't right. He'd never leave his work space in this state.

"Are you okay?" You ask it because you’re sure he isn't.

His shoulders and spine stiffen. "Cut the crap and keep the formalities to yourself." He chides, most definitely defensive in his stance.

Without asking him you shuffle to his desk stacking the papers into organised piles, most of the documents are related to an up and coming expedition and it's all beginning to add up. Even humanities strongest soldier has moments where he cracks.

Then you notice your name on the formation plan but before you're able to make anything out of it Levi snatches it off his desk and away from you stuffing it into his pocket.

Without another sound he observes you cleaning the rest of the mess away but doesn't ask for you to stop. There's no reason for him to.

If you do this maybe he'll go easier on you, yeah that's what your motivation is. That's not exactly the truth, really you're just concerned about whatever has him worked up.

Placing the last document in its rightful place you want to give your mind a moment to recollect itself but Levi doesn't think the same.

He places his arms on either side of the desk, trapping you with no way out. Oddly, there's nothing threatening about him looking down at you this time, the greys and blues of his iris' captivate you.

"Do you enjoy making a mockery of your husband?" The question is whispered. It's unanticipated and the title of husband is uncharacteristic coming out of his mouth.

"It was just a joke." You mumble your answer under your breath.

"Would you have spouted that shit in front of the rest of the unit?"

Mildly shaking your head he then sighs. He’s not angry, he genuinely seems let down.

"Do you prefer him over me?” You swear you hear the faintest hint of self-doubt.

His questions are getting more out of the ordinary by the second and you’re waiting for him to crack a malevolent grin before he ridicules you like he always does.

“Of course I don’t prefer him over you.”

“Prove it.”

Tilting your head up towards him you have no idea what he wants for you to do or say, why does this suddenly even matter to him?

And then you imagine it happen, him digging his hands into your shoulders. Your weight along with his shifting up against the desk making it creak. Your mind details how he would kiss you agitatedly and you flush thinking about how you would feverishly return the favour.

It seems like your imagination predicts the future. He grips your jaw with his hand, his touch isn’t firm and for once it’s quite soft. Relishing in the new experience as he leans in you secure your eyes shut in expectation.

Stroking your cheek with his thumb the warm sensation that courses through your body is rather pleasant. His hands come out to run against your body, pinching the sides of your waist. The motion makes your heart stall for a second. Involuntarily, you find yourself leaning into him.

“This seem like a man who hasn’t felt the touch of a woman before?”

And just like that he leaves you hanging. You flutter your eyes open and there he is. He’s back, the same cynical man, smirk etched onto his features, his body still parallel to yours.

You find yourself enraged at how he's just lead and dragged you on, you should have stuck with your gut feeling and not given into temptation but you know what they say, curiosity killed the cat. It's very obvious who the cat is in this situation.

Brows furrowing you can’t face him ever again after the scalding embarrassment inhabits your abdomen.

"Going to cry, Cadet?" He's pushing all your buttons, eagerly choosing to provoke you.

The frustration you’ve been feeling fills you to the brim and you clamp down on your bottom lip. If you must turn to inflicting harm onto yourself just to muffle the sound of your whimpers you will.

“Did you need to do that?” You choke out your response feeling helpless, still not looking at him.

“Simply gave you a taste of your own medicine.”

Silence.

"Sometimes I wish you killed me back then."

Silver eyes become dark and he visibly flinches at your confession.

Still boxed in-between his arms you attempt to push past but he continues to obstruct the exit. He's not done yet.

"I gave you another chance at life." His blunt one-sided view is about to drive you crazy.

"Within my first day at this unit I had to avoid being attacked by another cadet in the forest if you call that a life I do-"

“Who?”

“Not important."

“If you know what's good for you, you'll spit it out."

For the sole purpose of irking him you heavily shake your head to emphasise your refusal to give in and name the culprit. It's not like you want Reiner to fall into trouble because of you. He hasn't shown any suspicious or out of the ordinary behaviour since then and you worry what Levi is capable of doing when given a reason to hurt someone.

Glancing at him dismissively you try to make your point again. "They haven't done anything since. Therefore, it's of no importance."

Conflicted emotions scurry over his face as he looks at you.

"It's of importance if my wif-" He growls and stops midway. His hands grip onto the desk even harder, knuckles turning white.

Was he about to say, wife?

Levi immediately realizes what he's nearly just said sounds exceedingly questionable. A look of uncertainty flashes over his face and then it seems he loses all regard for self-control. His willpower isn't enough to get him through this situation and he only amplifies.

Encroaching further into the very little space amongst the both of you his tone is icy. "Tell me." He's glowering and for Reiner's wellbeing you decide you should just come out with it now. He'll be in an even more difficult spot if you don't.

"Reiner, it was Reiner." You gasp out the answer, shallow breath ragged. Head turning away to the side you're not particularly sure why you're so shaky and why you feel a tremor flood past you inundating your movement. It may all be a combination of how close he's standing to you and how intoxicatingly strong his aura is.

Or, perhaps it's due to how he nearly referred to you as his wife during his primal outburst of anger.

He turns away. Automatically creating yet another blockade between the two of you.

"You're dismissed."

#levi #levi ackerman #aot #snk #attack on titan levi #attack on titan #levi x y/n #levi x reader #aot fanfiction #aot headcanons #duke levi #levi smut #levi angst #levi fluff #levi fanfiction #leviiattacks

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cherryjuicegf · 3 years

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i was tagged by @lothlaer and @dapandapod you amazing people thanks so much!! 💜💜

how many works do you have on ao3?

46!!

what's your total ao3 word count?

98,421 plus the countless prompts i haven't posted there :')

how many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

oh well except for the witcher i used to write for les mi/s a lot aand a bit for good o/mens

what are your top five fics by kudos?

a little favour with 433 kudos (😭 thanks)

to be held with 366 kudos (uhh i wrote this in two hours people)

the simplest things with 319 kudos

a lovestruck's letter with 285 kudos

slipping through my hands with 243 kudos

do you respond to comments, why or why not?

i do mostly!! i like thanking people for any comment they leave and i often get emotional over comments so i have to let them know. if i don't respond it's probably bc i forget or don't have the energy but i always try to get back to them afterwards

what's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

*evil laughter* so i didn't have the emotional capacity to write much angst during the year but then summer came :) so the angstiest one is overflow because ehh mcd and close after comes the way it ends it's really hopeless (but i have some plans about it i want to work on soon). as i said jaskier is a great character to drown whump <3

do you write crossovers? if so what's the craziest one you've written?

no and i don't think i ever will

have you ever received hate on a fic?

no as far as i remember, only once i had gotten a comment that offered criticism about word choice and grammar (accepted but i didn't ask plus it was the only comment i got)

do you write smut? if so what kind?

i haven't written explicitly yet but i'm planning to in the near future if i succeed. still i think i will focus more on feelings and vague stuff instead of accurate descriptions

have you ever had a fic stolen?

not as far as i know

have you ever had a fic translated?

yes twice!! slipping through my hands has an available translation in russian and someone had also translated my dearest love, i'm not done yet in serbian but they posted it on instagram (i've kind of lost it now). two of the best things to happen to me tbh.

what's your all time favourite ship?

geraskefer is everything really

what's a wip you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

hmm i aspire to finish most stuff but i've been having a hard time with a trissefer wip which i'm dying to finish it's so good but words are difficult :(

what are your writing strengths?

oh i think i'm good at describing emotions and i strive to give a poetic note to my prose and that has succeeded so far!! i've also been told my characterization is good, i don't always feel that but who knows

what are your writing weaknesses?

probably blending dialogue with action simultaneously, i often feel descriptive action slows down the pace and try to use less words or that the dialogue and tone is not coming through in the way it is in my head. also uninteresting scenes just to move the plot forward. they kill me.

what are your thoughts in writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

i think i have never seen or written something like this but it sounds interesting. i would like to do a small dialogue in greek, maybe an au sometime, it would be nice (with translation ofc)

what was the first fandom you wrote for?

les mis, god i was writing so much back then (even multichapters, me)

what's your favourite fic that you've written?

ah this hits a spot cause it's three actually. in no particular order my dearest love, i'm not done yet (i'm so proud of this fic and also. yennskier <3), the spaces where our garden grew wild (11k words of geraskefer and nightmares :') ) aand a lovestruck's letter (epistolary fic my beloved!!!!)

tagging (no pressure 💜) @moonysrz @julek @toss-a-coin-to-your-stan-account @restmyheadatnightcontent @reveniemus @reinvent-and-believe @contemplativepancakes and anyone who wants to do it i'm forgetting people :')

#also if you've done it and i also forgot ignore me it's 2am <3 #are two of my favourite fics stubbornly not for the main ship? yeah #thank you again for the tag <333 #lothlaer #dapandapod #tag games

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silentauroriamthereal · 3 years

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2020 fic year in review

I was tagged by my lovely @khorazir! Thanks, you!

Total number of completed stories: Three, but two of them were fairly long? I wrote:

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse: John/Sherlock, 50,689 words, explicit, John POV. Set in New York, because I was itching to go there and couldn’t, and setting a fic somewhere is the next best thing. Probably my most political fic to date, this one was a deliberate reversal of the fake-couple-for-a-case trope, aka I wanted to create a setting wherein John and Sherlock become a couple during a case but need to keep it a secret for the sake of the case. So I set it at a massive, anti-gay conference in the US. Naturally. :P

Sine Nomine: John/Sherlock, 45,626 words, explicit, mostly John POV with sections of Mycroft and Sherlock POV as well. In fact, though the sections aren’t equal in length, it’s symmetrical: it goes Mycroft POV/John POV/Sherlock POV/John POV/Mycroft POV. This story has a dark premise and a particularly dark setting for one section. It’s based on the concept of Mycroft rewatching the footage of John beating Sherlock in the morgue for the hundredth time or so and revisiting the question of whether John had been the making of his brother, or made him worse than ever. He’s definitely come to the latter conclusion, but decides to give John one final chance in the form of a test. John, for his own reasons, makes what Mycroft deems the incorrect choice, and Mycroft basically sends him into a death trap. The setting of this place is officially set in Serbia with indirect hints at events similar to the Srebrenica Genocide in Bosnia, but the actual setting is Syria, which I’ve just spent the past year studying intensely. Putting a slice of that into the dark core of this story, albeit disguised as another place, was strangely cathartic for me. The title, which is Latin for “no name”, is a double reference to the village here, which Sherlock and Mycroft never name, ominously referring to it only as “the village”, both to each other and to John, as well as John’s never-named or owned feelings for Sherlock. This one is close to my heart for a lot of reasons, but most of all because of Syria. Also, the vast majority of the time in my writing, I choose a singular POV and stick to it very closely for the entire story. Choosing to rotate between these three men essentially allowed me to show how they’re all justified in their own decisions here, and to examine the relationships between all three of them. It’s a story about reckonings and eventual, hard-won reconciliations.

The Secret of Hazel Grange. Sherlock/John, 18,181 words, explicit, Sherlock POV. I’m going to claim that the reason I only managed to swing three fics this entire year is partly that I put another project on hold in order to write this one, lol. This is the third Christmas fic I’ve written and I’m happy with how it came out. It’s also the only story I’ve written that’s explicitly set during this pandemic, and during the second London lockdown, which is eerily similar to the code red lockdown my own city is in, so it just felt right. It’s been a somewhat miserable holiday season for me (so many reasons, including unhappiness at work and an illegally high rent increase that my apartment building is putting through, on top of the pandemic and all of that isolation and all of those cancellations), so writing some happy endings for someone else was pure escapism for me. Hopeful for others, too!

Total word count: 114,496 words of posted fic. 130,796 if we’re counting my work-in-progress that got interrupted for the Christmas fic. :)

Fandoms written in: BBC Sherlock.

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d expected? I wrote about what I thought I expected to be able to write. Right now, I have a full-time job, a part-time job, and then freelance work, all to attempt to make ends meet, so I have very little spare time to write in, unfortunately. So getting over 100k words in is actually somewhat miraculous to me. It feels like not very much when it’s just three stories, but I guess it still amounts to a fair number of words?

What’s your own favourite story of the year? Picking favourites is always tough, but for the Syria connection, I’d have to go with Sine Nomine.

Did you take any writing risks this year? I suppose that going so hard on the whole Republican anti-gay groups thing could be considered “risky” in some circles, but not really hereabouts! LGBTQ+ rights is one of my areas of advocacy (in fact, I’m a founding member of the Rainbow Equity Council at my workplace and spent a crap ton of time this month drafting governance documentation for it), but genocides are the issue that are really closer to my heart, so the Syria connection, even if it wasn’t named outright, could also be seen as a “dangerously” political stance, I suppose. But compared to other writing choices (like Scars, which features actual rape, or any of my Freebatch stuff, or any of the stories where Mary is an overt terrorist (rather than “just” a freelance assassin, lol)), I don’t really think I was terribly risky this year.

Do you have any fanfic or profic goals for the new year? The first item on the agenda is to get back to work on Nocturne, my WIP. After that, we’ll see. That said, I STILL would like to get back to searching for an agent for my novel, which is strongly based on Against the Rest of the World. I would also like to write that Johnlock cookbook I keep vaguely promising (it would feature recipes from my fics), and in a quirky “other” sort of project, I also wrote a heap of haikus about Republicans this fall that I’d like to see about getting published. Want a taste? Sure you do. I give you:

Brett Kavanaugh

Brett has a face like

a snarly little hedgehog.

He likes beer, okay?!

Mitch McConnell

Moscow Mitch is a

corrupt turtle who keeps his

balls in his neck pouch

Most popular story of the year? Well, the longer a story is posted, the more time it has to collect hits, kudos, bookmarks, and comments, obviously, so that makes The Four Horsemen the clear winner here.

Story of mine most under-appreciated by the universe, in my opinion: From this year or in general? :P I often find that my plottiest, most detailed, most researched stories that I personally think contain some of my most thoughtful writing are the ones that get the least attention. For instance, after series 3 aired, I wrote three back-to-back intensely-detailed series 3 fix-it fics (which all, to their credit, do get plenty of attention, though none so much as Vena Cava, the third of the three). Then I wrote a light-hearted, almost-crack porn fic, more as mental relaxation than any sort of literary genius, and that fic - Best of Three - remains my most wildly-popular story of anything I’ve ever written. It used to frustrate me, but now I’m just grateful to have anyone read anything of mine. But along that theme, yeah: the most complex of this year’s stories (Sine Nomine) is probably the one I feel is the least appreciated, but that’s also fine. No complaints here - I’m very lucky to have the readership I have!!

Most fun story to write: Sine Nomine, for all the reasons I talked about above, though I’d also call this the most emotionally-invested story of mine from this past year. That said, setting any story in Manhattan is always going to be fun, and I loved researching approximately 500 holiday rental properties in various parts of England in order to finally just create my own, aka Hazel Grange, lol.

Most unintentionally telling story: Ha, well, if you weren’t sure about my stance on gay rights, marriage equality, or Republicans in general, The Four Horsemen should clear that up pretty distinctly, lol!

Biggest disappointment: Just that I haven’t had more time to write.

Biggest surprise: Possibly that I felt so able to represent all three POVs in Sine Nomine as equally as I did. By that, I don’t mean being able to write in their perspectives, but rather in presenting their arguments with (I hope) equal persuasion: Mycroft thinks that John’s entire presence in Sherlock’s life has spelled nothing but disaster for Sherlock. He’s arguably not wrong. He decides that John is out of chances, and that he’s justified in being the one to make that call. Sherlock disagrees, hard, and he’s not wrong. John makes the choice he makes for his daughter, not for the choice Mycroft gives him between choosing either Mary or Sherlock once and for all, and he’s not wrong to have done that, or unjustified in wanting to go and demand some answers from Mary, who isn’t dead after all, here. But then I think that their various reasons for reconciliation are all equally justified, too. I hope! Usually when you stick to one perspective, the story naturally gears itself to persuade the reader to identify with that one character and to take their side. Here, I hope I manage to juggle the balance fairly equally.

I don’t know who’s been tagged in this already, but I’ll tag: @totallysilvergirl, @blogstandbygo, @nade2308, @weneedtotalkaboutsherlock, @hubblegleeflower, and anyone else who writes.

#2020 fic year in review #writer stuff #sherlock #johnlock #silentauror

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phantomphangphucker · 4 years

Text

Ectober Day 31: Free Day - Something Like A Bird Chap.4: The Feathered And The Fanged

Danny says ‘not today Satan’ as a wild Vlad appears to bear witness to Danny’s winged ass.

To say Danny had been a bit tired after his parents giving him a full check over would be an understatement. They literally wanted to see every single little way his wings could move and how each and every muscle reacted to said movement. If he had any reflexes; which hint, he totally did. Hitting the bends of his wings in the right spots would cause them to kick out just like a knee. And he had a spot on his back that would make his feathers fluff out. After all that he just didn’t want his wings messed with anymore, oh and to sleep, thank you very much. Which his folks were perfectly content to let him do on the couch. Which promptly led to the personal discovery that wings were freaking awesome blankets.

Which all also led to this wonderful situation of walking up to one Vlad Masters looking down on him with a quirked eyebrow. Danny elects to not even dignify the man with a response instead he sits up, yawns exaggeratedly, stretches out his arms, and angles himself in just the right way to punt Vlad out the door via a nice big wing stretch. Multitasking, it truly is a wonderful skill. Truly.

Vlad is, of course, grumbling and scowling as he comes back in. “Must you act so ill-behaved, Daniel”.

Danny smirks, “do I look like I care what Satan thinks?”, and only smirks more at Vlad’s sigh and head shake.

Danny only vaguely pretends to be paying attention to Vlad as he gets himself some coffee. Vlad sounding almost genuinely curious, not that vampire-ass was ever genuinely genuine about anything, “I see your parents’ aren’t up yet”.

Danny tosses a cup full at Vlad, evil he may be but everyone needs a ‘wake me the fuck up and allow me to suffer through this bullshit’ coffee. “Everyone was up late, had some limby business to get up to. Far more legal than what qualifies as business to you”.

“Yes because the government wouldn’t find your developments questionable at best”. Danny actually chuckles at that, because truth. The government would love to go all creepy morally questionable evil scientist on his feathered ass. Sure they’d probably have to go through some whacky legal hoops to do it, like classifying him as not human or some shit, but he wouldn’t put it past them to try.

Danny laughs, “like you’re any better vampy”.

Vlad shakes his head, looking Danny over as he turns around, “I’m far less unnatural. Do you not even have the decency to put on a shirt? You have a guest you know”.

Danny smirks, “but it’s you?”. Shrugging, very content with having filled up his ‘annoy the heck out of Vlad’ quota so early in the day. Today must really like him. “My shirt’s somewhere on the floor”.

Danny grins like an idiot when Vlad lifts up the offending tank top with as few fingers as physically possible, “you mean this thing?”, huffing, “unacceptable, you can hardly be running around in a probable biohazard”.

“Hey”. Vlad predictably ignores him and incarnates his shirt. Like an asshole. “I liked that shirt you know”.

“Then buy a new one that isn’t covered in questionable stains that even I can’t identify”. Danny’s pretty sure that Vlad’s desired response wasn’t for him to feel proud. But that’s sure as shit what he’s feeling.

Danny grins at him a bit meanly, sounding painfully sarcastic while his ears twitch a little picking up on at least his dad getting up, “now what is this? Is the Vladimir Masters offering to take me shopping? And entirely on his dime? Oh now how could I possibly say no?”. That smile only getting more mean and smug when his dad sticks his head down the stairs and half-shouts, “that’s a great idea, Vladdie!”, bounding all the way down the stairs and moving to clap Danny on the shoulder under the wing, “no way Danny-boy can wear any of his t-shirts, sweaters, or hoodies with the wings!”.

Vlad quirks an eyebrow, speaking with very obvious venom to his voice; well obvious to anyone other than Jack, “certainly not. I’m truly surprised you haven’t blown them off him yet”.

Jack actually looks shocked by that, “what!?! Oh of course not! I’m sure heaven wouldn’t like that very much! Or Danny-boy!”, tilting his head and chuckling, “if heaven is where angels come from”.

Danny grins wide enough to hurt when Vlad chokes a little and spits out a mouthful of coffee, going wide-eyed all the while. Checkmate Vlad, whatcha gonna do now? “Excuse me?”. Danny’s almost impressed Vlad doesn’t sound nearly as baffled as he definitely has to be.

Everyone looking to Maddie as she comes down, scowling at Vlad for only a second before smiling at Danny, speaking as she ruffles Danny’s hair up, “it’s really all that makes sense. He just finally developed enough holy energy to form his wings and halo”. His dad excitedly flicking the clouds to make them spin around, “and! It explains his ecto-contamination! Angels are purifying after all! So he’s just purifying the town!”, Jack nods to himself and puts his hands on his hips, “the town certainly needs it!”.

Danny sighs, still grinning a bit, “dad, I’m not a walking filter”. Vlad just looks to him, a clear expression of ‘how in the name of all the Ancients did you pull this off?’ and ‘do they seriously believe that line of bullshit?’.

Jack laughs, “a walking, or flying, dehumidifier but for ectoplasm would be a better comparison!”, which Danny rolls his eyes at a bit fondly.

Maddie smiles and nods a little before speaking somewhat seriously at Danny, “though you really do need a new wardrobe. I doubt you have many tank tops”.

Danny grumbles with fake annoyance, “well I have one less that’s for sure”. Which Vlad smirks slightly over. While Maddie looks to Vlad, “and while I don’t know why you would offer to take Danny shopping, we certainly haven’t budgeted for it”, sighing like this is almost painful for her, “so we’ll accept the offer”.

Vlad grins immediately and Danny is mentally smacking himself for being a serious dumbass. Of course shit like this would backfire on him. That is exactly his kind of luck. Hopefully, this won’t go horribly. Maybe. Probably though. This is Vlad he’s talking -thinking- about here. “Why Maddie dear, it brings me nothing but joy to help young Daniel out in times of need”.

Danny gives the most pained and sarcastic, “yay”, he can muster. Which earns him one incredibly smug smile from Vlad. However, Danny is the one grinning meanly when his dad announced that they will, in fact, be taking the GAV and that he’s driving. Since Vlad immediately looked like what’s left of his life just flashed before his eyes.

Vlad, in an almost painfully obvious attempt to stall, holds up a finger, “well, I think Daniel here should acquire suitable-”, he glares at the ash on the floor as an obvious attempt at emphasis, Danny just rolls his eyes, “-attire. Now luckily, I just so happened to plan for such a predicament”.

His mom gives an impressively dry, “really”, as her only response to that. Which Vlad, of course, completely ignores, instead simply nodding curtly and promptly disappearing out the front door he had not too long ago been tossed out of via Danny’s well-aimed wing. Danny’s going to cherish having successfully done that.

Vlad returns almost suspiciously fast, telling Danny that the man had very explicitly planned for this. Which means the son of a corpse probably would have ruined his -still one hundred percent wearable, fuck you- shirt anyway. Danny eyes the purple velvet? fucking Ancients, vest draped over Vlad’s arm. Which he absolutely knows he can’t put on his damn self with his folks here and his dad would absolutely make him wear the ‘gift’ from dear old godfather Vladdie. Curse his luck. His dad as it is looks excitedly... excited.

“Smart thinking V-man! And it has buttons too!”, looking to Danny, “which would certainly be easier to get on. If you got that tank top on, then you’ll definitely have no trouble with this”.

Vlad, surprising no one but his dad, waves him off, “nonsense. Vests of quality are best shown how to be worn by experienced hands”. Making Danny mutter a very quiet, “fuck you and your anterior motives”, at him. Which very obviously just makes Vlad smirk.

Danny just sighs and swallows what little of his pride he actually actively has and turns around to let the fucking prick ahem he means Vlad slide it over his wings. But he does snap his wings open to full length rather aggressively and nearly knocks Vlad over. He would have, if the man’s reflexes weren’t on point.

Vlad blinks and shakes his head, “there are times where I do believe you are more dramatic than even I. Which is no small feat, Daniel, I would know”. Danny will absolutely take that compliment. Regardless Vlad does slip the vest over his wings, Danny rolling his eyes over definitely being able to feel that the prick is examining them as he goes. Danny eventually having to put his arms back after way longer that this should have taken to get the vest over his arms, Vlad was clearly drawing this shit out. Why did he let him do this again? And why didn’t he make sure the local vampire stayed out after he punted him out.

If Danny wasn’t in front of his folks he absolutely would be smacking Vlad’s hands off him or commenting very heavily on the major creep factor of this being perfectly fitted. And Vlad clearly knows this, based on the stupid smirk anyway, as he did up the buttons with precision. Though Vlad smoothing the vest out afterwards was seriously pushing it, and absolutely earned the surprise fingernail-sized ecto-beam straight to the knee. Take that you vampiric twat. Vlad scowls at him without missing a beat.

By the time they get to the mall, Vlad is just barely managing to not look frazzled. With the man, of course, smoothing out his suit as they hop out to cover up his slightly rattled nerves. He does make a point to mutter just loud enough for Danny to hear, “I know I have said this before, but your father drives like he is seeking death. Which I must say, there are far easier was to achieve”.

Danny snorts, whisper-snarking back, “what? Like offering his corpse up to you willingly? Maybe on a nice cheese platter?”.

Which Vlad actually has the audacity to give a confident, “yes”, in response to. Pompous ass.

Danny decidedly ignoring -and honestly barely noticing. It was hard to notice these kinds of things when you were the entire town’s certified freak and resident weirdass- all the staring and even pointing he’s getting, which is mostly over the wings. Not entirely, just mostly. Which is weird, freaking wings deserve way more attention and finger-pointing than the fact that he, Danny Fenton, was in a fucking velvet vest and with the freaking mayor; who also just so happens to be bloody stinking rich. This town has issues. So many issues. Probably every issue. Expect gangs. Wait, has there ever been gangs in Amity? Tilting his head, “I wonder, do you think Amity has ever had gangs?”.

Vlad rolls his eyes and gives an oddly bitter, “of course, every town has one or two, Daniel”.

Jack grins, “actually no!”. Both halfas looking at him disbelievingly. Which gets Maddie to explain, “we may have mistaken a few trouble makers for ghosts and covered them in goop”.

Danny can’t help laughing at that, “you know?!? That surprisingly makes sense as a crime deterrent!”, and laughs a little more. Vlad just looks at his folks like they were both slightly nuts. Everyone’s attention gets grabbed by who Danny’s sure is one of the middle school girls running up and holding out a book. Which Danny has some serious ominous feelings over where, exactly, this was going. So he’s honestly not surprised when she blurts out, “could you sign my bible”. Vlad turns to the side and actually looks to be trying not to wheeze in disbelief.

Danny just blinks down at her, “you’re asking me that like I know god personally”.

She gives the single most innocent, “you don’t?”, he thinks is possible.

Danny lowkey doesn’t want to crush her tiny little spirts but come the fuck on, dear Ancients. “... no. No I do not. Sorry?”.

She only pouts for a second before shoving the bible at him slightly more. Cheeks puffed out, “still. Angel’s an angel”.

Danny tries to make his sigh not seem too pained, it is truly very pained though. What’s next? Were priests going to ask him to speak at services? Or was a church going to start up around him? Oh! Maybe he’d wind up with someone ‘reinterpreting’ the bible to find references to him. That of course would totally escalate into him being on prayer beads and crucifixes. Which was a little on the nose considering his rather self-sacrificial ‘job’. Which also made it kind of funny. Was he gonna wind up an important part of what was basically the most dominating religion ever with a ridiculously sketch history? Eh, he’s probably totally jinxing himself here. “Aright kid”, at least being asked for autographs wasn’t actually uncommon for him, “where you want it?”, looking to his family... and Vlad, “anyone got a pen?”.

Vlad smirks at him, “there's one in your pocket, I do believe”, meaning Vlad put one there.

Danny squints at him for a solid minute, “go back to Hell, Satan. No one loves you except Baphomew”.

“That is hardly my cat's name, Daniel”.

Danny just rolls his eyes as he fishes out the pen that absolutely is in his pocket. Though snickering a bit when he noticed the look that borders on bloody murder that the girl is throwing Vlad’s way. Like she was taking Danny’s petty insult genuinely. Speaking while taking the bible, “he’s not literally the Devil, he’s just cold-hearted enough to seem at least closely related”, promptly signing the inside cover and having to make a damn point to not put down ‘Phantom’. And making the ‘y’ all fancy like by putting little doodle wings coming off the curved end. At least she seems happy with it, giggling after looking at it and running off while waving back at him. Danny chuckles over her still throwing Vlad a dirty look.

Danny looks to Vlad, “wow, it’s like she thinks you murdered Christ. Wonder why that is”. Vlad gives him a definitely unamused look.

Danny gets yoinked out of his mild pissing match with his archenemy by his dad grabbing his arm and pointing at their go-to fashion stop. Which no. Danny is not wearing spandex. Especially considering getting a loose tank top on and off was already difficult without intangibility. “No happening, dad. In fact, never happening”, which yes was him actively crushing his dad’s dreams just a little more. But seriously. Nope. He has some shame and pride. It is still intact, it’s honestly a miracle.

Jack sags, “awww”, but that poutiness barely lasts a second before he’s perked right back up, pointing and heading off to the local ‘teen’ hip/popular fashion store. Which yeah, he usually bought jeans from there. Shirts? Ha, no. He didn’t feel like going broke for some name brand shirt that’s no different than what he can get from the discount store. At one time he preferred the local used store, but most people’s clothing never lasted long enough to make it to there in one piece; unless it was truly hideous. Had tons of shoes though, which saved his wallet more than he liked to admit. He was stupid hard on shoes.

Danny shakes his head at Vlad holding up a DC tank top, “that’s ugly. I’m not wearing something just because it’s got some brand name bullshit on it”.

Vlad rolls his eyes, “brand names say a lot about your worth and self, Daniel. Though I hardly expect you to know that. Mind you, if you try for Ed Hardy, we will be having words”.

Danny scrunches up his face, “do you think I’m fucking blind?”. Even in a pinch, Sam wouldn’t stoop to that. She’d show up in garbage bags saying something about dressing sustainably and recycling first.

“Sometimes I wonder”. Danny throws a t-shirt directly at his face. Though fine, his fashion style could suitably be called dumpster-chic most days.

Hovering to wander off to where his dad is also grabbing up a really awful fashion disaster, some two-toned plaid thing that’s probably marketed as ‘vintage western’ or something. “Dad no. I’m not the fashionista version of a lumberjack. Or queer enough to have an ingrained love of plaid. And even if I was, I still wouldn’t pick that”. His dad doesn’t even look offended at that, which means he likely agrees.

Danny watches him then pick up a ‘it’s not gay if he’s dead’ shirt with his dad looking almost in shock, making Danny actually have to float to sit down because he’s laughing so hard. Vlad glancing over and quirking an eyebrow, “now I feel rather reminded why I don’t shop at these sorts of stores”.

“Whatever boomer!”.

“I am not a boomer, you know this Daniel”.

“Sure thing, boomer”. Vlad smartly keeps his mouth shut this time, obviously looking to avoid more of Danny’s bullshit.

Maddie smiles at Danny but shakes her head at the shirt, “I will never understand teens love of that spook”.

Danny snickers while standing up, “well some sure think he’s got the personality and behaviour of a real angel. And the fly by the cuff ways of his are ‘manly’ or whatever to the jocks”. Vlad snorts at that from halfway across the store in the more ‘business casual’ section. Ha. That’s not happening either. Vampire-ass would have to literally kiss his ass to get him into that. Danny would take high-class professional professional over ‘business casual’ any day.

Though the patchwork button down with the elbows and shoulders fashionably cut out isn’t horrible, Danny’s still not wearing that on principle alone. So Danny shouts, “NOT TODAY SATAN!”, loud enough to make the guy jerk and get the entire store's attention. Vlad physically sighs and turns to glare at him. Danny raises a wing over his face in a bastardised version of ‘talk to the hand’ before Vlad can say jack shit.

His mom finally gives him a little light in the darkness of ‘preppy but trying to seem edgy’ fashion, holding up a little ‘evil nasa’ tank top with the bottom all shredded, “okay yes, we’re finally getting somewhere here. Nice”.

Vlad sighs exasperatedly as he rejoins them, “I see no point in that, if you wanted to look like you got attacked you could simply go out and get attacked. Shred it yourself”,

Danny looks to him, “you know what else I could shred”, and looks him up and down like that was a threat to every single piece of clothing he owned.

“I would like to see you try”.

“Is that a challenge”.

“Yes”.

Danny turns to his mom, “hey mom, you got a bazooka handy?”. She grins maliciously, “why yes I think I do”. Vlad looks like he has just been gravely wounded. The sales lady looks over to them, “for my sanity, please don’t. I’ve been awake for forty-nine hours”.

Danny chuckles, grabbing up the few tank tops that seemed suitable, the lady leading the four of them over to the dressing rooms, “personal record?”.

“I wish”.

Danny chuckles, “I feel ya. I’d offer a Death-spresso, but I think I’m the only one allowed to drink those and that’s only because I proved that shit wouldn’t kill me”.

“I welcome death”.

Danny actually wheezes at that as he loads up the dressing room, “mood”, then struggles into the probably too small dressing room. Having to cram his wings around, which holy shit thank everything he could use intangibility because he seriously could not pull literally anything over his arms or wings right now. Hell getting his wings remotely unfolded was straight-up not happening.

Stepping out to pose, “it’s decided, dressing rooms are the devil”. His dad laughs loudly at that.

Thankfully they wind up walking out with all of the tops -excluding an orange one that he’s positive his dad grabbed purely because it was orange- and with nothing getting blown up! Though Danny sighs when Vlad beelines for the ‘fancy rich asshole’ store that Sam’s parents’ bragged about shopping at. Mostly her mom. Knowing his luck he’ll run into her. In fact, that is emphatically what is going to happen.

Aaaaaannnnnnnd that’s exactlaly what happened. Yay. Spotting her as he’s standing in the dress-shirt section while wondering how the heck Vlad thinks they’re going to find anything he can wear here. Lovely. Her, of course, noticing him. Because how the Zone wouldn’t she? He had wings. And immediately making a beeline for him. Eh, this might as well happen.

She stops next to him and folds her hands over her waist, “excuse my interruption, I just wanted to apologise for certain past behaviours”.

Danny blinks at the lady with oversized earnings and a bubblegum pink sundress, “what?”.

She shifts almost like this is physically painful for her to do, telling Danny she so totally doesn’t actually want to apologise but thinks she has to. “Me and my husband's treatment of you has likely interrupted your duties. So I am apologising. I realise things work in mysterious ways and that maybe Samatha was a test, with you to supervise”.

Danny groans and mutters to himself, “oh god fuck”, and shakes his head because he is so not dealing with this from ‘I’ll put a restraining order on you’ Mrs. Manson. “Sam’s not some test for you to struggle through. If anything, she had to struggle through you”.

She never gets a chance to respond to that beyond looking overly offended as Vlad is just suddenly there, “I find I must agree. You are quite insufferable”, glancing at Danny, “both of you”.

Danny smirks, “I thought the point of the Devils fall was to suffer. To never know love or affection and never grasp what he seeks”. Vlad blinks, “I’m almost impressed by how mean that was”, looking to Mrs. Manson, “you're still here?”.

Mrs. Manson blinks at him and looks entirely offended before obviously cluing in who, exactly, this was, “oh Mayor Masters!”, glancing between him and Danny, “you two... know each other”.

Danny snickers while Vlad rolls his eyes like this should be supremely obvious, “of course. I am the boy’s godfather after all”, and grumbles almost too quiet for Danny to hear, meaning he probably didn’t actually mean for Danny to hear, “though I’d be better as his actual father”.

Danny walks past him whispering, “in your dreams only, frootloop”, and leaves Vlad to deal with the rich obnoxious lady. Easily catching her fake cheery, “oh I didn’t know that! Well then this is certainly the best place to bring the young angel shopping”. Sometimes Danny forgot Sam’s family were religious.

Danny finally, finally, finds a section with more wing-suitable clothing. Never thought he’d shop with that in mind. He’s honestly not too surprised that his folks didn’t follow them in, probably went to get food instead, since he’s pretty sure they’re banned from this store. He has no clue if that’s Vlad’s fault or his dad’s. This is also the exact time that one of the tailors, or whatever they’re called is fancy ass stores, decides to actually dignify him with some attention. Guy probably thought Danny, being well himself, wasn’t actually going to buy any of this crap. Which yeah, normally would be the case but fuck vests were actually a genuinely good idea. Probably the only piece of layering he could wear now. Unless he goes around cutting big ass holes in all his hoodies. Which, yeah he’s probably gonna do.

The guy nods at him as he’s looking at the backs of some of the tops. And speaks sounding oddly commanding, “straighten up”. Danny quirks an eyebrow but does as he’s told. He’ll play along, see where this goes.

The guy promptly starts manhandling the base of his wings, like a full blown feel up. Squishing the feathers together, figuring out the width of the bone and muscle, space between his wings, even pokes at his back muscle. This feels excessive. “Oddly, I feel like making another I feel like a hooker joke”. The guy just makes a tsk sound at him before running off, or sauntering, whatever, he walks like he’s rich. Like Vlad, but with less hidden villainous energy.

The guy comes back not seconds later with a few different vests, “I’m sure a racer back of this style-”, holding up the first from the pile he brought, “-would give you more comfort and range of motion. Definitely more than what you’re currently wearing”.

Vlad, once again, appears out of nowhere, “indeed. I couldn’t exactly know the precise width between his wings”, looking to Danny, “I am not psychic, Daniel. But I made an educated guess”.

All three jerk a little from Jack shouting from outside the store, “that’s our Vladdie! Always a thinker!”.

Vlad scowls, “your faith in me is truly endearing”. The way he said that making it clear he found it nothing close to endearing. The tailor guy also scowls and makes hand motions to shoo the man off. Ah okay, it was totally his dad’s fault. Which makes Danny snicker a little.

The guy immediately gets back to business, laying out a few other styles. Pointing at one that didn’t even technically have arm holes just kinda looked like it went around the neck, down the back, and over his stomach. And another that went around the neck, over the chest, and around the waist. “Now these ones are a bit more on the feminine side but you’re muscular enough to pull them off”, gesturing to Vlad with a thumb, “he’s not”. Vlad looks suitably offended for a second and Danny snickers some more, he officially likes this tailor guy. Then pointing to the last he brought over that was basically just the same as the one that went over hsi front but with sleeves attached, “now this one will give the illusion of wearing a more traditional vest and is usually what we recommend for men who have to wear bulky upper back braces. But I’m sure it’ll work for our purposes today”. With that Danny promptly gets effectively pushed to the fitting rooms. Not changing rooms because this place fits things to size. Aka it’s expensive as fuck. And knowing Vlad, he’s going to wind up with at least one of every style and the man will be tickled green by the end of this.

The sad thing is the vests were stupid easy to get on, minus the racer back but that one was more comfortable than his current shit. And fine, he looks good in it. And yes, Vlad’s grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

“Now as for colour, obvisouly you’ll need at least one in black, I’d recommend the most traditional one, the racer back. The rest are more on the eccentric side, especially without a jacket over top. For those I’d recommend green and magenta. Those are your colours after all”.

Danny blinks, “heh?”. Vlad muttering, “eloquent”, though also looking slightly confused.

“Those are the colours typically associated with you, Daniel, as the principal guardian archangel”, tilting his head, “though I take it you don’t remember about that”.

Alright, Danny thinks the angel thing is one hundred percent going too far now and being taken way too seriously. “Uh, well I’m not a pink kinda guy. And no”.

“Ah well, you were said to be in charge of the gates to ascension and one of the highest ranked angels in the universe. So I’d take the compliment”.

Danny blinks as he guy rushes off, looking to Vlad, “are you having an aneurysm, because I’m having an aneurysm”. Vlad actually sputters, while Danny pulls out his phone to wiki some shit. Blinking down at the screen, “oh you’ve got to be shitting me”. Because yup, apparently there’s an angel called Daniel. His half-life is some serious bullshit, he’s still absolutely positive he’s not actually an angel though. Because come on.

Vlad swallows, “well, one afterlife certainly exists. Another isn’t unreasonable”.

“I will smite you, devil”.

Vlad huffs a laugh, “oh I hardly believe this, boy. Don’t take me for a fool. We both know why this happened”, Danny crosses his legs up in the air purely to emphasise that fact, which Vlad hums at, “precisely. Though the angel argument has some merit to those unaware”.

Danny rolls his eyes and plants the soles of his shoes back on the ground as the guy comes back. Black, green, and one purple vests in hand.

Danny honestly isn’t surprised they leave with enough clothing that someone without super-strength would have a hard time carrying it. And thankfully his folks want to go home now, meaning Vlad has to suffer through his dad’s driving just that little bit more. Not that Danny cares or knows why the prick doesn’t just go his own way at this point.

He gets his answer though when his parents run off to a suspiciously well timed ghost alert from city hall -Danny can tell there is not a ghost there- and he feels himself promptly getting tasered in the side.

Jumping sideways after regaining his balance from very suddenly being back in touch with gravity and scowling at Vlad, who's pocketing the Plasmius Maximus with a smirk, “Vlad seriously?!?”.

Vlad doesn’t dignify him with a response immediately, instead transforming and making a swipe at him. Danny flapping to use the air to get him out of the way quicker. Surprisingly, it works. Vlad floating up into the air, “you need to be able to defend yourself regardless of form or power, boy!”.

Danny rolling his eyes and sidestepping a pink ecto-beam, “you’re still not my mentor, you nut-case. Besides, aren’t we taught to ignore the teachings of the devil”.

Vlad forms two duplicates and sends them lunging around the sides at him, the main Vlad shooting another ecto-beam at him. Considering how Danny’s back is practically against a wall, the whacko is clearly trying to get him up in the air. “You don’t have much of a choice right now, do you Daniel”.

Danny just scowls, mentally says ‘fuck it’ and jumps up to avoid the beam while smashing his wing wrists into the two duplicates as hard and fast as he can. The air force that blows at the ground forcing him up into the air, but he uses it to plant his feet on the side of the wall giving the illusion of defying gravity. While the two duplicates pop out of existence. Danny smirks to himself over the flash of surprise on Vlad’s face. That’s what a fucker gets for underestimating him. Haha.

Vlad gets much more aggressive about the ecto-beams and blasts after that. Which fine, effectively forces him off the ground and into the sky. He’s mentally thanking Mrs. Testlaff for forcing him to effectively practice flying, his folks too. Though as he twists to dip sideways he knows Vlad can tell this isn’t easy for him. This kind of flight was just so freaking different and he wasn’t used to it yet.

“I swear you just want to satisfy your urges to assault minors!”, and goes low to the ground again, actually getting a chance to land; without crashing! Which then gives him something of a wicked idea that might cause some property damage, because if the weak-ish not aimed at the ground thing he did earlier launched him into the air a little then what would happen if he gave one big-ass flap directly over the hard surface of the road. Spreading his wings out as far as he can, crouching down and aimed slightly towards Vlad, who’s looking slightly cautious.

Needless to say Danny goes off like a freaking missile, leaves a crater in the ground from the sheer air pressure, and the shock wave pummels Vlad for only seconds before Danny gut punches him as he zips past. Sending Vlad flying.

Danny just glides up high in the air for bit, hidden by the clouds and trying to locate Vlad again. The wind up here felt really really cool though. It was actually really nice. Comforting even. With floating it really didn’t matter how high up or low down you were, it all felt the same. But like this he can feel the air pressure, the thinness of the air, how wet or dry it was. He feels like he could just be carried off by the wind and relax. He snaps his attention to refocus though when he spots Vlad, who’s looking around cautiously but also like his victory is assured.

Ha. Not a chance.

The really stupid annoying thing is, as he positions himself to dive bomb the guy, Vlad had a point. Him being attacked in human form happens and he can’t always run off to transform. He can’t let his wings be a hinderance more than their size technically already was. Tucking his wings and flicking a bit for a sideways spin, which will look freaking sick if it actually works, and diving down; gravity doing most of the work. He’s high enough up to get some serious velocity. Hey maybe sciences wasn’t totally useless for him.

The only problem with this, Danny thinks as he rapidly smashes into Vlad who doesn’t even get the chance to turn intagible before both of them slam into the concrete, is that he can’t see for shit due to the world spinning around rapidly. He does hear Vlad transform back, so success, though.

Both of them groaning from inside the crater. “Daniel, if you ever do that, to a human, you will kill them. Ancients”, groaning again, “though fair play to you”.

Danny does a weird hybrid of a chuckle, wheeze, and groan, “pleasure doing business, with ya, frootloop. Least I didn’t, break anything”.

“The road might, disagree”.

“That’s, your problem. Mr. Mayor”.

“It’s ghost-related. Governments problem”.

“Ha. Point”.

“Are you going to, get off me”.

“You’re the one, with intangibility right now”.

“Surprisingly, I find I don’t, really feel like it”.

“Then you can lay there and, eat my feathers”, Danny flops a wing on the guys face, groaning slightly from the movement though. Oh he is so going to be feeling this tomorrow.

Eventually the two do indeed get up. Vlad straightening his jacket and trying to act like he doesn’t have a serious forming bruise on his stomach. While Danny is shaking off debris from his wings. It really does feel like he used them to punch an entire road. Just as his folks get back. Maddie bursting out of the GAV, “what happened to you two?!?”. Jack sticking his head out, “was it a ghost!?!l”.

Danny chuckles awkwardly though sending a slightly mean chuckle Vlad’s way before answering his folks, “turns out my wings make for pretty good ghost shields”, changing to a rather mocking tone and side-eyeing Vlad, “saved dear Vladdie’s suit from even a single little singe”. Vlad just huffs and gives his suit a tug that feels very final.

Jack laughs and claps Danny on the back while Maddie shakes her head and ushers everyone inside.

Everyone sitting around the table and enjoying comfort drinks, yes even Vlad, when Danny snorts hot chocolate out his nose at someone shouting, “WHY ARE THERE GODDAMN CRATERS IN THE ROAD EVERY DAMN TIME I VISIT THIS FUCKING TOWN!!!”. Danny puts his head down on the table and laughs.

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microsuedemouse · 4 years

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man it has been a MINUTE since I made my own post about anything fandom-related on this website but @suzirya is blogging about The Old Guard and I haven’t seen anyone else talking about it really and I’ve got. some thoughts

I had literally never heard of this movie at all until a few nights ago when we were eating dinner in the living room and my dad pulled it up and said ‘hey I want to watch this’ and played the trailer for my brother and me. We were pretty much like yeah, sure, we all enjoy a good action flick, and aside from my other brother (who was occupied with D&D) it ended up being the whole family watching it. and I enjoyed it WAY more than I’d anticipated, especially for something I’d never heard about.

if you don’t know what I’m talking about: drop what you’re doing and go watch The Old Guard on Netflix. (it’s a Netflix original so yes it will be there.) it’s a very fun and good action film based on a series of graphic novels about a small group of immortals trying to do what’s right. there are many selling points but one of them is that it will be very good for your little gay soul, bc Charlize Theron stars (in a character with no explicitly-stated romances but lots of relationships that will make you Feel Things) and two of the other main characters are two men who met during the Crusades and are just amazingly in love with each other. And not in a vague way that the straights can interpret as Powerful Friendship. They are explicitly in love with each other and so devoted and ugh.

ANYWAY. putting the rest of my chattering under a cut bc spoilers and also I’m a wordy piece of shit

1 - early in this movie I was thinking about how glad I am that Charlize Theron has stepped into this role of like... cool female action star, but also, her characters are never super sexed up. almost any female characters I can think of in action movies, if they’re part of the action rather than victims/bystanders, are always made sexy. even when they’re Strong sexy, they’re still... a lot sometimes? I was thinking especially of some Angelina Jolie stuff, Scarlett Johanssen, etc. there are probably lots of exceptions to this that I just don’t know but still - we’ve had Theron in several roles like this recently, and appearance-wise she’s treated with the same respect as her male counterparts, which is so fucking cool and also such a fucking relief. we all love beautiful ladies, obviously, but it’s so SO good to see our female heroes just doing their jobs, without us ever being made aware of their sexuality.

and as the movie went on this was hitting me more and more, and I was also thinking it about... everyone? like. the other female lead, played by KiKi Layne, was arguably more feminine than Theron but not any more sexualised. even once she’s out of her army fatigues she’s dressed with practicality in mind, and again, we never have her female-ness pointed out to us. and I was so about every bit of that. both objectively and as a person whose relationship to female-ness and femininity is kind of weird, it’s such a good thing to see leading women whose gender and appearances and bodies aren’t being focussed on that way.

and as a sidebar to that, while I wouldn’t describe any of the prominent male characters as unattractive by any means, none of them were like... Marvel-actor hot. and I just, idk, especially in action/superhero movies, that’s refreshing to me. a lot of them looked like Regular Dudes in a way that I find very appealing.

2 - can we TALK about Joe and Nicky. holy shit. my brother and I kept leaning over to each other to be like ‘if anything happens to either of them I’ll riot.’ I MEAN.

we got a genuine, explicit, on-screen established romance between these men. it was not implied, it was not just how the actors played it in the hopes that people would catch on - it was right there. they hold each other to sleep, they kiss each other with such love, they talk to other characters about how much they adore each other. they met during the Crusades. they’ve been in love for centuries! and they’re so sweet, so devoted, so adoring! and they never have any arguments or tension to further the plot (one of my personal most-hated plot devices in any story with an established relationship). they just spend this movie loving each other, protecting each other and their weird little family, doing anything they can for each other. they’re taken prisoner and spend their time awake joking and making each other smile. and the one singular bit of casual homophobia they encounter on-screen is met with a declaration of love so heartfelt and intense that the guy who made the shitty comment literally doesn’t know what to say - which is a brief but extremely good scene in the movie, imo.

oh, also worth noting: this romance is biracial and interfaith (inasmuch as either of them may be men of faith after being alive for centuries). just to add to how good this is to see on-screen. all of this on top of them being IMMORTAL AND UNKILLABLE. NO GAYS BURIED HERE

2.5 - can I talk for a second about how goddamn much I love seeing non-hetero romance in genre fiction!!! I know it’s getting easier to find, but still. genre fiction is very much my domain and I love seeing queer romance there, especially when it’s simply an accepted fact and the characters’ queerness isn’t central to the story. narratives about queerness are good and important and serve a function but most of them aren’t really my thing, personally. a story that’s about all kinds of other things but also has queer characters there, being themselves, being in love, is so 1000% my shit.

3 - also? Charlize Theron’s character, Andy?? fascinating from a queer perspective. she doesn’t have any explicitly-stated romance with anyone, but her relationships with other characters are so compelling and so interesting. The backstory about her and another immortal, Quynh, very very distinctly gives you the impression that they were women in love. everything about Andy’s guilt and bitterness over not having been able to find/save Quynh feels so much like there was a romance there. it could have been platonic or familial - they were together, without anyone else, for centuries at least, and therefore obviously developed a very deep love - but the way Andy talks about Quynh it feels so much like there was something left unsaid, or unresolved.

also, her scene with the clerk in the pharmacy. oh my god. this woman clearly recognises that whatever is going on with Andy, something is wrong, and she offers her help, no questions asked. she takes her into the back room and patches up her wound. this scene has such an inherent intimacy because of the close quarters and the privacy and the act taking place, but... there’s also this really interesting connection happening between them, where they recognise something in one another but don’t state it. (personally, I couldn’t help wondering if the clerk was a domestic abuse survivor, maybe? but there are so many ways you could interpret her character from her behaviour and dialogue in that scene, and I’d love to see other people’s takes.)

and then on the other hand you have her relationship with Booker, who’s been with her the longest out of any of the living immortals. they’re incredible. their relationship is so, so interesting and well-depicted! they have such chemistry, that you can easily read as romantic or platonic. they’ve been together for so many hundreds of years and they work together, trust each other, with such a deep understanding and love and respect. and it never quite tips over into the romance you kind of think it will, which imo only makes it that much more compelling - there are so many directions you could take that dynamic.

4 - and then on the topic of Booker: I am SO into the way his betrayal was handled.

he did, undeniably, betray the others. there’s no argument on that fact. his motivations were understandable (and heartbreaking), even to Andy, though certainly not an excuse. so yes, they were furious with him. reasonably so! but... that didn’t actually break their relationships with him. they didn’t leave him behind in the lab, even if in some ways they might have wanted to. and in the ensuing battle, they were still able to work together and trust each other as they always have. the damage done to their larger relationship was put aside to be dealt with after all of this, as it should be. and even when they did deal with it, what they agreed on was just a century of exile from their group. given the lives they’re all living, that seems like such a mild sentence.

but to me, it makes so much sense. again, these people have lived for centuries, and there are so few of them. they need each other. the bonds they’ve formed over all this time together - the trust, the love, the sense of family - would not only be vital to both their survival and their sanity, but also incredibly difficult to truly break. what he did would seem unforgivable from an outside perspective, and even after that century passed I’m certain he’d have to earn back their trust and respect, but it makes absolute sense that they’d be willing to take him back one day.

god. GOD. I’m sure there’s more I could talk about but this is what I can think of right now and I’ve been typing for like forty minutes probably so I’m done for now but.

god.

this movie and its characters GOT ME, guys. I’m really in it. ugh UGH

#the old guard #Courtney talks

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incidentreport31 · 3 years

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Episode One: In the Middle of the Street TRANSCRIPT

[You can listen to the show wherever you get your podcasts.]

[Intro music players.]

ANNOUNCER:

Three-Eyed Frog Presents: Incident Report Number 31.

[Theme song fades to a stop.]

[click recorder on]

ARCHIVIST:

Test. Test. One, two, three. (mutters) Bloody hell, why does it smell like something died in here? Well, guess we can’t prove something didn’t, eh? The recorder seems to be working, at least.

My name is Val West. I’m the newly appointed head archivist at The [REDACTED] Institute, which documents people’s possible experiences with the supernatural for both emotional support purposes and to get recovery time off of work, school, et cetera if the trauma is deemed severe enough by their employers or other supervisory staff.[beat as they scoff] Supernatural doctor’s note, innit...

The Head of the Institute, Mr. Neil Banks, has asked me to record these accounts because, well, there actually isn’t really a good reason. [mutters] Didn’t spend eight years getting a masters in library sciences to read stories into a dusty tape recorder, but, we all have to get by.

I do, at least, have people to assist me: two researchers: Zach Zamuel-Imogen Baker, and Christine Lewis, along with, I’m told, a very well-respected psychologist: one [hesitant] Dr. Oliver Possum, who will be advising me on any cases where there is necessary psychological follow up. I haven’t actually met any of them yet, but hopefully they will be helpful.

I was also explicitly told not to look behind the bookshelf to my left, so I will be looking behind the bookshelf later today...right. Guess I should get started, then.

[Sound of papers tapped on desk to organize them]

ARCHIVIST:

[They clear their throat.] For the consideration of Ortolan Bunting Law Firm: Ayla Stephenson’s encounter with a house that did not exist and her subsequent request for thirty hours of paid time off. No date given. Fine by me. Not gonna lose sleep over improperly filled out paperwork. Well. Start? I suppose? Yes.

[ACCOUNT.]

I feel the need to start with this, so you fully understand what I’m trying to say. I have a feeling you’ll just dismiss my story otherwise. I’ve lived here going on ten years now. Moved here on the promise of a job from the same company that I still work for today: Ortolan Bunting Law Firm. I drive the same route to work every day. I mean, I looked up the quickest way on the map when I first moved to town, and hey, who am I to question that? If it works it works. No need to make something difficult when the map’ll just figure it for you that first day, right?

I guess I’m getting a bit off topic here, but my point is that I’ve been going the same way for a decade, which is to say that I know the route to and from work like the back of my hand. Sure, maybe I don’t pay attention to every detail every day, I mean after ten years, the drive is almost an unconscious thing-

ARCHIVIST:

(mutters) Not a great way to build up your story’s credibility but, I digress.

[ACCOUNT.]

-but I still know all the road’s quirks, even if they don’t stick out to me after all this time. I know that the first left turn light on the way lasts for about two seconds and if you’re more than two cars behind in line, you’ll have to wait a whole cycle to go. I know there’s a business center that, god knows why, has their logo done in comic sans just off to the right before I merge onto the highway. Once I’m on that freeway for about fifteen minutes, I can see this drive through coffee place on one of the adjacent streets. Every single morning the line’s backed up out to the street- you’d think there’d be a better way to do that, but that’s more of a personal gripe and certainly not the point. On my way back from work, I take a few side streets to avoid rush hour traffic on the main road- just the way the map recommended on my first day, of course, I’m not looking to get lost in the backroads. There’s a few old houses, sometimes I see elderly couples sitting out on their porches. Sometimes they wave and I do have the decency to wave back, though some of my colleagues might not believe you… I’m afraid I’ve been a bit put off by this whole experience and have been taking it out on some of my coworkers. All the more reason to give me the [THE ARCHIVIST sighs this last part out as they are once again pulled out of the story] time off that I so kindly requested.

ARCHIVIST:

That last line is crossed out. It appears that Ms. Stephenson was reluctant for her Firm to read that bit if this ever got back around to them. To be honest, the way that this is going, I’m not so sure that plea would have done anything for her, but I am, of course, to remain the impartial academic in my work here, so I suppose I’ll allow the defacing of Institute paperwork just this once, even if the scribbles are rather unprofessional.

[ACCOUNT.]

There're a few empty lots there too. I think at one point, the city wanted to buy them up and make a park, but I don’t think they ever got around to it. Really don’t think they will now. I’m getting ahead of myself. I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’ve been going the same way day in and day out for ten years… I’d notice if something was different.

ARCHIVIST:

I’m assuming… that is the point of this report yes? [beat] Continuing on.

[ACCOUNT.]

Nothing that day was really any different, I’d say. Just drove to work, hit all the usual landmarks: waiting to turn at the light, glancing at the comic sans sign, thinking that that coffee shop is definitely obstructing traffic, the usual. Went to work, got through the day with… minor amounts of stress… I mean it’s legal work, it isn’t fun, but somebody’s gotta do it. Got off right at five, gathered up my things and left. I took my usual streets, not really minding anything, but I noticed no one was out on the porches. That’s not unusual, I know, people can be inconsistent, it’s not a big deal, but looking back? Maybe they knew something was off… I mean if I’d lived in that neighborhood I certainly would have.

[Eerie music begins playing.]

I always drive with the radio on, can’t stand being alone with my thoughts on a busy street where road rage can make its way into my thoughts. Guess I should’ve mentioned that earlier, huh? Either way it seems important that I say it’s part of my daily life. I do it every day, and I’ve never had a problem with reception in that area, so when the sound started to glitch out, I thought something was wrong with my car. It was frustrating, sure, but not a big deal, even if I don’t necessarily enjoy the sound of static more than the average person.

I went through the usual useless attempts to fix it, of course. Smacked it a few times, turned it off and on again, but nothing changed. In the end, I just turned it off as I kept driving. Figured my own thoughts were better than the white noise that faded in and out of my speaker at an unpredictable volume. Things were fine for a few minutes. I’d almost gotten to the end of the street when I realized something wasn’t quite right.

At first, I thought maybe the light was just reflecting into my eyes weird. Maybe I’d just seen something out of the corner of my eye that there was a fine explanation for. Because… I knew this road. And there had never been a house there before. I was sure of it. A whole house isn’t something that could go up in a night, but you know that, you aren’t an idiot.

[Record scratch, cutting the music off.]

ARCHIVIST:

[pretentious bastard] I’d certainly like to think so, yes.

[ACCOUNT.]

But there it was. It wasn’t right next to the other houses, a few lots down the road instead. Other than my knowledge that it wasn’t there before, though, it could have blended into the neighborhood without anyone noticing.All things considered, it was a pretty nice house. Sure, it was done up in that fancy Victorian style and therefore inherently a little unnerving, you know how those old places just seem a little haunted even if they’re perfectly put together?

Still, beyond that, it was fine. Not broken down in that sort of creepy ghost way that you see in movies, or anything. The paint was pretty well done, only a little aged from the sun, and all the wood on the wrap-around porch was together. I mean if I was building a murder house, I would’ve splintered the boards and peeled up the exterior wall a bit, something along those lines, you know? It looked like someone could have been living out of it. Totally normal.

I know what you’re thinking, that I got out and had a look, but I can’t say I did. As the sun was going down? While I was all of a sudden unsure of my own thoughts? Really? No way in hell. I’m not an idiot either. So I kept driving. As I passed by, I got this strange feeling… like I wasn’t alone on the street. I don’t know if I imagined it or not, but with how much I was already questioning what I knew, I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer, and I sped away, not wanting to stick around any longer than I had to. Now, when I got home, I went through stages of denial before realizing that, hey, it wasn’t my damn neighborhood, and therefore not actually a problem that I would have to deal with.

At least until I was driving back from work the next afternoon. Funny how that works… your problems don’t just disappear because you’ve chosen to ignore them. Although ignore is a strong word considering I spent all day at work worrying about whether or not I should trust myself and whether or not I would see the house again when I drove home… I could’ve gone another route, of course. Could’ve gone even one street over and left it at that.

But that isn’t how it works, is it? I was so unsure of my own thoughts that I’d rather put myself in a situation that seemed potentially harmful than not know if I was wrong or not. [beat] So I went down the same route, just like I’d been conditioned to for the last decade. Once again, the couples were inside. They had to know something was wrong, I mean I was able to realize the house shouldn’t have been there and I didn’t even live in the neighborhood. I slowed my car to a snail’s pace as I inspected all about the street that I could. Not really sure what I was looking for if I’m being honest, but when I got to the house, I’d convinced myself that, yes, in fact, it was as real as the rest of the places on the block.

I don’t think it was really a conscious decision when I stopped the car. I’d just been going so slow already and… well I’d reached my target, hadn’t I? I sat and gazed over the house for a few moments. Looking over the perfect condition it seemed to be in, to no avail. It seemed to be perfectly normal. Maybe… Maybe I was really just in my head about all of this. Was it really that hard to believe? I should’ve just left, stopped staring at this place. Sitting there wasn’t going to change the fact that it was there, whether or not I could really trust my mind.

But… then I saw the curtains in the front window move. I snapped my gaze over to where I’d seen the motion and there was a little boy staring at me through the glass. He looked off to something behind the curtain before looking back over and waving, grinning a gap toothed smile at me. I... Well I wasn’t quite sure what to do with that so… I waved back. What else was I supposed to do? In an instance, I became convinced that I’d really just made the whole thing up. If there really was someone inside and nothing untoward seemed to be going on, the kid had seemed perfectly happy after all, then it had to be a real house. And really, if it had been some big spooky master plan, then why would he have acknowledged me? I’ve been to the movie theatre. I know children in horror flicks can be creepy, but just straight up waving at me like I was just another neighbor and nothing was going on? Didn’t exactly set up the sinister mood that I figured would have come from the place.

And then a hand shot out and. The kid recoiled as it shut, looking disappointed that he’d been caught doing something it was evident he wasn't supposed to. And I snapped back into trusting myself and sticking with my gut. I didn’t like the look of that. At all. Unfortunately, my whole life, I’ve generally been prone to the third fear response rather than either of the useful ones: I freeze. This time was no different. I couldn’t bring myself to drive away.

[In the background, eerie music begins playing.]

I sat there in dead silence for what felt like hours with a vague feeling of unease hanging in the air when the door opened. A man stepped out, wearing this fine tailored suit that I’d seen clients wealthier than I would ever be wear into my office and carried himself with the confidence of a person that knows no one is going to cross them. Despite all that, his face was soft. Approachable. Kind, even. Seemed like the kind of guy that knew he had money, but was willing to help you if you’d just say thank you afterwards.

As he approached my car he called out to me: “Hello there!”

Nice and friendly. Even with the strangeness of a few moments ago and my lingering unease, I could hardly bring myself to believe that this man would do anything to me. Sure, I was still stuck to my seat in fear, but he seemed perfectly safe. Maybe that’s just what it’s like to be charismatic though, looking back. I wasn’t sure what to do at that point, but my pre-programmed social response got the better of me and I rolled down my window to meet him.

“Hi.” I said. Just a simple greeting until I could really figure out what was happening.

He put one hand on the top of my car and leaned down to meet my eyes. As he spoke, his smile never faded: “So… I take it… you can see this place?”

Well, I was so taken aback I wasn’t really sure what to say, so I just nodded. And the next thing he said, well… threw me a bit off. He stood up, brushed off his pants calmly, turned back to the house, began walking, and he just said-

[Record scratch, cutting the music off.]

ARCHIVIST:

Now there’s a profanity here that I will not repeat, but it seems Ayla’s statement finishes there.

[The Archivist sighs and shuffles their papers.]

ARCHIVIST:

There’s not much followup to be done here. Ayla gave us a street address, but didn’t actually tell us which house it was. [mutters] Perhaps she’s more of an idiot than she claims to be.

Regardless, upon investigating the street, nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary, though none of our staff were familiar enough with the area to tell which houses should and shouldn’t be there. In my personal opinion, this is a mere case of a poor attention span. I can’t blame Ayla, I suppose, but was it really worth coming here and telling a whole dramatic story over it?

[scoff] There are some other areas of this statement that leave room for questioning and research, such as the radio static and the house’s residents. For now, however, I will be filing this one under “Irrelevant” in my mind. End recording.

[Recorder clicks on.]

[Recorder clicks back on.]

[There’s footsteps as HR walks down the hall. They knock on the Archivist’s office door. Meanwhile, the Archivist can be heard moving something.]

HR:

[muffled] Uh, hello? I’ve got something for the Archivist.

ARCHIVIST:

Oh, uh, yes, of course. Just let me— [They curse as they are heard tripping over piles of statements.]

[A pause.]

HR:

...should I come back at a later time, or—?

[The door suddenly swings open.]

ARCHIVIST:

Right. Blimey. Sorry about that, mate. What’s all this, then?

HR:

Er, are you the head archivist?

ARCHIVIST:

That depends, who’s asking?

HR:

Your HR. I’m also an intern under Mr. Banks, which brings about a whole array of other useless titles, but for your purposes, I’m just HR. My name is Luca.

ARCHIVIST:

Oh! Lovely. Mr. Banks told me I’d be seeing you. Um, pleasure to meet you.

HR:

Thanks, you—wait, wh—?

ARCHIVIST:

[trying to change the subject] Say, why are you here, Luca? Any plans for after your internship? I mean, surely, you have a field of study, a career plan?

HR:

[slowly, growing increasingly confused] Oh, um, yeah. I, um—well, I started here—um, yeah, after my internship, I. Uh.

ARCHIVIST:

It’s alright if you don’t have a plan, y’know. Took me a while to figure all my stuff out, and, well, I got out alive, didn’t I?

HR:

No, it’s just—I know I have something, I just. Um. [desperately trying to change the subject] What are you doing in there, exactly?

ARCHIVIST:

[beat] Oh, just some housekeeping.

HR:

...and that required you to move an entire bookshelf?

[A long pause.]

ARCHIVIST:

Listen, I know what this looks like.

HR:

Doesn’t he have a weird thing about that?

ARCHIVIST:

[passionate] Which is exactly why I did it! I mean, they’re not the heaviest bookshelves in the world, so it’s certainly not a matter of safety.

HR:

[mutters] As if Mr. Banks has ever valued the life and safety of his employees.

[Both are heard walking back into the office towards where the bookshelf was.]

ARCHIVIST:

[cont.] Which means there must have been something weird about the bookshelf—and I was right. See, look, there’s like a weird...hole. Thing.

HR:

...I’m guessing that’s why Mr. Banks made me bring you a shovel?

ARCHIVIST:

Hm? Oh, right, the shovel. Kind of forgot I had asked for that.

HR:

How did you not notice I was carrying it when I came here?

ARCHIVIST:

You see, within the hole, there’s this big mound of dirt, and I have reason to believe that there’s something hidden beneath.

HR:

[They sniff, then, disgusted] Oh god, why does it smell like something died in there?

ARCHIVIST:

That’s what I’m trying to find out.

HR:

Look, can’t you just...I don’t know, leave it? Like, just put the bookshelf back, spray some air freshener, and then be done with it? I really don’t want to have to write this up.

ARCHIVIST:

You expect me to work under these conditions? Having a mysterious hole in my wall with no idea what’s lurking within?

HR:

Look, I just think this is a really stupid idea. If Mr. Banks finds out—

ARCHIVIST:

He’s not going to! You— [they huff a sigh.] Would you just hand me my shovel? I’m going in!

HR:

Whatever you say.

[HR hands the Archivist the shovel.]

ARCHIVIST:

Thank you.

[They are heard shoveling for some time, before the Archivist finally seems to hit something.]

HR:

Is...is that…?

ARCHIVIST:

My god.

HR:

That’s a dead body.

ARCHIVIST:

Appears to be. [beat.] Do you know who it is?

HR:

I mean, they’re sort of hard to recognize now.

ARCHIVIST:

Perhaps the previous archivist?

HR:

I dunno, I never knew them.

[A long pause.]

ARCHIVIST:

Right, then. Back to work. Mind helping me move this bookshelf?

HR:

(under their breath) God, I’m gonna have to write this up, aren’t I?

[Recorder clicks off.]

[Theme music plays.]

[CREDITS.]

Incident Report Number 31 is a podcast made by Three-Eyed Frog Presents. This episode, “In the Middle of the Street,” was written, directed, and produced by Val West and Luka Miller with sound design by Luka Miller. This episode featured Val West as the Archivist and Luka Miller as HR. Music is produced by Luka Miller. To keep up with the show and find transcripts, make sure to follow us on our Twitter at @IR31Pod and on tumblr at @IncidentReport31. To contact us with any questions or concerns, feel free to email us at [email protected]. Thanks so much for listening!

#ir31pod transcripts

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laynemorgan · 4 years

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These past few weeks -- this past presidency really -- have been wildly eye opening for me. As a liberal white person, I’ve spent the better part of the last few years learning and unlearning, checking myself, checking my peers, etc. But these last few weeks it has been even more so. Unsure of what to do with my voice in the din of twitter, and preferring to elevate voices of people of color around me, I wound up taking to facebook, spending the better part of the last months sharing political posts that I had died off on posting after Trmp’s election, confronting relatives and family friends that i had, a few years ago, decided i’d need to just come to terms with. Through all of it, I have seen a lot of grace. I’ve seen a lot of learning. And I’ve scene a lot of stubborn refusal to learn. And I’ve been those people. I’ve been learning but I’ve also refused to. I’m hoping to change that now.

A few months ago, a girl on twitter approached me. She was angry. She confronted me flat out about how I felt that it was okay for me to preach equality and social issues as someone who had been so bad at confronting and apologizing for my own missteps in the past. As someone who had hurt people without consequence. She was right. I told her that. She told me that my previous apologies had been shitty and selfish. And she was right. I promised her I’d write a new one.

And then I never did.

When our world erupted into protests and marches and major social movement this last month, I became immediately embarrassed. The words I had promised had never made it out. I prioritized a million other things in my life instead of the people I had hurt. I regret that. So so so much. I regret not immediately writing an apology that I truly meant when it was pointed out to me how much I had let it all fall off my radar. I regret only thanking that one girl on twitter for her time and education and not the many, many other voices who had been trying to reach me over the years. I should have done that right away. I should have done that even before, without it having to be brought to my attention. I thought that because I had learned and knew better, because I personally knew where I had gone wrong and wouldn’t do it again, that it was over. But the truth is, that was a lesson I hadn’t been ready to learn either. That the people we’ve hurt don’t go away, that shitty apologies don’t make up for pain, that having selfish things to do with our time doesn’t excuse not prioritizing growth and reflection and acknowledgement. So for starters, I am sorry for that. I am sorry that it took me four years to say anywhere on the internet that i KNEW that apology I wrote was shitty. I’m sorry it took me four years to acknowledge to anyone how wrong it was that I was constantly requiring them to push me toward change. I am so sorry it has still taken me a months since that twitter exchange this year, and a full month since I realize I’d STILL forgotten about it to be here. And writing this. I’ve been selfish. I’ve shoved all of your important words and experiences and thoughts and lessons to a place where I could look at them when it was convenient for me. And that was fucking selfish. And ignorant.

To now skip all of that intro and go into more detail, this whole story begins in my fandom days. When I loved and adored The 100 and was a very active member of that fandom. The reveal of Clarke’s bisexuality, the introduction of their Lesbian character, Lexa were important to me. In making that clear, I said in a tweet that another character, Bellamy (portrayed by Filipino actor Bob Morley) was less important and received preferential treatment by the fans due to his ability to be seen as a “hot white guy.” In short, I entirely erased Bob’s lived experience as a non-white man, I erased the visibility that Bellamy created for men like him, and when it was pointed out to me, I doubled down. I defended my stance, I fumbled to explain myself over and over. I thought that because my intent was not to harm that it excused me from the impact of what I had said. And it didn’t. What I said was wrong. It was erasure, it was ignorant and came from my own unchecked racism. I know that now. I didn’t then. I was embarrassed and upset that people thought the worst of me. When what I should have been was humble and willing to listen. And THAT is what is truly embarrassing.

Then came the apology, several years later. I had spent time arguing about a cause that effected me personally and suddenly, was moved to more properly address what I had done. But again, my apology was about me. It came on my time, a day late and a dollar short. It wasn’t an apology at all. It was an explanation, a plea for understanding, laden with white fragility that I hadn’t yet examined. It was an apology that had learned how to fix what went wrong but hadn’t actually learned what was wrong about what I’d said and done. It stepped over the voices of the people who had been fighting to teach me. It re-centered myself, my experience, my emotions. And again, it was selfish.

To be explicitly clear: the way I behaved toward the people who corrected me and tried to educate me in both of those instances was shameful. My inability to listen something I am actively working on as much as I can. I am so so sorry to those people especially, to Bob whether he knew about this incident or not, and to the entire fandom community at large for setting such a shitty example.

This apology isn’t only about that moment, though. I’ve been doing a lot of reflecting lately, and I wanted to make sure to talk about other stuff too. Other stuff that no one has been publicly calling me out for, but that is still bad. Whether it’s pointed out to me or not. Because I think growth is important and I think it’s important to humble ourselves to know when we were wrong, to look back on our actions once we have learned better and pull out the bad parts, show people, teach others. In my years in fandom, I made a thousand missteps. I was quick to get upset, when someone said a show or character I loved was racist or had done something racist. I was the person always shouting that not everything is racist. I was a fucking ignorant. I dug my heels in simply to defend things, without taking time to listen, without understanding the history of pain that people of color face when it comes to stories and representation. I thought I was smarter than I was.

I didn’t listen when I was told that you can’t dreamcast a next gen character of a mixed race couple with just one of those races. I didn’t listen when white washing was explained to me. I was too stubbornly wrapped up in the things I wanted and my own perceived kindness and correctness to think that I could get something wrong, that I could need to put in a modicum of effort to change my ways. “There just aren’t that many mixed actors,” I’d say. But because I couldn’t name any off the top of my head didn’t mean they didn’t exist. And frankly, the fact that I couldn’t name any was shameful too. I know now, how important racial representation is. Again, I am sorry for not listening. I am sorry for whitewashing and for thinking that simply dubbing myself a good person and good ally didn’t make it so. I was too proud to learn. I’m working on dismantling that fragility too.

I work in television now. I work in television because I want nothing more than to tell stories about everyone. This year I got my first script. And that same girl who called me on twitter a few months ago told me she didn’t want to support the show I worked on because she didn’t trust a project that I worked on. That fucking devastated me. I wanted to proudly wave the expectational diverse show I loved over my head and say “but look what we did!!” And when that instinct hit me, this time, for the first time, I checked myself. Because what I did didn’t matter without fixing what I had done. Without earning that trust back, without making it abundantly clear where my head and my heart are now. Something that felt “so long ago” to me was fresh and painful for other people. Being able to shove it away was a privilege I had and didn’t see. I had sat in the writers’ room on that show and advocated for our representation and felt proud of the stories we told. But none of that matters if I haven’t checked myself, and fixed the hurt that I’ve caused, personally first.

I am truly sorry. I’m sorry for the mistakes I inevitably forgot about making that did not make this post. I’m sorry for the ignorance that made them less important to me than they are still to the people of color who witnessed them and the things I perpetuated. I’m sorry for not understanding that I can contribute to the problem, that I can BE the problem. I’m sorry for talking over you, for not listening to you, for letting you be the villain in my head and my heart and out here on my public profile for so long. I’m ashamed of my past, but I don’t want to keep letting time go without talking about. I want to bring my selfishness and my ignorance into the light and talk about it. I don’t want to cause anyone hurt for any longer than I need to, and I’m so sorry for never giving anyone closure on any of this before, even when I thought I had gotten it for myself. Thank you for reading this. Thank you for trying so hard to explain shit to me that I just didn’t hear. I know I’m inclined to wordy bullshit. I want you all to know that I’m listening. I’m late. But I’m listening. And again, I am sorry for having hurt you in the first place. I was wrong. I will likely be wrong again. But I promise you that I will do everything in my power to never, ever be as unwilling as I have been to learn. I am educating myself all the time now, in hopes that you won’t ever have to educate me again. But should that day come, I promise to meet you with the grace, humility, and open mind that I should have a long time ago.

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bexterbex · 4 years

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A Soul to Mend His Own | Ch. 62

pamgWarning, PLEASE CHECK TAGS IF YOU SEE SOMETHING YOU DON’T WANT TO READ THEN DON’T READ. | Tag lists are closed | INBOX OPEN

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Will tag as I go along, Will update tags, Slow Burn, Influenced by Star Trek and other Sci-Fi themes, References to We Happy Few, Tons of References and quotes to George Orwells 1984 see if you can find them all, The First Order is the new Big Brother, but who is really surprised, Blatant Nazi Symbolism, Interrogation Themes, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Really just drawn out Slow Burn, Don’t repost without permission, Torture themes, Suggestive Themes, Execution themes, Disturbing Themes, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Verbal Abuse, Controlling Kylo Ren, Physical Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, Possessive Kylo Ren, A character shamelessly based on Zelda

A Kylo Ren x Modern! Reader in a soulmate au with canon divergence. —————————————SLOWBURN————————————–

He is already the Supreme leader, searching the universe to find you, his Empress. Your name on his wrist has been the only constant in his life, while you have doubts about his existence and his acceptance of you. He isn’t in the database and why did the name Kylo Ren cover Ben Solo?

MASTERLIST

Chapter 62: Dreams Again

A/N: If you haven’t seen it go check out this awesome cover art @pamgkrthart made for this story: LINK

You were in the house that the young boy was left all alone in; you assume it was Kylo’s childhood home.

She didn’t speak at first. The older woman, she invited you to sit with her. She silently offered you tea, which you accepted. You watched each other.

“You are probably wondering why I brought you here. Why we are speaking now.” Her voice had a feminine leathery sort of sound, calm but aged in a way that you know she has been through a lot.

You simply nodded, not knowing if your voice was going to work or not.

“I fear for my son, Ben. You know him as Kylo, a creature of his own construction. I know of his plans, his plans to kill Ben, to kill the light within him, and thus the need to kill me. This I know to be my fate.” She looked down into her own cup of tea, not meeting your eyes before continuing. “Ben was once a happy boy, before Kylo, before everything went wrong. His father and I may not have been the best parents, but know that we loved him, that I still love him.”

She was quiet for a while, staring into her cup. You could feel the emotions coming off of her in soft waves.

You attempted to speak, putting in a bit of effort, “What is your name?” You had yet to learn of either of Kylo’s parents. You now had a face, but you wanted a name.

“Leia,” she then looked at you in the eyes. Which were filled with grief, “Your name has always brought him comfort. Since he was old enough to understand what was on his wrist. Something his father and I could never do after sending him away.” She paused for a moment. You could see her holding back tears. “We thought we were doing what was best. Now I know we were wrong. His father was afraid there was too much of my father in him, but I know better now. Ben is good, but Kylo is not. You need to believe me.”

You were confused by her words. “You sent your only son away? Why?” If Kylo wasn’t going to give you answers, you were going to try to get them from her.

“My brother, Luke was a Jedi. He was taught the ways of the Force, he taught me. Once the Empire had fallen, we felt it was safe enough to start the Jedi Order again. So Luke opened up a temple. To train those who are strong in the Force to be able to use it. Ben was one of them. He was unstable at times, I couldn’t teach him, so we sent him to train with my brother. He was young, too young, I know that now. He felt that we had abandoned him, but that was never my intention.”

Before she could continue you interjected, “But it wasn’t the first time you had abandoned him, was it?” You recalled the dream that you had. The one that also took place in this house, the one with the boy.

She looked shocked. Probably wondering how you knew such a thing. “We never meant to. His father and I loved each other, but we weren’t good for each other, not in the long run. We were matches, but we worked better as separates together than we did as a couple. We were the people who worked out better as platonic soulmates versus romantic. That doesn’t mean I didn’t love him, I did, but we were healthier apart.”

You wondered if this was an omen for your own relationship, would Kylo and you ever work out? Or would you bring a child into existence and not realize where your fates lied until it was too late.“So you sent him away, then what?”

“He was trained by his uncle but influenced by another. Influenced by Snoke who turned him to the dark side, like my father before him. He tormented him into thinking that we were the ones that were wrong.”

“But weren’t you? You said it yourself, you sent him away. You abandoned him. You raised him in an unhealthy household. I have felt some of his pain. Things you have caused. Things that I now must fix, must mend to make him whole again.” You were fighting back both tears and anger now. She may be his mother, one who loves him, but she has caused him so much pain, pain you doubted that you could heal.

“I just want my son to come home. I want him to know I still love him. That I forgive him for what he has done. I just want him home.”

You stared at her, the anger now starting to take control. “So tell me. Just what has he done?”

“He has killed both his father Han Solo and his uncle Luke Skywalker. He has killed a great many other people too. All in the name of power and the First Order. He will kill me too, in order to finally end Ben Solo.”

Her words hit you like a bus. So she was his final task. Killing his mother was part of his plan to kill Ben Solo--to protect you. You tried to not let this faze you as you asked, “And what of Rey? What is she in all this?”

Her face eclipsed with confusion as she answered, “They are connected somehow through the Force, I do not know why. Luke did not know why. She has been helping me bring him home.”

Tears fully spilling from your eyes, the anger and heartbreak taking over your rational. Venom filling your mouth, “So you both want me gone? You both want me to step away from him? Because why? So you can attempt to fix what you have broken? To take my soulmate away from me just so you can be a happy family again? When he has explicitly said that isn’t what he wants? I don’t think so.” You stood up from the table. Ready to march out the door of this dream.

She stopped you, “Wait. I never told Rey to try to get him to abandon you. That is her agenda. I just want my son. Please let him know I would like to see him. That I want him to come home.”

You faced her now, “Why don’t you visit his dreams instead, I’m sure that would be more effective,” you spat.

“I can’t, he is too strong in the Force. Your mind is weaker. And he will listen to you. Please, I want my son home.” You could tell that she could also feel the dream world shake around her. Whatever she was doing to make this happen was starting to fail now.

You coldly met her eyes, “No, you need to listen to him. If he doesn’t want to come home, then you need to listen. You obviously didn’t respect his wishes when he was a young boy. But you need to do so now. You’ve harmed him enough. Ben wasn’t strong enough, but Kylo is.” You stormed out of the house. As the door slammed behind you the dream world dissipated. And you woke up in a cold sweat.

Kylo was awake next to you, sitting up in a hurry, “Kitten what’s wrong?” You could hear the worry in his voice.

“I’ve just met your mother. And let’s just say things didn’t go well.” Really, the other women in his life, other than anyone in the First Order, had a real knack for pissing you off.

He shifted next to you, “Show me.” It wasn’t a question, but a simple command.

You both held eye contact for a moment before shutting your eyes and leaning into him. You felt his hand caress your face as you replayed the dream if you could call it that.

His voice was stern, “Kitten?”

You hummed in response. Wondering what he was angry about.

“I will have to be in your mind. You are too weak to be able to protect yourself from them. I must do it, you leave me no other choice.”

Before you could respond you felt the tendrils come back in full force. This time they were no longer politely inhabiting your brain. They took up every square inch. Leaving no memory or thought untouched. You blacked out from the force of it all.

You dreamed again, but this time it was a variation of the throne dream. You were once again sitting on a throne with the black shaggy dog. Except this time you were watching your own reflection, instead of encountering another version of yourself.

You looked the same in the reflection, but the dog didn’t. The dog was Kylo, still with a chain around his neck, and his head in your lap. You watched as the Kylo in the reflection seemed to bask under the pets that were given to him.

You watched as in his hand out of nowhere appeared his lightsaber. He ignited it. In one quick slash, he cut his chain. You quickly looked over at the dog that was next to you, his chain still intact. You then returned your attention back to Kylo. He had removed the collar that was around his neck and disabled the lightsaber and placed it on his belt.

You then watched as he came closer to the edge of the reflection, inspecting it. He then stepped forward through the threshold of your side. The reflection shattering behind him, like broken glass. As if he was actually trapped in a mirror. He approached you.

“Kitten, you look wonderful as an Empress.” He knelt down on one knee, taking your hand in his, kissing it. “I am unworthy to bask in your radiance. To grovel at your feet.”

You grabbed his face in your hands and brought your face to his, “Thank you Kylo, but that simply isn’t true.” You then kissed him deeply. This time you took dominance over the kiss, he submitted to your actions.

He moaned and broke the kiss for a moment. “Kitten,” his voice purred.

But before the dream could continue, you felt pressure behind your ear.

“Kitten, it’s time to wake up,” called the Kylo that was based in reality.

Your head felt as if it weighed a million pounds as you attempted to wake up. You could feel the tendrils shift as you did so. “Mmm, I don’t feel good.”

His hand carded through your hair, you felt the weight lessen, but not completely dissipate. “You can’t stay in bed all day.”

“Why not?” You turned on your side so your back was facing him.

“Because if you stay in bed, I’ll want to stay in bed. And then no progress gets done. And then we are that much father from you becoming Empress.”

“You mostly want me to become Empress so I’ll have sex with you,” you huffed.

“That isn’t the only reason. I think you would make a great Empress and that the galaxy isn’t worthy to have you rule over it.” His hands caressed down your sides, just as the tendrils caressed your mind.

“Fine, but I want to lay in bed until Adlez and Olivia-Rose get here.” He seemed content with this answer as he got up to get ready. Leaving you alone.

Even though you weren’t fully awake, and you felt the tendrils moving about you tried to process what you learned through the night. Your mind came up short as the tendrils kept shifting. You weren’t able to complete a stable thought.

#kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo x you #a soul to mend his own #star wars #first order #star wars imagine #Star wars soulmate au #sw first order imagine #star wars first order

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aperrywilliams · 4 years

Text

A Normal Conversation Ch17 (Spencer Reid x Maxine Brenner)

(Not my gif!)

Masterlist

Ch01 Ch02 Ch03 Ch04 Ch05 Ch06 Ch07 Ch08 Ch09 Ch10 Ch11 Ch12 Ch13 Ch14 Ch15 Ch16 Ch17

———————

Summary: Spencer and Max spend time together and explore more about the things they enjoy together. Some news at the end can be worrisome.

Word Count: 4844.

Rating: Mature. Some smut. Fluff. Angst.

Warnings: Penetrative sex, cursing.

A/N: It has been a while without publishing a new chapter. But here we are again. This is my baby, I couldn't leave it alone.

——————–

Chapter 17: Who am I speaking to?

They held each other for a while, until Max was already much quieter. The tears had stopped falling.

"Thanks, I really feel better," said Max, breaking the embrace and leaning against the kitchen counter.

"Glad to hear that," Spencer said smiling.

“Yes, you were right. I needed to get it out." Max rubbed her eyes and wiped the last traces of tears from her cheeks. "It's not that I haven't done it before, but there are times when I remember and I can't stop the tears..."

"You don't have to apologize for that."

"Really, thanks Spencer". Max gave Reid a kiss on the cheek and turned to wash the mugs and plates that were in the sink. Spencer stood for a few moments wondering if it was a good time or not to go home. He felt that Max needed her space even though he didn't want to leave her alone, especially after seeing her previous state of vulnerability. Reid wondered if it was convenient to talk about something else or just leave. The least he wanted to do at that moment was make her uncomfortable. At last he decided to speak.

"Are you sleepy? If you want to sleep, I can go home. So I let you rest…”. Spencer said as he started to button his shirt. Max wiped her hands on one of the towels on the counter and turned to look at him.

"Not. I'm not sleepy. And not. I don't want you to go home,” said Max as she approached Spencer looking for him to look at her. She took one of his hands and squeezed it gently.

"Okay... so... do you want us to talk about something?"

"Not... really, I think we talked enough... or at least I talked enough..." Max put her arms around his neck and sought his lips to catch them in a deep kiss which Spencer responded with more intensity than he expected, clutching her hips. When they parted they looked at each other with a smile. "Spencer, everything I said before is true, but there is something I missed adding..."

"What you missed?" Reid asked as he ran fingers of one of his hands through her hair and the other stroked her cheek.

"I couldn't have thought of just having casual sex with you...". Max said as her fingers played with one of the buttons on his shirt.

"No? Why not?" Spencer asked curiously.

"Because from the day I met you I knew that I wanted you just for myself...". Max started unbuttoning his 'recently buttoned' shirt, as he cupped her cheeks with both hands and leaned down to kiss her. The idea of going to his place was gone in seconds as they began to kiss fiercely. Max with her hands on his bare chest traced pats that drew whimpers from both of them. He lifted her with his arms and sat her on the table to level her height. He pulled out his shirt first and then untied the lace of her robe, dropped it on the table. Reid paused a moment so that he could gaze at her nudity.

"I don't know how you do it... but look what you do to me..." Spencer said as he buried his mouth on her neck and taking one of her hands guided her to touch his obvious erection.

"I'm not going to complain about that..." Max said giggling as she unbuttoned his slacks, which slid down to the floor along with his boxers.

"Neither do I..." he said groaning at the touch of her hands. "Tell me what you want?"

"I want you to fuck me right here and right now...". Max said with visible excitement.

They could both tell that while it wasn't a very comfortable place to have sex, the scene they imagined was erotic enough not to give it a try. And they managed to make it work. After some awkward movements, which included a kick from Spencer to the table and Max's near fall from the edge of the table, they managed to find a position that provided sufficient balance. Holding Max's hips with his hands and hers around his neck with Max’s head back, they increased their rhythm, as well as the moans and words of adoration between them.

“Oh… fuck. More. Harder. Faster. Like that... oh Spencer... " said Max moaning and panting.

"Yes, say my name Max... I want to hear it ... say it…". Spencer replied while his thrusts increased in speed.

"Spencer... babe... uhhh... yeah, like this... Spencer... go on... fuck...". Max was engulfed in pleasure

"Fuck Max...". Spencer could barely articulate a coherent sentence.

"I'm so close Spencer... fuck ... I'm going to cum".

"Do it... cum for me... that’s right baby... fuck... fuck..."

It wasn't long until they were both lost in the heights of an orgasm that hit them almost at the same time. Barely able to breathe, they let out one last groan that echoed off the kitchen walls. With a little more awareness of time and space, Spencer rose, carefully picking Max up from the table and carrying her into the bedroom. He gently laid her on the bed while he went to the bathroom. When he returned Max had not moved from where he had left her. He came over and lay down beside her. Breathing more normally, they stared at the ceiling.

"So just for you, huh?" Spencer said after a while.

"Is it too much to ask?" asked Max laughing.

"In this minute you could ask me for anything and I could not refuse ...". They both laughed. They didn't even want to see the clock, but they could have bet it was early morning. They covered themselves with the sheets and the comforter. Max lay on her side, turning her back to Spencer, who hugged her from behind and placed a kiss on her neck, while tracing strokes on her arm.

"You drive me crazy, you know that right?" Spencer whispered in her ear.

"Now I know. And I assure you that you will not get rid of me so easily Dr. Reid," said Max smiling as she stretched to get comfortable under the covers.

It wasn't long until they were both sound asleep.

The next morning the ringing of Spencer's phone on the nightstand woke them both up. Not yet fully awake, he picked up the phone and saw it was Garcia. "You must be kidding...?" he said just before answering. Max turned to him rubbing her eyes and seeing how after a snort he answered the call.

"Reid… Penelope, did something happen?"

“Good morning, Boy Wonder. I know it's Saturday and it's early ... "

"Please, tell me we don't have a case..." Spencer said as he rubbed his eyes.

“No, no… is not that. But I need to locate Rossi and he doesn't answer my calls”.

"Okay... Rossi? What's wrong?... and why me...?"

“You were the one who saw him last yesterday. I thought you might know something about his plans for today..."

"No, I don't know anything about him... only that he was going to his place... he didn't tell me if he was going to the cabin today... did you call Kristal?"

"No. I didn’t. I can't explain, but I can only tell you that he asked me for a favor and I need to report some things to him. He explicitly asked me not to involve anyone else…”. By now Spencer was up and out of bed and into his boxers. Max looked at him curiously when she saw how he frowned.

"It's because of Lynch… right?" Spencer interrupted.

"Reid don't make me talk, please ... just if you talk to him, tell him I need him to call me" Penelope said quickly.

"Okay. If I'm lucky I'll let you know…"

“Thanks genius boy. Give my regards to Max"

"Uhm? How ...?"

“I know you are there with her. I called you at your place first and you didn't answer me. Since it's Saturday and the time, I don't think you're anywhere else. Give her my regards and I hope we can see each other later"

"Okay ... I'll tell her". Spencer said still confused, hanging up. Max, already more awake, was looking at him curiously.

"Something happened?". Max asked seeing how Spencer was still standing next to the bed.

“Nothing happened… yet, I think. It was Penelope. She sent you greetings, by the way. For some reason she knew I was here…”. Spencer said, shaking his head and sitting down on the bed next to Max.

“Penelope is adorable. And she cares a lot for all of you," said Max as her hand began to gently caress Spencer's back tracing circles on it.

“Yeah, she is a great woman. We have known each other for many years and she has always been for everyone..."

"But you were worried, what did she say?... you have a frown," asked Max.

“She was trying to talk to Dave. I think… they are doing an independent investigation of a case that we still have open… one of the difficult ones… and very personal for Rossi”.

"And you're worried about him ..." Max said. Spencer nodded.

"Yes, I know what it feels like when a case touches you personally..." he said scratching his head.

“Maybe… all of you need to spend more time outside of work. You are all friends, you need to be distracted from the things you do and see every day... surely that does not help to solve a case, but at least help to pause and talk about what is happening to you...". Spencer crawled into bed again, sitting with his back on the backrest.

"It's difficult to do that sometimes... but in general, it's Rossi himself who invites us to his house... well, mansion... from time to time..."

"And don't you meet somewhere else... go out to other places? Do other things?"

"We have gone where Matt’s, where Luke’s... where Penelope’s... where JJ’s... it's not the usual, but sometimes it happens..."

"And in your place?". Spencer thought for a moment.

“Eh… I don't think I've ever planned something like that in my place… I mean, they know where I live… they have visited me… but doing 'something'… I think never did. Well, it's not Rossi' yard either…”. Spencer said with a shrug.

"Okay, your home is not a mansion... but intention is what counts, right?"

“I hadn't really thought about it… we've always relied on Penelope and Rossi for our activities outside of work…” Spencer mused.

"It is not bad give back sometimes...". Max leaned in to give Spencer a kiss. "Good morning, by the way."

"Good morning..." Spencer replied returning the kiss gently.

“I'll go to the shower and make breakfast. Think about what you want to do today, because if you think I will let you go home now, you are wrong”. Giving him another kiss, she got up from the bed.

After Max got dressed, Spencer asked if she could go get his travel bag that was in the trunk with his clothes while he showered. They ate breakfast while going through the newspaper Max received every day. They agreed to go to the National Gallery of Art, which while they both knew, Max knew it would have a new exhibit she was interested in seeing. Spencer agreed. Then they would have time to walk for a bit before lunch. The day was clear but a little colder than usual.

They toured the exhibition in as much detail as possible for a few hours. Spencer asked Max questions about some of the things they saw, to which Max tried to give as much detail as possible, at least what she knew. There were very striking paintings which caught Spencer's attention. "Surely you are not a lover of modern art" Max said laughing at one point. "Not much really" was his reply. They both looked relaxed and it was noticeable they enjoyed that time in each other's company. Max was happy to be able to talk about the things she liked without having to hold back or see any disgusted or bored face. For his part, Spencer was pleased to see someone as passionate about something as Max was at that minute. In addition, he liked to learn new things and thanks to his memory, he knew that he could retain them without major problem.

After leaving the exhibition they walked through the surrounding streets and found themselves in a park which they decided to cross to continue their conversation. In addition to commenting on what he had seen in the museum, Spencer gave her details of things he had seen in other places. Some of them had been discussed on their first date night, others were new to Max, so she took the opportunity to ask all the questions that appeared to him. During their walk they found a place that caught their attention for lunch. At lunch Max got a call from his dad.

"Dad? Hi..."

“Max, I was just calling you to see if you would come tonight or tomorrow. Michelle just called me and Sammy will come for dinner today, in case you prefer to come today instead of tomorrow"

"Yes of course. I thought tomorrow was better, but if Michelle is going to be with Sammy, I'd rather go today"

"Okay. See you in a few hours then"

"Yes, bye dad. I love you". Max hang up and left her cell phone on the table. “It was my dad. I was thinking of going to see them tomorrow, but I'm going to dinner today and seeing Sammy... I thought maybe... you could come with me"

“Max, I'd like to… but I promised my mom to be with her today before bedtime. I’m sorry…"

"Okay, don't apologize" Max said giving him a smile. "You can come with me another day."

"Of course"

After lunch, they walked past a photography exhibition and they decided to visit for a while. They walked holding hands while they recognized some of the photographs and discussed them.

“I think you might like this one. It dates from 1942, World War II, collective chaos and this farm in the middle of a field. It contrasts with the smoke from the surrounding sectors, after a bombing…” said Max as she pointed to one of the photographs at Spencer.

“It is impressive how it seems to be an oasis among all the disaster that surrounds it. It's really good,” Spencer said, coming closer to look at the details in the photograph.

“There are several with the same contrast. The first time I saw it my skin crawled, really”. Spencer was so focused on seeing the image that he didn't notice Max had pulled out his cell phone and was taking a picture of him.

"What?..." Spencer asked, realizing what Max had done.

"I needed to capture that face". Max said smiling.

"My face?" Spencer asked curiously.

“Yeah, that adorable face immersed in wonder and concentration. Besides, I don't have any photos of you and unlike you, I don't have an eidetic memory”. Spencer couldn't help but laugh.

"Okay. It seems fair to me"

"Can I be more daring still?". Max asked

"More…?"

"Sure... how about a photo of both of us?"

"Selfie style?". Spencer asked with a frown. Max nodded. “I think just for you I would make an exception. Not that I really like the idea..."

"Come on... give me something for when you're on your cases trips... please?"

"Okay... but just for you, okay?"

"Don't worry, I won't share it with anyone. Just as I am not going to share you with anyone either" said Max joking.

Spencer hugged Max as she positioned the phone to try to capture both faces. Unfortunately her short arms didn't help with the perfect angle. Spencer, realizing it, took the cell phone himself and pushed it away to improve the angle. He pressed the button and the photo was captured. Max took advantage of their closeness to lift her face and search for Spencer's lips with hers. Eyes closed and kissing, Spencer pushed the same button again. Another photograph was stored on the phone.

"Thank you". Max whispered.

"Just for you". Reid replied giving Max a peck in her lips.

The afternoon had passed quite quickly and it was nearing time for their family obligations. Spencer took Max back to her apartment. He parked the car outside the main entrance.

"Can we talk tomorrow?" asked Max.

"Of course. Give my regards to your dad, Eloise, Michelle and Sammy"

“Sure I will. Have a good afternoon with your mom"

"Thank you. I hope I can take you one of these days, of course, if you want to go. She will surely like you"

“Do you think so? You must be the most important thing for her. I don't think it's easy to please when it comes to you” said Max laughing.

"You please me... that should be enough." Spencer leaned down and lifting her chin let their lips meet gently. Letting out a sigh, Max clung to the lapel of his jacket to keep from breaking the kiss. As they pulled away they both sighed.

"Would you believe me if I told you that you have me as a teenager?... what did you do to me Dr. Reid?"

"I think the same as you to me... Miss Brenner." After a short kiss, Max quickly got out of the car.

"I will not risk staying here forever... although I would like... now, go" said Max smiling and closing the car door.

Although they spoke on the phone on Sunday, they could not see each other until a few days later. After two cases in a row out of town, Spencer had arrived at his apartment exhausted. He remembered that Max had her last interview at the Smithsonian and they should be about to give her the final answer. He picked up the phone and called her while he was lying on his couch after throwing his shoes on the floor.

"Hey how are you?". Spencer said.

“Hey… what a surprise. Well... are you out yet?"

“No, I just arrived. I'm in the apartment. Do you want to come?... I would offer to go but I don't think I can move anymore. I'm lying on the couch and I don't have the energy for anything else…”.

"I would love to. But can it be later? I have to pick up Sammy from a schoolmate and take him back home. Do you think could be later?"

"Yes of course. I can order something for dinner"

"It would be perfect ... see you later then..."

"Max!, wait... did they call you from...?". Spencer was interrupted by Max.

"I have no news yet... well, I'll tell you more details later, okay?".

"Yes of course. I’ll wait for you". Spencer replied.

It was after 8:00 p.m. when Spencer felt two knocks on the door. He had already received the food he ordered, so it was surely Max. He got up from the couch and opened the door.

"Hey! Handsome”. Max greeted.

"Hello gorgeous. What have you got there?" Spencer asked pointing to a paper bag that Max was holding in one of her arms.

"Something for dinner," Max replied, as she got in the apartment. Spencer closed the door and took her free hand pulling it up to his body and leaning in to kiss her.

"I missed you". Spencer said after breaking the kiss but still hugging her.

"I missed you too". Max whispered back.

"If you want I can show you right now how much I missed you these days...". Spencer whispered playfully searching Max's neck with his lips.

“Uhm… tempting. But… let's have dinner first,” Max answered, letting go of Spencer's arms and walking to the kitchen. "Besides... I have news for you." Spencer looked at her confused. Max smiled and pulled a bottle of wine out of the paper bag. "I got the job!".

"Max! You didn't want to say anything to me on the phone when I asked…". Spencer reproached as he walked into the kitchen as well.

"I wanted it to be a surprise," Max replied.

“This is excellent news! I knew you would get it...". Spencer said as he grabbed Max's waist and plastered a kiss to the base of her neck.

"Thank you for having faith in me"

"I didn’t hesitate for a minute"

"That's why we should celebrate" Max said as she opened the bottle of wine. Spencer prepared the plates and they went to the table for dinner.

After dinner they both sat on the couch with a glass of wine in hand. Despite talking a lot at dinner, Max was quietly watching Spencer rambling about the importance of music in the development of modern psychology. Reid, even though the enthusiasm in his speak, could notice Max's silence.

"I'm rambling again, right?" Max, realizing that Spencer had stopped speaking, rushed to reply.

"No, it's okay. You were developing an idea... "

"And you were in outer space..." Spencer said with a frown.

"Sorry, I got a little distracted..." Max apologized.

"Don’t apologize. What happens?... because something happens”. Reid had his eyes fixed on Max studying her reactions.

"Is this what you get when your boyfriend is a profiler?..." Max tried to joke, avoiding a conversation she didn't want to have.

"You don't have to be a profiler to know that something is happening..."

"Yes it's true. But I don't know what to answer you…”. Max shrugged.

"The truth, for example?..."

“It would be easy if I really knew what's wrong with me. But it’s not so clear to me…”. Max took a sip of her wine.

"We can try to figure it out together..." Spencer offered taking a sip of his wine as well. Max let out a sigh.

"Okay... this will come out spontaneously, so don't expect some sort of order in my ideas..."

"Too many warnings Max…" Spencer tried to joke, which brought a little smile to Max.

“I know I should be happy. I am. I got the job I wanted, my family is fine, I have a loving, attentive and attractive boyfriend who drives me crazy…”. Spencer blushed a little and smiled. “It's true! Don't be humble with me Dr. Reid, ok?. But well, despite all that I feel anxious. I'm having strange dreams, nightmares. It's like from one moment to the next I'm going to lose all the good things I have in my life now. I'm scared. And I don’t know why. I don't see any signs that anything is going to happen… I don't know. But I think about it and I don't like it. What if they call me tomorrow and tell me it was a mistake and I don't have the job? What if after I finish talking you want to break up with me because you think I'm crazy?... ". Max finished speaking and took the last sip of wine left in her glass. "I'm silly, I know. I shouldn't even be talking to you about all this…”. Max complained.

"Hey... don't say that." Spencer took Max's empty glass and set it along with his on the coffee table. He sat closer to Max and took her hands. “You are not crazy for sharing your fears with me. And no, I'm not going to break up with you for this…”. A smile crossed Spencer's face.

“I'm not used to feeling good about things that happen in my life. That's why I think all the time that I'll lose everything from one moment to the next… it's stupid…”. Max confessed.

“I don't know if it's exactly the same, but I think I've felt that way more than once. Too good to be true, right?... And I'm not just talking about your attractive and loving boyfriend...”. Max started laughing as she shook her head. “No, but seriously. I think you are afraid to enjoy the things that are happening to you. And that makes you feel guilty. But you shouldn't! Max… you have right to do and live life as you want to. And enjoy it. There's nothing wrong with that,” Spencer said.

“Yeah, I know. And I really want to. Moreover, we shouldn't even be talking about this right now… ”. Max released Reid's hands and sought his hug snuggling. “I'll stop my silliness. Now I want to enjoy being with you. Had I told you that I missed you these days?" Max said as she dropped into Spencer's embrace.

“Yes, but it doesn't bother me you remind me. I missed you too". Max raised her head to look at him.

"Show me" she said intensifying her gaze on him and biting her lower lip trying to contain a mischievous smile.

"With pleasure". Spencer leaned down and caught her lips in a long, intense kiss. When they pulled away they were both breathing heavily.

"Uhmm ... I’m not sure if you missed me as much as you say..." Max teased.

"Am I not?... well... let's fix this to make it clear." With that said, Reid suddenly got up from the couch and picked up Max, taking her in his arms and leading her to his bedroom.

"Spencer! What are you doing? Where are you taking me?..." Max said giggling.

"Where I could show you the evidence to prove my point" Reid sentenced with a mischievous smile on his face.

After that night, several days passed where Max and Spencer couldn't see each other. Max, on the one hand, left things in order at school after having notified that she was leaving her job. Between that and the training days at the Smithsonian, the hours of the day slipped by quickly. Meanwhile Spencer came and went from the city according to the cases that were arriving at the BAU. Despite this, they both managed to talk on the phone for even a few minutes during the nights. That, in addition to the messages between them in the day.

In one of the messages Max received, Spencer told her they were in a difficult case and it might take him more days to get back than he thought. Two days after that message they talked on the phone for a while and Max noticed Spencer was exhausted. Max let him know her concern about how his voice sounded on the phone to which Spencer replied not to worry about him, that he would probably end the case that day since they had a solid clue as to where the unsub was. He promised as soon as he got home he would sleep a whole day to recover.

The next night came and Spencer hadn't texted during the day or called Max. Thinking for a moment, Max was going to call him but stopped when she remembered perhaps Spencer had arrived home and was recovering his lost sleep, just as he had promised the night before. Still impatient, she didn’t want to be an alarmist and went to sleep.

The morning after, Max woke up and the first thing she looked at was her phone to see if she had any messages from Spencer. Nothing. She saw the clock and it was still early. It was possible Reid was still sleeping. Max got up and started her day like any other. Among her activities was to collect the last things she had at school and begin to prepare the materials she would take to her new work place from the following week.

When Max got back to her apartment checked the clock and it was almost lunchtime. No notification on her phone. That was weird already. Although Spencer might be exhausted, it was difficult for him to be sleeping at that hour. So she decided to call him. The first call was unsuccessful. The phone rang until it threw up voicemail. Tried a second time with the same result. At the third call there was finally an answer. Max was quick to speak.

"Wow, I was scared that you didn't answer the phone... I knew you would arrive exhausted, but not enough to sleep until this hour...". Max was interrupted by a voice on the other end of the line.

"Max?" The voice wasn't Spencer's, but it sounded familiar.

"Yes... who am I speaking to? I'm trying to locate Spencer...". Max's head began to spin rapidly thinking of all the possibilities why Spencer wasn't the one answering her call.

"I'm Penelope... we met a while ago..." said the voice on the other end of the line. There Max recognized that it was Garcia, Spencer's co-worker.

"Hi Penelope. Is Spencer there with you…?”. Max thought they were at the BAU and her genius boyfriend had left his phone forgotten.

"Max... no, he is here... but he can't... we're in the hospital... Spencer is injured and unconscious...". Max froze upon hearing Garcia's words. Apparently one of her nightmares was coming true in that precisely moment.

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