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vaguely-concerned · 2 years

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some thoughts I've been having about what I (to my delight) have seen dubbed the Three Great Big Liars of DA:I, but mostly building up to some analysis of what iron bull's got going on that way because it fascinates me:

solas I don't think is actually naturally a liar at all. he lies out of tactical necessity the vast majority of the time and seems relieved to be able to spill his guts to the extent he deems safe and do some friendly elvhensplaining to you at the end of trespasser. in (what he would consider lol) an ideal world, he would just tell you shit straight out, not least of all because in his heart of hearts he's a terrible little know-it-all (affectionate).

varric's lies are the lies of a storyteller: he lies for fun, profit and a sense of meaning, and instinctively. to create meaning where there might not be any, to entertain, to reflect or deflect, for his own comfort and convenience, because the world is unbearable without a kinder lie to see it through, as an act of love. (look at how, in the legacy dlc for DA2, the version of leandra that tells hawke all the stuff they probably really really need to hear... is the one varric has made up for them if leandra is dead by that point in the story. all of DA2 is a love letter, but that one especially gets to me. varric loves hawke so much.) he tells the sorts of lies that sometimes tell the truth better than the truth ever could, and sometimes are the self-serving cowardice of not being able to accept the world -- and the people in it, himself included -- as they actually are. I think varric is always aware that he's lying, though. he's a craftsman first and foremost lol

iron bull is a lie. or maybe a series of lies overlapping and interlocking to create each other like an escher drawing. or rather, he has been forced to take on and internalize many different and contradictory fundamental truths and to know exactly when and how and to/with who to perform each one. hissrad is real, and iron bull is real, and both of them are fucked because of it. the KING of compartmentalization and cognitive dissonance. his is more the lie of dissociation, which he uses both as a professional skill and for psychological survival.

(yeah as far as I'm concerned bull still has the Big Time PTSD, and not just from seheron. both solas and cole pick up on this in their banter with him -- cole especially is very good at noticing the ways iron bull has to frame the world in deliberate ways to keep doing what he does: "nothing on this side has a family", "you make them come to you so it's their fault; you don't want to kill, you want to protect". but in these ideas you see that the truth is also kept alive in those lies: 'everyone has a family, but these people can't, because then I can't do my job' (which, within the qun, directly equates to 'then I can't exist', which is so fucked uuuuuupppp. bull wanted the reeducators to 'fix him' because his mind stopped him from knowing what's actually wrong so he wouldn't have all meaning and connection in life taken from him -- not just with the world around him but within himself.). if cole tells bull krem's last thoughts, it's the one time what cole does just breaks something in someone in a permanent way, because bull is a pretty fragile psychological eco system beneath it all. it's why cole observing "there was no pain" after bull turns on you in trespasser is so eerie and so sad. he's beyond pain at that point. something broke in him for good this time.)

in some ways it serves him very well and is honestly pretty adaptive; look at his relationship to cole, for example. in any other circumstance cole would be what he'd consider a demon, which scare the crap out of him -- except that he loves cole. ergo cole can't be a demon, he's just some weird squirrely kid to take care of haha. you can see why he's kept that mechanism around, for all that it takes a heavy toll in the long run.

frequently I think bull must not even know when he's lying, or maybe he's aware on some level that he's always lying, because everything he does or says, any feeling he can have, belies some of the contradictory realities he has been forced to hold as truth over the years. he's had to set up a much more uh flexible approach to reality to be able to stay somewhat functioning. so it's simultaneously true that duty to the qun trumps all in a bottom line sort of way, and that he feels more loyalty to (and meaning in!) the chargers than to the qun now, and these things cannot actually coexist but they do and he has to find some way to live like that. and then if he becomes tal-vashoth... he has to deal with all the tal-vashoth he killed thinking it was necessary, and that maybe not all of them were. oh boy

and you have to help him make the choice to save the chargers, even though that's clearly what a large part of him screams to do. because the thing is... his weird indecisiveness and helplessness in that quest comes from him being in full survival mechanism mode, because something in his trauma brain is recognizing that bitch, he's going to have to find a way to still live no matter what the outcome here is, he can't be going putting all his eggs in one reality basket lmao. it's not just a video game thing, he needs someone else to make the choice for him, to settle once and for all who he is, because necessity and trauma have made it much more adaptive for him to keep that an open question... but damn, you really can't live your whole life like that, it's going to kill you one way or the other. like no fucking WONDER his biggest fear is madness, he's been balancing on that knife edge for what seems like basically his whole adult life at least. and also no wonder he's afraid of demons, he must feel on some level it's quite crowded in here as it is

I think what really opened my eyes to his character was listening to all of his banter and realizing just how much he adjusts himself to fit with the person he's talking to. he can almost seem like a different person from conversation partner to conversation partner. varric does a similar thing in that he makes a deliberate point to try to find some sort of common ground and something to connect over with every companion (except cassandra because they've got book-stabby history lol), but he doesn't actually like... change himself or lose himself in the process the same way. probably partially down to different motivations/reasons for that social chameleoning too: bull is specifically trained to get things out of people as a job, varric just likes people and also likes being liked. bull is so finely tuned to giving people exactly what they need or want from him as professional spy thing, you can almost feel him having to... dissolve a little, set parts of himself aside and pull others out, to be able to do it. it's so interesting and sometimes so subtle too.

TL;DR: the trauma and the qun came together to do such a number on this man and I'm glad he's out of there now and living his best dragon-slaying life

(vivienne is also a liar but like in the realpolitik way, which I think is more about power structures and keeping yourself safe and on top in a hostile system than anything inherent in her. That's Just Politics Baby haha)

and they all catch on to blackwall being deeply sus immediately, because blackwall has elements of all three of their motivations but like... faintly incompetently hahaha sorry blackwall

#cassandra -- my beloved cassandra -- does not pick up on SHIT because for all her faults she's the most honest person in the world lol #bull was not actually one of my faves on my first few playthroughs but he's snuck up on me with time. he's got So Much Going On #hey. hey brain. why the FUCK can't you get fits like this for creative writing more often I would get so much DONE oh my god #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #solas #iron bull #varric tethras #well this has been percolating around in my head for years and it's reached pressure cooker levels feels good to let some of it out lol #the waking up at 4 am and having nothing better to do than writing this was not ideal but hey it was something lol

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shihalyfie · 3 years

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Regarding Konaka’s influence on Tamers (or how much he actually didn’t have)

(Rest assured that if you’ve had a conversation with me recently about this issue, I’m not vaguing you; this conversation has come up a lot in the last few weeks, especially in my private chats, so this is just me deciding that I should write something about this for once since it’s been weighing on my head lately.)

I think, right now, with what happened regarding the DigiFes debacle, a lot of people are having complicated feelings about how to feel about Tamers, and this is completely understandable. I think there are also some things that may be inevitably unavoidable, such as starting to second-guess certain nuances in the series and what they might lead to. All of that is perfectly reasonable, and in the end, it’s going to be up to everyone to decide how they feel.

In light of this, a lot of people have been bringing up the fact that, while Konaka was the head writer, he was by no means the only person working on it. This is very much true, but I’d like to add something else to the equation: this is an issue that goes much deeper than the usual claiming death of the author for the sake of sanity. The full picture is that Konaka has always had much less influence on the series than the fanbase tends to attribute to him. Official statements have been very clear as to not attribute the entire series to him, and, among all the other controversial statements he’s made, Konaka himself has at least been very active about crediting the other staff members as far as their influence on the series! The idea that he was the only person who ever did anything substantial for Tamers is something I’ve been warning against since long before any of this happened (if you want proof, I have a post from April with this sentiment in it), and right now we just happen to be seeing what’s basically the worst possible outcome of the fanbase constantly worshipping him like the only real creative heart behind the series to borderline cult-like levels...when that’s never been true, and has resulted in unfairly taking credit away from people who deserved it.

I’ll go into detail below, and I hope this can help people understand the situation better and sort out how they feel about it.

Note that I make references to his infamous blog in this post, which I’m deliberately refraining from directly linking for obvious reasons, but all of the information is still there, so it should be verifiable if you decide to look for it yourself.

Personally, I’ve always found it really bizarre how there’s been this obsession with portraying Konaka as some kind of auteur whom the entirety of Tamers depended on. I’m not saying this out of spite towards him, because, again, even he himself was very insistent on disclaiming credit for things he wasn’t actually responsible for (he was quite humble in this respect, actually). Not to mention that I think it’s a mistake in general to constantly pin a single person in a multi-person production as the sole heart behind it, and the Digimon fanbase has historically had this strange double standard behind it when it comes to uplifting him as the only heart behind Tamers when nobody says that about any of the head writers for...anything else. (How many times has Nishizono’s name ever popped up when talking about Adventure? People are usually more obsessed with talking about Kakudou or Seki.) Konaka’s work is certainly distinctive, but Tamers had a lot more going on besides just that.

In fact, based on his own statements on the matter and all of the other official information we’ve gotten about Tamers production, while you can’t really quantify such things, it’s generally been estimated that Konaka was responsible for something like only a fourth of the series. Which is an incredibly low amount compared to what the fanbase would have told you before all of this happened, because of this fixation that he must be the genius mastermind behind the whole series. Not only that, this “brilliant auteur” image of him was so inflated that people were attributing way more of 02 to him than he deserved; 02 episode 13 was the only thing he contributed to the series and he was specifically brought on as a “guest writer”, and the overall plot of the episode was determined by the rest of the production staff and not him -- but ask the fanbase and they’ll tell you stories about how he invented some grand planned arc for 02 that got cancelled, or even that Tamers exists because of a “writer revolt” from him and other writers not being allowed to do what they wanted. (You know, as much as I understand 02′s a controversial series, it would be really nice if people didn’t make up completely baseless stories like this just to scapegoat it...)

I honestly cannot emphasize enough how much of the problem we’re in right now has been horribly enabled by the weird pedestal the fanbase has been putting him on. This is to the point where there’s even been a double standard where some of the more unpopular/criticized elements of Tamers must not have been the fault of a brilliant writer like him, and in fact was forced on him by the executives (this excuse had always been brought up anytime someone doesn’t like something about Tamers, just to make sure the image of him as a perfect writer was maintained). Turns out, as per his own admission on the infamous blog, while he wasn’t the one who initially had the idea of putting Ryou in, the part that rubbed the fanbase the wrong way -- that he came in as an accomplished senior who was better than everyone and played up by everyone in the cast -- was unabashedly his idea (he apparently was enamored with the idea of having someone like Tuttle from the movie Brazil). Again, this is a weird scenario where even Konaka himself has been more humble about this issue than the fanbase’s perception of him; he fully admitted whenever he had trouble writing certain parts. For instance, he doesn’t actually like writing about alternate worlds, felt they were out of his comfort zone, and only wrote in the Digital World because the franchise needs one; he’d stated that if he’d had his way, the Digital World arc wouldn’t have come in as early as it did, which might be a pretty shocking statement for a Digimon fan to hear.

If you want even more specifics, here are some extremely major parts of the series that Konaka was not actually the one behind:

The character backgrounds. Konaka stated on his blog that he wasn’t interested in going too much into character backstories because he felt it was too plot-limiting to say that a character is the way they are thanks to something in their past or background (basically, he cares more about plot than character for the most part), and that he’s also not into worldbuilding. Certain things like Ruki going to a girls’ school were supplied by Seki, who infamously loves worldbuilding, family backgrounds, and character settings.

Certain nuances of Ruki’s character, especially the part where she’s pigeonholed into uncomfortable places due to being a girl, were informed by Yoshimura Genki, writer from Adventure and one of the head writers of 02 (who eventually would go on to create an entire career out of feminist cinema).

According to the posts on his blog, Impmon’s character arc didn’t have much input from Konaka himself and was largely written in by Maekawa Atsushi (also a writer from Adventure and one of the head writers of 02).

The whole concept of Yamaki being redeemable in the first place was something Konaka didn’t originally plan for; he’d initially intended to make him a straightforward antagonist, but, of all things, his Christmas song, combined with the input of the other writers (especially Maekawa) humanizing him, led to the development where Yamaki eventually changed sides and became sympathetic. (This makes Konaka’s recent stunt revolving around Yamaki a bit painfully ironic.)

The director, Kaizawa Yukio, was deliberately picked because he didn’t have experience on the prior series, for the sake of changing things up, and he spent Tamers as a period of studying what Digimon should be like. Based on what he’s hinted, it seems Konaka's writing style and choices were able to have as much influence as they did because Kaizawa approved of them -- that is to say, Konaka’s detailed imagery and descriptions were extensive enough that Kaizawa could go “sure, let’s go with that.” But in the end, nothing Konaka did would have gone through unless Kaizawa and Seki (among many others) didn’t also approve of it or provide input. Moreover, Kakudou Hiroyuki (director of Adventure and 02) has also been stated many times to have been a valuable consultant on invoking Digimon so that the new staff could understand what to aim for and how to get the right feel (and also assisted with providing stuff for the mythos, such as the Devas). Nevertheless, Kaizawa also seems to have had his own strong opinions and input on the story; he especially seems to get passionate when it comes to the topic of making the story something the kids watching it could relate to and imagine. (He would eventually go on to direct Frontier and Hunters, along with several episodes of the Adventure: reboot.)

So in other words, looking at this, a lot of these things that people emotionally connected to and loved about Tamers are things that literally were not his personal creation, and were largely contributed by the other writers! Of course, Konaka’s “creator thumbprint” is very obvious -- he was the head writer, after all -- and all of this had to go through his own vetting to make sure he personally liked it as well -- but nevertheless, you can see that this very much was a collaborative effort from head to toe, with him being very open about this fact himself. Insisting on making sure that this fact is well-known isn’t just a coping mechanism to try and remove his presence in the series, but rather a desire to get people to seriously stop giving him credit that really should be going to others (especially since, again, even he himself was very diligent about assigning that credit).

In the end, I’ll leave you with another thing to keep in mind: Konaka doesn’t get paid anymore for Tamers work (unless they make something new like the DigiFes thing), so continuing to buy Tamers merch and supporting the series through fanart and such will probably end up going more towards the Digimon IP as a whole. Basically, if we’re just talking about Tamers specifically, what degree this is going to matter is only really relevant to the content in the original series, which is now twenty years old and remains unchanged. By Konaka’s own admission, he wasn’t into all of these conspiracy theories until 2010 at the earliest, so while it’s understandable to be a bit wary about the themes in Tamers having traces of the base sentiment, the original series itself does not seem to be an outlet for alt-right propaganda, and it’s probably forcing it a bit much to read into it that way. Konaka’s also repeatedly insisted that all of his attempts at a Tamers sequel have been rejected and that he’s been doing increasingly strange swerves to get around members of the original cast not entirely being available, and the Japanese audience has turned out to not be very fond of the contents of the 2018 drama CD and the stage reading for reasons entirely separate from the politics, so it’s also unlikely we’ll be getting a Tamers sequel from him or something in the near future.

So -- at least for the time being -- what’s done with him is done, and the remaining question is how all of us feel about Tamers. I think everyone will have differing feelings on it, and that’s perfectly understandable. Personally, given everything I just said above, I’m going to continue treating it as a series very important to me, and one that many people (including, as it seems, a very different Konaka from twenty years ago) worked on with a lot of effort and love, although you may see me getting a bit more willing to be critical about the series and its themes thanks to my concerns about some of the sentiments in it and what they imply. I also completely understand that there are probably people whose associations are going to be much more hurt and who will have a much harder time seeing the series the same way ever again, and I think that’s reasonable as well. But at the very least, going forward, I hope all of us can understand the depth of this situation, give credit where it’s due, and not force credit where it’s not due.

#digimon #digimon tamers

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justaswampdemon · 3 years

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The Place You Need To Reach

Finally finished the first chapter of a Buck Begins fic I started...when the episode airs...Biggest of shoutouts to @marjansmarwani for the title help and also all the support and encouragement. You’re the best!

Read it here on AO3

Bobby’s phone rings loud from the night table, waking him with a start. Looking at the clock he groans, 12:45am glaring at him. Whatever irritation he feels is quickly overridden by Captain Mode. He reaches for his phone, already concerned. It skyrockets to worry when he sees Buck’s name lighting up his screen. He’d been worried when they found out Buck’s parents were visiting. The few vague things he’s heard plus what he's been able to piece together did not paint a pretty picture. Then this morning Buck had been waling on the punching bags while Eddie watched with carefully hidden concern. Bobby had hoped that had gotten some of the overwhelming emotions out, helped the kid get back on solid ground, but a call any time after midnight is never a good sign.

“Buck?” He sits up, getting a grumble from where Athena had been tucked against his shoulder. There’s no answer, just shaky breaths barely audible. “Buck what’s wrong?”

Athena rubs her eyes and turns her laser focus on her husband as she wakes up fully.

Another stuttering breath, followed by a sniffle and all the parental warning bells in Bobby’s head are going haywire. “Buck, c’mon kiddo I need you to talk to me here.”

“Bobby…” Buck sounds wrecked, his voice trembling and small. He sounds young and scared and Bobby shares a nervous look with Athena.

“Where are you?” He starts simple, all his first responders training kicking in to get Buck somewhere safe.

“Um...I just kind of started driving…” The pause on the other end of the line is agonizing. “I’m by the pier.”

That sends all kinds of alarms off in his head again. Buck drove to the pier, completely without thinking, and Bobby changes tactics slightly. He doesn’t just need to get Buck somewhere safe, he needs to get Buck here. “Are you ok to get here or do you need me to pick you up?” He’d drive to the middle of nowhere to get Buck if that’s what the kid needed.

“I can drive.” There’s a hint of stubbornness back in his voice, but it does nothing to settle Bobby’s nerves.

“Ok.” Bobby slips into Captain mode, hoping it helps keep Buck focused and present. “I want you to stay on the phone with me, and come straight here. Can you do that?”

Buck takes a few breaths, gathering himself and when he answers he sounds at least a bit more like himself. Athena is already up, changing into lounge clothes and grabbing her phone. “Yeah Cap, I can do that.”

He nods, more to himself, “good job Buck. You stay with me alright? You don’t have to talk, just listen to my voice and focus on driving.” Grabbing a sweatshirt and his slippers, he tucks the phone against his ear. Buck is so quiet, it’s possibly the longest the kid has gone without talking, especially to Bobby. He always has an obscure fact to share, knowing his Captain was always interested. Sometimes they were ridiculous, or it was something Bobby already knew, but they had bonded over loving weird facts. The way Buck had lit up when he realized Bobby was actually interested had firmly placed him in Bobby’s heart.

Making his way into the kitchen he sees Athena putting the kettle on, kissing her cheek and getting a supportive one armed hug. “How we doin Buck?”

“Almost there.”

“Ok, you’re doing good.” There’s another shaky exhale, and something close to a sob breaking from Buck’s throat. “Hey did you know Einstein issued the patent for Toblerone chocolate?” He doesn’t wait for a response, knows the words don’t matter as much as just having Buck hear his voice. “He was working at the patent office as a way to occupy his brain while figuring out equations.” He keeps offering up facts as he opens the front door. As soon as a familiar jeep parks behind his truck he hangs up.

He meets Buck half way, taking in the hunch of his shoulders and the way he avoids meeting Bobby’s eyes. Wrapping an arm around him he guides the kid inside and gets him settled on the couch.

Athena presses a cup of tea into his hands, sitting next to him with a gentle hand on his arm. Buck deflates at the contact, still not meeting either of their eyes. “What happened Buckaroo?”

Buck’s quiet, mouth twisting and leg bouncing. They give him time, let him gather his thoughts. “I was doing so good...I was getting better and in two dinners they’ve just…undone it all.” He breaks off into a sob and Bobby is moving before he realizes it, sitting on Buck’s other side and pulling him into his arms as Athena takes his mug from shaking hands. Buck falls apart in front of their eyes, years of hurt finally breaking free. “They never...they never cared. When they’d look at me it was like they were staring right through me, they’d barely acknowledge I was there unless I was hurt or I fucked up…then they’d have to look at me…but I was never enough and I tried.” He sounds almost pleading as he chokes the words out through tears. “Bobby, I really tried to be good enough for them to love me and all they could say was how difficult I made it...how difficult we made it for them. I just wanted them to love me and instead they gave up on me.”

“Buck you listen to me right now. You do not have to earn your parents love.” Athena holds his face in her hands, trying to get him to look at her. “Kids are difficult. That’s just called being a kid. Our job as parents is to love our kids no matter what. We love you, no matter what, and we are so so proud of the man you are.”

His eyes meet Athena’s for a moment and then go blank again. A harsh laugh grates out of his chest, “they never even wanted another son...they never wanted me.”

“Buck, what do you mean another son?” Bobby tries to think back on what he knows about Buck’s family, but as far as he’s heard it’s just him and Maddie.

Bobby lets him free of the hug as he tries to get the words out. “I had a brother…he was older and he got sick. They needed bone marrow and no one else in our family was a match.” The pieces fall into place and Bobby wants to vomit. Buck was a savior baby, and like he could hear Bobby’s thoughts he closes his eyes against fresh tears. “They had me for parts. But it didn’t work and Daniel died…and they were stuck with me when I’d already failed to do the only thing I was made for.”

Over where Buck has hunched back over, hiding his face in his hands, Athena and Bobby share a shocked and horrified look. Without hesitating Athena wraps him in a protective hug, eyes fierce even as her voice murmurs comforting nonsense. On the table Bobby’s phone rings, a quick glance showing Eddie’s calling. Bobby places a steady hand on his back, “I’m guessing Eddie’s looking for you? Do you want me to tell him where you are?”

Without moving from the safety of Athena’s arms Buck nods and lets out another choking sob. “I was supposed to come over for movie night…After I left Maddie’s I just sort of, I don’t know I guess I checked out. I don’t even know what time it is.” Suddenly he sits straight up, eyes wide. “Shit! I missed movie night! And it’s probably the middle of the night and I woke you up and—”

Before he can work himself into a full panic Bobby squeezes his shoulder. “It’s ok Buck, we’re here for you whenever you need us. Don’t worry about what time it is.” Internally he’s trying not to let the terror of Buck so out of it he completely lost himself cloud his mind. He needs to keep a clear head, needs to be the steady rock Buck is searching for. “Now do you want me to tell Eddie you’re here?”

“He’s worried I bet…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry him.”

Grabbing his phone Bobby stands and sees multiple missed calls from Eddie and Chimney, “he’ll understand just like we do. We’re all here for you Buck, you’re not alone.” Athena hands Buck his tea, coaxing him to take a few sips while he calls Eddie back. After one ring it picks up and Eddie’s frantic voice fills his ear. “Cap, we can’t find Buck. I don’t know what happened when he went over to Chim and Maddie’s but she’s almost inconsolable and Chimney is flipping out. He won’t answer the phone and he was supposed to come over. Albert said he never went back to the loft either…”

Quickly he steps outside, not wanting Buck to hear how scared Eddie sounds, it would only make him feel worse. “Eddie, take a breath, Buck is here.” He’s about to say that Buck’s alright but there’s no way Eddie would buy it. “He’s here and he’s safe. We’ve got him.”

There’s a sigh of relief and no small amount of swearing in Spanish. “Ok…ok good. I’ll text Chim and let him know.” A pause and then a little quieter, “do you know what happened?”

“His entire world just got turned upside down, it’s not my place to say any more than that…but he’s going to need us, need you, more than ever.” Glancing inside he sees his wife pulling Buck to lean against her again, a strong arm around his shoulders.

“Whatever he needs.” Eddie says simply, a little bit of calm working through his voice now that he knows Buck is safe. “Can Christopher and I come over tomorrow?”

“Of course, I’ll make breakfast.” Thank god they’re off shift tomorrow, Bobby has no idea how they’d manage to convince Buck to take the day off. The kid would almost immediately take it as a sign he’d done something wrong. So much of his behavior, his actions, are suddenly making sense and Bobby would very much like to have strong words with Buck’s parents. “Get some rest Eddie, I’ll call you if anything changes but we’ll see you in the morning.”

“Right, thank you Bobby.”

“Of course Eddie, take care of yourself and get some sleep.” Bobby hangs up and walks back inside and immediately Buck’s eyes shoot to his. “He’s not mad Buck, he’s just worried about you. I told him to bring Christopher over for breakfast.”

Buck looks completely drained as he sags with relief. His eyes are red and puffy and exhaustion radiates from every line of his body. With a quick squeeze Athena stands, “I’ll get the guest room all set up for you.” Buck looks like he’s about to apologize and Bobby’s heart breaks. “Don’t you dare apologize,” Athena says firmly. “You’re not being any trouble and we want you here. I know I’ll feel better if I know you’re here safe and sound.”

“Thank you…” Buck smiles at her, still subdued but genuine. Athena pauses to kiss the top of his head before heading down the hallway. Bobby takes her place on the couch and can’t help wrapping an arm around Buck in another protective hug. “I think you and Athena have hugged me more tonight than my parents have in my whole life…” Buck admits and Bobby wants to smack some sense into these people.

Anyone who’s spent more than 15 minutes with Buck can tell he thrives on physical contact. He takes every opportunity to be close to the people he loves. It’s the most obvious with Eddie, who’s always accepted Buck into his personal space even before they started to slide from friends to more, but Buck is quick with his affection and gets this almost surprised glee when he gets some in return. He soaks up love like a sponge and now they know why.

Athena comes back a few minutes later, giving them a fond look. “What do you think kiddo? Wanna try and get some sleep?” Bobby asks, rubbing a hand over Buck’s back.

“Yeah…I’m pretty drained Pops.” Together they stand up from the couch and follow Athena through the hallway.

“I put a pair of Bobby’s sweat pants and a sweatshirt on the bed.” Athena hugs him again, managing to tuck him against her so Buck looks small in her arms. He sniffles a little and steps back with a twist to his mouth.

Giving him a supportive pat on the shoulder, Bobby smiles at him. “We’re at the end of the hall if you need us.” Buck surprises him by reaching out and wrapping his arms around Bobby, squeezing tight before stepping back with a nod. “Thanks again…Goodnight.”

“Goodnight Buckaroo.” Athena smiles and grabs Bobby’s hand as they head to their room. They hear the door shut just as they shut their own and Bobby’s shoulders sag. Athena on the other hand starts pacing, eyes stormed over. “No wonder he was like that when he first came here. It was probably the only way he thought he could get any attention…we see it all the time with neglected kids.” Suddenly she pauses, spinning to face Bobby. “And Maddie! They probably made her keep it a secret…that poor girl had to just ignore that her brother had died and become a parent to the other one.”

Bobby rubs his hands over his face. “Eddie said she’s beside herself…inconsolable is the word he used…”

“I’ll call her in the morning and check on her.” Athena decides, finally crawling back into bed. Joining her under the covers, Bobby pulls her into his arms and takes comfort in the way she grips him just as tight. It’s a long time before they manage to fall asleep.

Buck leans against the door as it shuts. He feels…empty isn't the right word. More like he's been hollowed out and filled with cotton stuffing, nothing left in him but lumps and cheap fiber. Pulling his wallet and keys out of his pocket he tosses them on the night table, pausing as he pulls his phone out next. He turns it over in his hands as he sits on the bed, debating turning do not disturb off or ignoring the shitstorm that's probably growing in his notifications.

Taking a deep breath he sets it down and changes into his borrowed pjs. The sweatpants are a little big but actually long enough for once, and the sweatshirt is just loose enough it wraps him in comfort. Curling up under the blankets, Buck lets the feeling of safety wash over him. Snatching his phone from where he’d set it on the table he checks his battery life. It’s low but enough for him to pull up his recent calls and quickly select Eddie’s name.

It’s only two rings before the line picks up, “Buck?”

“Hey Eds…”

“Buck, baby are you ok?” Eddie goes from groggy to awake in a heartbeat and Buck closes his eyes against the worry staining his voice.

“Not really…no, but I’m better than I was.” He’s too tired to pretend right now, breath hitching, “I’m so sorry Eddie…I know Christopher is probably mad at me and I’m sure you are too 'cause I let him down and I didn’t mean to worry you…”

“Hey hey hey, it’s ok Buck.” Eddie cuts off the frantic apologies that seem to be forcing themselves from his throat. “Take a breath for me.”

There’s no way Buck can resist the softness in his words, following the gentle instructions until his breathing settles down. “I’m not mad Buck,” Eddie continues now that Buck’s not halfway to hyperventilating, “and neither is Christopher. We were worried about you, but you’re somewhere safe and that’s what matters.”

“Did you tell Maddie and Chim where I was?” Buck knows he probably did, he highly doubts they didn’t blow Eddie’s phone up when Buck went radio silent.

There’s a sigh on the other end of the phone, “yeah…They were terrified.” Buck feels a weird mix of guilt and anger flare up, and Eddie reads his mind as always. “I also told them to let you come to them, and to give you some space.” He hears the shifting of blankets before Eddie continues, “I know that whatever happened feels like your entire world just blew up…But remember that me and Christopher are here and we love you. Whatever it was, we'll be right here with you, ok?”

“Ok…I love you both too.” Buck wraps Eddie’s words around him, another layer of warmth under the borrowed sweatshirt. “Hey babe?” Eddie hums in questions. “Can you stay on the phone a little longer?”

“Yeah, I’m here Buck, for as long as you need me.”

It’s mostly quiet after that, a few murmured words of comfort and affection passed back and forth, but eventually Buck hears Eddie’s breathing even out and lets it soothe him enough to close his own eyes.

#swamp demon writes #my fic #buddie #firefam #I will always be weak for Bobby calling Buck kiddo

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strangeradventuresofp · 4 years

Text

happy together (five x reader)

requested by : @asphodelshare - omg would u be willing to do a five x reader harry potter au 🥺 like a collection of slytherin!five and ravenclaw!reader cute moments/little scenarios and everyone even the professors can’t deny their chemistry (dumbledore would be a shipper for sure) and just them being known as the badass, real smart, match made in wizard heaven couple 😫❤️

a/n : thank you so much this was so fun to do!! little bit of ooc five but obviously hes gonna be different in a different universe i think anyway. i loved this idea so much cus personally im a ravenclaw so it felt PERFECT but anyway thank u sm for this i hope u enjoy <33333

Everything started on the train. The train to Hogwarts, that is. You said a tender goodbye to your parents before stepping on to the train. You were so focused on waving goodbye to them that you had forgotten all about actually getting a seat, and they were filling up fast. Eventually, you got to this carriage that had only two other people in it, a boy and a girl. and you hesitantly slid the door open.

You cleared your throat. “Do you guys mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full.”

“Of course not.” The girl flashed you a friendly smile and you hummed happily in response, taking your seat beside the window, sat next to the girl. Considering she had actually answered you; you felt a lot more comfortable sitting beside her than the boy, who merely shrugged one of his shoulders when you had asked.

His hair was carefully swiped over and looked as though it was made of silk. When she caught a glimpse of his eyes, they were a piercing blue, the kind that made you squirm under the stare of them. His face was chiseled kindly and he radiated with confidence. It seemed like he put no effort at all into his appearance, but at the same time, it seemed that he put every single effort he had into it. His demeanor seemed rather uppity, like he was too good to even respond to someone who had asked a simple question.

As you studied him, you watched his brows furrow in confusion and you lightly leaned over to read what he was writing down on the piece of paper in front of him.

“Three hundred and sixty-nine, point eight. (369.8)” You answered to the question he didn’t ask. He quickly snapped his head up to look at you and you sat back in your seat, offering him a small smile.

“What?” He spat, his eyes narrowing as he looked over you. You swallowed, moving uncomfortably in your space.

“I—I said, three hundred and sixty-nine point eight. (369.8). That’s the answer, isn’t it?” To your equation.”

His eyes widened in shock as they scanned back over the page he had scribbled over, biting the inside of his lip as you pulled out a book, reading it though you could feel his curious gaze on you.

Then, there was the sorting ceremony. You were sorted into Ravenclaw, which you knew you was your house anyway. The boy, whose name seemed to be Five, was sorted into Slytherin, and his eyes couldn’t seem to leave you as you tucked into your food.

The start of the year seemed to go on pretty similarly, Five continued to stare at you from afar or even from beside you in some lessons.

One day, you were feeling particularly rubbish. Your head resonated with pain and the bags under your eyes could not be mistaken for anything other than complete exhaustion. When you sat beside Five for your transfiguration lesson, you had entirely expected him to make some snarky comment, or snicker at the rough sight of you, but instead he simply looked at you, offering a small smile, much like the one you had given him on the train on the first day.

“Are you alright?” He whispered.

You smiled at that, nodding slightly, applying pressure to the centre of your forehead. “Yep. I’m okay.”

“You sure? I could try a spell to fix your headache if you want.” A cheeky smirk spread across his face and you giggled quietly.

“Hm, perhaps it would feel more pleasant than—”

“Mr Hargreeves, Miss L/N. Stop talking.” The teacher glared at the two of you from the front, and the entire class turned to stare at the two of you. A pink blush dusted over your cheeks and you swallowed.

“Sorry, Professor.” The two of you said in sync, keeping your heads down to get on with your work.

Just from that tiny interaction, you were pretty much inseparable from that moment on. The two of you had made a plan of the school, so that whenever you had lessons apart, you would pass each other in the corridors. You would make sure that you sat back to back in the Great Hall, so you could chat at every available opportunity. He would walk past you in potions and steal your ingredients. You would stay late in the library with each other, doing your homework and just talking. Quite quickly, the two of you were the top of every class you had, constantly battling for the very top spot.

Then there was Christmas. You had planned to go home, but something came up and you simply just couldn’t get home. Your parents were devastated, as were you. But at least you got to spend it with your best friend. Five hadn’t gone home. He hadn’t said much about why and you were hesitant to ask, but you were still glad that you weren’t alone for Christmas.

You skipped into the Great Hall, where he was sat reading a book. When he heard footsteps he looked up, his eyes lighting up when he saw you.

“Y/N! I thought you were going home, what happened?”

“Something came up, and I couldn’t get home.” You shrugged and he frowned, squeezing your hand gently.

“I’m sorry. I know how excited you were.”

“It’s alright. At least I’m not alone.” You flashed him a grin and he chuckled, returning your smile and you took a seat opposite him. “Why aren’t you going home, anyway?”

“Oh, I, uh… I don’t exactly have the best relationship with my family.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Y/N. It’s okay.” He laughed and you smiled. Your gaze turned downwards onto the table, where your fingers were picking regrettably at the skin around your nails. Five’s brows furrowed together, watching you curiously. “Are you alright?”

“I, uh… I got you something. For Christmas.” His widened slightly, as if he had never received a gift before. You could’ve sworn you saw the slightest hint of a tear in his eye, but he quickly blinked it away, a confused look on his face.

“Why?” His brows knit together in genuine confusion and you didn’t quite know how to respond.

“B—Because I wanted to.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a surprise.” He scoffed at your words and you frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, why would—”

“Five.” Your stern face made his collapse and he sighed, his eyes turning soft.

“I’ve never been given a gift before. And I didn’t get you anything, I didn’t even think about it.” He admitted and your heart simply shattered for him.

“Five, I got you a gift because I wanted to give you one. You’re my best friend. I didn’t get you a gift because I wanted one in return.” You smiled and the edge of his lip turned up slightly. He faked a yawn, grabbing his books and standing.

“I’m pretty tired, I’m gonna get to bed. Goodnight.”

Christmas morning, you made your way to the Slytherin common room, waiting outside like you said you would for Five. After a while of waiting, you sighed. You knew he wasn’t coming. Luckily, you had made chums with a fair few people in Slytherin house, and they gladly let you inside. A frown fell over your face when you saw Five sat by himself, staring into the roaring fire in the center of the common room.

“Five?” You said softly, and his head turned to you. You made your way over to him, sitting beside him. “If you don’t want it, I won’t give it to you. If it’s too weird.”

“It’s not that, it’s just…” He sighed. “I don’t know what to do, what I’m supposed to do.”

“You don’t have to do anything.” You smiled. “Tell you what, I’ll give it to you, you can put it n your bed now, until later. You don’t have to open it in front of anyone else. Okay?” He nodded and you smiled. Handing him the parcel that you had neatly wrapped.

That night, Five stared at the present lingering on the edge of his bed with hesitance. His arm kept stretching out to then and then pulling itself back in again, but eventually he ripped off the paper, feeling awful that you had probably spent so long making it look nice, but he wasn’t too bothered. What lay inside the paper, however, had Five bubbling with excitement. There was a notebook, a book and a small envelope. The book was all about time travel, something Five had shown a frequent interest in. The notebook was completely blank, save from a little doodle that you had drawn in on the back of the cover. It was a doodle of the two of you, of him not being able to stop reading the book you bought him and you getting angry that he wouldn’t listen to you. He opened the envelope. Its contents contained a little letter you had wrote, explaining how grateful and happy you were being his best friend and taped to the back of the letter was a small polaroid photograph of both of you, that took not too long ago at all.

Five had not noticed the stray tears of appreciation falling down his face until one landed on the note he was holding, and he gasped, swiping his tears and blowing on the paper to dry it out. He didn’t know why, but he felt comfortable being vulnerable around you. He felt comfortable showing his emotions, he had felt it from the very first time you had met. Something in his heart told him you were a good person and you wouldn’t leave him.

The next three years carried on the very same but what was different in your fourth year was the Triwizard Tournament. You planned on asking Five to the Yule Ball, or rather you hoped he would ask you, but when he did nothing of the sort, you decided to start dropping hints yourself.

“I got my dress for the Ball. Have you got your dress robes yet?”

“Y/N, I’m not going to the stupid ball!” He snapped, completely unnecessarily rudely. You sighed, clearing your books off of the desk before clutching them to your chest, walking back to your common room without a word. It was at that moment when a boy from your own house decided to ask you to the ball, and you gladly agreed, your heart burning with excitement that you would actually get to go. You would much rather go with Five though. Your heart fluttered when you imagined the two of you dressed up, holding hands while you danced together. Years of close friendship had led to you developing deep feelings for him. But regardless of how you felt about him, you were going to the ball, whether he was going to take you or not.

The night finally arrived, and you stood at the top of the stairs before the entrance to the Great Hall. You looked incredible. Five’s eyes landed on you in no time at all, an incredulous look slapped across his face. His jaw dropped to the floor, his eyes scanning every inch of you, his heart thumping vigorously. His face fell when he watched you call out to your date.

“Sorry, Y/N. I said I’d actually go with Allison.” Your date wandered off, hand in hand with another girl and you frowned, tears welling your eyes. Storming away, you swiped angrily at the tears falling from your eyes. All you wanted was a simple dance and a nice evening. Your head fell into your hands as you sat on the steps, hot tears steaming from your eyes. A soft voice called out from behind you and you quickly wiped away the tears on your face, plastering a smile in your face as you turned around.

“Five! I didn’t think you were coming.”

“Are you alright?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” You asked, blinking away the new tears that formed in your eyes, glancing over his frame covered in his dress robes. “You look nice.”

“Y/N, I saw. Are you okay?” A deep sigh left your lips at Five’s words, and he came to sit beside you.

“Yep. I’m perfectly fine. Y’know, I didn’t even wanna go to the dance in the first place.”

“You don’t? Oh, well that’s too bad… I was gonna ask you if you wanted to go with me.” He gently took your hand in both of his, intertwining your fingers and your eyes lit up, receiving a smile from Five.

“Are you serious? I—I thought you didn’t want to—”

“I changed my mind.” He cleared his throat after a while, speaking in a whisper. “You look beautiful.”

Your eyes locked with his as you tilted your head up to his, gently pressing your forehead against his. His eyes flickered between your eyes and your lips and slowly, his face was drawn closer to yours, the temptation and want too huge for him to bear. When his lips found yours, the two of you were in a complete heaven, your lips moving together so generously, at a gentle but steady pace. The hands came up to hold your cheeks, holding your face close to his, both of your hearts racing at a lightening speed while the world around you turned to slow motion.

When the two of you finally announced to your friends that you were dating, you were met with a sea of ‘finally’s and ‘it’s about time’s. All you would do is chuckle, pressing a gentle kiss to Five’s cheek and he smiled. You were happy. Five was happy. You were happy together.

my masterlist

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talesofesther · 4 years

Text

Anchor - Part 6

Five Hargreeves x Reader

Masterlist with the other parts

See part one for important notes

A/N: Woop here I am releasing the new part earlier because I finished writing it and I'm a nice gal. So, I think this part is significantly smaller than the last one, but I wanted it to end where it did. Also, for some reason it was a bit harder for me to write this part, I don't know why. But I hope it's not too awful and you guys like it anyway. Plus, Five has no idea of how to control his feelings, poor boy ksjdkjsd. If you wanna be added to the tag list, let me know. ♥

“That woman we met before we went to the theater in 2019. She called you an assassin… Is that true?” Y/N asked carefully, trying not to break the almost peaceful aura of the room. A part of her didn’t want to know the answer, unsure of how things would be once she did. But she needed to know.

Five closed his eyes once again. That was the one question he wished she wouldn’t ask.

The boy let out a shaky breath. Why was he so nervous? He wasn't like this when he talked about it with Luther, why is he like this now? Maybe it was the fact that he didn't have to worry about Luther leaving, him being his brother and all. But her, she had that choice. Y/N had the choice to never look him in the face again. And that terrified him for some reason.

But seeing as he didn't have a way out now, he preceded to tell Y/N everything. Five's voice was uncharacteristically soft and cautious. He told her that the woman they had met, The Handler, found him in the apocalypse and offered him a job. He told her how they transformed him into an instrument of correcting the timeline by killing. How this was his only way of surviving until he could figure out his equation and get back to 2019. He told her everything. And all the while Y/N was just staring intently at him. Sometimes she would furrow her brows while processing some information, but other than that, there was no reaction.

"I was good at what I did. But I never enjoyed it". Five added as soon as he finished his explanation. He moved uncomfortably on his seat on the couch, anxiously waiting for some kind of reaction from Y/N. He didn't even realize he was griping his shorts in nervousness like a teenage boy talking to his crush.

"So you really are an assassin" Y/N whispered, more to herself than to him. She looked up at the ceiling, took a deep breath, and looked down at her hands. "A hitman".

"I was. Yes" Five's voice was so low that if she hadn't been sitting next to him she wouldn't have heard it. Like he himself didn't want to accept this as his reality.

Y/N let out another sigh as she risked a look up at his face. Five looked troubled, his eyes never left her face and he seemed like he was clenching his teeth in anxiousness or anticipation. For what? She thought. What does he think I'll do? I don't even know myself.

That was true. Y/N had no idea how to react, or what to say to all of this. What do you do when someone tells you they're an assassin? That they literally take human lives?

You run, scared for your own life? But Y/N didn't want to be scared of him. Despite his serious facade, Five was proving to be a sweet person. Maybe a bit socially awkward, but sweet.

Do you go to the police? Because killing is so very wrong? But Y/N knew that accepting that job was the only way Five could stay alive. It was the only way he could get back to 2019, to save his family. And come to think of it, she would be dead too if he hadn't come back to stop the apocalypse.

This was all way too much to process. Y/N's thoughts were starting to get conflicted. She needed time.

"Did you kill innocent people too?" The girl asked him.

"Sometimes" was all Five could answer. He knew there was no reason to lie now.

Y/N almost felt an urge to hug the boy again. He looked so lost right now. His big eyes were looking at her intently, pleading for her to understand, and they were shining. Shining in the yellow light coming from the street. Y/N could get lost in those eyes, and she almost did, but she needed time.

She just nodded at him and averted her gaze.

Five gulped and looked away from her as well. Understanding her silent demand. That was it then. He presumed she was now scared of him or something, but then, who wouldn't? She wasn't his for him to lose her, and yet he felt like he had. She clearly didn't want anything to do with him anymore, right? For the first time, Five acknowledged how broke and tainted he really was. The apocalypse was everything he knew, once that was over, he had no idea what to do with himself. And now he realized that no one would ever care enough about him to help him figure it out. He was a killer, a person that grew up alone and had probably too much traumatic baggage to carry. And no one would want to deal with that.

Ignoring his quivering lip and the annoying tears prickling at his eyes, Five got up and teleported away. Y/N's rejection hurt him way more than he would care to admit.

_________

Y/N woke up the next morning hearing distant voices talking in the living room. The first thing she felt was her back hurting from sleeping on the couch all night.

After Five just teleported away without even saying goodnight, Y/N took the time to think about the things he had told her. She would be lying if she said that Five admitting that he killed people didn't worry her. But she eventually came to the conclusion that he had no other options and she would have probably done the same in his place. So all in all, she accepted it. It was definitely a lot to take in, but she knew that Five was a good person. And she trusted him.

The girl slowly sat up and stretched, her eyes slowly adjusting to the sunlight that was coming through the windows. Elliott's place was still a mess, but she soon saw him and Five talking in the corner.

"Can you develop it or not?" Five asked with an impatient voice.

"Sure" Elliott answered while he ate his cereal.

"How long?" Five said as his eyes drifted to Y/N's moving form getting up from the couch. His demeanor suddenly becoming tense.

"Maybe five, six hours" Elliott said as he followed Five's stare to Y/N's direction. "Morning girl". He lifted up his spoon to her.

"It's Y/N" she saluted him. "Morning Elliott".

Y/N got up and started walking towards them. Five abruptly turned away and drove his attention to all the papers pinned to the walls, all of Elliott's theories suddenly becoming very interesting as he did his best to ignore Y/N's presence.

"Um hey Elliott, do you still have some of this cereal left?" The girl asked while she tried to make her hair more presentable, pointing to what Elliott was eating.

"Sure. I'll get some for you" and so he disappeared into the kitchen.

"Thank you" the girl called to him.

Then she turned her eyes to Five, who was standing in front of her, but had his back to her. His shoulders were definitely too tense for this early in the morning.

"Good morning Five, did you sleep well?" Y/N tried to sound as casual as possible. Maybe not addressing the whole assassin thing would be better? She made her way to stay right beside him, their shoulders brushing. The boy became even tenser if that was even possible. His eyes intensely staring into a random newspaper article.

No. Five wanted to answer, he didn't sleep well at all. His night was plagued by nightmares, as usual. He couldn't say he was used to them, he didn't think he ever would be, but he knew they would come every night. But last night Y/N had made an appearance in them, it wasn't a pleasant one, and that's something he wasn't expecting. So no, he didn't sleep well.

He could have said that to her. For a moment he wondered what she would say if he did. But he didn't. Five stayed silent, doing his best to ignore the many questions in his head of why she was standing so close. His fingertips were slowly tracing the wood of the table in front of them.

"Hey, are you okay?" Y/N's gentle voice appeared again.

Why does she always have to ask that? Five thought as he put a distance between them and walked to the middle of the room. He presumed she was just being her usual kind self. Because now his presence probably made her uneasy, right? So despite wanting to be close to her and talk, Five moved away. The last thing he wanted was to scare her away... Even more.

"Fine" he answered in the most emotionless voice.

Why he still has the need to lie to me? Y/N thought as she turned around to look at him once again. Bracing her back on the table and crossing her arms.

"Okay then. Listen, I think we should-" the girl couldn't complete her sentence because the radio cut her off.

'Attention all units, we have a code 3-15 at the Holbrook sanitarium'

At the same time, Elliott entered the room again, a new bowl of cereal in his hands.

"The hell is a code 3-15?" Five's attention was now fully on the radio as he asked Elliott about it.

"Fugitives on the run" the weird man answered as he handed Y/N the bowl of cereal. She took it gratefully, muttering thanks to Elliott as she put a spoonful on her mouth. She was quite hungry.

"Oh, Diego" Five whispered as he braced himself in front of the radio. "Elliott you get started on that film. I'll be back as soon as I can" he said as he was already walking out of the room.

"No no. Wait, Five. I'll go with.." Y/N hurriedly walked after him, almost spilling the cereal on herself "... You" she finished just as she saw a flash of blue. And he was gone again.

The girl groaned, annoyed "I swear, this boy... Is getting on my nerves" her knuckles holding the spoon turned white.

"Is he always like this?" Elliott appeared behind her.

"Yeah, I'm starting to think he is" Y/N sighed. Something was up with Five today, she was going to figure out what it was.

_________

Well, Y/N's position at the moment was... Not ideal. Apparently whatever there was in the film that Five asked Elliott to develop was enough to freak him out to the point where he ended up tying Y/N to the railings that overlooked the bottom floor. She tried to reason with him, but he was pretty insistent. He looked truly scared so she didn't really fight him when he made his way to tie her up, she knew that as soon as Five came back, she would be free again. Poor Elliott had nothing to do with this and was already losing his mind.

And sure enough, not long after, Five arrived with Diego and another woman. Y/N didn't think she would be this happy at seeing Diego, but she was so glad to see that he was okay. And his hair was bigger too, she liked it.

Y/N winced when Elliott's rifle shot the ceiling, Five had easily teleported in front of him making him do so. Diego soon followed and took the weapon out of the man's hands.

Not even a second later, Five was standing in front of Y/N. "Did he hurt you?" His voice was low, only for her to hear. One of his hands came up to lightly touch her cheek. His eyes frantically looked over her entire body in search of injuries, his expression one of pure concern.

"No, I'm okay" Y/N answered him in just a whisper. Her gaze was fixated on him. He was so close, his fingertips lightly brushing her left cheek. Her brows furrowed at his actions as she analyzed his face. What is up with him? In the morning he was so distant and now this?

Only when Five met her eyes that he realized what he was doing. The boy sucked in a harsh breath and suddenly removed his hand from her face. His now slightly shaking hands working on untying Y/N from the railings. Five kicked himself mentally. What was that? He was so worried that Elliott maybe had done something to Y/N that he just... Didn't think. Five would have never invaded her space like that, especially not after last night. But as soon as he saw her, his body seemed to move on his own towards the girl. She was making him lose control and that was not good, he needed to stay focused.

With her hands now free, Y/N rubbed her sore wrists. Her eyes were still landed on Five, and the boy already looked deep in thought. But most of all, Y/N realized that he looked utterly confused. She had no idea why he was acting so strange lately, but now it seemed like he was just as lost as she was.

When Five started to move away from her. Y/N was finally able to grab his hand and stop him. As soon as he felt her soft hand holding his one, he froze.

"Five, wait. I think we should talk"

Five gulped. Everything felt so tender, so real.

"Please don't" his voice was nothing but a whisper. Please don't give me hope that you care. Please don't make me yearn for something that I can't have.

And when Y/N saw the look in his eyes. She let go.

***

Thank you for reading ♥ the next part should be out soon. And if you have any idea about how this story should progress or anything you would like to see in it, please send me an ask or message and I’d be happy to include it. ♥

Taglist

@alexander-hamilhoe @noneyeahbusiness @anapocalypseinmymind @yikes-matey @vicfull @flowertoty @shlokage @flaminghotcheetoos @moneyyhoneyyy @n1ghtsh4d3-67 @nappinggecko @megasimpleplan4ever @precious-parkerr @greeknerd007

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belphegor1982 · 3 years

Note

not sure if you're doing the prompt list, but parenthood (6) with leonard snart and janet? 👉👈 i'm in love with your characterizations of len and his wife 💕

It took me two weeks, but there it is :D

Parenthood (DCAU)

When she’d been a kid, Janet had – very naturally – assumed that her adult life would match her parents’, or their neighbours: a house, a husband, a dog, a white picket fence, not necessarily in that order. And kids. Like an afterthought, something not really important so much as vaguely necessary.

She hadn’t thought about it until a couple of years or so into her and Len’s marriage. They’d had somewhat rocky beginnings: she’d been fierce, he’d been grumpy, and they’d both been so damn young they hadn’t seen how ridiculous they were, dancing around each other like they weren’t sure they were allowed this… that. ‘Relationship’ was too big a word. Whatever they had, though, they had kept, because it was good and it was theirs. One day it had hit Janet that Len basically only went back to his crappy little apartment to shower; one night they’d been in bed, sweaty and tired and stupid happy, and as Janet reached for the book on her bedside table afterwards while Len scribbled on his ‘heist ideas’ notebook like he’d been struck with sudden inspiration, she had realised in a rush that she wanted the rest of her life to be like this.

“Wanna get married, one of these days?” she’d asked, almost not nervous at all.

Len had stared at her long enough to make her start to regret asking. Then he’d given a small smile, the very rare sort that showed in his eyes.

“Sure,” he’d said, and that was that.

They’d gotten married six months later. Janet wore blue. Her parents showed up, despite the disapproval hanging thick in the air – her father convinced that she could ‘do a lot better than a thug’, her mother ice-cold at the thought of her daughter marrying ‘some two-bit crook’. Len had only invited his sister, a stunning young blonde who’d been friendly to Janet but still appeared put-out that the invitation didn’t extend to her boyfriend.

“He’s a jerk,” Len had said later, making Janet laugh.

“You’re a jerk, Len.”

“Not the same kind. He’s stuck-up. Lisa’s too good for him anyway.”

“Yeah, well. That’s not up to you to decide, is it? It’s your sister’s choice.”

“I know, I just… She deserves better. Better than she got as a kid.”

Janet had looked at him, long and careful, suddenly a little tense.

“Do you think she’s… not safe? With him?”

Len had blinked, then shaken his head.

“Nah, nothin’ like that. You can tell Dillon’s actually good to her. Nothing like…” He had trailed off, something hard and cold and sudden in his eyes like someone had slammed closed a pair of shutters. That had only lasted for ten seconds before he’d shrugged. “I just wish he wasn’t such a dick, that’s all.”

Then he’d abruptly changed the subject, and Janet had followed, because she knew precarious ground when she saw it.

* * * *

Living with someone in the intimate way meant noticing a lot of things about them, more or less willingly.

Len had cottoned on pretty early to her tendency to snap when she was tired or angry, and of holding nothing back then. She also caught him looking at the crisscross pattern of scar tissue on her knuckles from when she’d punched a wall, repeatedly, after the girl who’d been her best friend in school was battered to death by her boyfriend. “I only slapped her around a bit,” the bastard had said, and ten years later Janet still wished that she’d had the guts to punch him instead. She’d finally told Len about it one day, and seen his face go stone and his eyes ice. His cold fury had been comforting.

It went both ways. She noticed things about her husband, too. Like some odd scars she had a feeling he hadn’t picked up in juvie, the trace of a cigarette burn in the hollow of his right shoulder, or the mark – still chillingly precise even years later – of a belt buckle in the small of his back. She wondered whether Lisa had similar scars. Not that she’d ask. She and her sister-in-law didn’t have that kind of relationship.

Janet had a past. Len had a past. That was what being human meant. Sometimes that felt more like dragging a corpse through the dust wherever you went than a happy set of picture-perfect memories, but it was part of the whole package.

The major reason Janet didn’t entertain the idea of kids for longer than a passing thought was because she didn’t want any – for the moment, she told herself, even as she kept forgetting to really think about it. She’s grown up with the distinct impression that she hadn’t been wanted, or had come at an inconvenient time to her parents. The last thing she wanted was to make a kid feel like that.

The lesser reason was everything Len wasn’t saying. He wasn’t crazy about opening up about things either important or trivial, though he did anyway because they both liked to get their point across clearly. But she’d never, ever heard him say anything at all about his life before he’d struck out on his own, a couple of years short of eighteen years old. His sister Lisa was six years younger, and that was all Janet knew. Family, parents, home life – Len didn’t let anything slip. This, combined with the scars and a few odd reactions, carefully hidden under a lot of attitude, told her more than he appeared willing to share.

One day, when he’d been nicely mellowed out by a good score and a shared bottle of the good stuff to celebrate, she had asked him, “Do you ever think about having kids?”

The split-second look he’d given her still haunted her to this day. She had seen him angry, she had seen him silent, cheerful and surly and balking at house chores, but it hadn’t crossed her mind that he could ever be afraid.

“No,” he’d answered curtly. “Why?”

“Just wondering. Kevin from logistics just had his third the other day. Kept asking me when I’d finally get started on my own.”

“Kevin from logistics needs to mind his own damn business.”

“That’s what I told him,” said Janet, and Len smirked. “Anyway, he got me thinking. Turns out I don’t think I want kids. You know, at all.”

The relief on his face was as fleeting as the fear, but just as stark.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I like what we have.” A pause. “You’ve really never thought about having kids one day?”

“Sure I did, once – for about five seconds. Weirdest five seconds of my life.”

She’d given him a look, half amused, half a smile. Relax, Len. You’re not getting interrogated.

“That bad?”

“Look, I don’t… Kids are weird, all right? Adults I can deal with. Besides, all I know is how not to be a father. No way I’m risking—no way.”

That was as close as he ever came to telling her why she’d never even heard Snart Sr.’s first name. But it was enough. They closed the subject and moved on to other things.

* * * *

And then it turned out that Metropolis and Gotham were not the only cities that could boast an actual superhero, because Central City quickly became aware of a lean, young-looking man in a red costume who called himself the Flash and went after burglars and thieves with superhuman speed. Whoever he was, whatever he was, he added an element of danger to her husband’s chosen profession, and Janet took an instant dislike to him and his big smug smile. Then she dismissed him from her mind quickly enough.

Len, though, was a very different story.

While he didn’t like the Flash any more than Janet did, the guy’s addition to the tried-and-true equation of cops and robbers added an edge that hadn’t been present before. Having an actual superhero in town made all of Len’s old research on absolute zero – and tinkering in the basement – not only relevant but useful. He designed a ‘cold gun’ from plans he’d stolen years ago, looking more excited than Janet had seen him in the last eight years, and worked hard to ‘up his game’.

Privately, Janet thought that, for a man who claimed to be as serious about his trade as Len did, creating a brand-new persona complete with parka, visor, and goofy moniker was hilarious.

Not that she ever actually laughed at him. Especially not the one time Len came back from a heist with an armful of cash and a weird look on his face.

“He’s a kid, Jan,” he said when Janet had asked him what could be wrong when he’d clearly got away with the loot unscathed. “He’s a goddamn kid. I don’t think he’s even old enough to drink.”

“What the hell is he playing at, then?” she exclaimed. “This job is not kid’s stuff! What was he thinking, that he could waltz in and play Superman, just like that?”

“I don’t know.” Len took off his visor and pinched the bridge of his nose. Then his eyes hardened. “And I don’t care. I like my job. If this guy thinks he can stop me, then he’d better be prepared to try harder.”

“I got him good today, though,” he said hours later, in the small hours of the night, after Janet’s hands had searched for his, cool and calloused, under the covers.

Something tensed inside in the region of her stomach.

“You didn’t kill him, did you?”

“Of course not,” he snapped, looking annoyed that she’d even ask. Janet’s guts relaxed. “I’m a crook, not a murderer. Besides, you know the second someone offs that guy, Superman or another big hero is gonna show up and turn the city inside out in revenge. It’d be like when a cop gets killed. They close ranks and start shooting indiscriminately.”

“So when you say you ‘got him good’ –”

“I just sent him packin’. Didn’t rough him up more than I would a cop. The kid’s got a mean right hook but he has no idea how real cold works, speed or no speed.”

Janet closed her eyes again and murmured, “Maybe he’ll quit, then.”

“Maybe.” Even half-asleep, she could tell that this ‘maybe’ meant ‘fat chance’.

“So… on the off-chance that today didn’t put him off, what are you gonna do?”

“I was thinking I might hit Drake & Hall Savings on Infantino Street next month.”

“I meant about the Flash.”

Len’s voice was low but certain when he said, “Me too. I’ll just keep doing my job, and if this joker is as serious as he claims to be, he’ll keep trying to stop me. But I’m not gonna drop everything just because of a kid in a onesie and a mask. I’ll just have to find ways to slow him down.”

The last thought that coalesced in Janet’s mind just before she nodded off was Did my husband just become a supervillain?

She fell asleep before the laugh passed her lips.

* * * *

While ‘supervillain’ might have been stretching things – not to mention the word made Janet choke up on laughter – Len’s new approach to the job was certainly different from the one he’d had before the Flash came along. He still refused the label, though, arguing that supervillains had powers, costumes, and delusions of grandeur, while he just had a cold gun, a parka, and banks to rob.

“Okay,” said Janet when she was in a ribbing mood, “what’s the Joker’s power, then?”

This usually earned her a deadpan look.

At least Len didn’t remain the only crook with a gimmick and an eccentric costume for long. Soon her husband had colleagues, fellow not-supervillains, some of whom not only willing to work together but also seemed to actually appreciate it. Their ‘powers’ were not innate, nor did they get them in freaky accidents; like Len, they either stole tech or were savvy enough to design it. And they all rejected the label of ‘supervillain’.

They were ‘rogues’. Or rather, Rogues. And Len – who knows why – took the place of the de facto leader.

Of her husband’s coworkers, Janet got on with Mick Rory the best. She liked his even temper, his slight smile, and the fact that he generally found it easy to keep a level head. Digger Harkness was his exact opposite, and her whole life she could never quite shake off the urge to slap him whenever he opened his mouth. The others were scattered along the scale between those two extremes: some were never quite sure what to do with her (or she with them – apart from making sure the old couch in the basement could be slept on and keeping an eye on their quickly-dwindling stock of coffee and beer packs), while others were more accommodating about having to spend time with ‘Len’s missus’.

One day Janet caught James pilfering one of the cookies she’d baked herself for the next night she’d have to spend alone. He looked so terrified at being caught red-handed that she refrained from rolling her eyes and told him to help himself and share with his musician friend.

She drew the line at pointing out Hartley was too skinny, though. Just because the young man was friendly and polite and, indeed, looked rather underfed didn’t mean she had any right to turn into her Aunt Debbie. She’d rather die first. Besides, she wasn’t the kid’s nanny, was she?

Nevertheless, the cookies proved a success. Like the couch in the basement, like the stocking up on beer packs, like the occasional patching-up of scrapes not serious enough to warrant a trip to the hospital, they surreptitiously became a habit.

* * * *

Over the years, Janet Snart slid smoothly into middle-age never regretting once her decision not to have children. Turned out being a woman, a wife, a friend, and a sometimes kind-of-support to a bunch of Rogues was quite enough.

Parenthood was overrated, anyway.

______________

Hope you liked, @orion-nottson 💜

Timeline notes thingy: Janet and Len met when they were about 25-27 and got married a couple of years later. ‘Dillon’ is of course Roscoe Dillon, the Top, who has a blink-and-you-miss-it cameo in the JLU episode with the Rogues, but since I don’t want to kill him or Lisa, I’m thinking he was her ice skating trainer, they fell in love, and didn’t go into villainy.

Wally was the first Flash of this universe - maybe the second and Jay was a superhero in the 1940s? - since he says “my uncle’s flying in” for the ceremony. Also, when he first pops up in this story he’s not quite 16, while Len is a bit over 30.

...I really overthink these things, huh 😅

#Anonymous #my stuff #rogues #fanfiction #ask reply #my OCs #Janet Snart

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slocumjoe · 3 years

Text

2 headcanons per companion

Cait:

- Touchy person. After learning and understanding that it doesn't inherently mean pain, learns to speak and hear it as a love language. Her touches are very jock, though. Shoulder slaps, light punches, hair ruffling, kind of an older brother form of physical affection. Often gets into play-fights with MacCready.

- Has a lovely singing voice, but no one knows because she never sings. Ever. If she sang, it would be a quiet, raspy croon. The type of singing you'd expect to hear in a castle ruins at the coast during a storm. Haunting and enchanting.

Curie:

- Amazing baker, not so good at cooking. Baking is a science, cooking is more about intuition and creativity. She's a by-the-books girl, and unless she has an exact recipe, her cooking is going to taste like anxiety. Great at breads, burns eggs. Always makes delicious muffins, her soups and stews are flavorless and soggy.

She has no idea. Thinks it's fine, and no one will dare tell her to stick to dough-based foods.

- The first time she got drunk, it was off wine. She woke up with her head in agony and on the roof of a shack about 50 miles away from Sanctuary. And with a tattoo on her back. Doesnt know about the tattoo. No one knows about the tattoo. It's a spoon. A very poorly done spoon. Possibly a ladle.

Danse:

- This man may as well be a bear. He has a big appetite, sleeps like he's hibernating for winter, is covered in thick body hair. Danse will wake up only for his natural alarm, his clock alarm, or someone walking up to him and telling him to get up. No noise or physical disturbance will wake him. Nothing. As for his stomach, he isn't a glutton, but look at him. Big guy needs fuel. He can eat a normal amount and be fine, but could get himself kicked out of Golden Corral.

- Speaking of food. He eats everything with no reaction regardless of if he likes it or not. It looks like he's bored even if he's eating the rare good meal. Food is just something neutral, with cons to certain things. He prefers plainer flavors, but is immune to spice. Can drink an entire bottle of Tabasco sauce, Sriracha sauce, and a chile sauce with no expression. The blank stare and spice immunity aren't synth things, Curie and X6 are just the opposite.

Deacon:

- Takes long walks at night through settlements. Feels at peace in liminal spaces. The ruins of Boston and all the other destroyed cities don't have the same effect. Something about being the only one aware, living unnoticed in a place filled with people. It's lonely, but nothing gives the same clarity.

- Hates subway tunnels. Go on forever, too long to see what's at the end, something could be at any corner - they creep him out. If you still, you'll hear something. Machinery even when the place is inactive. Shuffling. Even stiller, might hear breathing echoing from way down a tunnel. Hates it to hell and back. Has to take a long smoke break if he has to go in one alone.

Hancock:

- Weird with kids. Likes them, but worries about himself. He isn't the...best example. He has no filter, they can tell something is wrong about him, and he just doesn't know how to act. They're just tiny humans, but there are rules. He doesn't want to accidently hurt them or inspire them to follow his screwed up footsteps.

- He doesn't care about what people think unless he cares. Some schmuck sneering at him when he pops a mentats? That guy's issue. Nick's frown? Curie's wide-eyed fretting? The way Cait's face goes soft and her eyes crinkle in sympathy?

...that matters.

He starts using less.

MacCready:

- Extravert. He needs his space, but hates being alone. Not having a support to fall back on is terrifying. The most anxious he'd ever been since Lucy died was his time alone in the Commonwealth. Sure, he had people, but not...not people of his own. Not a family. Leaving his boy was hard and being alone just as. Was often nauseous and prone to headaches until the SoSu.

- Hates the acknowledgement of intimate body parts in public. Hancock and Cait went on a tirade of sex jokes and he was just as, if not more, squeamish as the other prudes. While exploring a vault, a sex ed video came on the projector and he was red as a tomato for hours. It didn't help that he was standing in front of it and...well. You know what happens when you stand in front of projectors.

Goes all blushy when more adult talk comes up. Apparently Danse didn't know what m*sturbation was and that moment in that room nearly had him crawling out of his skin.

Nick:

- Has a little switch in his brain that decides if he's capable of math. One day he'll be a walking calculator, another he'll forget that 7 is more than 6. He was a weird math student. Did all the reading and none of the work, aced the tests. You put him under pressure and he'll crank out the craziest equations, but you ask him to multiply two 4 digit numbers and you can see a little blue swirl in his eye before he sighs and goes to fetch scratch paper. Being a good tester doesn't mean he's not a born theater kid.

- Coat pockets are portals to other dimensions. Has everything you need. Bobby pins? Check. Ammo? Check. Food rations? Clean water? Smokes? Check. A small statue of Cappy? A page from a magazine that was never released due to a MLM scam in the publishing company? Half a pair of sunglasses?

Sometimes puts random garbage in his pockets just to screw with Ellie. Other times, genuinely doesn't know where things come from. Once found a yao gui claw in his chest pocket. It's a good luck charm, but he never picked it up and no one could have slipped it in. Jokes about the coat being haunted, but only half joking.

Piper:

- Opposite to Nick, things go missing in her coat. Nick calls it "the washer" for some reason. She'll drop a pen in a pocket and never see it again. Double checks the pockets for holes and splits before heading out. Still loses things. Once lost a whole pistol.

But more interestingly. She lost a purple gel pen.

Week later, Nick pulls a purple gel pen out of his pocket.

Has a corkboard for the theories about the connection.

- Makes an amazing stew of yao gui, carrots, potatoes, stingwing honey, and various herbs. Its a family recipe that just isn't a normal stew, there's something different about it. When asked, will joke that it's human meat. Very few people realize she's joking. Either way, it has a flavor that sets it apart from other stews.

The secret?

There's a mutated form of garlic in the southeast part of the Commonwealth.

Only her family knows where it grows and what it looks like.

Preston:

- Not so much of a night owl as much as he just...doesn't have a steady circadian rhythm. You can find him in the kitchen at 1 pm asleep on the counter in the middle or awake at 1 am making a 3 tiered cake. Doesn't have an alarm clock. His sleeping pattern bothers even the poorest sleepers. Danse is visibly upset when he describes his schedule.

- His history of partners, both romantic and purely sexual, is crazy. He has the most interesting and horrifying stories. One girlfriend was convinced she was the reincarnated Mistress of Mystery. A boyfriend cheated on him with his step grandmother. He was once involved in a multi-person break up because apparently his boyfriend was in a poly relationship that went south on all fronts due to a chem deal's profits going missing as they were about to split the caps.

Don't ask about Marge.

Marge was...probably something he imagined during a fever.

X6:

- His pantries and fridge have nothing but junk food. He likes vegetables and fruit, but they take up valuable sugar space.

Once ate a giant, 200+ year expired cheesecake and puked for an hour. When Nick found out, popped a fuse. X was out of commission for...so long. Turns out he's lactose intolerant.

- Has been flirted with so many times. Each time, turned pink and lost all control of his words. He becomes a stuttering, cherry-cheeked mess at romantic interest. Not because he reciprocates, he just wasn't trained for it. There is no protocol for "Wanna come back to my place?"

Someone kissed his cheek and he actually ran and jumped out of a window to escape. Hancock has it on video and sometimes watches it to produce serotonin.

#fallout 4 #fo4 #paladin danse #nick valentine #robert joseph maccready #gangpost

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marcholasmoth · 3 years

Text

OSRR: 2590

the family cookout was.

well.

not good.

my grandmother who is a pain in everybody's ass started talking to me and didn't fucking stop.

she asked why joel was there.

"joel doesn't like people."

"that's too bad, for you."

"why? i don't like people, either."

"really?!? i had no idea."

"yeah, i'd rather be in my room."

"i had no idea, i always thought you loved being the center of attention."

"nope. i just got really good at hiding it."

and then she didn't fucking leave me alone. she kept pestering me about how she always thought i was so happy and had lots of friends.

"no, gramma. i didn't have friends until about two years ago. i was bullied my entire childhood."

she was so surprised. why. because she never fucking opened her eyes? fuck off, old woman.

and then she asked me what i wanted to do for a job and i told her i wanted to be an astrophysicist. she of course equated it to being an astronaut. which, yknow, is the real dream, but i can't be one.

"i don't qualify."

"why? is it because you're a woman?"

"it's because i have depression."

no, you misogynistic asshat, it's not because i'm a woman. it's because your fucking family cursed me with bad mental health and bad eyesight.

so let's recap. my grandmother has:

made me talk about the fact that i don't want to be there

and continued to talk to me anyway

reminded me that i was bullied my entire fucking life

and then implied i was less than a man

WHILE STANDING RIGHT IN MY FUCKING FACE.

this woman crossed so many of my boundaries i fucking left. i went inside and i stayed inside. i said goodbye to no one.

my mom said to me later, "i couldn't tell if you were having a good time talking to her or not."

me, internally, "it's because i can mask really well."

she said, "if you ever need me to rescue you from her, look at me and tap your nose."

me, externally this time, "if you ever see her talking to me, i don't want to."

i fucking hate my grandmother. she is a pain in my ass and a thorn in my side and i would be so much better off of i didn't have to deal with her. ever again.

jesus christ.

ANYWAY.

i went to go see shang-chi and the legend of the ten rings with joel and his family after the fucking fiasco at home. it was really good. i also counted the number of white people in it who were main or recurring characters. there were no white main characters. there was one white recurring character, and he was romanian. so overall, the american white people count is at a big fat zero. which was really fucking nice.

but seriously. it was really good. plot, characters, action, no romance. it was good. you get sorta-awkward wildly attractive best friends on an adventure with the main guy's sister. so good. SO good. it's a movie about family and connecting to your heritage as much as it is about legends and MCU elements and stuff, and it was a really beautiful blend of artistry of all kinds.

definitely recommend seeing it. i'll likely see it again. it deserves it.

anyway, after the movie, i wanted ice cream, so joel and i went on an adventure in search of ice cream. we went to moo's; they close at 8 on weeknights. sad. i ask joel to check hayward's; they're open until 9, and it's quarter past 8 at that point so we were good to go. we made it there and got ice cream and enjoyed it in the parking lot.

on the drive to merrimack to hayward's, i thanked joel for coming with me on this adventure, even though i ended up going the wrong way. he said i could've dropped him at home, and i said, kind of in a tiny voice, "but i know i said i wanted ice cream, and i didn't want you to be disappointed by not getting some."

he said something that kind of surprised me, even after all this time.

joel said, "i didn't come because i wanted ice cream. i came with you because i wanted to spend time with you."

which gave me pause. we've been dating for almost two and a half years, and it still is weird to me for someone to want to spend time with me.

and then he said something like, "it's like i like you or something. a little bit. silly."

which also caught me off guard.

fuck. i'm gonna have so much material for christine next week.

but it was nice to spend time with joel. he's not an emotionally verbose person, so it was odd to hear all of that, but i gotta say? it was really nice. weird, but i guess i needed it. do i still need it? should i ask joel for more reassurances? i don't want to be that person.

anyway.

also, the one saving grace of the cookout earlier was the fact that i got to talk to FF almost the whole time. it was so nice!! they sent me an updated selfie with the newly redone hair, they sent me pictures of her puppy who is still an angel and i love her, and we talked a little bit about the incident in the discord, and then a bunch of random things, but it was really, really nice to spend time and just talk with them again.

buuut yeah. i think that's all. good day, minus the grandmother. yeah.

#molly rambles #operation srr #osrr #2000s #2500s #sunshine boy #kaiku

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woulddieforperrytheplatypus · 4 years

Note

My mind was plagued with thoughts of the episode where the kids think Perry laid an egg and the comic where Perry saves a baby platypus from Doof, and that got me thinking: what if Perry was actually a dad to a baby platypus? One possibility is that Perry wouldn't want his child to become an agent at such a young age and would rather have his kid decide if they want to do it when they're older, but I believe that either way, the young platypus would inherit Perry's anthropomorphism.

oh my god I’ve never even thought about Dad!Perry before 🥺 I thought his relationship with the Flynn-Fletcher kids was wholesome but that has some real potential to become the superior relationship

obligatory “read more” to save everyone who doesn’t care how I feel about Dad!Perry

Okay first I gotta ask how we think this would happen. Is it the egg from Perry Lays An Egg that hatches, except it really is a baby platypus and Perry ends up taking it in because no one else can? Or is it Perry taking one of Doof’s platybabies home? Or is it trans!Perry laying his own egg? Or Perry has sex with another platypus (that’s such a weird thought lmao) and somehow he becomes the sole guardian of the egg? As the numero uno “Perry is an asexual demibiromantic platypus” stan, I kinda like the first or second one, but I also feel like the platybaby should be related to him? But at the same time Phineas and Ferb is all about how family don’t end in blood so maybe that’s not important?

Anyways onto Dad!Perry because holy shit I’m excited to explore this

I’m gonna start at the end of the ask by saying that I feel like anthropomorphism isn’t genetically inherited; I feel like it’s something that’s taught. It’s kinda a nature vs nurture type thing so I guess it’s more a psychological debate than anything, but if I had to channel my inner English teacher and draw evidence from “the text” (aka the show), I gotta bring up the koi from Attack of the 50 Foot Sister that were just kinda vibin in the neighbors’ pond at the beginning of the episode and then Monogram had to make them agents to avoid a lawsuit and by the end they were saving Perry’s ass? Which is relevant to literally nothing except that I think any baby animal Perry raises, regardless of whether or not they’re related to him by blood (or even by species), will probably turn the lil baby into an anthropomorphic lil platybaby just because of all the human and human-like influences

And now the elephant in the room (cue OWCA Files Agent E joke): how does OWCA react to the news? Which I guess is really a follow-up question to how OWCA finds out in the first place. I think we can all agree that Perry won’t want to tell them. It’s not like he sees the other agents as friends that he wants to invite to the baby shower. But Monogram would want to know if there’s a new player in the Flynn-Fletcher house not that he knows who lives there now; that’s Carl’s area of expertise. Would he have to tell them? Is there a protocol for that? Especially if it’s just an egg he picks up from The Tree™ in the backyard. That’s basically just getting a new pet, right? And sure, Monogram would want to know, but is Perry legally obligated to tell him is the question.

But Monogram has to find out one way or another, and given that Perry is the best of the best, Monogram is going to want his kid in the club. Perry would 100% say no, too, but I don’t know if it would be because he wants his son (yes it’s a boy platybaby no I don’t know why) to have his own say in his future; I think Perry would consider OWCA too dangerous for his son. I mean, we saw what happened when Phineas, Ferb, and Candace got mixed up in his job: they were almost eaten by a goozim and the tri-state area was almost taken over by an evil dictator. He would definitely want to keep his son out of that scene if he could. At least all the dangers at home are Phineas-and-Ferb-sponsored, and unlike OWCA, they would make sure he didn’t get hurt.

Buuuut Monogram is also a dumbass and doesn’t know how to take no for an answer, so he’d keep pushing. It has to be a well-known fact around OWCA that changing Agent P’s mind about anything is not an easy feat, so maybe when Monogram realized it was a lost cause, he’d try to go around Perry’s back? Maybe while Perry was at work, he’d head to the Flynn-Fletchers’ house (or send Carl again like Undercover Carl) to try to get the platybaby alone? He could explain what OWCA is and that he would make a perfect candidate. I doubt Perry would have told his son about OWCA in any detail yet other than the fact that he works there and that’s where he goes every day, so this would all be new and interesting. And then Perry either comes home when Monogram or Carl is talking to his son about OWCA or his son brings it up himself, and Perry is fuming because he made it very clear that he didn’t want OWCA anywhere near his family.

And now I can’t help but wonder if that would cause bigger problems between him and OWCA? What if that’s his breaking point, and he just flat-out quits because if they can’t respect his very few boundaries, he doesn’t owe them anything? And assuming the platybaby didn’t come from Doof, maybe that’s how they meet? Somehow he finds out that the reason there’s a new agent working his case is that Perry’s out on “permanent paternity leave” or something, and word gets back to Perry somehow (maybe Pinky heard it through the grapevine and told him? idk) that Doof wants to meet him? And Perry’s kinda wary buuuuut at the same time, Doof isn’t his nemesis anymore. If you take OWCA out of the equation, aren’t they just friends?

WAIT A SECOND

IMAGINE HOW NORM WOULD REACT TO SEEING A BABY PLATYPUS

I DON’T KNOW WHY

BUT NORM WOULD ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS BABY PLATYPUS

and Doof would get kinda annoyed because “He came here so I could meet the baby, you know,” and usually that’s enough to convince Norm that he’s doing something wrong, but this time Norm is just like, “But I love him?” And Doof expects Perry to back him up and he probably should but at the same time, his son looks so happy with Norm? Without OWCA’s training, he still has that platypus aspect to his personality that comes from both his animal instinct and how the Flynn-Fletchers treat him, so he’s just kinda snuggled up in Norm’s lap and Norm is just petting him?

And this is probably after he’s shown some human-like features and Doof knows that he’s about as human as Perry, so he asks, “Does he like being pet?” and Perry nods because duh of course he does and Doof just kinda looks at him for a moment and he’s like, “Do you like to be pet?” and Perry just fuckin decks him because no he does not yes he does and Doof just nods like, “Okay, fair enough.”

AND THEN VANESSA WALKS IN???

and she had absolutely no idea this was happening she’s about to go drop her stuff off in her room for the weekend and Norm’s like, “Look at my new friend!” and Vanessa thinks it’s gonna be something stupid but she walks over and sees the baby platypus and she starts freaking out because holy shit Perry is that yours? and obviously she needs to know literally everything there is to know about him because this is her nephew now and she will not take no for an answer.

And I feel like OWCA really wouldn’t like this? I mean, Perry completely severed ties with them over this platybaby, and now he’s bringing his son over to DEI at least twice a week to see his former nemesis? And idk what they would do about it because I don’t think there’s an actual protocol for this, but Monogram is Very Sensitive™ and he won’t stand for this.

Also and I’m totally just spit-balling here but what if, because the platybaby is kinda also being raised by the Doofenshmirtzes (and the Flynn-Fletchers but idk if that would make much of a difference here bc he has to pretend to be a mindless pet around them like his dad), he gets the best of the human and animal experience all in one, without all the shit Perry had to deal with from OWCA? And what if that somehow leads him to be able to speak? I don’t quite know how that would work, mostly because I don’t really know what prevents Perry from speaking, but we already went into that back in May so I’m not gonna go there again lol

okay I’m pretty sure it’s been over two hours since I started working on this ask but I can’t help it because this is literally such a cute idea fjdshflakfa I don’t even know if I’d be content reading this like I feel like this is just something I want to write. I kinda want to see how Phineas and Ferb would treat him, and if they’d treat Perry any differently now that a) he’s a dad and b) there’s a new platypus for them to love. I also want to see how Candace would handle probably falling in love with the platybaby but still getting annoyed by Perry. I really want to see what Vanessa and Norm’s relationship with the platybaby would turn into. Idk so much about the Doof/platybaby relationship though; I feel like I’d be more interested in how this affects the Doof/Perry dynamic instead. Something about Doof makes me think he wouldn’t be as easily swayed by the platybaby as everyone else, but the fact that Perry would now be a dad just like him would probably make him unreasonably happy. And that’s not even touching upon how different life would be for Perry now that he has a son, and he would obviously adore the little guy with his entire being, but, like, he has a son? How is he supposed to deal with that?

also I really should’ve given the platybaby a name to make this more readable and it’s a little too late for that but I hereby decree that his new temporary name until such time as this fic gets written is Horatio (unless y’all wanna hit me up with your platybaby name ideas because I would love to see them?) so welcome to the Dwampyverse, Horatio :,)

#not gonna lie i don't remember what Horatio was up to in Hamlet but I do remember that he was my favorite character in the play lol #look i have an ask #fic idea?#perry the platypus

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nightklok · 3 years

Text

Why hello it's time for me to be a nuisance and post my detailed Picklegail manifesto after a year of keeping this hidden underground, now it will be raised upground as part of my revenge plan-Under the cut is how I would've wanted their relationship to progress throughout the series-I converted a twitter thread i had into something readable so apologies if some things still don't make sense sdflkj

I like the challenge of trying to keep key elements of the show the same so Abigail won't be introduced until season 4 because I am like this. However, she would be mentioned in passing throughout the series by Pickles. The scene where Nathan mentions wanting to be a regular jackoff in Dethdoubles would probably have a few more lines by Pickles about 'settling down with that nice person you still think about' though the rest of the guys would think it's weird to think that. This would officially start in Snakes N' Barrels Part 2, the scene where Pickles began describing LA.

"Oh yeah, here's where I hosted my first concert in this small club. Got to meet a lot of fans and stuff. Especially this one girl, shit, wonder where she's at now."

This would also kinda explain why Pickles never even seemed to show interest in finding romantic partners throughout the series; almost everyone had an episode where they had a crush on someone even if it never went anywhere in the end. Pickles just never bothered dating because he knew that finding someone genuine as a celebrity was tough and he knew he wouldn't be connected as well as he did with that girl he met back in the 80s. There might also be a scene in Rehabklok where the doctors mention 'letting go of the past', which could also mean both letting go of his trauma from his family and letting go of the idea that he will get the relationship he really missed.

Season 4 comes around and now they all meet. Nathan notices how Pickles looked at Abigail like you would with trying to figure out if you recognize someone.

Nathan: "oh hey was she the chick you went out with back in the 80s?" Pickles: "Ehhh I dunno she is familiar though"

Will it get addressed by the characters? Probably not. Will it instead be painfully dragged out long because the readers will know? Yes, as per the MTL way :D

The two do eventually get some alone time. Abigail interacts with Nathan, Skwisgaar, and him one on one since they're the brains of the band and she wants to get through to them to help get progress on the album. Pickles and Abigail would get more one-on-one time; he especially becomes her translator when it comes to trying to understand what the boys are talking about when brainstorming.

They end up warming up to each other, making jokes, and probably the first time they really did comfy with each other was when Abigail asked Pickles to read the sheet music and he says seriously “I can’t read music”. she laughs thinking it’s a joke (he’s really not)

Abigail: “You know, I met someone back in the 80s who wanted to be a musician but didn’t know how to read music.”

Pickles: “Really? That’s crazy haha wonder if I met em too”

(this is in fact to piss readers off. There will be more dialogue to describe how oblivious the two really are.)

In the background of this, Nathan would be trying to impress Abigail. Her mistake would be beating around the bush instead of telling him upfront, causing very minor miscommunication.

But overall, the progress in the album is coming faster than ever thanks to Abigail's efforts. Though once again Nathan gets the dreams telling him the album isn't ready.

Pickles and Abigail pull an all-nighter to finish one of the last tracks. They get to talking a lot more about their personal lives, finding themselves having quite a bit in common. Abigail mentions meeting a singer back in the 80s who had inspired her to take up music production. After all, it would've been very hard for her to go to college at the time but the man had his own secrets too (being LGBT+ in the 80s) and he somehow managed to be successful. They don't kiss despite the tension but they do fall asleep on the couch together. Nathan sneaks into the recording studio while they're asleep and assumes they're dating which made him quickly back off on trying to flirt with Abigail. It would also make Nathan feel guilty as he realizes that Pickles is still mad at him if he won't tell him about his relationship. However, he wasn't there for that.

He catches the glow of the monitor and sees the album is almost finished. It isn't ready. He quietly attempts to delete it but the light of the monitor changing for him to delete the files slowly wakes Pickles up. He is groggy but then he realizes what's going on and attempts to stop Nathan but once again he's too late.

Abigail wakes up and quickly snaps out of her grogginess when Pickles explains frantically what happened. They both yell at Nathan for destroying their months of progress but Nathan only says, “it’s not ready. We need a better album. Trust me.” But since he doesn’t give a thorough explanation it’s hard to trust him.

Now is Going Downklok. They are in the submarine, Nathan is trying to fix things between him and Pickles but Pickles won’t have it. So he decides instead to let Abigail and him have as much free time as possible.

Nathan just talks about how great Pickles is to Abigail, accidentally dropping hints that she may have known him as the guy from before. And he does the same to pickles though he doesn’t talk to him much anymore and ignores him.

Pickles and Abigail are once again alone at the recording studio, both ranting their frustrations over working with the album once again. Eventually, it carried over to their own personal lives. And finally, they have the braincells to realize that maybe they did meet so many years ago. The room is so stuffy it feels like a sauna and only adds to the growing tension between. It only increased when they tried to leave the studio to remain as professional as possible but one of them instead locks the door. They both end up making out and eventually having sex in the recording studio.

Years of pent-up frustration, loneliness, and overall everything that had led up to the moment washed over. They decide to keep a secret relationship afterward because even though they did find each other, much like in the past, they found each other at the wrong time.

The dinner scene comes up. The two sit feet apart just to make sure no one would be suspicious. Nathan is at his height of frustration because he knows he had to delete the album but everyone is mad at him. He gets a little too drunk, and like the friend he is, outs their Relationship like a drunken wedding speech. Pickles quickly refutes that, instead he screamed at him over broken trust, deleting the second album that Charles had made sure the public wasn't aware and finally decided to quit the band. The news spreads like wildfire.

Abigail is quickly put to blame however it lasted very short since there became other conspiracies surrounding it. Nathan did say quite a lot after all to the point where it’s clear Abigail wasn’t part of the equation. But of course, some people blame her still and she decides to lay low. Pickles has to deal with his own consequences too so he decides to stay at her parents’ place with her as they wait for the news to blow over. While he’s happy to finally be with her, he does miss music terribly. Specifically, he misses playing with Dethklok.

She reminds him he can always talk to Nathan to sort things out but he knows Nathan isn't the type to apologize. The day of the concert comes, things happen as expected in the show. He doesn’t come home because they are in the submarine and he has to explain everything to her through a phone call where he’s beginning to break down, saying he has a terrible feeling that things will never be the same. She tries to calm him down but given how Selacia’s appearance is all over the news, she has the same feeling. They reunite briefly before the funeral.

I haven’t decided on the official ending so here’s ending one:

Toki offers to give up his seat so Pickles can sit next to her. He accepts as he doesn’t want to sit anywhere near Nathan. Magnus seems bothered but doesn’t say anything. There would be a funny scene of them just recreating 'Hello Magnus' 'Hello Pickles' once again.

But Magnus' tension quickly dies down when he hears them whisper to each other. He sees them hold hands discreetly and relaxes.

Magnus: "So I see the rumors are true between you two?"

Pickles: "I-yeah. What are you gonna fuckin' do about it?"

Magnus: "Nah, nothing. Just happy for you, is all."

Magnus does gain Pickles' trust enough to let his guard down by just sharing small talk. When the service begins, MMA texts Magnus over why Toki is sitting so far and how the plan is ruined. Magnus is hesitant to respond for a few moments (regret over what's to come, perhaps?) but he goes through and texts back that there is a change of plans but this plan would be better.

Well, couples would do anything to make sure the other is safe in such extreme circumstances.This plan could be much better, after all.

Ending two: pretty much exactly as canon. Pickles probably a lot more emotional- The end :D

#metalocalypse #pickles the drummer #abigail remeltindtdrinc #picklegail #my writing #I am surprised i managed to get this down #was it wise to post this when the big talk is the movie?#maybe but its part of the plan I think fskjl #gonna @ this to brendon small as my cover letter to let me be a writer just wait fdjld

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botanyshitposts · 5 years

Note

Whats a lichen if not a plant

(Note: writing this response with Capitals™ bc its long and kind of hard to read otherwise, I’m trying to do that more with my longer posts)

Either an ecological event or a superorganism, depending on how you look at it.

To explain this. like. we do not ‘know’ what a lichen is. We know like, what they are, or at least we’re getting increasingly closer to finding out everything that makes up a lichen, but lichenologists have really struggled to define it as like, A Sole Thing. Botanists and mycologists of the past thought lichens were primarily fungi, because when you dried one out and weighed it, most of the dry weight was fungus; this is why today we still name lichens based on their fungal components, while it turns out that the give and take of all organisms in a lichen are pretty much equal.

It’s a symbiotic relationship, we’ve known that for a long time, but now we know, for instance, that some fungi can pair up with different species of algae to make different lichens. How can we reliably name something after it’s fungus if that fungus can pair up with different things to make multiple different ‘species’? And as of 2016 we know that lichens can have up to four different players: a fungus, an algae, a yeast, and (in some families) a second fungus, previously thought to be parasitic on the lichen itself.

I will personally argue that lichens are an ecological event. To me, this theory gets down to lichen reproduction, which is….completely off the shits.

Lichens can reproduce in a few different ways, the simplest ones being 1. a piece of lichen breaks off and lands in a fitting environment, creating a new lichen that’s a clone of the mother system, and/or 2. a lichen has special organs that release specially-made ‘mini lichens’ that have the main components packaged together into little ‘spores’ (these organs are called isidia and soridia, and look slightly different), creating a similar result to #1 with a clone of the mother system.

Now, you may be wondering: ‘But lichens have sexual structures. can’t they have like, Lichen Sex™?’. Which. Like. This is where it gets wild, because it ties back to the ecological mystery of how lichens ‘make new lichens from scratch’ so to speak.

The thing is, those sexual structures don’t have the components paired together. They only produce sexually-made spores of the fungus, and if these spores land in the right conditions, they won’t form a lichen, they’ll form a non-lichenized version of that fungus. So, conventionally, as we currently understand it, the way for them to form a new lichen would be for two compatible spores- one algae and one fungus, or like, one algae and one fungus or one yeast, we don’t know how those other components fit into the equation yet– to meet in the right conditions, under which case the pair recognizes each other and starts to spontaneously go down an entirely different developmental path to become a lichen. Keep in mind that lichen and algae spores are like…everywhere in the air and in the world around us, just the majority of them don’t find the proper growing conditions and die, so this does happen enough to make all the lichens we see on a day to day basis.

But. There are agonizing mysteries about this process. For example:

-We do not know how the algae and fungal spores, when they meet, know that they’re compatible in the first place. Like, on a cellular level.

-We do know that after a certain point, the organisms involved are locked into their developmental path. They need to meet at an extremely young age (as spores) to become a lichen. If a mature fungus and a mature algae meet, nothing happens, even if they would have been compatible as spores.

-Science, to my knowledge, still has not yet been able to replicate the ‘lichens being made from scratch’ process in a lab. The spores will recognize each other and start developing on a microscopic level, and then they’ll just….stop developing and die, which is why we can only produce new lichens in a lab by growing sterilized fragments from old lichens. Whether or not we’ve just been like, missing all the ‘ingredients’ and you need a yeast or second fungus or something to finish the process, I have no idea.

In conclusion: Lichens are mysterious soups. Lichens, to me, aren’t a thing that lives, but more like a thing that happens between living things. It’s an event of several different things coming together to proliferate on a tree or a rock or wherever, and they are everywhere, and we do not know everything about what they are or how they work. Some people, again, will call them ‘superorganisms’, which isn’t wrong either, but I personally like to think about them in a weird like…..temporal sense? Idk man they haunt me every day of my life.

#i got a request a couple weeks ago to do a crash course on lichens like i did with moss #and im hoping to get it done but also like. look at this mess #what does it MEAN #Anonymous #lichens #plont asks #asks

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wastelandcrown · 4 years

Text

logan lark’s adventures in trying to appease his parents

CHAPTER 7: you matter to me (the terrifying tales of the grimm monarchy)

Summary: Logan Lark is a fairly average high school student. By all means, he should be impressing his parents on all grounds. Except...he doesn’t exactly have a social life. So after his parents give him puppy dog eyes, he decides to join the local theatre's youth production. Good grief...His life is about to get weird isn’t it?

Warnings: Potential ooc behavior, Mr. and Mrs. Grimm’s A+ parenting, panic attacks, unconventional sibling problems/dynamics, very brief disappearance (If I miss something please tell me!)

Notes: This fic is based off an idea from @under-the-blue-moonlight. If you wanna be tagged in chapters, please ask!! All feedback is very welcomed, I didn’t have anyone to beta so *sighs loudly*. This chapter is kinda angsty and opens up some fun new plot relevant strings. I also want to make it clear that I will be demonstrating Roman putting in work to fix his mess ups in later chapters as well! He’s got some loose ends to tie up, and he will do so.

Pairings: Intrulogical, Eventual Rociet, Creativitwins

Tagslist: @under-the-blue-moonlight @why-should-i-tell-youu2 @im-actually-ok @hauntedturkeycalzonedreamer @croftersjam15 @rainbowsixth @snaketho @wasinotwantedatthisexactsecond @a-soul-among-the-stars @sweet-razz-tea @the-cactus-lord @genderlessfish

Janus’ eyes move to Logan, they seem to communicate without a breath between them. Logan takes nothing but his phone with him when he heads into the hall, but it’s far too late. Remus is nowhere in sight.

Roman takes a shuddering sigh, places his head in his hands, and leans against the makeup counter.

“I’m-I’m sorry-I don’t-I don’t know what that was-”

“Yes, you do.”

The room feels so uncomfortable, the tension could be cut with a knife. Roman knows Janus well enough to know his glare cuts sharper than any weapon could ever. Especially to him. His face stays firmly planted in his hands, hiding from the truth he’s been avoiding for far too long.

“Roman, look at me,” Janus orders.

He listens and keels back in shame at the look of anger and disappointment on his friend’s face.

“Tell me the truth, why are you doing this?”

It’s a good question. For all it’s worth though, he doesn’t know. Which seems like the cop-out of the century, but truly...he has no clue at the moment. That, however, is not an answer Janus will accept and not one he will accept of himself.

With a deep breath, he thinks “Alright, Roman. Be honest. Why are you doing this?”

Within moments he gets it and it is the easiest conclusion he’s ever come to. The twins have always had a very sturdy dichotomy. Remus was a messy and wild child growing up, while Roman was clean and polite. When they played, there was always a good and just prince and an evil conniving duke. There were good marks and bad marks. Good ideas and bad ideas. Clean and messy. Good and evil. Something nice and something terrible. Even in the eyes of their parents. It didn’t matter to them as children, Remus even seemed to enjoy it on occasion. Looking back, he only ever liked being “bad” when he got to choose it. When they played in their yard and there was a choice between swimming in the pool and scooping water onto the grass to “drown the bugs”, he was the happiest child in the universe. When the school called their father and told him that Remus had been in another fight, he looked like someone had ripped his soul from his body. It didn’t matter the reason he was fighting, he was “bad”. Roman had always thought the merit of the fight was dictated by why you were fighting in the first place, but apparently, he was wrong.

The dichotomy they played into was fun! It was! For a while, at least. Then Roman began being berated by everyone around him for acting similarly to his brother. Then Remus was the new social outcast months before they hit middle school. Then it wasn’t fun anymore. Being “good” was stressful and lonely. Teachers, classmates, friends, family, everyone equated “good” with perfect. Perfection is a hard burden to bear alone and twelve years old. Roman’s mind drifts to when they split up. When the dichotomy became less of a two-person game played for fun, and more of an ugly sweater from an aunt that they had to wear to every formal event. It was hard, it was always much too hard. It hurt him. Recently, he realized the much heavier burden of being “bad”. The stress and loneliness must be tenfold when everyone beats into your brain that you are the perfect example of the “Evil Twin” trope. Even your own brother. Your twin.

“Everyone told me,”

They had been a pair once.

“‘Roman, you’re such a good kid, you’re good at everything.’”

They were a good pair. Even now. He’d worked with him just a month ago to put something together and it was amazing.

“‘There is nothing you can’t do!’”

A few months ago, he was doing something he hadn’t thought possible and making amends with his brother.

“To them, I was independent and self-sufficient,”

He wasn’t either of those things, not then and not now. He had always been a pair.

“I was perfect. I had to be.”

The catch is that he gave up the only person who didn’t care if he was perfect.

“I thought it was true, I-”

The catch is that now his actions dawn on him fully like a wave over the shore.

“I needed them to be right.”

His breath shakes, “Who am I if I’m not that?”

The wave of grief and guilt crashes into him, and all he can think about now is how much he wants to take back every single mean thing he’s ever said about his brother. He feels the sea of emotions that he’s held back take him in and drown him with ferocity. Janus sighs as Roman stares at him through watery eyes.

“Roman. You were doing so well with Remus.”

He’s right, Janus is always right about these things. Two months ago, he had been doing so much better. He and Remus were still bickering in public, but it was fun to him. Though when Remus had “glue-and-feather’d” his makeup bag, he had thrown a little fit, he laughed about it later. Remus had laughed with him. It was light and fun. May, June, and most of July were the most fun he’d had with Remus in years. They’d spent time together, helped each other with chores, ridden to the theatre together. Little, minuscule things. Things that made such a tremendous difference in Roman’s confidence.

“What happened?”

The same thing that always happened. His mother came home

There was always something different about his mother. When he and Remus had befriended Janus in elementary school, they met someone else's mother for the first time. He realized the day he had met her what made his mom so different. Lillian Devine, or as they called her Mrs.Lilli, was quite possibly the strangest woman they had ever met. The first time they saw her, Janus had seen her outside the school and made a beeline for his mother’s arms. She took him up into her arms, gave him a spin, and hugged him tightly. Roman doesn’t remember much from being that young, but he can remember the first moment he felt jealousy was when Lillian took Janus into that hug and loudly announced that she missed him. Only gone a day at school, and she missed him enough to announce it to the world. He remembers going home to a very big, very empty house. He was grumpy, clutching Remus’ hand like a lifeline as their nanny ushered them into their room and told them she would collect them at dinner time. When she collected them, Roman asked if she had missed them. She said, “I’m not your mother, am I?”.

His mother was different. When she came home, she would offer Roman a hug and give him a big kiss on the cheek. Every time, even the most recent. Like clockwork. Roman, sometimes accompanied by Remus, would wait outside the door for his mother’s car to arrive. She would exit and her heels would clack along the stone pathway. She would kiss him on the cheek when she got up the steps, offer him a quick hug, then begin to speak about her latest adventures in Paris. If Remus stood with him, she would give him her coat. Roman would always take it from him, hang it up, and follow his mother wherever she went. Recently the thought of their mother handing Remus her coat made Roman want to puke.

They’d had dinner together one night in July. On her most recent visit, she told stories of her new revolutionary fashion line. He told her all about the newest theatre show. Remus made an effort to sit with them, and it was a labour for Roman to look at his mother when he spoke instead of Remus. He was there for all his anecdotes but he would still hang off of every word just to find something to prod at. Remus stood, and his mother’s words echoed in his brain.

“Remus, dear,” His mother begins in her shrill voice, “If you’re not going to eat with us, at least go and shower. Your smell is unbecoming.”

He latches onto that conversation, that’s really when the downfall started.

“Mother, that was quite rude…” He says softly, keeping his eyes on his plate.

“Sometimes you have to tell the truth, my darling.” She laughs then, and Roman wants more than anything to get up and chase his brother.

“Speaking of your theatre production,” He turns his attention back to her, “Your father is thinking of coming this year.”

All thoughts of defending his brother leave his brain entirely. His mouth dries and he feels the onset of excitement and pure panic. At that moment he is consumed by selfishness and tries to push away the panic and think only of this dream come true.

“He’ll be happy to hear you got the lead again,”

“But Mother, I told you, I’m only-”

“Yes, the understudy. You’ll change that, won’t you, my darling? I didn’t raise you to get second place, did I?”

He was good. What he was doing was good. He couldn’t disappoint his mother, let alone his father. Truth be told, he barely even spoke to the man except for their short and brief calls on the major holidays. He hadn’t seen him in person in nearly two years. He’d outgrown the excuse of him being busy but hadn’t outgrown the fire that a visit from his father lights inside him. It became even worse when after two feeble attempts to be rid of Logan, his father called him. Unprompted, unscheduled, and entirely without cause. He buzzed when he picked up the phone.

“Roman.”

“Hello, father.” He can barely contain the happiness buzzing around in his throat.

“I have made time in my schedule to come to see your stage performance at the request of your mother. She has told me you landed the lead role again, I can’t say I’m not impressed. This is the sixth year in a row she has asked me, you know. I hope there is some merit to your casting director’s choice.”

He can barely keep himself sat down, the urge to jump around is so intense that he nearly dies. “Oh, certainly! I won’t let you down! Oh! And neither will Remus, he’s entirely spectacular in his role this year, I really think you’ll love-”

“I am not attending this production to see your brother. I trust you won’t let me down, because unlike him, you are not a failure. I will see you then, goodbye.”

In one fell swoop, his father had crushed his mood and strengthened his resolve.

“My father is coming to the production. He called me himself to confirm.”

“The man who talks to you on average thirty minutes a year is coming to our show? Please tell me you’re joking.” The shock is evident in Janus’ voice as he searches Roman’s face desperately to ensure he’s lying.

“I’m not. My mother, she-she told him I got the lead. He told me-He told me that he was impressed with my track record. Then I-Well I started talking about Remus’ spectacular performance and he...He said he wasn’t coming to see Remus and that I-” Roman is on the verge of tears, he feels the urge to crumble like a war-torn kingdom.

Janus places a hand on his shoulder, meant to be a comfort, “That you what?”

Tears track down Roman’s face as he sits and slumps over to physically display his guilt, “That I’m not a failure like him, so I won’t let him down.”

“I am internalizing so much anger at the moment, please give me a second.” Janus takes a deep breath and screams angrily out loud. Roman takes it as initiative and screams as well, but much more wet and sad.

Janus pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

“You didn’t think to tell anyone any of this?” Roman shakes his head and sniffles.

Janus mutters to himself, “Right. Of course, you didn’t. You fool.”

“We all know you’re not an absolute prick Roman. You’d obviously just pick on Logan for no reason you’re totally not super stressed or something.” He recoils at that, Janus’ face falls.

“I’m just-Roman-You can talk to me,” Janus speaks with an air entirely too soft for him.

What gets Roman’s attention is the tired and slightly sad, “Lord knows that neither of you does enough.”

“I’m here for you, even if you do some very morally shifty things. Especially if it’s all because you’re all stressed out and your daddy issues are taking centre stage in your mind.” He sits beside him now, taking Roman’s hand in his.

“I know how passionate you are, and I can tell that this isn’t how you want to do it. So, you don’t have to. You have...lots of things to make up for and apologize for. But there is still time. As long as you mean it, and you want to do better.”

Weakly, he mutters “I do.”

“Then find a way to apologize and fix it the way you always do.”

“And what way is that?” He asks with a soft smile, to which Janus chuckles under his breath.

“Facing every and all challenges with courage and honesty. Obviously,” Janus raises a thumb and wipes the tears from Roman’s cheeks with a genuine smile.

So it was settled then. Roman needed to apologize. To everyone. He was already thinking of ways to express his sorrow and regret properly, his brilliant brain spitting out lavish and somewhat laborious ideas. Janus can tell from the way the passionate light returns to his eyes and he smiles. There is work to be done.

The door slams open and an entirely too panicked Virgil stands in the doorway, “Janus-”

Work to be done later. Virgil’s breath is coming in whooping waves, his body is shaking, makeup smudged from anxious tears rolling down his face. Janus moves with purpose, approaching Virgil like a particularly protective guardian. Virgil grabs the fabric of his hoodie and tries to breathe.

“That’s it, Virgil, you’re alright,” He coos, gently placing a hand on his head.

“We can’t-” Virgil speech is messy and laboured, “We-We can’t find Remus-He’s-He’s not picking up his phone-I’m-We-”

Roman’s blood runs cold. Remus has done this before, sure. But it’s always been silly and fun and not motivated by weeks worth of stress and terrible feelings. Roman knows his words were the cherry on the cake, and nearly slaps himself for still being sat there while his brother was who knows where.

Roman grabs Remus’ bag from the floor, opening it to find his phone. There are almost fifty missed messages, most of them from a contact labelled “The Sexy Kind Of Spider” who he can only assume is Virgil.

“His phone’s still here,” He sifts through the bag some more, “Along with his jacket and his car keys.”

“Well, I’d say he can’t have gone far, but we all know how crafty Remus is,” Janus says with a drained expression on his face which only inspires Virgil to clutch his shirt even tighter.

There’s a fire in Roman now, an urge to find his brother’s newest hiding spot and somehow make it up to him. He slings the bag over his shoulder and approaches the pair.

“No need to fear, Virge! I’ll find Remus and bring him back to us as quickly as I can!”

Virgil only nods in response, prompting Janus to gently ruffle his hair. Roman leaves, knowing that the Virgil situation is in very capable hands. On to finding his brother.

He sends a quick text to Thomas debriefing the situation, playing it off as a “typical Remus situation”, and leaves the building. If Remus had been outside the theatre, he certainly wasn’t anymore. Potentially unfortunately from Roman, a certain nerd was out there looking instead. When they made eye contact, Logan approached. He looked...frazzled. Much more so than Roman had ever seen.

“There you are. I was wondering when you would come help. Remus is missing and hasn’t answered his phone.”

“He left it here, but I’m going to go and look for him.”

Logan mutters something under his breath about the inefficiency of something-or-other, but Roman does not have the time to care. Him and Logan talk for another minute, Logan even gives him his number to call when he finds him. Logan says he’s going to get more people to look, Roman only nods. He’s focused in, there’s hope for a new start still and he’ll be damned if he loses it to Remus randomly disappearing forever. He piles into his car with Remus’ bag and starts his search.

Hope turns to fear after the third hour with no signs of his brother. He had checked his house, all the old spots Remus used to love, their whole neighbourhood, Janus’ house, every department store near the theatre. Nothing. It was like a magician cast a spell to make his brother disappear. He’s on the verge of panic. His hands are shaking like a bitch and his breathing wavers with each word he mutters to himself to ease his anxiety. He has to pull over into the parking lot of the convenience store near his home. It wouldn’t be safe for him to drive anywhere anymore. He wonders for a moment how in the hell his brother disappeared so quickly. He only had about thirty minutes on foot ahead of them, how had nobody found him? He almost cries sitting at the wheel. What if he’d been kidnapped? Murdered? Taken for ransom? Wait, that’s the same as kidnapping, isn’t it? God, it didn’t matter now! His brother was gone. For nearly ten minutes he lets the situation hit him hard. Tears roll through his body and he sobs. If Remus was gone forever, what would he do? What could he do?

A worker from the store comes out from the front. They see Roman and Roman sees them. Roman couldn’t care less that they now look incredibly uncomfortable. They move to the back of the store and from Roman can see, they’re talking to someone. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t know why he’s watching. He’s still crying like a baby. The thought of having lost his brother to the universe is still making his head pound. The worker gives whoever they’re talking to a smile, walks back inside the store, and from the till inside they give Roman a reassuring smile as well. He gives them a thumbs up. He takes a deep breath. He needs to pull himself together and find-

When Remus turns the corner from behind the store, Roman goes for the door handle before he can think. The sight of his shivering, tear-stained, obviously upset brother has him moving. He rips the door open and scrambles out. He trips over the edge of the car door and it doesn’t even matter. His palms and knees scrape against the concrete, ripping the skin on his hands and hurting his knees. He doesn’t care. It stings and he doesn’t care. The second he’s on his feet again he bolts at Remus and throws his arms around his chest. His head is firmly locked between Remus’ neck and shoulder, he’s grabbing at his shirt like a lifeline. His breathing is erratic, the tears are back now and back with a vengeance. His knees are shaking. He hadn’t even recognized how terribly and horribly scared of losing his brother he even was. Feeling it now was like the first breath of autumn air in your summer lungs. Remus stands there, just stands there. For a moment, the buzzing of his mind recognizes someone saying his name. Then there are arms around him. He’s being squeezed within an inch of his life. He doesn’t mind. He will never mind again.

All Roman’s scared voice can squeak out is a loud and cracking, “I’m sorry!”

They stand together in the chilly late-august afternoon air, in full sight of any neighbours or employees at the store, for five minutes. They sway slightly. Remus doesn’t say a word. Not one passes through his lips. Remus pulls away, only to take Roman’s hand and drag him to the car.

“C’mon you crybaby, let’s go home.”

Roman just nods and doesn’t comment on the tears on Remus’ cheeks. Remus takes the driver’s seat and Roman piles into the passengers’ side. He holds his brother’s bag in his lap, he squeezes it tightly. The drive home is only a few minutes, but Roman’s breathing calms enough to the point where he can rationalize texting. Janus, Logan, and Virgil all get a very simple text, but it’s enough to explain the situation.

‘Found him. We’re going home. He’ll call you in a bit.’

They pull into the driveway, shuffle into the house, take off their shoes. It seems weirdly unreal. It’s like Roman has entered some twilight zone where he and his brother get along. A twilight zone that Roman hopes to make a reality. Like he’s an upset kid again, he takes his brother’s hand and remains resolute in not crying again as he leads him through their empty house. The maid is there, she sees them pass. She doesn’t say a word. She watches the obviously upset twins make their way down the hall and into Roman’s room. Remus lets Roman take him by the shoulders and sit him on his bed. They stare at each other for a moment, unsure of what to say.

Roman takes the first step, “You scared me, Remus.”

Remus looks away, “I didn’t think you’d care, really…”

“Of course I’d care! Remus, I-I always cared! And I meant it when I said that I am truly sorry!” He’s crying again, and frankly, he feels a little stupid.

“I kinda figured when you ran at me crying like a crazy person,” His brother picks up the end of his blanket and wipes his face with it, “You’re crying a lot today.”

“I’ve had a quite terrible afternoon, I think a little emotional distress is warranted.” He huffs and crosses his arms over his chest, Remus smacks the blanket gently across his cheek.

Remus ushers him in again, nudging his head against Roman’s stomach and wrapping arms around his back. Roman stands between Remus’ legs and holds his head like the precious thing it is.

There’s a shudder of a breath from each of them. Both of them are so painfully aware of how long it’s been since the last time they sought out each other for comfort like this. There’s something so familiar in it. The warmth that Roman remembers from a childhood spent at each other’s sides. They used to be so close that they shared a bed by choice. He spent nights asleep and calm holding onto his brother. This feels like that. Something so personal and so old. Remus starts to cry again and it’s a messy sob that makes Roman’s ears ring. He squats down to look Remus in the eyes, taking his hands in his.

“I didn’t mean it, Rem. I don’t think you’re a failure-I-” Remus cries harder, he does his best to wipe the tears with his fingers.

“You-You mean much more to me than I’m sure I've let on in recent years.” There’s a tenderness and honesty in Roman’s voice that feels good and right.

“Mother and Father have been driving me insane, pressuring me to say and do things that I frankly don’t believe in.” The feelings he’s sharing now are lightening something in Roman’s chest, and from the look on Remus’ face, his words are more than on the right track.

“Not anymore. I promise to you that from now on I am going to do everything I can to make up for the terrible things I’ve done.”

Remus smiles at him, teary-eyed and covered in snot. It’s not gross to Roman, not right now, because Remus looks better.

“Can you start by getting me some water?” Remus’s hoarse voice coughs out, Roman is on his feet and goes to the kitchen as quickly as he can.

With two glasses in hand, he hurries back. He stops at the door. Inside, he hears Remus talking. He’s on the phone with Janus, who sounds more than upset. He goes in, gives Remus the glass, and turns to leave for privacy reasons. His brother grabs at his wrist and tugs him back. He sits beside Remus and they drink their water. He keeps his mouth shut and listens to the ways in which other people love his brother. Janus is angrier than anything else. The heart-palpitating rant that ensues is wildly emotional. He talks about how much the incidents of this afternoon scared everyone, goes off on tangents about the risks of running off and not telling anyone, tells him with the most love in his voice that he was worried about him. Remus promises not to do it again, Janus only sighs in a loving way. Janus brings up his talk with Roman, emphasizes his support of both of them, and lets Remus be on his way. Virgil is next, and he’s quiet. The call is full of little silences, Virgil takes breaks between sentences. Stops mid-word to take a breath and keep his wits. He tells Remus that he scared him. Tells him that he cares about him, no matter what. That he loves him and wants the best for him. He doesn’t use those words exactly, but Roman reads between the lines.

They’re fairly average calls considering the circumstances and their relationships. Roman sees Remus hesitate as his fingers ghost over the call button under Logan’s contact. He’s saved as “Boobear” with a blue and green heart. It’s by far the most normal of the names on his list. It’s by far the sweetest as well.

“Something wrong?” He asks, and Remus gives him a shaky smile.

“I’m worried about what he’s going to hate me now or something,”

It’s almost the stupidest thing Roman had ever heard. He might not get along great with Logan, but he’s not blind. The little nerd is wrapped tightly around Remus’ finger. He’s seen Remus hang off of Logan and say all kinds of crazy and vulgar things, only to get a small reprimand or occasionally an annoyed-but-loving smile. Remus can spout off in a rant about nothing in particular, only to have Logan hang onto every word and provide commentary and factual corrections. There is nothing in the world that could shake away the Logan Lark who was smiling and dancing in a field with his brother only a month ago.

“With the way he looks at you,” Roman chuckles, “I wouldn’t be surprised if this made him love you more.”

Remus blushes furiously, and instead of dignifying Roman with a response, he hits the call button.

Logan picks up the second it goes through as if he was waiting by his phone for Remus to call him. The intense emotion in his voice makes the twins do a double-take. He’s normally so straight and narrow. Measured. Collected. There is an air to the typical Logan that has vanished now. Roman wonders why he couldn’t show this side on stage more often.

“Remus? Please tell me this is you.”

To cover up his anxiousness, Remus flirts terribly, “Heya hot-stuff, what’re you wearing?”

There’s a relief filled laugh on the other side of the phone, “There’s my answer. Are you alright?”

“M-hm! You’ll never guess who made me feel better with a shit ton of groveling!” There’s an air to Remus’ voice that conveys humour.

“Remus.” Logan sounds so serious, Roman watches Remus sigh and roll his eyes at the care.

“Yeah, Logie. I’m okay. I mean it.”

Logan speaks again, that same serious voice, “I’ve been worried all afternoon.”

“Yeah...”

It’s quiet for a second, there’s a tension of the unspoken affection the pair have for each other floating in the room.

“I feel this is as good a time as any to tell you that I don’t think you’re a failure at all. You-I...In truth, I find you quite interesting to be around. You...You are...immensely talented in my humble opinion. I...While I understand we haven’t been friends for long- I hope it is not presumptuous to say that we are friends-But our relationship is...important to me. I enjoy your company and all you do for me. It...It is a true pleasure to be in your company, Remus. I-”

Despite the blushing on Remus’ cheeks, he softly mutters “You’re ranting again, Lo-Lo.”

“My apologies,” Logan nearly whispers out, there is affection seeping from his voice, “However, I meant everything I said.”

“I think you’re the shit too, babes. Sorry for worrying ‘ya.” There’s that affection again, Roman has never heard his brother sound so affectionate.

There’s another pause, Remus speaks again “I’ll make it up to you.”

“If you make a sex joke at a time like this-” Logan scolded, they could almost see his grimace.

“No, I mean it,” Remus laughs, “We can do something together. To make up for it.”

“I’d like that.”

Roman looks to his brother, the phone, and then his brother again. To him, it sounded as if Remus had just asked him out on a date, but he knew well enough that Remus and Logan were probably too dense to understand the implications.

“I’ll uh-I’ll talk to you ‘bout it later then, kay boobear?” Remus asks while staring at Roman, confused about the ‘oh-my-god-you-totally-like-him’ look he’s getting.

“Alright. Goodnight, Remus.” Logan’s voice drips honey and roses as he wishes him goodnight, there is so much Roman can hear wrapped up in that simple sentence and it’s a wonder to him.

“Goodnight.”

The call ends and Remus lets out a dreamy sigh.

Roman winds back and smacks Remus with a pillow in excited fervour.

“You did not tell me you were that in love with Logan!”

“Wha-You asshole!” Remus takes the pillow and smacks him back, “I am not in love with him!”

“Yeah right! That was the gayest conversation I’ve ever heard!” He nearly shouts, getting up and grabbing more pillows from the collection at the head of his bed.

“We didn’t even say anything juicy!” Teases Remus, grabbing pillows at lightning speed, preparing for what he knows is coming.

“It was in the tone! And don’t say juicy like that you dolt!”

Remus hits Roman with a pillow to the face. With an excited cackle, Roman launches an attack, throwing as many of his numerous pillows at his brother as he can. There is an all-out war within seconds. Both boys are shrieking and laughing. By the end of the pillow fight, they’re breathless and more joyful than they have been all day.

“How do you feel about a sleepover?”

Good. Remus feels very good about a sleepover. That night while laying in Roman’s dumb red sheets, cuddling up to his brother in the way that little kids do, he feels happy. Really happy. Genuinely happy. Logan had told him that it was hard to love somebody when they didn’t act as if they loved you back, and he was right. The smartass was always right. Now though, he felt it. His brother had cared, ran for him like he was the only thing that mattered to him in the world. He loves Roman. Apparently, Roman loves him too. His brother hugs him closer in his sleep. That’s more than enough for his brain to quiet tonight.

Addendum; August 20th -

Remus went missing this afternoon. It worried me greatly, but he turned out alright. Things between the Grimm twins seem to be better. On August 21st, they arrived to practice bickering but holding hands. They both appeared near ecstatic all day, needless to say, it was tiring. There will be no more need for the “Roman Incidents” section of this notebook.

Circled in red pen, written largely at the bottom of the page, underlined three times over.

Note: Investigate your true feelings for Remus Grimm.

#sanders sides #sanders side fic #intrulogical #creativitwins #AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #i love tHEM #next chapter is intrulogical AND rociet....#i can write two things: over-dramatic dork loves different kind of over-dramatic dork and BROTHERS WHO CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER #ALSO THIS IS NOT SHIP FOR REMUS AND ROMAN I CANNOT STRESS THAT ENOUGH #the little addendum from logan <3 #hes taking back his fic TODAY

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alovevigilante · 3 years

Text

George Carlin: well, Kari, long time no speak! How goes it?

Kari: could be better.

George: what’s up?

Kari: well, I’m tired.

George: of what?

Karl: not sure. Just an extended sense of ennui.

George: usually when you’re bored or tired, it’s an indication of a resistance to something. Any idea what that could be?

Kari: life?

George: maybe, but let’s talk for a minute. How’s your social life these days?

Kari: virtual, and mostly non existent. I feel, judged, and horribly misunderstood. I just feel like people think pretty poorly of me, not quite sure why.

George: are you positive of that fact?

Kari: no, but I can usually tell by their actions. You know, non responsive, or short with me, or calling me a nazi, that kind of thing.

George: yes, that does sound, unusual.

Kari: well, I feel like there’s one main person responsible for all this, and it’s me. All I know is that because of all of these weird occurrences with people as of the last 6 months, I’m upset, and have lost about 87% of the people I used to associate with. And the other 13% I’m looking at suspiciously. So, yeah, it hasn’t been great.

George: Kari, you know we love you, right?

Kari: we?

George: yes, the people who truly do. So why are you creating issues where there are none.

Kari: see, that’s just the thing. There’s a huge issue.

George: and what’s that?

Kari: I have changed.

George: how so?

Kari: I guess I can explain it this way, the things I tolerated before, I can no longer. It’s as simple as that.

George: can you give me an example?

Kari: no.

George: ok, how am I supposed to help you if you clam up like this?

Kari: well, you are a higher version of myself repped by the late george Carlin, so technically you should have all the answers since they’re inside of me. So, I’m ready. Solve me, please.

George: oh man... listen Keillor, you are a mess, you know that?

Karl: yes, that’s why we’re talking.

George: the perception you have of the people you associate with may not be accurate to the intention they have toward you. Have you ever stopped to think that they are reacting to your new energy?

Kari: yeah, well, could be. I understand that I’m holding some mixed vibes, and that can be confusing, but the majority of my new energy is love. I feel like people think I’m faking it, or being narcissistic or passive aggressive. I’m absolutely not. I’ve just also included love and respect for myself in the equation now. I neglected it before. I allowed other’s opinions of what I should be like or do with myself to over run my life. Like there was something wrong with me because others disagreed or didn’t approve. I’m not having that anymore. Now I’m trying to be honest and genuine to myself and others too. And instead of placating and allowing what I deem as unkind treatment, I leave. I’m still hurt from the bizarre of the past, and yes, upset. And weirdness keeps persisting, because I’m still upset about it, I suppose.

George: and maybe because you focus on it?

Kari: perhaps.

George: ok, well, how do you know it’s you? Maybe others have things going on that you don’t know about.

Kari: true, but even so, it still doesn’t feel right, or good.

George: the way out, is through. Have you gone through?

Kari: through what?

George: have you discussed this with anyone?

Kari: slightly. It’s just that, people aren’t dumb. Ok? They know what they’re doing as they do it. I’m just not into feeling, so isolated I guess. Or I am, cause now I hide at home and dread leaving my house.

George: right. Can you at least tell me what has gotten you to this point?

Kari: well, I think to make nice, I have allowed myself to be, treated unkindly sometimes in the past. And by that I mean I have allowed them to voice their distaste for me, and the way I think and do, without sticking up for myself. They felt fully comfortable telling me what they thought about me, and in doing so I didn’t feel supported or cared for by them. Now, i am done with that. And I also don’t feel accepted by people for being me. I think that’s the crux of it, really.

George: ok, a beginning. So, you don’t feel like people are comfortable with you.

Kari: that’s the sense I get, yes.

George: do you think that your perceived POV has anything to do with it?

Kari: probably. I’m just too tired to fight. I feel if people really cared there would be a mutual understanding of kindness, and well, effort.

George: Kari, the effort you make in relationships isn’t always going to be reciprocated. So now what?

Kari: well, I’m fine with 80/20 sometimes, me being the 80, but when it’s all the time, it gets to the point where I have to wonder, why I’m in it at all.

George: right. So, instead of talking honestly about it, you split, right?

Kari: with some, yes. I’m not into ridicule, especially at my expense, ever. It’s just not my sense of humor. And well, I feel like people know what they’re choosing to say and do before they say and do it, so, I leave, out of respect for their dislike of me, and respect for myself, because I don’t appreciate that behavior.

George: yes. I can see that you are pleasing the people greatly by never speaking to them again.

Kari: well, to me it’s about respect, and investment. Half of the people felt they can rip on me to my face, and the others I feel tolerate my existence, but aren’t too gung ho about me and my ways in a general sense, and it comes out in some slightly irregular ways, so why feed into the charade? If I’m not respected or regarded well, it’s fine, but I won’t beg for proper treatment. It’s just an old dynamic that needs to be eradicated, that’s all. Some people will be willing, and some won’t be.

George: seems like you have it all figured out.

Karl: well, I thought I did, but I don’t. Now, I’ve told myself that I can focus myself out of it, but it’s hard, cause as you can clearly see, it still bothers me. And I’m internalizing my perceived hate from others and not treating myself well in the process.

George: yes. Very honest. So, I have an honest question for you.

Kari: shoot.

George: why aren’t you happy? They’re gone, no?

Kari: no. Because I keep reactivating the situations in my head over and over, yielding the same bad, sad, lonely feelings over and over.

George: right. Hey, kar, listen, I heard your son talking about how excited he is for Christmas this year. How’s that feeling?

Kari: I love it. It’s been so hard being at home for him 24/7 with the worlds events, but we have the house decorated, and he still loves Santa, so that’s sweet, and I love seeing him so excited and happy...

George: right. Listen, the holidays tend to shed a light on the harder relationships sometimes, and by that I mean with yourself and your feelings and your thoughts. People want things to be picture perfect. Life just isn’t, but if it is, you’re a lucky bastard. Ya see, Kari, being happy is a choice, and when you decide to focus on all the people who aren’t or haven’t treated you kindly thats pretty much all you’ll notice in your life. You’ll always feel misunderstood and slighted. You get me?

Kari: yeah, I do.

George: so go forth and have a great holiday with your family. And with everyone else, focus on where you guys do meet in agreement, ok? The fact that you all really love one another. Or, if they don’t love you, you can agree that you’re all human, and let the hard feelings go cause you’ll be the one holding them. Sound good?

Kari: yeah, thanks George. I appreciate the chat, and you.

George: hey, listen, it’s why you conjur me up in your head. Otherwise I’d be floating around or whatever the heck you think I’m doing, dead.

Kari: yeah. Ok. Talk to you later George.

George: if you remember to think of me, we definitely will.

Scene. ❤️

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