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#like this is the sibling experience its stupid and dumb and means nothing but a classic nonetheless
chocolatecakecas · 3 years
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Absolutely unrealistic that Sam and Dean didn't constantly point at some ugly drawing in a book or monster or literally anything and go "hey look that's you". genuinely embarrassing
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yeojaa · 4 years
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( GHOST IN MY BED. )
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Sometimes, hating someone is the only thing you can do.
pairing.  jjk x named f!reader.  a bit of jhs x named f!reader (but not really)?
genre + rating.   rockstar!au.  e2l (exes n enemies!).  general flangst?  anguf?  a blend of angst and fluff, tbh.  mainly angst tho.
tags / warnings.  sibling dynamics, introspective sadness, talk about not-so-healthy relationships (obviously), dumbass!jk, asshole!jk, jealous!jk, how many more jk tags can i add?, a silly reference to scott pilgrim.  nothing serious. 
beta reader(s).  @hobi-gif​ aka the loml!!!
wc.  3.1k
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chapter four.
You and Yoongi don’t fight.  It’s always been a point of pride - something to look at and smile on. 
That must be why it feels so terrible now, with his knuckles blown white and enough rage to start a war simmering within his veins.  You’ve never seen him like this:  a world away from your soft Yoon, your best friend, your beloved brother.
“Yoongi, really--” 
“No.  Stop saying that.”  Despite the fact that you know his anger isn’t directed at you - that you’re the farthest target in his mind - it still hurts, like getting caught in friendly fire.  Pinpricks of guilt spill across your skin, nerve endings shot to hell by the way his mouth curls and tears, venom laced between his teeth and draped across his tongue.  “He came here and you didn’t tell me?  I told you - I’ll kill him.”
Hyperbole, you’re sure, but you can’t help the way your heart stutters.  A little oh no for a boy who doesn’t deserve it - whose silhouette still carves a spectacularly painful hole in your chest.
“I didn’t want you to worry--”  It’s not an excuse.  It’s not meant to be.  You never lie to Yoongi.  Frankly, you don’t think you could.  
“You’re my sister.”
It’s enough of a rebuttal that you’re reduced to silence.  He’s right.  You’re family;  family don’t keep secrets.
“I’m sorry,”  you try again, feeble and emphatic.  
There’s an unbearable distance between you - a sea’s worth of sadness that rocks the rickety boat you’ve built.  You can practically see it stretching on and on, sweeping you further and further from his safe shores.  It’s an awful feeling. 
“You’re my sister,”  he repeats, suddenly so tired you worry for him.  For once, he looks that much older than you, as if five years have forced passages of experience within his pages.  “You can’t hide things from me.  Who’s going to be there for you if not me?”  
You want to rebuff him - insist that you’re stronger than he gives you credit for - but you know it’s not what he means.  More than anyone, Yoongi believes in you.  He sees your strength even when you can’t see your own;  he’s been that strength more times than you can count.  
The reality of your situation isn’t lost on you.
He’s the only one who knows everything you’ve been through.  A diary in living breathing form, full of your most shameless secrets, your deepest worries, your worst heartbreaks.  
“I know.”  Apology threads each syllable, stitches them neatly to each other.  The sincerity is blinding, bright white and earnest.  “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”  
The smile he offers is rueful, twisting the edge of his mouth in a manner you’ve adopted over the years.  You return it without thought and then, all at once, the expanse is closed.  He’s laughing - a sound that doesn’t ring true in the way you know it should - but it’s a laugh and you know everything is okay.
“Still worried,”  he returns with a quiet sigh and flick of his wrist.
You’re with him in a breath, curled against his side on the couch you’d cried yourself to sleep on just days ago.  While you’re both far closer in size than you’ve ever been - you were always a tiny kid growing up, even against Yoongi’s own slim frame - it’s reminiscent of your childhood and being caught beneath haphazardly strewn sheets and disorganised chaos in the form of blanket forts.
Dry lips find a home against the side of your head, his arm dragging you to warmth.  “You’re an idiot, you know.”  He says it in the way only an older brother can - with all the frustration and love in the world.  
You do know, intimately well, how idiotic you are.  Have been.  Seemingly always will be.
“I know,”�� you mumble, sad into the raised hood of your sweater.  “But I made him leave.”  It sounds like a child begging for praise - to be told they’ve done well.  You won’t deny you need it now.  
Good is the first thing Yoongi says, a little flippant and with a hard set of his jaw.  More comes when he catches your expression and the way the dent forms between your brows, the tiny pout of your lips.  It’s the same face you’ve made all your life - one that hits him right behind the ribs like a Whack-A-Mole game at the carnival.
“You did good, Vivi.  I’m proud of you.”  They’re bandages, sticky and adhesive on the stitches Jungkook’s visit had torn open.  “You’re great and he’s…”  There are words he’d like to use - a million scathing adjectives to paint the asshole in technicolour - but he knows better.  Knows you can’t take it, at least not right now.  “He doesn’t deserve you.  You get that, right?  You’re better off without him.”
You nod against his side but offer nothing further.  The silence speaks worrying volumes.
“You’re not going to answer him again, right?”  
Some half-mumbled non-committal response comes.  Yoongi wants to tear his own hair out.  Better yet, he wants to tear yours out.  Instead, he blows a long exhale through his nose, free hand coming to scrub across his face.  When will you learn?  
“I’m scared.”
It’s so quiet even you hardly hear it, ear tucked against the cotton of Yoongi’s flannel.  You think, for a moment, maybe he’s missed it too.  Then he squeezes you a little tighter:  a silent reassurance.
“Seeing him again just brings back so many memories.”  Every other word is muffled but it’s the most you can do.  Courage is carried quietly - too loud and you’ll shatter it.  “I thought three years would be enough.  It should be, right?”
It’s a rhetorical question;  Yoongi still debates answering it, just for his own sake.
“Maybe he’s changed.  Or maybe I’ve changed.  It could be different.”  It’s a clandestine belief and one you shouldn’t speak to life - especially to your brother.  It spills forth of its own accord, wrong for so many reasons but begging to be asked.  You have no control over it and the hope it sows somewhere within your chest.
“You can’t actually believe that.”  
It’s infinitely more scathing than Hoseok’s reaction, tearing out of Yoongi’s mouth like a bullet.  You can’t help the way you frown, brows drawn and lips pursed.  You’ve known Yoongi your whole life.  Reading between the lines feels like you’re fucking stupid but you know it’s not quite so harsh.  A frustrated you dumb idiot, maybe.
“Don’t make that face.”  
“I’m not making any face.”  
“Yes, you are.  It’s the same one you made when I embarrassed you on your first date.  Also the one you made after you threw up all over Hoseok’s shoes the first night you met him.”  The recollection doesn’t help your cause - you’re grimacing even more deeply, chagrin spilling into misery in the form of red hot heat over your cheeks.  “Don’t resent me for being realistic, Vivi.  You know he hasn’t changed.”
The silence is childish.  You know that.
“You can’t fix people.”
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He arrives with flowers.  Two full bunches of your favourite blooms - pretty peonies in shades of coral and lavender.  They’re heavy in his arms, held so gingerly it’s almost comical as he extracts himself from the vehicle he most definitely should not be driving.  He wonders whether you’ll be home - if he’ll get to see your expression when he presents them to you.  He hopes you’ll light up, brighter than the sun in the sky and better than any nightlight.  
What he doesn’t expect is someone walking up the sidewalk, gym bag slung across his shoulder like he’s getting ready to settle in for a long night.  Short - atleast a few inches shorter than himself - with a stupid face that makes Jungkook want to punch it.  Dumb shoes, too.  Who the fuck wears Off-White Jordan 1s in that colourway?
There’s a permanent scowl etched across his face as he watches from behind the tinted comfort of his car, single hand caught around the edge of the door.  He’s vaguely aware of the fact that he’s perhaps crushing the stems cradled in his arms, inked knuckles blown white around quickly crumpling brown paper.
Maybe he’s your neighbour.  Or maybe he’s going to the other house or maybe—
No, he’s definitely walking right up the front path.
The words are out before Jungkook can stop them, shouted into the quiet afternoon more loudly than he anticipates.  “Hey!”
Dumbass with the face turns, full of surprise and wandering eyes.  He hesitates halfway up your stoop, looking stupider than ever as he looks around for the source of the voice.  
Then his stare falls on the brunet with his hands full and it’s like a flip has switched - mouth hardening into a line that raises the hairs on the back of Jungkook’s neck.  He’s glaring at him (or something close to it).  
Seriously - who is this fucker?
“Can I help you?”  Hoseok speaks far more reasonably, at an octave that doesn’t shatter the peace of the residential neighbourhood.  He’s still caught on the steps, fist tight around the strap of his bag as he studies the man - no, boy - that jogs up to meet him, two rungs the only thing separating the two of them.
“Do you know Vira?”
A part of Hoseok flinches at Jungkook’s casual use of your name - like he knows you or deserves to address you like an old friend.  This kid really was clueless.
When he speaks, he’s perfectly composed, tension held tight behind his teeth.  “I said, can I help you?”
Jungkook bristles at the response, some snarky comment threatening to knock the other off his apparent high horse.  He barely catches it, grinding it down into a fine powder beneath his molars.  He has to tread lightly here. 
“I’m a friend of hers.”  Not a lie, per se.  You two were friends;  after all, you’d come when he’d called.  That meant something, right?  Had to. 
“A friend?”  Disbelief slips into place, evident in the tone of Hoseok’s voice, how his brows shift beneath his chestnut fringe.  He knows better than to believe Jungkook - has heard all the heartbreaking stories - but he can’t quite keep the worry from worming it’s way into his thoughts.  They settle uncomfortably, just beneath the surface. “Is she expecting you?”
Everything about Hoseok makes Jungkook hate him.  From the sneakers he wears to the watch on his wrist - understated, all gold, more expensive than a nerd like him should have - there’s something undoubtedly punchable about him.
It certainly has nothing to do with the fact that he’s seemingly close with you.  Definitely not.
“I was going to surprise her.”  The flowers are held aloft, gesticulated in the best manner Jungkook can manage with his arms so full.  “I didn’t know she was expecting you.”  It’s a cheap tactic - recycling words - but he can’t think of much else beyond fitting his foot into this guy’s mouth.
“She’s not.”  Sharp, sparse, with no hint of indulgence.  Hoseok’s not about to get into a verbal sparring match with Jungkook.  It’s not worth his time.  
He is, however, going to put him in his place - and easily at that.
“She’s still at work.”  Slim bundle of keys rise - two unassuming and one for an Audi.  Perhaps unnecessary but Hoseok takes great pleasure in the other’s expression.
Tch is Jungkook’s first thought before the second smacks him straight in the face.  He has a key to your place?  The fact rubs him all the wrong ways despite the fact that he has no right to be bothered;  it isn’t his home any more - hasn’t been in years.  It still hurts, though, right behind his ribs and all the way down to the tips of his fingers.
Is this how you felt all those times?  
Something like nausea builds in Jungkook’s stomach, throwing acid up the walls of his throat.  It burns and strings, licking painfully all the way into his mouth.  His teeth ache - buzz uncomfortably - and his tongue feels suddenly far too heavy.  He wonders if he might choke on it.
Then, slowly, in a voice he doesn’t recognise.  Too soft, years younger, uncertain.  “Can you give these to her?”  He hates it.
He hates even more the way Hosoek looks at him, with such pity Jungkook wants to curl it around his fist and break the older man’s teeth with it.  It’s something he’s seen a handful of times - from you, from your brother, from his worried mother when she thinks he doesn’t notice.  It never gets easier. 
It forces him into a position he hasn’t been in in years:  weak.
“I don’t think so.”  By how calmly Hoseok speaks, it’s almost as if he’s commenting on the weather or passing along a banal bit of information.  It’s far too nonchalant to be breaking Jungkook’s heart, splitting it cleanly in two.
“Why not?”  Jungkook’s petulant, a child denied his favourite toy, forced into time-out.  
That’s not for you screams Hoseok’s expression.  She’s not for you.  “I’m not comfortable with doing so.”  
The sinking feeling hasn’t stopped for Jungkook.  It goes and goes until he wishes he were six feet under, buried under ground as low as he feels.  He should leave.  He knows he should leave - if only to stop the discomfort that’s gripping every nerve, twisting them like an elbow about to snap.  
“Anyway.”  There’s boredom working its way into Hoseok’s stare, relaxing the shape of his mouth until it falls wide around a short, terse sigh.  “If you’re friends, you can get in touch and drop them off later.”  
He’s done playing gatekeeper - can feel his frustration bubbling to the surface in a way he’s not about to entertain.  He nods once, dismissive, before turning away from the so-called rockstar that seems terribly small and the farthest thing from it.
“Goodbye.”  Then he’s disappearing into your home, leaving Jungkook on the steps with his tail between his legs.
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You return home three hours later - blissfully unaware of what’s transpired.  
You set your dinner on the kitchen island, deftly unpacking takeout boxes as Hoseok hurries to your side to help.  You don’t mind when he bumps into you, knocking his hip against yours with a heart-shaped smile.
It burns a little brighter than usual.  “Good day?”  
He hums in response, sneaking a yellow tomato from the salad box he’s just popped open.  “Something like that.” 
“Something like that?”  You can’t help but echo him, a pretty parrot with shining eyes and a silk bow in your hair.  “Don’t play coy, Jung Hoseok.”  A digit closes the minimal distance between you, finding purchase against his side - right where he’s most ticklish.
He shrieks, nearly upending the fries he’s tried to dump onto a ceramic plate.
“Hey!”  Hands swat, then fold, catching your fingers between his in an awkward hand-hold.  “Keep your hands to yourself, Vi.” 
“You don’t complain normally,”  you retort.  You’re not wrong.  Skinship with you is one of his favourite things, fourth only to his dog, dancing, and a certain green-labelled soda.
“Well, today’s a special day.”  
Hoseok really doesn’t know where he’s going with his words - only hoping that he’ll find their destination somewhere along the way.  He doesn’t want to tell you too soon, all too aware of how the mention of your ex will bring this perfect moment crumbling down.  He wants to hold it, perhaps a little too tightly, for as long as he can.  He thinks he’s doing you a service, giving you these few extra minutes.
“Oh yeah?”  You’re twinkling eyes and pealing laughter, so far removed from the bag of bones and sadness of only days prior.  It’s hard to believe there’s something broken inside of there - tucked right behind your breastplate and out of sight.
“Yeah.”  
You wait for him to continue, opting instead to fill the silence with mouth noises.  He’ll tell you when he’s ready.  He always does.  
“Jungkook came by.”  It comes halfway through a bite of a french fry, the carb nearly bringing you to an early death when you choke on it.  All at once, everything spins, as if just the name is enough to upend your entire world.  Hoseok’s clapping your back, rubbing soothing circles over the cotton of your shirt, and you’re struggling to find words or breath - heaving around the sudden heaviness.
“What?”  So small, it’s hardly a word.
“He was here when I got here.”  You’re not oblivious to the careful way he speaks, choosing his words with utmost care.  You don’t miss his grip either, gentle and unyielding at your side - as if he might steady you beneath the sudden tidal wave of emotion.  
You do well, keeping your voice level once you’ve found it again.  “And?  What did he want?”
Hoseok does you the great service of pretending as if he doesn’t hear the hope in your voice.  You’re grateful for that. 
“He came with flowers.”  Not quite a laugh comes - more unimpressed and derisive than amused.  “Two bouquets, actually.”  You can feel him studying you from your periphery, his careful stare trained on your face and the dozen emotions that run rampant through it.  “Your favourite flowers too.”
Your laugh matches his own, though far heavier, as if the sound won’t form without immense effort.  “Wow.”
“Yeah.”  It’s a word you’ve heard a lot tonight.  It feels right.  One syllable to encompass every feeling you can’t properly articulate.  “He asked me to give them to you.”  
It should surprise you but it doesn’t.  Jungkook’s never been one to ask - instead taking what he wants - but it’s still funny.  Of course he’d ask that of Hoseok, as if the act itself weren’t terribly strange, the flowers an unwelcome, begging apology.  Jeon Jungkook only did what he wanted - etiquette be damned.
“I don’t see them anywhere.”  
“I told him I wasn’t comfortable doing it.”  There’s a touch of pride, glimmering gold painted over consonants and vowels.  It’s understated in the way that Hoseok always is - not how he looks, but is;  you’re drawn to it nonetheless, squeezing your fingers around his own in a silent thank you.
“I hope it wasn’t weird.”  It must have been.  It’s still the thought that counts.
Hoseok hams it up, scoffing like it’s just been another day.  “Weird?  Of course not.  I have to deal with my friend’s horrible exes all the time.  I’m practically Scott Pilgrim.”  
“Does that make me Ramona Flowers?”  
“No - but you’re my flower.”  He says it in jest, only to make you smile, because he knows you need it right now.
You try not to think of how you prefer Pumpkin, instead.
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tag list.  @jalexad @aa-ronpa @kookiesbreaky @celestialflamefairy @xjoonchildx @pars-ley @seokjinssi @youwannabelostandnotbefound @patpus @dazedjjk @koozui @jinhitwhore @always-wishing-for-rain @neverthefirstchoice @snackhobi 
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greenninjagal-blog · 4 years
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Deja Vu
I spent some time thinking about Remus having the superpower to see the future and this happened, whoops. Might write more if I get some free time.
Summary: Remus sees the future and it often involves Roman’s death.
Words: 2284
Quick Taglist: @chelsvans @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3 @lunasfriendgabby @never-end1ng-suffering @silverflame-wc @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @thenaiads @treasureofpriam
TW: Death, attempted murder, not being believed/listened to, unhealthy sibling relationships,
Read on Ao3 || My general Writing Masterlist
Remus is eight and only eleven minutes younger than Roman the first time he sees his brother get run over by a car.
He’s eight and only eleven minutes younger than Roman and its the middle of the day in summer and Roman has on bright red sneakers that match his favorite jacket. They’re on their front lawn because Mom said they were being too loud and they can’t decide on a game to play because Roman wants to play Wizards and Knights and Remus wants to play Escape from Monkey Island. Roman calls him a name, a mean one, a childish, dumb, cruel one that would mean nothing in a year, a month, a week, a minute. Remus picks up the ball by his knees and throws it as far as he can, because he doesn’t want to be the wizard who fights the knights again.
The ball hits the ground, bounces twice and drops off the curb right into the street.
And the teenager driving the silver sedan is going twenty over the speed limit because they still believe nothing bad can ever happen to them.
Remus is eight and only eleven minutes younger than Roman.
Roman is on the ground and not moving and not breathing. 
The silver sedan screeches to a stop ten feet past, ten feet too late, ten feet. And everyone is screaming: The teenager who just ran over Roman, the neighbor who had been mowing their lawn, Mom who came sprinting from the house. 
And then Remus is eight and only ten minutes younger than Roman because Roman is dead in the middle of the road. 
That’s the first time.
When he blinks, the vision is gone and Roman is in front of him calling him a mean, childish name and Remus has the ball in his hand ready to throw and a grey sedan is turning down their street going far too fast--
And Remus stumbles back and falls off his feet. His butt hits the ground hard and before he even knows what he's doing he's sobbing.
Roman twiddles over him with a bunch dumb, stupid apologies because he thinks that Remus is crying over name calling.
Not because he saw himself throw a ball towards the road and Roman died, or he threw it softer and Roman was quick enough that he survived to hear the ambulance arrive but not to make it to the hospital, or he threw it towards the house and it broke a window and Remus got grounded, or he threw it at Roman and it left a bright red mark that Remus got sent to his room for, or he dropped it and it fell in the gutter and Roman didn't talk to him for a week--
And Remus doesn't know how to explain it to anyone. He doesn't stop sobbing until Roman is grounded for making him cry and he's bundled under a mountain of blankets with Mom right next to him holding him tightly and whispering softly in his hair. When Dad comes home and joins the hug, he asks Mom what happened and she can’t answer any better than Remus can.
They talk about keeping an eye on him, about doctors, and therapy and the words quite literally go over his head. Every time that Remus closes his eyes sees the bumper of the grey sedan, and his head echoes with the sound of his brother’s body hitting the ground again and again and again.
He’s eight and only eleven minutes younger than Roman when he first sees his brother die. 
There’s no explanation for it. No reason why. But it happens again and again and again: Roman goes running around the pool and slips on the concrete turning the water red, Remus gives him a playful shove off the play set and he hits the ground just wrong enough that he never gets back up, they leave their shoes on the stairs one time too many and Remus finally knows why Mom is always so insistent that they not do that.
Mom and Dad take him to the nice doctor, who tells him these pills will help him get better.
They don’t.
Even though he wishes they would so badly. He clings to the hope that every time they change the number of pills or the amount of them or the type of them that he’ll stop seeing his brother die or get hurt or cry.
(Its not just his brother: Dad falls off the ladder while putting up Christmas lights, Mom gets scared by a spider and hits her head on the cabinets, the next door neighbor and his wife get into a fist fight, his teacher chokes on a sandwich,---)
By the time he’s ten he knows the truth: He isn’t going to get better. There are no magic pills that will save him, no amount screaming or crying or begging that will make the visions stop coming, nothing.
“Remus!” Mom cries frustrated, when he won’t let her leave for work on time because there’s ice on the deck and she’s going to fall. “You’re too old to be doing this!”
Too old to be crying about every time his family gets hurt, too old to be worried about things that can happen, might happen, won’t happen. He’s too old for anyone to believe him when he says he knows whats going to happen.
In the middle of the night, he wonders what will happen if he runs away.
And that’s when it starts: the vision of Remus in the pajamas he’s currently wearing packing his dinosaur bag with t-shirts and pants and Roman’s jacket and sneaking down the stairs only to be caught by Dad who was up for a midnight snack; the vision of him in the pajamas he’s currently wearing packing his dinosaur bag with t-shirts and pants and Roman’s jacket and struggling to get his window open, which wakes up Roman who starts crying loudly and Dad comes running; the vision of Remus packing nothing and running down the stairs to hug Dad; the vision of Remus rolling over and going back to sleep--
That’s when it starts to make sense.
Remus is ten and eleven minutes younger than Roman when he realizes he can pick and choose what vision he wants to happen of the millions of ones he can see all in his head in that instant. 
When Remus pulls Roman back before he gets scratched by the neighborhood wild cat he smiles and tells Roman, “I’ve seen it before!”
“Oh! Like Dejavu,” Roman says and Remus doesn’t correct him.
He stays closer though, watching and wondering what happens if “x”, and preventing bad things from coming to them. When the seventh grade bullies coming looking for them, Remus convinces Roman to follow him to the theater room to hang out; when there’s the pop quiz that no one studied for he memorizes the answers from the version of reality where he steals steals the smartest kids paper; when it snows Remus doesn’t shove a snowball down Roman’s back because he knows that it will cause him to get sick.
“Hey Roman!” Some kid in eighth grade says during lunch, “Wanna hang out?”
And Roman who is fourteen and only eleven minutes older than Remus grins brightly, “We’d love to!”
And Remus sees every version of how the conversation goes: Every version where that nameless senseless kid shrinks back and awkwardly admits the invitation doesn’t extend to Roman’s crazy weird brother, where Roman gets angry and mad and destroys his own reputation, where Roman falls to peer pressure and admits Remus is pretty weird---
“Nah!” Remus says before anything can actually happen, “I don’t wanna hang out! Ro, you go ahead.” (Because he’s seen ahead and knows that Roman comes back bursting with excitement and happiness and really thats all Remus has ever wanted for him, isn’t it?)
Even if the whispers through the highschool begin because of it. Remus can take a few rumors, a few snide remarks, a few isolations, to make his brother happy.
“He’s on drugs you know,” One girl says once Roman is out of earshot. Always out of earshot. “Totally crazy.”
“The way he looks at everyone is creepy.”
“Sometimes he acts like he already knows what people are gonna say and its annoying.”
Remus never felt the need to experiment with his power that much. 
“Just leave me alone, Remus!” Roman yells when they are seventeen years old and only eleven minutes apart.
“I’m not gonna let you go to that party!” Remus yells back.
“You don’t control me!”
“You’re going to do something stupid!” Remus snaps back, “You’re going to get drunk, and then drugged and then--”
“I’m not gonna get drunk! I’m not even gonna drink!” Roman throws back.
“Yes you are!” Remus snarls because he’s seen it time and time again, the way that Roman loves attention the way that he becomes pliable the second an older boy looks at him and compliments his hair and the second he’s convinced to have just one drink. Remus has seen the way his own knuckles look bruised and broken against the skin of those college kids that had looked so cool, the way that metal handcuffs feel as he’s loaded into the back of a police car with the sounds of two ambulance sirens wailing over the music.
He’s seen this, seen the way it ends if Roman goes to the party with or without Remus.
He’s always been able to see the way it goes.
“Shut up!” Roman yells.
And that--- that is not what he’s supposed to say.
“Shut up, Remus!” Roman yells, again. “You’re just mad because I got invited and you didn’t! I’m sorry I have friends, Remus! I’m sorry they like me more than you! Maybe if you weren’t such a freak you would have been invited too!”
Remus doesn’t know what to say. It feels a lot like he was shoved on stage without being told what show they’re preforming.
Roman shoves by him, which is not something that Remus saw him do in any of the visions. Why hadn’t he seen this version of the future? Why wasn’t this going as expected?
“Roman--”
Roman whips around to face him, and his red in the face, bursting with angry and emotions and Remus feels himself get angry too. 
“I don’t need you!” Roman spits like hellfire is in his veins.
“Yes you do!” Remus shouts back, because he can’t even count the number of times that Roman almost got hurt this week. There’s a terrible taste in the back of his throat, like fresh squeezed limes and hot sauce that makes his head pound. It makes him want to laugh, want to cry, want to pick something up and throw it, but his future visions are all messed up and nothing works--
“You can’t see the future, Remus!” Roman says and it sounds like he’s wanted to say it for a long time.
Remus is seventeen years old and only eleven minutes younger than Roman, when oh. 
When he realizes that he’s far too old to cry over watching Roman die, far too weird to get any friends at school, far too much to keep having Roman believe him when he says anything.
It’s Deja Vu. Its Coincidence. Its a trick and a joke and nothing more than that.
Oh.
Roman doesn’t know a single thing about him, doesn’t know how much time Remus put into making sure everything great happens for him, doesn’t know how much of himself Remus gave up for Roman to be happy. He doesn’t know, doesn’t want to know.
And Remus, with his blood boiling because Roman was his brother and clearly he didn’t feel as strongly about Remus as Remus felt about him, wonders what would happen if he punched Roman in the jaw--
They end up fighting on the floor in the hall between their rooms, Mom and Dad come running and Remus gets grounded while Roman gets to go out to the party with a black eye.
--if he shoved Roman down the stairs--
Roman screams as his arm breaks and he spends the night in the ER, Remus is grounded and Roman stops talking to him for a very long time.
--if he grabbed the snowglobe on Roman’s desk and slammed it into Roman’s head--
He topples to the ground, screaming glass and silver sparkles shatter all around them like pretty little snowflakes, Mom and Dad come running and the screaming doesn’t stop.
--if he fit his hands around Roman’s neck and squeezed and squeezed and squeezed--
Roman claws at Roman’s hands, but he’s too off balance, too surprised, too unprepared. He gasps for air and it takes longer in the real life than it does in the movies for Roman’s pretty brown eyes to roll back in his head and his pulse to flutter to a stop and Remus keeps hold him for three minutes more before he lets go and Roman is… Roman was… suddenly there’s only ten minutes between them, nine, eight.
Remus digs his nails into the doorframe of Roman’s room. He laughs.
“Fine,” Remus chokes on his laughter, his mouth tasting like his own stomach acid. “Fine, go to the party, Ro. I’m done caring.”
“Good!” Roman yells.
The door slams in Remus’s face and he can’t stop laughing about it. He drags his fingers through his hair and laughs all the way to his room, gasping for breath as he empties his backpack of school work and notebooks and everything. 
Remus is seventeen. 
And he runs away from home.
(Part two)
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rachelbethhines · 4 years
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Tangled Salt Marathon - Queen for a Day Part 2
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So this is the continuation of my review for Queen for a Day. My personal favorite episode in the series, but it does have some flaws that needs to be pointed out. 
You can find the first part here  https://rachelbethhines.tumblr.com/post/622226424477171713/tangled-salt-marathon-queen-for-a-day-part-1
Summary: The King and Queen are stranded in the blizzard and Eugene and the Pub Thugs must rescue them. Meanwhile, Varian rushes to ask for Rapunzel's help freeing his dad, but Rapunzel tells him that she can't help him because of the blizzard, leaving Varian feeling betrayed. Rapunzel orders the evacuation of the island, but then remembers about a legend told earlier by Xavier about an underground machine with the power to change the way of the blizzard. 
The Show Tells Us Things that Contradict What We’ve Already Seen
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No they didn’t. 
If it was up to Frederic you’d all be jailed, hanged, or banished. Don’t try to pretend now that the King is somehow better than any other leader when it’s his crack down on crime is what causes 75% of the conflict in the first season. 
Rapunzel gave you a second chance. She’s the one to thank. And she only did that because she befriended you, not because she thought the system unjust.
Look at All This Time Spent On This Very Important Note, No Way the Writers Would Dumb Enough Not Follow Up On This Finely Crafted Set Up.
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Why is Season Three So Bad!!!!?????
Evacuation is a Dumb Plan to Begin With
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So throughout the episode Rapunzel is being pressured into evacuating the populace off the island. With the idea that, as an island, they’d be cut off from food supplies and whatnot. 
Which is beyond dumb because they’re currently inside a castle. Castles are built specifically for withstanding sieges. They should have all the supplies and room that they need right there for weeks if not months. 
Everyone is acting like risking exposure is somehow a better option then just staying put, inside the comfy palace.
Also keep in mind no one knows that this is a magic storm. They think it’s just a regular blizzard and it’s not even been one day of snow. You’re telling me that King Frederic is such a poor leader that can’t even keep the kingdom stocked for one day? 
You know what. I'd believe that. Corona is a shittly runned country that can’t handle emergencies. 
Cass Can Clearly See and Hear What’s Going On
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The show will later act as if Cass didn’t know the truth about what happened between Raps and Varian, but that’s a load of bull. She clearly sees and hears Varian talking about the rocks and his dad. In short, Cassandra winds up looking like a horrible person because of poorly thought out framing. 
Rapunzel Has More Options Here But She Doesn’t Explore Them
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Look Rapunzel being inexperienced and not knowing what to do, leading to her making poor decisions; is a perfectly fine set up for a conflict. And the choices she makes are understandable. 
However the show acts like these were the only options available to her; stay and help her people or go with Varian right then, and that’s simply not the case. 
Here’s a list of things she actually could have done.
Send someone else with Varian. Cass isn’t doing anything right now. She’s not needed for the evacuation, as evidenced by her going with Raps to the demantius device later (a task that she doesn’t actually help much with) and she already is in on your secret about the rocks and is friends with Varian. Alternatively there are other guards you could have sent with him, but Cass is the best option for the job.
Keep Varian with her until the storm was over with. He could have helped with the demantius device and then you both could have gone to Old Corona afterwards. 
Order the evacuation and then actually go with Varian. Once again, Rapunzel isn’t honestly needed for the evacuation, as evidenced by her taking off to find the demantius device later. She also. at the this point, doesn’t know if the demantius device is real nor does she have a plan in place yet to use it. It would have been a worse idea, yes, but it’s still an option that she failed to consider. (Unless they came back to the device after failing to save Quirin, cause it’s fiction and the writers can decide the time frame however they want) 
Go check up on Varian after fixing the storm. 
None of these options would have saved Quirin, obviously, but any one of them would have given Varian the emotional support that he needed. So while it’s understandable that Rapunzel did what she did, it’s still not excusable. 
Therein lies the failure of the show. It tries it damndest to excuse the protagonists at every turn even when they do quite clearly mess up, all while shifting all the blame onto an easy scapegoat. The series then acts like, we the audience, should just blindly accept it’s manipulation as fact. 
The Show Implies That the Heroes Just Threw A Child Out Into A Deadly Blizzard
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Rapunzel’s ‘orders’ falls on deaf ears and that’s honestly on her. She’s in charge and ergo she needs to keep her guards in line. It’s up to her to give clear and concise orders. 
Cause what we see is the garuds dragging away a 14 year old begging for help and next we see him, he’s back out in the snow storm. The snow storm that’s been deemed a national emergency and could potentially kill people stuck out in it.  
If the show didn’t intend for us to think that Stan and Pete just chucked the poor kid out the door, than it needed to establish that Varian left of his own accord. But it doesn’t do that. So everyone is Corona just winds up looking like an bunch of asses instead. 
Rapunzel Breaking Her Promise isn’t the Point
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The show gives way too much focus on Rapunzel’s promise. Because not being able to keep a promise is understandable and something that everyone experiences. No, in truth what Rapunzel does here is much worse than that. She fails at her responsibilities as a leader, as an adult, and as a decent human being. 
Her promise to Varian doesn’t actually matter. Her friendship with Varian doesn’t actually matter. Her even knowing him doesn’t matter. 
Had Varian came to her as a stranger with this same problem and she failed to help him, she’d still be in the wrong. This is a child in need that she ignores. A subject that she is in charge of and responsible for.  
Once again, I’m not hating on Rapunzel here. I’m fine, glad even, for the protagonist to make a mistake. But the show fails to even acknowledge that what she did was a mistake to being with; hence the real problem with the character.
Let’s Talk About ‘Daddy’ and How The Creators are Full of It
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OK so there was some debate about whether or not Varian actually said the word ‘daddy’ in this scene. It was confirmed by one of the creators, Chirs, that yes, Jeremy Jordan (Varian’s VA) ad libbed this line and that the writers decided to keep it. 
Which, in of itself, is fine. This scene still hurts like hell and is the most powerfully emotionally hitting scene in the show. It’s awesome. 
The problem is the Chris’s reasoning for including the line. 
According to the creator, Varian saying the word ‘daddy’ means that’s still immature and not ready yet to know whatever secrets Quirin is keeping from him. 
OK first off, calling you father ‘daddy’ does not make you immature. What a stupid thing to say. My siblings and I are all in or 20s, 30s, and 40s, and we still call our father ‘daddy’ as well. (We’re quite spread out in ages) 
Secondly, what secrets!? We’re never told what Quirin is hiding from his son. Varian never learns the truth of any earth shattering secret that involves him. 
We get lots of behind the scenes hints that the writers prematurely cut Varian out of the plot in later seasons, despite his conflict not being resolved and the fact that he was presented as being integral to main plot.
We’re never given a real reason why Varian’s story so poorly was edited out and any excuses that the series creators, Ben and Chris, have given is nothing but that same BS as this line here and I’m going to call them out on it.   
Xavier and Monty Should Have Been Streamlined Into One Character
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Xavier is given no real introduction and yet he’s suddenly an important part of the main overarching plot. Nor do we ever get any backstory for him or insight into why he does what he does and knows what he knows. He’s just there to give exposition and that’s it. 
Meanwhile Monty is given a whole episode worth’s of introduction and insight, but then proceeds to add nothing to the series afterwards. 
Just imagine if Monty and Xavier were made into one character. Introduction, insight, plus actual story importance. As an added bonus, it would have forced Raps to deal with someone she doesn’t get along with in order to save the kingdom. Which would counterbalanced the ‘friendship saves the day’ bs of later seasons along with the idea that anyone who doesn’t kiss Rapunzel’s royal arse is a villain.
Once Again, Why Do you Know this Legends and No One Else, Xavier? 
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It’s lazy writing. You need to either set these things up beforehand or give reason for them later.
Pascal’s Story Makes Far More Sense After This Scene
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The consequence of showing things out of order is that context is lost. 
I Love the Reprise but it Gives the Game Away too Early
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The writing team can’t decide where they want Varian’s fall into villainy to start and where to have it’s ‘twist’. This is suppose to be foreshadowing, but having it then undermines the ‘surprise betrayal’ in The Alchemist Returns. Not to mention that Varian doesn’t actually do anything truly ‘villainous’ until Secret of the Sundrop anyways. 
In short this scene winds up being pointless and the insistence of having a shocking reveal later winds up being redundant. Which in turn then becomes a poor excuse for not featuring a episode dedicated to Varian’s side of the story. 
 Conclusion
I still love this episode, and I’m saddened that most of the series does not live up to this quality nor its own hype. On its own Queen for a Day is 40 mins of wonderful entertainment. As part of the an on going story it’s a bitter reminder of the disappointment to soon follow. 
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iamallybee · 4 years
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Because peeps on my dash are hooked on the Deltadi ship and have got me hooked too, here's a basic outline of how Delta Dawn and Dickory got together in the Gumdrop AU! It also calls back to my other Trolls headcanon posts so you might wanna read those before this one. Putting under the cut because this is looooong!
All his life, Dickory had been told that one day he’ll meet that special someone, he’ll experience certain feelings, of love and intimacy. But Dickory just...never felt it. He felt love for his family but romance? Sexual feelings? It never came to him. During his teenage years, he did feel like he was broken. He felt pressured to start his first relationship, telling himself feelings would come. It...did not end well. In fact, you could say it made him feel more broken than ever.
But then the avalanche happened. Due to the mass loss of yodellers, many of the young adults were pressured to marry and have children quickly to increase numbers and save their culture. In fact, it became a new tradition for yodellers to marry as soon as they turned 18. The only one to refuse this was an 18-year-old Dickory. He may have been shunned a little for his decision (which made him feel worse about his lack of sexuality) but he honestly didn’t have time to think about that anymore. His was still a kid who parents literally just died with a baby brother left behind to take care of. He had no time for marriage, he’d say to the other yodellers. His brother needed him and that is totally the only reason why he couldn’t marry. Throughout his life, Dickory would continue to feel stress and sadness, not knowing about being ace/aro and still believing there was something wrong with him. But at least he has Hickory and his new bounty hunting job to distract him.
Anyway, TWT happened and as soon as Delta found out that Hickory was really two trolls disguised as one country troll imposing on her beloved town, she had them arrested and put on community service for a unspecified amount of time. So she and Dickory did not have the best start in the slightest.
Hickory was soon made to do a report on Pop Trolls and left for Pop Village (and thus beginning his own romance with Poppy and Branch but that’s another story). Dickory was made to stay and do humiliating duties (like clean up after the livestock) while enduring the mockery of the locals and the ridiculously high heat. The only good/kind of less worse thing he saw in this was the fact that Delta’s niece, Clampers, was strangely drawn to him. She would nag and ask him questions about why he has two legs, what are those stumpy things on your hooves and can I bite them? Annoyed initially, he soon warmed up to her as she reminded him of Hickory when he was a child. Their friendship reached a point where they even started playing together. Delta witnessed this one day and maybe, just maybe, her heart may have melted. But only a little.
One day, after a restless sleep, Dickory decided to take a walk about town in the early hours of the morning. His was surprised when his keen ears picked up on a faint, mournful song from the cemetery. He found Delta singing with tears in her eyes to the grave of her sister. After awkward small talk, they both open up about the loved ones they've lost and how it changed them. They found their experiences to be remarkably similar (Delta lost her sister in a mining accident and was left to raise her daughter) and from that point on, they began to grow closer.
Over the next several weeks, Dickory began to actually care about the Lonesome Flats community and his service became a lot more voluntary and a lot less punishing. He would help the elderly, fix up anything that needed fixing, even learned how to herd up the livestock (although his first attempt was a complete hilarious disaster that Growley Pete just loves to tease him about). The locals soon began to think of him as one of their own and gained their respect, in turn gaining Delta's trust.
Delta and Dickory's friendship grew in that time too. In the beginning, she would order him to do certain task or else she would make him do something much more humiliating which used to tick him off. Now, she would ask him or else she would 'threaten' him to make him clean out Growley Pete's hooves, which he would respond with a sarcastic comment with a smile. They were pretty much very buddy-buddy. But the locals weren't blind to the underlying romantic tension between them.
Delta absolutely knew she was having romantic feelings for Dickory but she was at first hesitant. Country trolls are the type to take romance on head first and confidently but she was afraid of scaring him off so decided to bide her time for the right moment. Not exactly made easy when her parents totally shipped them and would try everything in their power to embarrass Delta enough into confessing.
Dickory, on the other hand, didn't know what to feel. Sure, he liked Delta now but she was just a good friend to have a drink and a laugh with, throw sarcastic comments at, arm wrestle with, share personal and past trauma history with, stare at and wish to touch her stupid big beautiful hair, want to hold close to-uh oh!
Suddenly it was like he was a teenager again but this time it was different. He liked her but it can't be THAT kind of love. It didn't exist for him, remember? He couldn't feel that love for anyone because he never did and it would never happen. She's a friend you care a lot about and that's it. Besides, even if there were feelings (which there weren't), it would be best if nothing happened because come on, she would never want someone who didn't like...well, y'know.
Basically, Dickory's in denial pretty hard.
Anyhow, the country trolls have a pretty big shindig one evening where there's plenty of dancing, laughing, drinking and fun. Both Delta and Dickory were having a great time but just as buddies, right? 
However, at one point in the early hours of the morning, they found themselves alone together and Delta, in a drunken stupor with all logic thrown out the window, confesses and boldly kisses Dickory. And then she passed out.
In the days following, things were very awkward. Delta remembered the kiss and was horribly embarrassed for being so careless. She decided it was best if they actually sat down and talked about it like adults. Only problem? Dickory was now deliberately avoiding Delta. He didn't want to ruin the friendship they already had but he also didn't want to have the conversation he knew was inevitably coming.
Finally, a frustrated Delta decided to f this and confront Dickory head on. A huge argument blew up between them (which temporarily cleared out the town) which culminated to Delta demanding to know why he doesn't want to be with her and Dickory yells back 'BECAUSE I'M BROKEN, DAMMIT!'
Silence.
After the shock, the pair of them calm down enough for Delta to gently encourage him to explain further. Dickory shakily and tearfully admits his unresolved negative feelings about his asexuality, the yodellers pressure on him to marry, how much its affected him and how wrong he's truly felt all these years and yet he somehow has feelings for Delta that he doesn't understand and how he can't be the man she wants him to be or give her what she would ultimately want.
Shocked, Delta tells him that she's sorry she ever made him feel this way but she only wants Dickory to be himself and if being himself means that he can't give her certain things then that's okay because she loves him just as he is.
But Dickory, still confused, emotional and a stubborn old goat, decides this is the best time to run off and return home.
Heartbroken, Delta writes to Hickory that his community service is up and he is free to return to his home. She tries her best to continue her duties as mayor but everyone can tell she greatly misses Dickory.
When the brothers reunite back to their homes, they also try to move on as normal but both of them have a lot to think about in terms of the things they went through recently (again, Hickory had his own romantic shenanigans going on as well). One night, the two of them talk about what they went up to in the past weeks and realise that the other has experienced love and are too stubborn to admit it. They even have a big sibling argument about it. I mean whose dumb enough to not look past their own insecurities and see that they are loved and they love them back and they shouldn't let the past hold them down in finding happiness and - oh, I see what's happening here!
Anyway, its agreed upon that Hickory and Dickory should return to Lonesome Flats and Pop Village to confess their feelings to their respective loved ones and not see each other until they do or someone's ass is getting beat (y'know, normal sibling pact stuff).
So
In true spaghetti western style, Dickory returns to Lonesome Flats. He stares Delta down from one side of town to the other, locals watching with baited breath. He yells to Delta for the whole town to hear, that he was an idiot for running away and that he wasn't sure how they were going to figure things out in the future. But he's here now, he's not running away anymore and he loves her too.
Delta, without saying a word, storms up to Dickory, picks up up from under the arms and gives him a great, big, long overdue smooch to the cheers of the townsfolk and the cries of 'FINALLY' from her parents and niece (meanwhile, Growley Pete starts collecting bets).
Anyhow, Dickory moves to Lonesome Flats, eventually marries Delta, adopts Clampers as his niece, is fully content with being demiromtic/asexual, yada yada, happy ending, mwah! (I am a master of storytelling)
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project-ohagi · 4 years
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Dabi x Reader
Buy me a coffee!! <3
Greyromantic: Can experience romantic attraction, but weakly or infrequently; feeling alienated from romance; only feeling attraction in specific circumstances.
Asexual: Having little/no sexual attraction or interest in sexual activities.
Questioning: Process of exploration regarding gender, sexual orientation, sexual identity.
----
The phenomenon of love is a complex, chemical concoction that has long been weaved into the fabric of our society. It is presented as a requirement, with those who find the concept either too challenging to thoroughly comprehend, or lacking in appeal, branded as anomalies. In its pursuit of normality, it quickly alienated those whose hearts just couldn't conform. In a different society, one not quite so dominated by this 'normality' of romantic and sexual interests...you might be forgiven for your limited knowledge. But this one...it seems to blanch at the very idea that happiness can be attained in the absence of romantic attraction.
As such, those identifying along the Aromantic or Asexual spectrums are often overlooked - even shunned. But, the greatest truth of it all is a lot simpler than you may expect: an emotion as profound as joy cannot be induced solely by succumbing to carnal desires, or tasting the lips of another. No...it is through self-acceptance, and the acceptance from those for whom your heart beats - parents, siblings, friends...and perhaps in this manner, the meaning is amplified.
But...what happens when you are forced into complacency, into setting aside your own interests, to 'further evolution', or to 'finally be normal'?
You were still trying to figure this out.
Who were you...really? Why couldn't you summon an emotion as free and universal as love?...Romantic love? Why did it seem so incomprehensible, so...intangible? These were the thoughts you battled with, every waking moment. They burrowed deep into your mind, so that you could never pull them out. They were elusive, yet...constant, nagging.
Why am I so different? Everyone else has crushes...even Toga likes that one UA boy! Ah, yeah...she asked me if I have someone I love. I just said "No". Saying: "I don't even know what 'love' is" seems a bit...she'd definitely call me weird. Then the others would probably laugh at me...
You felt...incomplete, like a jigsaw puzzle with only half the pieces. You felt the isolation, suffocating you. It hadn't been a conscious decision. You didn't awaken one morning and think 'You know what? This whole 'love' thing? It just isn't for me! ' You craved a connection, a bond of some kind - holding hands...a hug at most. Anything more was frightening to imagine. What if someone...pressured you? Or stole a kiss, as an offhanded action? You couldn't bear it...not even the mere thought. It was likely the main contributor to your chronic anxiety and paranoia. Your treatment at the hands of society, the ridicule and the fear of phrases such as "It's just a phase!" or, "You need to find the right person!"...they fuelled the flickering spark of villainy in your eyes.
After all, outcasts and monsters are interchangeable to most common folk.
But you didn't want those labels. You were a lost lamb, wandering aimlessly - what you really needed was guidance...someone who would listen and advise, someone who would accept you and every burden you carried, without question or quandary. But you said nothing...so you got nothing in return. Dabi was the closest to a...a source of strength? Motivation?...Potential love interest? But...how would you ever truly know? How could you discern the romantic from the platonic? It seemed impossible - simply a waste of time. Still, you never fully resigned to this fate of...loneliness.
You wanted to cherish, and to be cherished.
You wanted to love, and to be loved.
Perhaps it was the unyielding voice of fear, of desperation and pain, but...you just didn't know! You didn't know...and, it was difficult. You studied Dabi's face, and while nothing immediately heated your cheeks, he wasn't...unattractive. Aha! Maybe that was love? Alas, you discovered it to be more aesthetic attraction. It was a little disappointing, but perseverance should've been the key, right...?
Why? Why do I feel so little? Dabi is there for me, right? So surely if anyone, I should love him!...Do I love him? How can I tell? Is there some sort of test? How would a test even be administered? What kind of questions would I have to answer? I don't think I could answer them, even with study. If I'm struggling so much now...
And anyway...Dabi was a dominant male, whose sexuality was unclear. Even if you managed to settle on a definition of 'love', and figure out what role it played in your life...there was no guarantee that Dabi would want you. The jury was still out, on your gender - 'questioning' was your placeholder for the moment. But, you usually dressed masculine...would he be okay with someone so indecisive? Someone who might be neither male nor female? And, what if...what if he wasn't the one?
Say I can find love, and I start to understand it...who's to say that the person I love will be Dabi? It could be anyone! Maybe they were right, and I just haven't met the right person...but, I kind of want it to be Dabi? Is that...bad? Oh god, it sounds so selfish! He'll just be tied down, and if we find out that I don't actually love him...what would he do? At the very least, he'd be angry...
Dabi...the more you recalled his honey-laced voice, all the flirting you failed to notice until it was pointed out (clearly, he was doing that in jest), and those blue eyes (steely from years on the run, that probably depleted the pools of guilt and regret often accompanying mass killings, thievery and other criminal acts), the more confusion festered. You just didn't understand! Was it love? Or was it conversion? Were you trying to become 'normal'? Well, as normal as a villain could be...? Or did Dabi really mean something...something greater than you believed? Something...beyond what you currently knew?
This journey of self-discovery had approached a torturous junction.
Why were relationships so sought after, so expected? Even you desired one. How else could you ever hope to form a deep bond, or receive that fabled 'feeling of ecstasy' from holding hands or hugging? If there was no romance, mainstream media would lead you to the conclusion that there isn't a 'proper' or 'deep enough' connection - there can't be. You wanted to experience these things with Dabi. No-one else. You couldn't explain why. He was...an unusual character, mysterious and with perhaps a similar level of complexity as the daunting questions you were asking yourself. But mentioning your plight to him simply wasn't an option. Villains were responsible for themselves; the League was nothing more than a safety net.
Besides, Dabi was heartless.
...Or so he liked to be portrayed.
Urghhh...why is this so complicated? How am I supposed to know if I love him? The signs are...increased heart rate and blood to the face, right...? That seems unhealthy...is that actually supposed to be a good thing??
"Hey, you stopped spacing out yet, (V/n)?"
Shit! No, no, no! I haven't finished spacing out!
Sheepishly, you turned in the direction of the voice. Why did Dabi always seem to materialise out of thin air, whenever you thought about him? Did you magic him here, by accident? Subconsciously? However you managed that...you hated it. Your existential crisis really didn't need a spectator. Break out the popcorn, why don't you?
Can't I have a break down in peace? Wait...am I even in my room?...Did I seriously question my entire existence right here in the bar? It's a good thing there's no-one else here...I don't need more people telling me that I'm crazy...
You sighed. "...Yeah."
His brows furrowed - this was unfamiliar territory. Helping people had never been his speciality, especially given his own trauma . But for you...it was certainly worth a shot. "What's up? You on your man-period or something?"
Off to a spectacularly dreadful start. "I - I don't know if I'm a man, though...how could I-"
"Relax, it was a joke. Your pronouns are they/them, right? I'm not gonna call you a man just for the sake of argument. Nah...Hey, scoot over." A for effort.
"You could sit literally anywhere else."
He smirked. "You gonna stop me, sweet-cheeks?"
Sweet...?
"Thought not. Anyway, what's going on? You've been all doom-and-gloom for the past...two hours." He motioned over to the clock.
Had you honestly spent so long in contemplation? Gods, you could've unlocked the secrets of the universe, but no. "I've...kinda been asking myself that."
"Oh?" It was obviously a prompt, but talk of your romantic inclination (or lack thereof) would likely be regarded in the realm of 'stupid' and 'childish', so...could really you trust him?
I've always been too nervous to take risks...Guess now's as good a time as any to change that.
You swallowed down the uncertainties, the anxiety and everything in-between. They didn't help - they only hindered. And...you did need to release this burden, that weighed you down so heavily.
"Um...it's - it's...confusing. Really...confusing. I guess, I simple terms: I don't know what 'love' is. I know it probably sounds really dumb to you, and I feel stupid for even saying it, but...I've never...never had a crush, never been in love. I don't...I don't feel anything romantic towards, well...anyone!"
"Not even a bit?" He asked, blank-faced.
"I - I don't know. I really want to, though. I'm just...I'm scared. There's always this underlying fear of...what if - what if someone forces me? Y'know? What if...I date someone, and they can't accept that I'm different...that I might never feel anything for them? I don't want to be lonely forever, Dabi! I want someone, I really do! I say I've never been in love, but...the truth is, I just don't know! I know that I don't need to kiss someone. That's what I...what I don't want, but...I - I still want to hold hands with someone! I'd still like a hug, every once in a while...I don't know what I'm doing, or really...who I am."
For a few moments, he was silent beside you, just drinking in the flood of information. He refrained from reaching out, or gazing too intently. It took time to settle on an appropriate response. "You're looking at it as an issue, though - something you've gotta resolve, before you can move on. I'm not the best with advice, trust me...but I can tell you that it's a journey. It'll continue and evolve, as long as it needs to. You'll...probably know when you're ready, or...something. All that sappy crap. You don't have to force yourself to understand it all now."
I'll know...?
"When I'm...ready?" You repeated, eyes tracing the lines on your palm.
"Yeah...probably."
Just before you lost all coherency, a single thought fluttered to the forefront of your mind: My heart...just...skipped a beat?!
[Word Count: 1775]
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mothbug · 3 years
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maggie i’ve been trying to suss out the plot of ur bug lesbians for so long please tell me abt them. somehow it got into my head that they were?? like jaeger pilots? please confirm or deny
i can’t do a read more on mobile so i’m sorry in advance (coming back here after i’ve written this: it makes no sense. it’s all rambling. sorry. and i just put things everywhere randomly so this won’t even be typed chronologically)
yeah there’s giant fun robots! most of them are normal and fine but like a few of them are very fucked up
so there’s four pov characters and at the start of the story three of them are on the same ship and the fourth is the target they’re chasing? only one of them knows they even HAVE a target and is trying her best to stall because she and the target were roommates in fucked up robot catholic school. the other two are playing crazy 8s and being romantic and also terrified all the time but also doing a lot of theorizing about things because they know SOMETHING is up they just don’t know what’s going on. Bc you know. their commander won’t give them any information. and also avoids them because she hates narrative parallelism
also the one stalling is also having her blood drunk by her giant robot. and maybe being mildly possessed by it? so it’s maybe The most fucked up robot. it’s also a giant dog and a good boy. and an heirloom of a fucked up family. which may explain some stuff but honestly i think nisa’s mom was just a bitch and it didn’t have anything to do with the robot she’s just like that.
and she’s stalling bc she Knows she won’t turn perovskia in she knows she wouldn’t let her get hurt she Knows it’ll change her life forever if she finds her and she’s just not ready to face that. but yknow she has to so it was all just very silly of her but when something will change your life dramatically it’s terrifying even if you know that things currently Suck.
somewhere in here Arkansas’s family is threatened and it’s. upsetting. and i’m not sure what direction to go in with it but it will be important because her family means a Lot to her. she has two very good kind dads and a little sister named Tinsel. basically she has the only functional biological family out of all the characters and they make me :’) I also think they eventually meet Idabel and ADORE her and since she grew up without parents it’s just a very strange and emotional experience and. h. they r Wives. and the Trust family is all very sweet and kind even if Arkansas struggles a lot w gifted kid syndrome like i think her dads did their best even if they fucked up sometimes yknow. idabel goes fucking wild at the arcade like legitimately bloodthirsty and arkansas is just like i love my furious and powerful wife
anyway there’s some (a lot of) homoerotic space fighting (which perovskia usually wins BECAUSE she remembers when she and nisa used to spar and can predict what she’ll do. nisa ALSO remembers this bc. ofc she does. but perovskia had to learn how to adapt after Events bc her physical health changed a lot and she had to learn to be more careful about overexerting herself and also now knows how to swordfight. and moves more fluidly and confidently. so what nisa expects to happen often doesn’t bc perovskia’s fighting style has changed so much while nisa hasn’t really bothered to refine hers. anyway) perovskia (the gay little target that does a gay little crime and makes fun of you to piss you off) is like hey. what if you all committed treason it’s really fun and sexy. and then her adoptive mechanic mom gives everyone spinal surgery so their bodies don’t shut down and they won’t die :) that’s a thing by the way i won’t elaborate bc uhh :( but it is why perovskia has all the. nerve damage and chronic pain. i can elaborate on the actual Pre-story perovskia stuff later bc i think about it A Lot and it has a lot of bearing on her character but it’s also. before all this. but anyway if she hadn’t been bleeding out on Slice’s front lawn specifically she Would be dead. and there’s some fun narrative foil character shifts that happen four years before the main storyline but i will not say bc i’m tired
after this is Vague in my mind but a lot of it is Perovskia and Nisa reconnecting and just. talking. but being weird and repressed and deflective about anything Meaningful. And I have written a Lot about this so there’s more than I can condense but it’s very fucking good and. Idk. it’s a big shift in the narrative at this point and they’re just Agonizing about their dumb little feelings and it’s good. and P doing some work to make their giant fucking spaceship more stealthy. and Idabel and Arkansas being really cute and also going THROUGH it because i mean. a lot is happening. And it’s nothing either of them ever expected to happen but they’re like. hopeful for the future or whatever don’t look at me. It’s just like. put all of these characters on a spaceship in the middle of nowhere in transit and they all Have to have conversations even if they don’t want to because it’s HARD. nisa is forced by slice to learn how to make pancakes
Slice makes stew. They’re good at stew and contraptions and having a mild new england accent somehow. also canonically back in the scrapyard they would make things like the knife wielding tentacle constantly and perovskia would just stumble upon them. slice changed the live laugh love sign to say die cry hate because perovskia made fun of it. they r her mom.
so now they do some fun fun robberies and various crimes and it’s so sexy and i don’t think N and P are like. fully caught up at this point or know where they stand, so there’s a lot of very fun banter and having to work together despite really being afraid but also yearning to get to know each other again and just connect with one another honestly and openly after four fuckin years apart. because they’re both so different now but also very much the same. horse staring out into sea MAN. the thing is there’s no direct like. reason for them to avoid each other (at first P was shocked and overwhelmed and felt a little bit betrayed when she found out who was chasing her until she found out WHY. oh i forgot to mention Nisa BEGGED to be assigned commander for this mission bc she knew anyone else wouldn’t hesitate to get Perovskia killed. Forgot to mention that it’s IMPORTANT she fucking loves her so much god DAMMIT) but it’s just. tense and there’s a lot happening and it’s just. Ghhhdhbnm and ofc I and A have picked up on it since P showed up but it’s like. ok so what is Happening here. OH AND ONCE THEY START WORKING THINGS OUT IDABEL DOES START BEHAVING LIKE NISA’S SHITTY LITTLE SIBLING AND ACTING FUCKING DISGUSTED BY THEM ITS VERY FUNNY. they’re like perovskia you’re pretty cool what’s up with this. nisa sucks and also is a bitch. and perovskia says SHE CAN GET IT. and idabel says GET WHAT? BANNED FROM OLIVE GARDEN? and perovskia fans herself and is like yeah~ and idabel was just joking around but now is debating between mercilessly making fun of her and hitting her with a cricket bat. but god when P and N just get to hold each other in silence and security and just be. it’s . they. god. fuck. man.
oh i know this is a space story but perovskia just straight up has a sword (and some knives and maybe a gun idk) don’t ask me why idk but it’s very lesbian of her and she does gay little flourishes and is just. very annoying and i like her a lot. she’s very dramatic like her alias was madame revenant when she was living in the scrapyard and just doing some petty crimes like. she embroidered that jacket herself nobody calls her that she’s just a goofball. also warrior cats exist and she makes warrior cat fan animations. that just has to be true so warriors has been preserved for centuries. also she was presumed dead for a while uhh don’t think abt it too much but she likes that aesthetic.
Idabel takes the best to this new life of crime they are fucking FOR it she gets a FLAMETHROWER and Arkansas is like. wrow honestly my favorite thing abt them is that they’re both fucking INCREDIBLE pilots. like they know what they’re doing. and nisa is really really bad at it btw she cannot pilot a mech well. but this block of text isn’t about her i’m talking about THEM. Their chemistry is so good they r just. 🥺. and they both become Fast friends with perovskia because she’s just pretty likeable?? and ofc nisa’s jealous bc a) you guys don’t even like me :( but also b) that’s MY friend. it’s very funny. honey of course they didn’t like you you were being very unpleasant to be around. but arkansas does rlly wanna be friends with her and she and idabel have so much sibling energy it’s insane. i think they’d abel and cain each other for a scooby snack but also kill for each other. because they’re tiny girls who will growl at you solidarity and also probably hang out and just destroy things with bats sometimes. they all become closer and get a rlly sweet found family dynamic it just takes a While. oh also idabel is basically the chosen one and can set things on fire with her hands but it’s barely touched on because i think that’s a really funny thing to just ignore. but i also think it does become important because it’s largely fueled by anger and emotion and. h. i think idabel has a lot of feelings ok. Arkansas and Perovskia bond over having fucking anxiety disorders and have caprisun drinking competitions. i think it’s just like. these people all have similar trauma and need people to lean on when things are hard so they stick with each other once they have the option to split apart because by then they’re friends and work well together and Care. auto tuned baby crying mp3.
Alia and Agent Variety show up somewhere around here? They’re Slice’s very cool wives and Alia has a Vechicle Collection and own fucking stupid race cars and stuff and I love her. perovskia is afraid of being in vechiles so she has to take a fucking benadryl every time they have to make a getaway. Variety isn’t actually an Agent anymore and I also love HER because she’s very fucking good. they started out as just contacts slice had but it turns out they’re all in love <3 alia is also actually a sports car racer like. unprofessionally. illegally. which is just very cool of them.
Also i don’t think it has. a very BIG end, yknow? it’s like, they’re doing very good things and are up against a lot, and I don’t think they like.. singlehandedly take down the government or anything because they’re only a few people. but i think they get a happy ending and get to grow old while making positive changes to the world around them. like i don’t think they’ll be able to solve everything but they’re sure as hell gonna do what they can. But idk maybe they actually do get like. some good shit done. but again they’re not. an army. they’re a bunch of 20-somethings and their rube-goldberg-machine-creating chaperone. but i think they should get a fun climactic moment so i guess this is all to say i don’t. have an ending planned. but there should probably be one at some point.
OH AND the giant evil blood sucking dog vineyard vines robot Definitely almost kills Nisa (or at least fully destroys her in some way) and. it’s very narrowly avoided and she’s very very weak for a while because it took a lot out of her. also the dog robot does make grape vines grow and uhhhh any grapes that show up are 100% full of the pilot’s siphoned blood. also i think there’s still some remnants of that bitch in nisa’s mind afterwards bc an old mechanical god is hard to get rid of. but it’s mostly ok.
Also the bug people are just. a thing. like every person in the most recent generation in this specific society are at least a little bit genetically experimented on because. it sucks there. and i think if your parents bribe the government you can be a little Less fucked up but yknow. everyone’s a little weird. this was an excuse to put bug ppl in here they’re just the folks who were probably the most fucked with and i have many bug people here because i think bugs are cool and i want them to look like weird little bugs. This was all also an excuse to give the main characters fangs bc i’m gay. i don’t think randomly fucking with your genetics will make you a bug in real life so do not try this at home or at all PSA
SPEAKING of the society ok it’s very much obsessed with earth nostalgia and stuff and very yknow. basic cyperpunk shitty capitalism you know the drill you’ve seen space operas whatever but it’s also weirdly oligarchical? and like? it’s weird and bad and kind of a corporatocracy?? and. fuck. idk man they’re a fucked up space catgirl greeble-y amazon with catholic imagery. The Academy is also a thing but. idk how to describe it more than i already have it’s just kinda shitty boarding school. And after a certain point ppl can get sent on like. missions and stuff? in their fucking robots? but again i’m not sure what For. an option could be that there’s nearby Shit and nobody can tell if it’s safe because space is weird? also it’s only about 3200 so i’d say like. whole societies out in space is a relatively new thing and there’s some weird shit going on. so they sometimes send teenagers out in robots to see what’s up and that ends SUPER well for EVERYONE. hmm something SHOULD be going on actually there should be some weird eldritch space stuff. it should be connected to the more fucked up robots. it should also be Core’s fault somehow because uhhh capitalism and lack of foresight? anyway here’s women kissing i don’t know things. WAIT FUCK I FORGOT TO MENTION HOW SHADY SOME OF THE STUFF GOING ON IS LIKE THE DEATHS OF THE CREW PEROVSKIA WAS ON UHHH JUST TRUST ME DUDE like they are NOT afraid to get kids killed which was IMPLIED but also like it goes a little deeper than that and uhh i don’t know exactly what’s happening. but i’m sure it’ll all fall into place eventually. basically it’s very fatt shitty faction vibes idk how else to describe it. man it‘s like. just. there’s stuff happening they have goals and ideals and there’s probably more to it than i know so far bc stuff happens but i don’t KNOW what i’m tired and have been typing this for a year i don’t want to talk abt the bad capitalists i want to talk about tenderness and girls but unfortunately the ways in which the girls are tender are deeply informed by the environment they grew up in so i do have to think about it even if they all deserved better.
i think they all get a cat or a dog or something eventually. like they all deserve it. i think the final home they build together is actually pretty reminiscent of the scrapyard house. i think they get to live there for the rest of their lives and. just build something small and wonderful for themselves :’)
also i forgot to put men in the story they exist i just forgot about them. there’s nisa’s one ex i already forgot his name but he’s mentioned i think.
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mckinlily · 4 years
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shalluraweek day 2: wings/bloom
Summary: wings/bloom The war is over, the paladins are back on Earth, but Shiro and Allura find adjusting to peace might be harder than expected.
read on ao3 here
Truth was, it took way too long for Allura to notice. The war was over, Zarkon and Hagar were safely (finally) dead, and the Paladins of Voltron had returned to Earth. Even negotiations with the Galaxy Garrison and Earth’s other ruling parties had, at long last, come to an end. (Earth’s pollical system was surprising complicated and rigid compared to what Allura would have expected from knowing her paladins. When she had told Shiro that, he had just laughed and laughed.) With the politics and negotiations over, the paladins were finally able to go home.
Keith was in the desert, soaking up the Earth sun and the quiet.
Pidge had reunited her family and was making up for lost time.
Hunk traveled to his grandparents's ranch to finally meet two of his youngest nieces.
Lance had gotten absorbed into the mass of parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins, distance relatives, and possibly nearby neighbors and outright strangers who just got caught up in the fuss, showing him in the praise and attention deserved.
And Shiro was back at the Garrison, sharing his experience and knowledge with faculty and cadets both. Allura thought he looked very handsome in the sharp cut of his grey uniform, regal and commanding like he always should be. He was back as a hero, and already very well on his way to becoming a beloved instructor. Which to Allura made perfect sense. He had already fought for, inspired, charmed, and occasionally strong-armed the rest of the universe; it was time he received the same kind of recognition on his home planet. He belonged here.
(Allura wasn’t sure she belonged anywhere. With the war over and on a strange planet where the inhabitants felt just enough like Alteans to be continually unnerving, she could feel herself crumpling, like her core was turning into dust.)
(They had finally disposed of Zarkon, and what was Allura besides another ten thousand year old relic? Perhaps it was time for her to fade away as well.)
So Allura told herself all was well. The paladins were safe and happy, and they no longer needed her. She was just stretching out the inevitable when the end was in sight.
It was this line of thinking that almost made her miss the problem with Shiro.
Almost. But, thankfully, not quite.
Allura was used to seeing Shiro with bags under his eyes and stress lines on his face—as much as she might not like it, it was an inevitable part of the war—and it took her way too long to realize that he shouldn’t look like that now. That wasn’t Shiro’s default state. Oh, one might think that was if they only saw Shiro in Black Paladin mode or operating in strict professionalism, but Allura had long since learned how to get past that veneer Shiro held up like a shield. The real Shiro, the true Shiro underneath the stress and the trauma and the responsibility he felt towards everyone, was a very different creature.
And once Allura pulled herself out of her moping enough to realize, it was all very clear.
She hadn’t seen Shiro tease or pull tricks or use that deadpan delivery of his dry morbid humor that left everyone who didn’t know him questioning whether or not he was joking. Not in months. Though he attended all the meetings asked of him, his eyes had lost the light that Allura and the rest of team Voltron had depended on so often in their darkest moments. His involvement in the Garrison seemed more dutiful than engaged, and despite nearly every cadet (and quite a few of the instructors) wanting to know about and know better the incredible Takashi Shirogane, Shiro seemed to be pulling into himself more and more. He wasn’t even excited about mentoring, which was especially surprising given how he had immediately latched on to the other paladins when they were younger. Oh, he tried his best with them—Shiro’s kindness, at least, hadn’t diminished—but it was clear his heart was somewhere far away.
At first, Allura was confused. He seemed to have a great job, a home, a planet—But then Allura thought of what she knew of Shiro, what had made him happiest when they worked side by side, and her heart fell.
Shiro had been grounded. It was so wrong Allura was astonished she hadn’t seen it out before. Mentor, teacher, commander—none of that mattered when it meant he was stuck on the ground. The wings of the great Black Paladin clipped, and oh, Allura hurt at the thought. Shiro had always been happiest the rare times where neither the war nor diplomatic negotiations where pressing on him and he got the opportunity to simply be on whatever planet they had landed on. To learn, explore, try new things. And the Garrison had cut Shiro off from all of it.
Allura’s decision was made before she even had to think about it. She caught Shiro’s hand before he turned in for bed and twined her fingers between his.
“Let’s go,” she said, and Shiro had been working with her too long to question what she meant.
Shiro’s stress lines were etched deep into his face, highlighting the redness also growing there. He held his tablet close to his chest, looking uncertain. “I should…”
Allura shook her head. “Should nothing. You don’t owe them.”
"There’s—there’s paperwork. And schedules—”
“And you’re the Black Paladin. No planetary government can tell you what to do.”
Shiro still hesitated a moment. Then he brought the tablet down. “I’ll get my things.”
As it turned out, Shiro didn’t bring much. Just a few sets of clothes and a personal device with a few memories. Allura took his hand again and led them to the Castle. The other Lions were scattered throughout Earth with their paladins, but the Black Lion was in its hangar. Allura spotted its eyes flash as they walked past and smiled to know it, too, was grateful the Black Paladin had come home.
“You never did fly the Castle, did you?” said Allura as they approached the bridge.
Shiro raised his eyebrows, and he eyes finally filled with a bit of that light he had been missing. “Are you offering to teach me?”
Allura let Shiro walk up to what had been her station and put his hands on the pedestals. She then wrapped her arms around him from the back and pressed her face between his shoulder blades. “Hmm...no. Figure it out.”
Allura felt his laugh more than she heard it. But Shiro didn’t hesitate. He had been living in the Castle for three years and was a fast learner. Figure it out he did, and soon they were breaking through Earth’s atmosphere.
“Where to, Princess?”
Allura smiled against his back. “I don’t care. I just want to be with you.”
It was one of those unspoken things they’d kept hidden, back when the war seemed determined to take everything they loved from them. Shiro took one hand off the pedestals and squeezed her fingers, an acknowledgement. Then he leaned forward.
“There are still a few planets I haven’t been to.”
“Be careful on the gravitational assists. The Castle has its own field.”
Allura could feel Shiro’s grin, even if she couldn’t see it.
“Sounds like a challenge.”
That was her Black Paladin. Her rock and her best friend. Her Shiro. Allura hugged him tight and only laughed when Shiro complained he couldn’t breathe.
By the time they reached the Kepler belt, the tension had leaked out of Shiro’s muscles. He twisted around. “What to take a closer look?”
“Black Lion?” Allura asked.
“Black Lion,” confirmed Shiro.
The Castle might be an incredible feat of engineering, capable of delicate movements that should be impossible for its size, but it had nothing one the agility of a Lion—especially not the way the Black Lion could dance under the direction of Shiro. Together, they soared, darting between frozen clumps of methane and ammonia, going faster—faster—faster! as Allura urged and Shiro laughed in delight until their rumbling stomachs called them home.
(Home, Allura remembered now, had stopped being a place and long since become a person.)
They docked in the Castle and made their way to the kitchen—only to find they weren’t alone.
“Hey, next time give us some warning before we take off, yeah?” said Lance, sprawled out with his feet up on the table.
“I was quite lucky Lance found me before leaving—otherwise I might have been stuck on Earth forever!” said Coran.
“You idiots,” said Keith, stepping forward to shake Shiro. “You thought we wouldn’t want to come with you, didn’t you?”
“Hope you don’t mind I brought my entire family,” said Pidge. “I figured there was room, and they wouldn’t let me leave without them. Also Matt said Shiro required ‘adult supervision.’”
“Hey, he’s only—!” Matt paused and made a face. “How old is Shiro now? Ugh, stupid time dilation.”
“Just because the war is over, doesn’t mean the universe doesn’t still need Voltron,” said Hunk. “There’s still a lot of good we can do, right?”
Shiro looked at Allura, a wry smile on his face. “So maybe we were a little bit dumb.”
Allura finds herself smiling in response. “Maybe a very little bit,” she concedes.
But their family is back together, the war is over, and she’s taking off for adventure again, this time with Shiro’s hand in hers.
From this point forward, Allura knows where she belongs.
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fimflamfilosophy · 4 years
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Characters: Tearing Each Other Together
After the world-sweeping success of my previous article (forty notes on Tumblr, wow!) and being driven out of my house due to mold for the second time in two months, I think the time is right to add another essay to the subject of character design and writing. But what’s left to say after having definitely solved the entire process of character writing the last time?
Well, suppose you can figure out the emotional state of one person. That’s well and good, and oddly harder for people than you might imagine. And I think the reason it’s so hard is because in virtually any show you’re not going to be given a character in a vacuum to learn that process from. They have some story, something they’re trying to overcome, and other characters they’re bouncing off of, and the actual process of conflict is more complicated than knowing who your characters are.
Hate, Love, or Indifference, It’s All A Struggle
So what’s the essence of a story? There’s some motive that’s trying to be achieved. A conflict. And I can’t stress this enough. Conflict. Because it’s one thing if you say your main character is a kid who wants to be the best Poke’mon trainer and completely another to have that be a concrete objective with a satisfying story and conclusion. Wanting to be the “best” isn’t actually conflict. It’s a dream. Being forced to travel the known world to acquire eight gaudy pins that probably cost twenty-five cents each to manufacture? That’s conflict.
And not only do you have to travel the world, you do so with a shrill red-head who explicitly hates you because you trashed her bike, and a sex-starved pervert whose life dream is to make Poke’mon mate with each other for a living. And that’s important. Without Misty and Brock, Ash’s journey is a lot less interesting for a lot of reasons. Misty calls Ash out every time he messes up, and aside from being on a watch list, Brock is a helpful older character who tells Ash, and therefore the audience, what’s what.
But let’s back up, because people understand the benefit of Brock and Misty at a basic level, but when you’re starting off, how do you know who those people should be? Well, every show, from sitcom, to comedy to drama, does its best to balance personalities against each other so there’s always some sort of conflict possible between them.
Now, “conflict” doesn’t mean they’re trying to kill each other. It could mean they’re falling in love with each other. Maybe it means they don’t have much in common but have to work together over long hours in isolation. The idea is simply that there’s something to overcome between these people. Misty thinks Ash is stupid - that’s a conflict which is often leveraged to push Ash forward. Brock, however, has a reactive role in the show, only functioning in conflict when a womanizer who grovels at the feet of ladies Ash is already helping anyway.
It’s odd because if Misty were older she would be set up very well as kind of an “opposites” romantic torture device with Brock. They’re even depicted as professional equals, which would have made their levels of expertise and experience more balanced. Had they been closer in apparent age, a “will they won’t they” romance would have fit adequately, with Brock’s constant hitting on other women serving as a major, hopeless, long-lasting roadblock to a serious relationship between them; it would work especially well because Misty is established to have an inferiority complex to her prettier sisters. It also might help explain why Brock hung around so long. But as it was, Brock’s main contribution to the inner dynamic was to act as a mediator, caretaker, and mentor.
But circling back to Brock’s dream of Poke’mon husbandry. Well, on the meta level that’s why he doesn’t leave. Because it’s not a motive, he’s not taking steps towards it, and it’s not going to happen, it’s just a dream. Until it does happen, anyway, and then they wrote him out of the show - but we’ll dig more into this later.
Balancing Imbalance
The best place to look to see good conflict set ups between characters are popular sitcoms. Consider the show “Frasier”: it ran for eleven seasons and revolved mainly around the personal spats of Frasier, his brother Niles, their dad, and the dad’s caretaker, Daphne. Frasier was arrogant, Niles was insecure, Dad was an earnest roughneck, and Daphne was well-meaning. Frasier and Niles were also elitist pricks at times so they couldn’t even always agree where to eat together, much less with their father who was happier having a burger with ketchup.
Every episode had some central motivator; an ice fishing trip, a joint investment, an awards ceremony - but these things were just catalysts to the main conflict, which was almost always something between characters. We’d seen it time and again, that Frasier and his Dad would come to blows over differences in taste. Niles would try to court Daphne while torn by his commitment to his failing marriage, over and over. But the pithy banter and the way they resolved it would always be new, so people watched this show, episode after episode, for over a decade.
And the simple beauty of it all was that each of the characters had something to do with each other. Whether it be filial obligation, lust, sibling rivalry, friction between introversion and extroversion, or taste in food, they always had some source of conflict to make a show out of. Niles and Frasier were both psychiatrists, but from different schools of thought and different working environments, so they even had chances to butt heads academically and professionally. It was rich with writing opportunities and it’s not any wonder it lasted so long.
Another sitcom, “New Girl”, which was about a group of roommates, had a good dynamic set-up between two characters, Schmidt and Nick. Nick is a messy slob and Schmidt’s a type A neat freak, creating a really obvious source of conflict to work with. But then they had a third character, Winston, who they lampshade as the token black guy. 
Now, the joke that Winston is the “black friend” has pretty much no legs, so in the early seasons you see him acting as kind of a third party mediator, or maybe a wild card, and it winds up being funnier when Winston is unhelpful. So as the seasons went on, Winston gradually lost his damn mind. He becomes a cop and meets a woman so that he’d have some character growth and dynamic, but also develops into a man who would burn a building down as a prank. The writers had no idea what they were doing with him and he gradually flew further and further off the handle.
Don’t get me wrong, I really liked Winston as a character. Aside from being funny in the show, watching the writers gradually unglue him from sanity was its own meta comedy above that. I knew they were doing it on accident, but having such a good time with it that it was just going to keep getting worse. In fact a major component of the finale for the whole show is an insane thing Winston does. They wrap the show on the note, “Winston is crazy”. And it all happened because they didn’t figure out what Winston’s conflict was at the start. He didn’t have a source of conflict with anyone, so the man became a living breathing embodiment of conflict in general.
Your Story Ends With the Conflict
Now, the catch is, in any type of fiction, whether a video game, a roleplaying session, or a sitcom, the story ends when the conflict does, because if the conflict is over there’s nothing more to tell! It used to frustrate me to no end back when “My Little Pony” was popular and the other nerds on the internet used to ask, “How many times must Fluttershy learn not to be shy, or that being shy is okay? When will she overcome all that she is and eliminate the core element that creates conflict for her?”
The answer should always be that the character will learn their damn lesson when the show ends or when they’re written off it. If you are sick of seeing a character and don’t want to see them any more, the best thing to do is close out their issues, because once they have no conflicts, they have no story, and there’s no point in doing a show about them. Asking Fluttershy to stop being shy is asking to say goodbye to her, because she's a cartoon and her job is to entertain kids by being neurotic and yellow.
People think they’re so smart when they say they’d solve all a character’s problems if it were them. In the finale to the first season of Poke’mon, for example, Ash decides to gamble his whole championship run on Charizard, who’s a self-absorbed bitch of a creature that ultimately throws the match and leaves it an open question whether Ash might have won if he’d left the team primadonna sitting on the bench.
Some viewers see that and complain it’s the dumbest possible thing Ash could have done, but it’s probably one of the single most brilliant things the Poke’mon writers did in the grand scheme, because think about where it left us. Ash didn’t achieve his goal of proving he’s “the best”, but it feels like a fluke and if he got another shot, he might make it all the way. This gave the show a gateway to more episodes with Ash still having something to prove and a dumb mistake indicating he still had a lot to learn. Because he didn’t win, his story hadn’t ended.
In some cases shows can end characters just by addressing some dream goal they’ve been expressing since the first season. In the case of Brock, they intentionally removed him from the show by introducing him to some girl who was willing to work with Brock in the animal husbandry business. He’d been traveling all this time, his dream opportunity fell into his lap, and he was gone. What reason would he have to refuse, and why would anyone stop him? And of course, Brock’s dream job was incompatible with the central plot elements of the rest of the show, so that was it!
The Format Informs the Conflict
If you want to write something but you aren’t sure when it’s going to end, you need a concrete, long-term conflict that’s not just going to go away. For example, in “Scooby Doo and the Thirteen Ghosts”, there were thirteen ghosts. By design, that show should have ended after Scooby Doo found all thirteen ghosts. It actually ended earlier than that because it was cancelled, but you get the idea. When you have a finite goal, your run time is going to be finite as well.
At least in theory. In “JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure” they establish at the beginning of one season that everyone’s magic powers were based on the Tarot. Now, I don’t know the Tarot off hand, but as the show went on I knew that sooner or later they’d run out of Tarot cards, and in my mind I assumed the season would be over when the Tarot ended. But then I got a good chuckle when a guy showed up and his powers were based on a totally different theme, because I knew the writer had realized he’d stumbled into something good and wasn’t ready to end it. He invented a cheap excuse to keep going! And I think if “Scooby Doo and the Thirteen Ghosts” had been successful they’d have managed to unleash a whole lot more than thirteen ghosts because Hannah Barbera was not exactly a studio with a lot of shame.
Character conflicts like those in sitcoms are a great way to have conflict perpetually, because people don’t really change that much and there’s no reason why most of the fundamental friction shouldn’t be there indefinitely. But of course, character-driven conflict is going to be secondary in an event-driven show. “Jojo” actually does have a lot of character conflict, but the plot is primarily about the battles and the journey - if all the fighting ended Jojo’s characters probably couldn’t carry a sitcom, at least not without some serious hard work, a little genius, and a touch of elbow grease.
For event-driven conflict, you’ll want to establish a target - a moving target if you don't know when the story ends, and that can be pretty difficult. Old action shows and comics used to do it by having a rotating cast of villains, so that after one was defeated another would show up tomorrow, and it was assumed these guys regularly broke out of prison, or they escaped in rocket pods, or whatever, and they’d be back later with a new goofy scheme. In these cases you tend to find reactive heroes; they patrol the streets until a lunatic in tights and a garden-themed hat shows up and transforms everyone into people-shaped topiaries somehow.
For active heroes, you need to establish something that requires a lot of structure, like Ash’s journey to win the Poke’mon League. In every country he visits, they all have this asinine rule that you have to go to eight unique locations and kick the ass of someone who disadvantages themselves with an easily-countered mono team that all have the same exact weakness. You can’t be accepted into the League if you haven’t proven you own a water Poke’mon to utterly flatten the fire gym! Let’s be real, this nonsense is probably designed intentionally as a money gate - most people run out of cash before they qualify. Either way, it ends when Ash wins the league, and he lost the league so the show could keep going.
For roleplaying games, the same rules apply. With your players, you’re either going to establish a reactive goal - an adventuring guild hires a bunch of colorful salarymen with silly accents to go to a dungeon as part of their nine to five job - or you need players to set an active goal for themselves and keep the realization of that goal beyond their reach until you’re ready to end the game.
The Active Hero Acts
In my younger years, I learned to roleplay in almost exclusively player-driven games where we were expected to come up with our own goals and pursue them ourselves, but I’ve discovered that is stunningly rare in most roleplaying circles. Your typical D&D player likes to play the salaryman with a funny accent who doesn’t have to worry about the venturous part of adventure. His boss told him to go to the Cave of Everlasting Wonders and Torturous Screams, recover the Sword of Bad Portent, and then hand it over to the department of magic items where they’ll file the paperwork to get it delivered to the patron that wanted the sword for some reason. No need to have your own motives.
But what if you want to play a crime fighter who actually, you know, busts up all the crime? Clearly you can’t just wait for crime to happen passively - you’ve got to go after people. Act instead of being reactive. Purse snatchers are small time and in a more grounded setting the guys you’ll catch by being passive are just grunts being hired out by someone - usually kids in a lot of cases. You have to seek out the bosses.
Making an active character to fit into any setting can be challenging, and I’ve seen quite a few pitfalls. I think one of the funniest motives is always “the guy who wants to go home” due to its obvious failure condition. A lot of stories are about everymen who just want to get out of trouble, but those stories end when they get out of trouble! In many books, movies, shows, or roleplaying games, you’re almost always going to find opportunities to send that guy home, and you’ll have to either conveniently ignore it, switch motives and decide not to go home, or end the whole story with going home. These characters only work where the story is happening to them and it's all out of their control.
I’ve also seen my share of the “quirky genius inventor/scientist”. When someone designs a character mistaking a dream for a motive. They dream of building a better mouse trap, you see. That’s their inner conflict. And while this is a real world conflict, it’s difficult to make it a good story because actual science and invention involves a lengthy quantity of controlled experiments. You breed hundreds of fruit flies, expose them to nicotine, and try to isolate the gene that causes nicotine resistance. It can be fascinating work at its level but sometimes the most exciting part of your day is when you give yourself a steam burn cooking the fly food. The “quirky scientist” in fiction is usually more of a mentor, and if he insists on staying in his lab doing his work then he’s not even a main character - he’s a guy who explains fruit flies to the audience and then is never heard from again. Other times he’s the asshole who invented the story’s whole problem.
I once played in a game with “the quirky scientist who wants to go home”, and man was that a frustrating ride. The game itself was about occult magic and demons, and for most of the game the scientist was experimenting with teleportation magic to go home and was focused on that above the goal of finding and eradicating demons (the game’s premise). And when he finally met a boss demon that could teleport him home to his lab, he went! We wound up retiring a character who, to be honest, was barely even interested in the main subject of the story. Had he been in a film or a show, they’d have cut the character after the first draft because he served no purpose and wasted screen time.
So how do you make sure your character has a working, proactive goal, in a nutshell? Establish a goal that can be achieved by the character within the framework of your story through action by leaving his house (or after burning his house down so he can’t go home), and then make sure the goal is big enough that it will take many broad steps to get there - those steps need to be concrete and visible, not things that would happen off-screen. Most importantly, tie that goal into the main premise of the story, so that reaching the end of the story generally may achieve what the character wants.
If You Aren’t Trying, It’s Not A Trial
Okay, I understand that last bit probably requires more unpacking. But think of it this way. There’s a writing structure referred to as the “Hero’s Journey”. Basically it goes like this: the hero is forced into adventure, he meets friends and goes through trials, he hits his lowest point, he is reborn into a better man, he ends the conflict, story over.
What I’m talking about specifically right now are the trials. The “wacky inventor” is usually presumed to do all his research off screen because most media likes to focus on the results of the invention and the conflict. But if you were to focus on the trials of a scientist, it’d actually be about procuring research grants and potentially materials. You wouldn’t watch a show about a man who checks gene A-235 for nicotine resistance in flies, then goes on to A-236, then A-237.
If I were to write a story about a researcher, here’s one thing I might do: the researcher fails to find what he’s looking for in gene A-235, and when he goes to seek a grant to look at A-236, he finds one of his colleagues has convinced the university that the protagonist’s research is a dead end. Hearing this, the researcher realizes he’s about to lose his lab, so he writes a bit of a lie into his report on A-235. He says it may prevent cancer.
Now, the protagonist is, deep down, a good man. He thinks this will generate some buzz at the university and get him more funding, but he’ll do a follow-up and show the data doesn’t hold up. After that he’ll ask for money for A-236 and everything goes back to normal. But disaster strikes. His article, which was only supposed to show up in an obscure research journal, gets picked up by a major news network and winds up being spread all over. Suddenly he’s “the man who cured cancer”.
And as he’s trying to figure out how to navigate the issue, another researcher comes out and says that under peer review, he was able to replicate the results. He too shows that A-235 cures cancer! Now the hero isn’t sure. He becomes a celebrity and simply lies about his research because he has no real data, but try desperately as he might, in private he just can’t get the results the peer review insisted were there.
He struggles and struggles, coming to blows with his colleague who’s scrutinizing his research notes. Throw in a love interest who’s impressed with what this guy did, and actually I think I’ve just described the plot of some movie I saw a long time ago about faking cold fusion. I think Albert Einstein was a supporting character in it. In my version the twist would be the peer reviewer was also trying to get a grant by lying. Point is, the central conflict of the film certainly isn’t the scientific process, it’s all the crazy crap that happened on the way from point A to point B.
The story is in the trials. If nothing changes, if the character doesn’t have to change their way of life or go through anything special, it’s either not a story or it’s not your typical story. There are plenty of experimental films or well-regarded books that can make a certain banality become interesting. Stories that explain the simple struggles of day to day living for people on hard times. But the trials, the palpable challenges, that’s really the meat of it all. When you think of what your character should be doing throughout the story, he should be going through these efforts, these steps, these trials, all in the name of whatever his broader goal is.
Where You Start Affects Where You End
It also matters quite a lot when and where characters are introduced. A lot of tales follow some basic notes, and one of the more common elements is “crossing the threshold”, which prevents your characters from going back to their life before the adventure. It’s used because it compels the characters forward, as they have no other direction they can go. It can be anything: the character’s home town is destroyed, the character commits a crime, he accepts a contract, his mother dies - so long as it prevents him from going back. It’s especially useful in roleplaying games where you really need everyone to be driving forward.
In one such roleplaying game, I got in a spat with the guy who wanted to run the game because I was trying to make a leader character, but the game master wanted to base his game around a movie he’d seen with a single main character. He’d elected another player to be that main character, and explained to me he’d be starting the game after that character had already crossed the threshold and had begun his journey. This meant that everyone else were supporting cast and could go back to their normal lives at any time, because they were coming willingly from where they were and not really facing any drastic changes to their personal status quo.
I eventually resolved not to play in that game at all, because none of the character dynamics I wanted were going to work. It was supposed to be a “wannabe” superhero game, with the premise that everyone wanted to be heroes, except one player had already started the journey and it turned out another had already reached the end of that arc and was going to play a character that had been a hero going on years before the story began. There was no plan to really reconcile the narrative clashes.
If that game were to work as it was, without me being present, then the person playing the pre-established hero would have needed to take the mentor role. The other players besides the main character would have needed to be comfortable in auxiliary roles, and the group would have to play as though they were part-way into the story. Still learning to be a team but well past the initial stages of a plot, and they’d all need to think up reasons to be in this group individually on their own, because the threshold had already been crossed and they didn’t cross it together.
The friend running the game was actually dismissive of my advice here, arguing that I was overcomplicating everything with a meta analysis of narrative and structure when all we need is a basic drive to play, and I don’t think he realized he’d set himself up with a much more complicated game and less cohesive premise by going about things as he had.
The already established hero couldn’t be the mentor because a mentor character had already been created as an NPC. The auxiliary players weren’t really informed at the outset they’d be auxiliaries - especially not me who’d wanted to play the team leader. The player who’d been designated as the central protagonist didn’t want to lead or be the central protagonist. It could have worked, but it would have taken a lot more planning and many more concessions than a typical game.
In a more recent game, I’ve got another bit of an issue with the start misleading the general goals of the players. It’s a sci-fi game, and first, one player is doing “the quirky inventor scientist”; his current stated dream is vaguely to create transhumanist technology. He also wants to play the leader, so he established himself as the most important man nobody has ever heard of. He has spies in every major institution in the known galaxy and is a genius beyond comparison. He’s currently based in a rusting pirate ship in the middle of the space boonies doing nothing with his life save being the most important man.
Meanwhile, I set up a disgraced military officer with a revenge quest against his own nation. But the pirate crew my character joined turned out to not believe in structure nor leadership and they killed their last commander to have a system of “democracy”. My structure-minded character has tried to take the lead and drive us forward, but he runs into general deconstructive resistance and the “quirky scientist” wants to be the leader, but hasn’t yet expressed self-motivated goals.
It’s not exactly my most harmonious game and there’s quite a lot going wrong here, but here’s how it could have worked: first, establishing that the crew of the pirates respects no leadership places the entire crew in the precarious position of being “chickenshit” at the outset. That kind of incohesiveness is why a band of rogues gets easily defeated; it’s not the behavior of scrappy men of action, but hopeless men of inaction. A corrupted “democracy” collectivises failure while awarding success to whoever actually has the most power in the group structure - it protects the weak leaders from responsibility and disincentivizes good work by allowing those same men to reap rewards while offloading the burdens to those lower on the ladder. In essence, “If things are screwed up, blame the democracy. If things are good, I did it.”
What should have happened was the “quirky scientist” should have been in charge to start with, because otherwise he has no reason to be on board the ship. He’s the most powerful man in the galaxy, after all. If it were because he was financing the pirates to go on raiding and salvage missions relevant to his research, then it would make sense. He’d have a purpose and a position of leadership just as the player wanted. It would also establish the pirates have some command structure and a level of respect for it that allows them to function.
And the power struggle between the disgraced officer and the scientist? Perfectly reasonable character conflict that would drive actual, meaningful roleplaying and story. The scientist may bankroll the operation but the officer is the tactical talent and the two pull in opposite directions, as power-hungry men often do.
However, the opportunity to start with a sensible and meaningful social dynamic has passed, and on top of that the “quirky scientist” keeps his galaxy-wide power a secret, so it’s all kind of messy and “badly written” in the sense that most audiences would be generally rooting for the crew to fail, and they’d find the grand reveal of the scientist’s galactic power to be frustrating and unrewarding because it’s more of a plot hole than anything. So close on so many counts and yet so very far, and the opportunity to pull it together eventually is present but a more challenging and uphill battle than getting it right at the outset.
In The End, Did We Even Learn Anything?
Creating a character is easy, in my opinion. Creating a working story with a group of self-driven characters can be a lot harder. This is especially true of roleplaying games or of cooperation with multiple writers, where you need to be on the same general page with a committee. It can help a lot to establish the exact conflicts at the beginning, but as can be seen with Winston from “New Girl” or the later seasons of “My Little Pony”, what you have can morph beyond your control as things go on.
Sometimes you never had control in the first place. Sometimes you lose control because you conclude the original conflict of your story and struggle to find a new one - the brand is too successful to let go. Maybe an executive comes in and injects an idea that throws the entire balance of everything totally out of whack and now nothing works. Sometimes your friend thinks story structure is overrated. It’s a difficult juggling act.
So at the end of this essay did we even learn anything? It depends a lot on what you’re trying to do and what you wanted to learn. If you’re the more typical Dungeons and Dragons group, you don’t need to think much about this. Just make your characters and passively react to activities handed out by Dungeons, Dungeons & Co - your conflict is event-driven. Are you writing a sitcom? Well, balance a tangled web of conflicting character habits and write the ensuing disaster. Want to make a complex film about a group of highly motivated, proactive people with sophisticated individual goals that ultimately converge while still respecting their rich, conflicting, inner politics, and do all that writing as part of a team? Well, good goddamn luck, but with the right start and enough care you can make it happen.
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Okay peoples, we all know that Sanders Sides is really close to the concept of Inside Out, BUT, here me out, it’s actually legit just a fantasy book/movie
Like seriously
We’ve got Thomas, who is the seemingly ordinary human main character who will inevitably be revealed to be half magic (probably on his mom’s side) by the end of the story and he doesn’t really know what’s going on, all he knows is that he’s involved in some weird shit now and he has some weird magic friends
And then we’ve got his weird magic friends
There’s Logan, the nerdy smart one that everyone says they listen to and yet they never use his (incredibly brilliant) plans to defeat the bad guys (instead opting to go punch punch stab stab) and anyone who’s never read/seen a fantasy story will think that he’s the one who’s going to ultimately help the hero (Thomas) in the final battle. Spoiler alert: he actually isn’t the one to ultimately help the hero in the final battle. Because that’s too easy. Also he probably has some idiot sibling who like, only shows up for one scene to show that they exist and then they disappear for the rest of the story
Then there’s Patton, the friendly one. I mean, that’s it. He’s just the heart and soul of the group and by “just”, I mean that everyone ignores him until something bad happens to him, everyone else starts to fight, and they realize that he’s actually the one keeping them all from killing each other. He inevitably sees good in the main villain and tries to convince the others to listen to him (will only succeed if the author wants the villain to have a redemption arc)
And there’s Roman, the “stupid muscle” one. He’s the one who always pretends he’s better than everyone else (while also acting like a complete dumbass and always wanting to fight the bad guys with no plan) but he secretly thinks he’s the worst of the worst and he thinks he’s not worthy to be part of the group. The villain knows this (somehow...ooooh mysterious. We’ll get to that later) and uses it to defeat him in the final battle (but of course he wants to wait to kill him because he needs to monologue first)
And then there’s Virgil, the dark and brooding one. Every uneducated person will think that he’s secretly a bad guy, but no. He’s just sad. He of course has some dark past that he doesn’t want to talk about, and it obviously involves the main villain somehow, which is why he’s part of the group. He just wants revenge and this is the best way to do it. He doesn’t care about these people. Except that he ends up saving everyone else in the final battle while the hero is busy fighting the villain so that the author can pretend it’s a major plot twist, but like, anyone who’s consumed a fantasy story in some way knows this is coming
Now the villain and his pet
By “pet” I mean sidekick, the weird, disturbing, slightly (a lot) comedic, head goon. And of course that’s Remus, because who else could pull it off so easily? Remus is the second in command for the villain, for some reason. He’s always failing to catch the heroes or kill them, and yet somehow the villain still trusts them to do the job until the very end, plot reasons I guess. He’s always inevitably secretly (or not so secretly) related to one of the main heroes. And it’s almost always the “dumb muscle” one that he’s related to (and it is in this case, obviously) but sometimes they’re related to the nerd. (Because y’know, nerd’s gotta have an idiot sibling for some reason)
And of course there’s the villain
Which is of course, Janus. So obviously he’s the main scary bad guy trying to defeat the heroes. He has some dark traumatic experience in his past that “forced” him to go down the path of darkness. And he was probably the “failed experiment” of the main character’s old guy mentor, because of course there has to be a connection between them. He will inevitably either die or have a redemption arc at the end of the story (in this particular case obviously he has a redemption arc)
AND
Whenever the villain has a redemption arc, there’s almost always a sequel. That sequel involves a NEW villain of course, and will show the main crew struggling to accept the villain and his pet (if his pet isn’t dead) into their group no matter how long the story says it’s been since the original plot line.
SO OF COURSE
Who is this new villain?
Well they’re usually a completely new character introduced at the VERY END of the original story. If it’s a movie, it’s the very last scene or at the end of the credits, for books its usually just the last page because they don’t really have that visual suspense thing going for them
AND SO
WITH THAT INFORMATION
I PROPOSE THE IDEA
THAT
The mysterious orange side (if they exist) is this new villain who would inevitably die by the end of the series (because this one would probably take multiple books or movies to kill since only 2 books/movies in a series is kinda....unheard of entirely)
Of course for the sake of Sanders Sides the mysterious orange side will probably just have another redemption arc, same as the other dark sides (well....Remus....eh) because we all know that the sides are all parts of Thomas and we don’t know what would happen if he were to kill one of these sides. (Lots of people have their own ideas or theories about how this would work though, and I seriously suggest you go to Wattpad and read some fanfics...it’s pretty dang cool. Dark and angsty and sad, but cool)(I know there’s other websites for fanfiction but Wattpad is my go-to so yeah)
So anyways
Yeah
Sanders Sides is just a fantasy series
But wait a second-where’s the magic???
Well
The sides are all in Thomas’s head, and we know that they have the ability to shape-shift and make things appear for themselves at will (not Thomas of course, poor boi) and so, I think that those powers would just translate over to the fantasy world as some sort of basics magic that all magical people have in that realm. Of course each of the sides would have their own unique power as well
Virgil with the loud voice thing
Roman....I dunno I feel like he’d probably have some sort of She-Ra or Hulk type thing going on, feel free to give other ideas I just woke up and started typing honestly
Patton would probably have like..flowers or something. Because everyone assumes that flowers means harmless (hehehehehehe)
Logan would either not have a special power (because he’s already smart we don’t wanna make him TOO powerful) or he’d have like spellcasting or something because it involves reading (and no one else could POSSIBLY have the ability to read a spell. It’s just TOO MUCH for their little brains)
Remus...he’s got the screeching thing? Like...it’s obviously different from Virgil’s thing, but it’s still a loud voice thingie sooo yeah
And Janus has the ability to shut people up, as we’ve seen, but I’d also like to think that his special power would involve snakes in some way because...snek boi
And Thomas of course would have the “chosen one” ability, whatever that might mean. I don’t know, I don’t have ideas because I already gave the She-Ra thing to Roman and She-Ra is what’s in my head right now sooooo yeah. I might reblog this later with some better ideas when it’s not 8 in the freaking morning
I can’t say what the orange side’s special power would be because I know nothing about them, including if they even actually exist or if we’re all just insane. Both are very possible so we’ll see what happens I guess
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Okay so I know we all love to joke that no one in the Hargreeves family has any brain cells, which honestly is hilarious and let's not stop, but I feel like they have tons of brain cells, but like not in the right places.
Like Luther is obviously a genius, he was up on the moon for four years conducting research that requires a lot of scientific knowledge, but I also feel like he’s the kind of dude to have no idea how to crack an egg. You can ask him the correct formula for a rocket launch, the current phase of the moon, the angle the sun hits the moon, and he could respond without hesitation. But ask him what a cake is made out of? What the nearby coffee shop is?? Literally, people consider basic knowledge??? Ask somebody else dude his head is filled with facts but not on what you're looking for. 
Diego? He knows the math it takes to perfectly guess where his throws are going. He knows how to read and assess enemies in real life and in the boxing ring. Can anticipate people’s moves and react accordingly. But then actually knows nothing about how human emotions work and probably doesn’t know that calling someone a shitbrain will hurt their feelings. Patch once said “I love you” to him and he threw himself out a window. He is a huge dumbass who saw a metal mask and thought “Ah, I should headbutt this”
Allison is probably the smartest when it comes to people. But you think that girl knows how to apply for a job? You think she knows how to pay taxes?? You think she knows what it’s like to deal with an angry customer when its 9pm and your shift ends in five minutes??? She has no real-life work experience lets be honest but on the flip side she’s an actress, so she probably has a wide variety of different professions and ways people react so she can replicate that. She’s also known to be a really good detective, so like she knows her way around a library and has basic people reading skills.
Klaus, oh Klaus is a dumbass through and through. He’s seen doing stupid ass things all the time. But like, he is the person to know those weirdly specific facts that no one ever cares about. He doesn’t realize staying in an active war zone cause you saw a cute guy is probably not the best idea, but he can tell you how many calories you burn by smashing your head against a wall for an hour. (Btw the answer is 150 calories) He eats a dirty bagel out of a dumpster that is probably chocked full of germs without hesitation but he does know that a hummingbird can flap his wings 70 times in a second. If stopping the apocalypse was all about random facts that no one cares about? It would be stopped within a minute.
Five is considered a genius, he knows complex mathematic formulas and the secret to time travel and how to best kill a dude, but he is lost when it comes to everyday things. Dealing with people? He’s an idiot he’s never around people for most of his life because he was stuck in an apocalypse.  The first time he sees someone cries he literally has no idea what to do. Comforting people? Nope, he’s lost. You think he didn't freak out the first time he saw a train? What about when his siblings roped him into celebrating Halloween or Thanksgiving? He’s out of his depth there. But you want to know how to travel in time and how to best kill someone with a pen? You want to know Delores's favorite color? Want to know if twinkies really do last forever? He’s your guy. 
Ben, sweet little Ben. He was so smart, so sensible, then he had to spend a decade or two with Klaus and now his logic is reduced to saving Klaus from dangerous situations and longing to go see the ocean. Like he’s probably nodding along to every dumbass thing Klaus does. “We're going to go rob this store because Luther and Five were mean to you? Hell yeah we are, let’s go.” Klaus and Ben are the best dumbass duo and you can’t change my mind. But also like, Ben is the smartest in a way? Like he knows that people can take life for granted and he’s always encouraging Klaus not to? I feel like he’s very in touch with his feelings and would host family therapy nights when he can become corporal where he literally gets to the root of everyone's problems within seconds. 
Vanya is fairly smart, but that girl has been on emotion suppressing drugs since she was FOUR people. She has no idea how to process emotions other than literally blowing up the moon. But when it comes to everything else? She’s the most grounded in reality. She understands how the world works, how to get a job, how to buy a house, how to make money. She lives a normal life, meaning she does know how to function. She could probably teach the rest of their lessons on how to live normally. And violins! She can teach little kids how to do that, meaning she’s really good at dealing with kids and explaining things. And like, Shes amazing at the violin so she probably knows everything violin related too. 
In conclusion, the apocalypse didn’t happen because they all are super dumb, it happened because they are all super smart, but like in the wrong ways. So the Hargreeves all collectively have a single brain cell for each of them, it’s just a very small very specific brain cell that bounces around their heads like the windows icon and when it hits a corner they can actually think a helpful thought.
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lovelessmako · 3 years
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This is a demon/exophilia love story I've been working on that I thought I'd share here. If people seem to like it then I'll add more.
Ve
Chapter One:
Kivet laughed inwardly as blood and adrenaline rolled off his dark form in waves. The thrill of the chase. Watching a child cling to you, begging you to let them go as the light slowly leaves their eyes. This was what he was created for. He was a peacekeeper between the different species. It was his job to keep the status quo in any way possible. If that meant killing children because a fae dared to have a child with a human, then that was what he had to do. Afterall, mutts were incapable of kindness or love. Sure, they could fake it quite convincingly, even Kivert himself would've fallen for it had he not been taught the truth, but it was impossible for them to experience any pleasant emotions. If Kivet enjoyed his job then that was nobody's business but his own. Everyone needed to stick to their own people. Only the Ve, which he was, could leave their lands.
Sometimes people would send messengers to other species in order to broker peace. Kivet hated those. Scared, unarmed, diplomats with enough medals to make you go blind as they reflected the sun. They didn't deserve those. He always made sure nothing arrived and would leave a bloodied medal behind as a warning. He would keep the others, of course. They were rather good quality and he had quite the collection coming along. He had no idea what they stood for but surely he deserved them more than their original owners.
Kivet set to work wiping his claws off on a rag he kept in his pocket. He frowned slightly when he saw that the blood had reached there as well. So much for clean hands. He gave up and settled for sitting with his back against a tree and admiring his work. Even in their last moments, the two criminals had held each other and tried to shield the child. That's commitment, he'll give them that. Maybe they thought it would gain his sympathy. Dumb. It did make him a bit lonely though. If such scum found someone to play along with their ruse, then why was a hero forced to work alone? He wasn't forced per say, but his old partner had fallen for an orphaned mutt's tricks and had to be put down. It was unfortunate, Suvo was pretty good at his job. He had even told Kivet that what they were doing was wrong! Saving lifes is wrong? What an ass! No, he reminded himself, it was that mutt's fault. Suvo had younger siblings and the creature looked similar to one. Meanwhile, Kivet had never been around children except for when he was in school.
He gathered himself and started in to the nearest town. Kivet could use something to eat, and there were always mutts scatted about to kill. It was disturbing how many there were. Why do people insist on disobeying the natural order of things? The strangest part was how many purebreds supported the movement. The town wasn't too far of a walk, and his shadowy wings were still a bit sore from the long flight over, so he didn't mind walking. The land was nice enough, a dirt path with a small lake to the right and wilting forest to his left. There were some huts in groups of 3 or 4 every now and then; It seems the humans were not advanced enough to feel safe living alone yet. It made sense, they were a very fragile species, very easy to injure; even by accident. They also contracted illnesses often and usually died from them. And, even if they managed to be extremely careful, their lifespan was still very short. Most species told tales of these weak creatures and used them as examples of the good alliances between species would do. They were nothing more than figureheads, however. Something that would be cast aside when no longer needed.
Humans were the worst when it came to mutts. They found fae and elves to be attractive for some reason. He could see it from a procreation standpoint; every parent wants their children to be powerful. But what did the others gain? Maybe humans had special bonding rituals that they preformed in order to create children. That could be interesting. Not that it would ever be possible for a Ve, even if it was allowed. He was reminded of that time and time again as humans ran or hid from him. "Nightmare. Demon. Bad omen. Monster," he had heard it all.
This time, however, the humans seemed to be crowding around a figure on the ground. He hissed loudly, causing them to scatter and leave the body. He crouched nearby, not caring about the pool of blackened blood that was leaking from a bashed in skull. This was a Ve. A wing had been torn off along with their hands, likely for grizzly trophies. Something caught his eye behind their ear. Kivet yanked out the sharp object to see a steady, blinking, red light. A tracker. This wasn't a Ve that had gotten out of line and needed to be put down. They were hunted. He growled and glared around at the humans. No, not one of them. They were much too timid; many crying already. Entire towns had been decimated for less serious offenses.
If someone was hunting Ve then Kivet needed to be safe. While Ve normally had a solid form, they could take on a shadowy apperation that couldn't be harmed. Unfortunately they couldn't harm anyone either. An even trade off. It also took effort. Not a lot, but it would surely add up. He weighed his options. He couldn't eat while in that form so he would have to drop it for those moments. But waiting a few days to eat could help. It would be a lot easier if he had a partner that could help by taking turns keeping watch. But they would just be hit instead. Maybe he could trick a troll into protecting him. They're a good 3-4 feet taller than him and bright blue; an easy target. But that would mean putting up with a troll. And he didn't even speak their language. Not worth it.
"Are you alright, sir?" Kivet jumped, how could he have let a human sneak up on him like that?! They continued, ignoring his suprise, "it's a pretty gruesome sight."
"Don't talk to me." He went ignored.
"Did you know them?"
"Why are you still talking to me?!"
"Its still sad, even if you didn't. I know if I saw a human like that I'd likely take my own life from the trauma."
Why didn't this human-? Wait, they probably couldn't understand him. Humans had a spoken language, not psychic. Kivet remembered studying that back in Academy; they had to choose a language and it seemed the easiest.
"Fine," he choked out, voice scratchy and broken from lack of use. The human apparently took that as emotion and placed their hand on his shoulder. He hissed in warning, but it wasn't removed.
"Why don't you come inside? I'm not sure if you can digest the same things as us, but I made some nice potato soup. Its chilly today as well. I already have a fire going inside."
Why was this human being nice to him? They didn't even know his name. Hell, he didn't even know their gender; humans were difficult to ascertain with their lack of horns or spikes. He considered the offer. On one hand, he had come to the village for food, and while he wasn't affected by the weather, seeing such a mutilated corpse sent shivers down his back. He was reminded of what his father told him when he started school, "Don't trust anyone, regardless of species or blood relation."
"Sounds lonely."
He startled, not realizing that he had spoken it aloud. "Its all I've ever known." Lie. He had traveled with Suvo for 3 years before the incident. "Find me another Ve and I'll consider changing my mind," he tried to joke. It probably sounded too serious in his underused voice.
"You'll be pretty hard-pressed to find another." A tall fae with tanned skin and a whimsical voice pranced over to them, feet light and airy. Humans referred to Fae as the opposite of Ve. Kivet hated them. Even more than mutts.
"Oh, don't give me that look, demon. I come with news." Kivet continued to glare. How dare he speak to him! "The Ve were attacked a few weeks ago. Whole towns wiped out. Only a handful of you guys remain and they're hunting you down." Who? He was too confused to ask. Ve were untouchable. Heroes who used their strength for good. Why would someone attack? How could they lose? "The Golems." The Fae seemed to understand the unspoken question. "They asked the Fae to join them but our queen refused. The last time we angered Ve our capital was destroyed. So much unnecessary death."
"Just tell me what happened already!" Kivet was getting fed up with this stupid voice already.
He shrugged, a human expression, "that's all I know. My guess is a full frontal assault. Ve are good at tactics, but you lack- what was the word? Oh yeah-strength." That was a blow and he knew it. The Ve were all about strength. They were the best when it came to 1-on-1 fights. Then other species had to invent blades and spears. Kivet, like most Ve, refused to use them. They were a crutch. He hated to believe what a fucking Fae was telling him, but it added up. Golems were known to be able to track anything; relentless hunters. Now he knows it was all thanks to tiny machines.
"Serves you right! The Ve should've be wiped out centuries ago." The Fae laughed. Stupid, musical laughter. Kivet couldn't take it! He lunged at the taller man, causing them to fall to the ground. They seemed shocked and caught off guard. Kivet spread his wings threateningly and hissed in his face, taking joy in seeing the spots of saliva that splattered that stupid, perfect face. The human seemed to be saying something, but all Kivet saw was red. His instincts tuned out all other distractions and focused on their prey. He tried to let out a threatening laugh, but it only sounded broken with emotion. "Not strong, huh? Then what does that say about you?"
The Fae relaxed suddenly, much to his confusion. "Hear that? The Golems are coming." And they were. Their heavy footfalls could be heard not too far away. Likely near where Kivet had left the mutt and it's parent's bodies. He acted solely on instinct and shot off flying towards the sound of the noise. He had to see it for himself. His wings burned from the effort, not used to going faster than a leisurely pace. He stumbled in the air when one popped. Likely a sprain or dislocation, not broken. He fought through the pain until he heard the voices nearly under him. He landed on a sturdy tree branch and started to leap his way across to get a better view, yet be less visible. He didn't know much of their language, but he could pick out a few words "Troll. Her. Reward." They weren't tracking a Ve afterall! But who was this Troll? Someone important for the Golems to make a special trip. Maybe a criminal? Didn't matter. They could kill her for all he cared. Wasn't his problem.
Wait, then why was that Fae in a human village if not to warn him? The fucker came up with some random story to district him from his job! A Fae in a human village was very clearly against the rules. He inwardly scolded himself for not realizing earlier. Oh, he was going to pay!
Kivet turned to move, forgetting about his hurt wing, and stumbled slightly. The rustling attracted the attention of one of the Golems. He froze as he was stared directly in the eye. Neither made a move for what felt like forever. Another Golem said something to the one watching him who then turned his attention away. This was the perfect opportunity to run! So why couldn't he move? The one who had spotted him said something about a bird before the group continued on their way. Did a Golem just cover for him!? Wait, why would that be shocking? Ve had important jobs and couldn't afford to be distracted by insignificant creatures. Surely that was public knowledge by now.
He should really go after that one Fae, but right now he was just too tired, rules be damned. He doubted he could sleep with all that had happened in the past few hours. It seemed like weeks had passed since he last awoke. He wrapped himself into a snug position and closed his eyes.
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thetypedwriter · 4 years
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Black Wings Beating Book Review
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Black Wings Beating Book Review by Alex London 
Do you ever have to go to a work/school/mandatory meeting and then think to yourself an hour later...wow, that could have been summed up in an email?
Black Wings Beating by Alex London kind of felt like that to me. 
Black Wings Beating is a series that surrounds twin siblings, Brysen and Kylee, and the ornithological world that they live in. Ornithology, in case you don’t know, is the zoological study of birds. 
This book has so many birds. 
My god. The birds. 
And bird references, allusions, metaphors, and expressions. I didn’t even know that many bird-like turn-of-phrases existed until this book and now I am painfully aware. 
But these siblings live in a world that is dominated by the presence of birds, the training of birds, the selling and buying of birds, and the companionship of birds. Even the legends, myths, culture, civilization, and religion surround freaking birds. 
It didn’t bother me too much at the beginning, and all the little facets you learn about falconry and bird species was intriguing at first, but it was something that very quickly outgrew its welcome for me. 
In this world, Brysen wants to be a great bird-handler hero by catching the legendary Ghost Eagle, a feat that many have attempted and all have failed.
His sister simply just wants to live her life in peace and harmony while ignoring the special language deep inside of her that allows her to command birds (a gift that is largely ignored and mistrusted by her, but revered by everyone else who knows about it). 
Neither of them get what they want, as Brysen idiotically offers to go on a hunt to fetch the Ghost Eagle himself (without help, foresight, or experience) all in the name of love for a guy who obviously doesn’t give a shit about him, and Kylee, being the kind, good-natured sister that she is, follows him into this idiotic quest despite her obvious misgivings about it. 
This is then followed by another character named Nyall who then follows after her as he loves her and bam, you’ve got three teenagers up in the mountains attempting to catch a mythological bird creature that no one has even been able to catch before. 
That’s pretty much the book. 
You’ve got some confusing miscellaneous stuff thrown in there as well, like the leader of the Kartami-a new group that despises birds and believes in slaughtering all of them and the people that have anything to do with birds-which is um, everyone? 
So basically, a terrorist group out there to kill the whole world. 
You’ve got the Council of Forty, which is some government that doesn’t really make sense in some far-off place, you’ve got some random Kyrgs that don’t seem to accomplish much, and then you’ve got the ghostly Owl Mothers and their coven boys who also are somehow entangled with the political nonsense of the Council of Forty wanting the Ghost Eagle and that’s really about it. 
So. Why did this book feel like a two-hour long meeting when it could have been a succinct email?
Because nothing really happens. It does, but not really when you get into the meat and potatoes of it. 
The whole book is the trio climbing the mountains, facing off against the Owl Mothers, getting the Ghost Eagle, miraculously getting back in like three pages compared to the three-hundred it took to get them there, and then a sporadic and puzzling fight at the end for who gets to control the Ghost Eagle and how its powers could be utilized the best. 
This book was just...odd in terms of how it decided its pacing and its logic. 
I’ll start by saying that this isn’t a bad book and I did enjoy portions and aspects of the world that London created. However, I also was heartily annoyed by several of the things that occurred. 
The highlights of this book are definitely it’s world building, entertainment value, and relatively mindless experience. This isn’t a hard book to read and it comes across as a juicy novel with action and adventure if that’s what you’re looking for, especially if you adore birds. 
Now onto the laundry list of items that aggravated me. 
The birds were too much. It’s like they asked London to come back with a sprout and he brought back a forest. I would have enjoyed the world of Uztar and all its intricacies if the bird analogies and references weren’t shoved down my throat every other sentence in the most ludicrous of ways, most non sensibly being the dialogue. Aka, referring to others as fledgelings and eyas’ made me want to hurl every time it was used. 
The POV of this book swapped back and forth between Kylee and Brysen, and originally, I thought I’d favor Brysen as he was the cool gray-haired eager eyed rascal that runs off to fight for what he believes in, but Brysen was easily the most irritating thing about this whole experience.
 He’s stupid, impulsive, selfish, naive, and just...kind of a jerk? Especially to his sister that literally does nothing else but try to protect him and love him. 
Now, for those of you who have read this book, you might be screaming at me. But his father beat him! He is the way he is because Kylee didn’t protect him as a child! His mother is useless! He’s had a horrible life. All of this is true. 
As London likes to remind you EVERY SINGLE PARAGRAPH, Brysen was abused heavily by his father and their father was a horrible, despicable man without a single redeeming bone in his body. 
Now, I obviously don’t condone abuse and the effects of child abuse are varied and complex, but in this case, I felt like London used it often and debilitatingly as a crux for Brysen just to be a bad character. Bysen does something you don’t like? It’s because of his abuse. Brysen is being dumb? Because of his abuse. Brysen not thinking things through again? Obviously because of the abuse. 
Now, I’m not trying to be callous here, but abuse, especially child abuse, has been done in YA literature before and done well. Meaning that the effects of the abuse are varied, nuanced, and not the whole sum of the character’s personality.
 A great example of this is basically any character from Nora Sakavic’s The Foxhole Court. All of the characters from that series are influenced by abuses they’ve suffered, but it isn’t the totality of who they are as human beings and it also isn’t brought up every goddamn second in order for it to be weighty and important. 
I understand that child abuse is a hugely sensitive and important factor. You don’t need to remind me every other sentence in order for it to be treated as such, which is unfortunately how it plays out in the novel. 
Kylee, on the other hand, I thought was the far superior twin. She also had a troubling childhood, but it didn’t define her and she also didn’t use it to justify her good or bad qualities. I would have preferred if the whole book had been from her POV with lovesick Nyall following after her in the mountains. 
Another important thing to mention is the anticlimactic sequence of them actually catching the Ghost Eagle. For a mythological bird that has killed hundreds and is supposedly impossible to catch and contain, Brysen, Kylee, Nyall and a coven boy are able to do it with literal ease. 
I think it was a five page fight before Brysen was strapping the humongous bird onto his back like a lumberjack and skipping on back to the village. It was disappointing to say the least. 
Lastly, there are just some things in this book that if you think too hard about, don’t make any sense. 
How can four teenagers catch the Ghost Eagle of legend with a few kicks and punches where hundreds of trained men have been unable to do it before? 
According to London, it’s because they have love and because they’re operating as a group. I’m sorry, you’re telling me that not a single group has attempted it before? Why not make a huge expedition party if that was the case? It makes no sense. 
Another example is the ending scene. Why can’t Brysen go with Kylee to the Sky Castle? Well, according to the Owl Mother it’s because Brysen is too important to Kylee and it affects her ability to use the Hollow Tongue too much. 
Translation: London doesn’t want them together in the sequel for a variety of reasons so he made up this bullshit excuse that doesn’t have any levity. 
Again, on the surface, it’s fine, but then if you think deeper about it, a lot of the book's choices and so-called logic collapse in on itself like a deck of cards which makes for a frustrating reading experience and personally unsure if I’ll pick up the sequel or not (probably not). 
Recommendation: If you are a bird-enthusiast, want to become a bird, or need something to alleviate your Angry Bird obsession that has still somehow not died down, this book will have you frothing at the mouth.
 For everyone else, this book is average at best. Not the worst story, but certainly not the best. If you want a quick adventure story, then go for it. If you want complexity, nuance, and not to hate birds whenever you see them, I’d fly clear (sorry couldn’t help it, I’m sure London would be proud even if I’m internally screaming). 
Score: 4.5/10
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Holy Hands
Fandoms: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!   Not Rated Graphic Depictions Of Violence F/M, Other Complete Work
Master List
Chapter 8
Diavolo pulled Lucifer into the nearest empty room.
"Did you know of this?!" He shouted.
Lucifer wasn't caught off guard by the question.
"I knew the humans faced a few threats...but I had assumed they weren't aware of them."
"You knew earth was that dangerous? And you let me send Solomon and MC back? " He stared wide-eyed at the fallen angel.
"I didn't know the specific's my Lord...I just knew there was a threat. Not so many... horrifically imminent threats." Lucifer kept a cool facade but his mind was racing just as fast as Diavolo's.
How had he not known the dangers he was sending his MC into? How had they found out about these threats when even he wasn't aware?
Diavolo asked Lucifer a question, and he realized he'd stopped paying attention in favor of his own inner thoughts.
"Pardon?"
"I said 'have I been stupid?'"
Lucifer was incredulous. "Of course not."
"You don't even know what I'm referring to."
"What then?"
"I…" Diavolo choked on his words for a moment. "I tried to unite the realms… but this makes me wonder what else I don't know. Was I naive to think I could foster friendship with a place and a people I don't even slightly understand?"
This was a much more complex question. One Lucifer would have trouble finding an answer for.
0"Alright so...what do we do now?" Acacia looked to MC as they walked back to their room.
"We live I guess, you heard them there's nothing we can do."
Acacia nodded. Just live, like they did before. Reaching the room Chester bounded up to the humans wagging his tail. Brand new bone clamped proudly in his teeth.
0Hoomans see this? This is New Bone .
New bone is so much better than bone, it's got marrow and everything! See? You see new bone? Isn't it the BEST THING EVER!?
Yes it is, Chester can tell from the pets and the high voice-noises the hoomans make. Don't just pet that side pet this side. Oh oh now do this side!
What? No, don't stop pettingggg! Put the fang-noodle DOWN! Down hooman! Ah the fang-noodle gets all the attention.
Chester isn't too worried. They all share a kennel now so he'll have to get more pets eventually.
0Lucifer stood outside the door. He could hear the silly hound they had running amok inside. He swore that the dog was trained to act untrained.
In his gloved hands he clutched a small stack of papers. Diavolo and him had agreed on this proposal, but he didn't think he'd have to tell them right now .
After the way they'd been behaving lately he was hoping to be able to give them the cold shoulder for a week or two, but now he had to ask them for a favor.
No not a favor! If anything he was doing them a favor by offering this opportunity. Still he had to squash his pride down in order to knock.
"It's open!"
"Heh"
Slowly he turned the handle.
Opening the door, he had mentally prepared himself for the jumping, noisy, excited canine. Still it jarred him when the thing stood on its back paws and stuck its nose in Lucifer's face. Lucifer gave it his patented disappointed stare and the dog backed down.
"Hello Lucifer, to what do we owe the pleasure?" MCs voice snapped his attention to them like a trained animal. Damn their velvety drawl.
"Whaddya want?" Acacia translated.
Straightening himself up to full height he fixed the siblings with a stare.
"I've come to discuss the matter of your... permanent residence in the Devildom" he stated.
The siblings looked at each other in confusion.
"Permanent?" Acacia tilted her head. Chester copied the gesture.
"Yes...my brothers…" Lucifer swallowed "and myself...have grown quite fond of your presence here MC. And despite Acacia's...many flaws, she has made her mark here as well."
Acacia tried to think of a good come-back but none came to mind. Lucifer, however, was on a roll.
"Due to the current circumstances, as well as the clear and present threats of Earth, Lord Diavolo and I have elected to move you here permanently."
MC's mind stalled for a moment while they processed the words. Stay permanently? They wanted it so badly it physically ached, but looking at Acacia she seemed reproachful.
Acacia comes first.
"That is an incredibly generous offer Lucifer, but we have to discuss it before we make any decisions."
"Alone" Acacia clarified.
Lucifer stared at them a moment longer. What if they refused? It didn't even occur to him they'd refuse such an offer, but when they didn't agree immediately…
"Very well." He stepped out of the room.
He wouldn't let MC go back. He was giving them the illusion of choice, but too much had happened. On his watch they'd died, and when he sent them away they almost died again. He'd already been given more chances then he needed to keep MC safe and this time he was determined.
They would stay in the Devildom with him where no one would even look at them without his knowledge. He would keep them so close that even a Celestial threat would think twice, because to threaten you would be to challenge him. And to challenge him is to die.
Meanwhile on the other side of the door.
"What about our home MC? We worked so hard just to keep it afloat and now you want to throw it all away?"
"I'm not throwing anything away, I'm just saying you shouldn't make a decision so hastily. We did work hard and we've had to work hard for a long time, but I really think we can have a better life if we stay here."
"Yeah but it won't be our life!" Acacia placed both hands on her chest as she yelled. "You'll be abandoning everything we've worked for since…" Acacia trailed off, eyes unusually shiny for the upbeat girl. MC shook their head slowly, wide eyed.
"That house is not our home, our home made that house. Don't you see? It doesn't matter where we go, we are our home." MC cupped Acacia's face, pressing their forehead to hers. "I won't make you stay here fuzzy, wherever you go I will follow. That is home." They promised.
Acacia hugged MC tight around the middle. MC wrapped their arms around her neck and rested their chin on top of her head.
"All our stuff is still there…" she mumbled into their chest.
"We can replace it"
"We can't replace my journal"
"You can write a new one, and fill it with new experiences"
"What about your art?"
"I don't make it to keep it, I make it to make it."
"This is crazy"
"Well it's up to you. I'll follow whatever you decide."
"Nuuuuuu that's too much pressure!" She whined, pulling out of the hug.
"I'm sorry Acacia you gotta decide...you can take your time." They soothed.
Acacia thought for a moment. She'd miss her friends back on Earth, but she'd miss the friends she'd already made in the Devildom. Especially Mammon and Beel. She was torn, there were so many pros and cons to consider. All of it tangled up in her head and made a jumbled mess.
MC was on their DDD, probably trying not to pressure her by staring. They always had her best interest at heart. They were so talented and cool, and she was so awkward and dumb. Why did she have to decide this?
She knew MC wanted to stay, she saw the way their face lit up when it was first suggested. She heard how their words picked up whenever they talked about the brothers. One brother in particular.
Lucifer was probably getting impatient outside. She didn't really like him but he obviously meant well. MC said they 'loved' him, but knowing them that probably didn't mean what she thought it did. She looked over at them again, they smiled softly down at their phone.
Could they make new memories here? Could they make this their home?
"Alright" she threw open the door to reveal Lucifer still waiting patiently.
"Give us the papers, we're staying."
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Are you willing to write a Stucky with a child that has Cystic Fibrosis? If so, can it be a domestic fluff? Like Bucky finds the kid and they remind him of Pre-serum Steve so he and Bucky take them in. Thank you if you can. (I'm sorry just want to see a CF character in a fandom I love)
Hi dear!! I was very nervous to write this as I wasn't very aware of the symptoms of CF. I went on a lot of medical sites and I think I have the information right? If not I am so so sorry and I will redo it!! Also I'm going to make their child a daughter but feel free to switch up the pronouns!  -Selenophile
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Cystic fibrosis is a genetic condition, which means that it is something you are born with. Cystic fibrosis is known to cause your lungs to produce extra-thick, sticky mucus. This mucus builds up and clogs your airways. Side effects include persistent cough with phlegm, postnasal drip, wheezing, shortness of breath, inability to exercise, as well as poor growth and low body weight despite a good appetite.
Y/N reads the doctors note every day. When she was younger, she didn't understand one word of it. At two years of age she would hand over the card to the family that had high hopes of adopting a little girl. They would usually leave without her. Her housemother, Mrs. Hamilton, always played it off as a different type of superhero form the comic books. Not a lot of adults want superhero babies. It was so easy to believe that. Now she’s 18. She getting released into the real world Luckily, her friend offered her house just till she can find a college to stay at.  Y/N had to learn the hard way that adults don't want a sick kid.
“Hey kiddo” Mrs. Hamilton said, her tone soft like silk.  “You read that dumb note everyday. It means nothing.”
“It apparently does. No adult wanted me in my 18 years of being here.” Y/N retaliated. 
“Don't think about that. They didn't deserve you anyway.” 
Y/N sighed and picked up her tote bags. “I’ll miss your kindness, Mrs. Hamilton.”
“You have my number if you need me.” 
“I know”
They shared a long tender hug. Y/N pulled away once she felt a little tickle in her throat. The tickle sadly turned into a whole fit. 
“Hey, if you ever need me to pay for your Bronchodilators, please text me. I don't mind.”
“Of course Mrs. Hamilton. Ill see you around.”
And with that, Y/N made her way down the stairs. This place, so familiar, was now going to be apart of her past. She remembers running all around with her “brothers”. Patiently eating dinner with her “sisters” was the best. Even exploring the world with their gender-fluid and non-binary siblings was so exciting. Mrs. Hamilton and her always had the best talks. Mr. Hamilton helped with her homework. So, so many memories from this place. She’ll miss it.
The outside world was so much different now that Y/N was out on her own. She took her meds this morning, so that once gross, pollen-infested air didn't even bother her anymore. Her brave feet carried her away from the place she used to call home. The first order of business before heading to her house of 2 months though, get some lunch. Wendy’s has a pretty amazing salad and it was only 2 blocks down. Lucky for her, 2 blocks was her walking limit. Off she went.
That's where Bucky and Steve were enjoying a lovely lunch as well. Steve had a hamburger, and Bucky had some chicken nuggets.
“Alright dear” Steve said “Check Wendy's off your list”
“Already did. I think its pretty good! Not my favorite though.” Bucky replied happily. 
The newly-founded couple have been going to one fast food place a week to introduce Bucky to different types. Any fast food restaurant one could think of, they're going. It was a mix of a date and bringing Bucky up to modern times. It was good for them.
“Bucky, all you get is chicken nuggets you should branch out.” 
“Leave me aloneeee I love my chicken nuggets”
They giggled together, and returned to eating. That's when Y/N walked through the door. She was already panting. Not even realizing, she passed the two men who would change her life. 
Y/N stood patiently, waiting to order. Bucky watched her. Her small, skinny stature reminded him so much of young Steve. Even the way she panted after walking in. Steve would do the same.
“Who are you looking at my love?” Steve questioned.
“Oh, the girl on line. She reminds me so much of you. Skinny, Small, I heard her panting. Look she's coughing now too. What was it called?”
Steve turns around and smiles “Bucky she's cute but what's your point?”
Bucky jumped up “I'm gonna talk to her!”
“That's cute love but please come back id like to enjoy our date before our next mission”
The long-haired man nodded, skipping happily over to Y/N. Just as he was approaching though, an older man came behind her and snatched her wallet. Bucky was ready to pounce, but Y/N was first to it. She was so weak, so she flung right off with a simple push of the man.
“Hey doll, you alright?” He asked softly. 
She nodded weakly, already shaking. Steve rushed out the door to follow the man.
“That's my boyfriend, he’ll get your wallet. Why don't you sit with us? I’ll get your lunch! What would you like?”
Y/N looked up at him. “I-I” she took a minute to wheeze out a cough “T-that's too kind of y-you.”
“Please its my pleasure! what would you like?”
Y/N tells him a simple Caesar Salad. He happily picks her up, along with her stuff. Bucky told her where she was sitting, and she made her way.
This is so weird. Y/N thinks to herself. She takes a seat regardless through, watching the tall blonde walk towards the shorter brunette. She sees her wallet and feels at ease. 
“She’s either a runaway or an orphan whos turned 18. We need to take her in” Bucky whispered into his ear. 
“Or she's just heading off to college? I cant put a girl a risk” Steve whispered back. 
“Please Steve. She reminds me so much of you. She cant survive out here one her medication runs out. And to be honest? She seems like she has a low dosage the way she's still wheezing and coughing like that.”
“One day James. If she changes my mind in one day, we can keep her”
Bucky happily kissed Steve's cheek. He carefully grabbed the salad and took it to the girl. 
They ate together rather happily. The couple learned her name was Y/N. She’s and 18 year old girl who just came out of the system, just like Bucky hypothesized. To sum up her condition , she showed them the note - which was only kept for nostalgic purposes - which made Steve feel connected to her more. 
“So no one adopted you because you have Cystic Fibrosis?” Bucky asked
“No one wants a sick kid”
Steve sympathized. “I used to have CF too. Once I got the super solider serum I never had to deal with it again. I understand where you come from though. Being constantly underweight and small, also no matter how hard you try you cant become better at exercise. I get it.”
Bucky took Steve’s hand and kissed his cheek. Y/N smiled, continuing to eat her salad. She didn't even question the fact that he was Captain America, she understands how it feels to be bombarded with questions. 
They managed to convince Y/N to stay for the night. She fought them on it, telling them they were being way too nice for a girl who was about to ruin their night. Bucky continued to tell her to shush it, while Steve was having a change of heart.
It was a good night. They watched TV together, enjoyed a lovely home cooked dinner, talked some more about each other and even played some old timey board games. Y/N had the time of her life. No way on Earth would she do this with any other adult who offered her help. Since Steve had a similar experience and Bucky helping him through said experience, it gave Y?N the confidence to take the offer. She never regretted it
That one day became one week. That one week became one month. The one month became a year. Steve and Bucky were there every step of the way. Convincing to ask the little web slinger Peter Parker out to prom, taking said prom pictures, helping Y/N with homework, taking her on cool adventures. The day of her high school  graduation they gave her the gift of a car. She gave them the official title of Dad. When the papers for official guardianship were clear, it was the happiest day of the trio’s life. 
Now, its the night before Y/N goes to college. Her bags were packed. Her small, cozy bedroom looked so vacant now. Her dads were cuddled up on the couch.
“Got any room for a jellybean?” She asked softly. 
“Yes we do! Always!” Bucky cheered happily,splitting apart from Steve. The small girl jumped in, which was a big mistake since she was already taking deeper breaths. 
“Did your school accommodate for your CF?” Steve asked, giving her a big fat kiss on her cheek.
With a giggle, she replied “Yeah dad, They put me in the closest dorm to the classroom. They also put me on the lower floor on the dorm building. AND Peter said he was gonna help me out.”
“You and Peter are too cute, I'm happy he takes interest in you”
“Thanks Dad 2″
Y/N leaned right into her dad 2 where she was scooped under the chilly metal. Steve got up, moving to the fleshier side of his husband. Yes, in the year Y/N lived with them, they finally got themselves together and got married. Y/N was Bucky’s maid of honor, and she joined in on the couples first dance. 
They watched the stupid soap opera that was on late at night. all three of them couldn't even keep up with what was happening.
“Dads, I love you” Y/N blurted out. 
“Woah kid, you better catch your breath, because we love you too.” Bucky responded as Steve reached over, playing with the girls hair. Her happy giggled gave Steve and Bucky the message: they changed this girls world.
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softnow · 5 years
Text
paracosm [ii/?]
msr | college au | this chapter: gen | words: 2.2k
she resents the idea that some boy who will no doubt be gone in another week’s time can ruffle her so much.
it’s dana’s turn, folks. necessary shoutout to @o6666666, champion of baby dana and all her emotions. also tagging @today-in-fic.
← last chapter. / ao3.
— — —
Dana has always been good with change. It comes with the territory of being a Navy brat. As a kid, she attended four different elementary schools, two middle schools, and she graduated high school with a class she’d only known for less than a year.
But there is a difference between moving with her family—keeping, if nothing else, the familiarity of her siblings, her parents, the old worn quilt on her old twin bed—and moving alone to the other side of the country, starting college (an exciting but daunting task on its own) nearly 3,000 miles away from everything and everyone she’s ever known.
Granted, she’s handling it better than some—better, for instance, than the girl who lives across the hall and cries on the phone to her parents every night, or the boy in her math class who comes only every third day and reeks of alcohol and pot when he does. Dana, at least, is making an effort.
She has gone to a few welcome mixers, to an underwhelming movie night hosted by her RAs, to a panel discussion on monoclonal antibodies with an audience of serious-looking grad students and old men in sweaters. She leaves her door open while she studies, just in case somebody should like to pop in. On two different weekends, she has allowed her roommate to take her out to parties filled with people who, even if they are new like her, seem to have known each other their whole lives. She has even formed a tentative working friendship with her bio lab partner, and she is frequently invited to have dinner in the dining hall with some of the girls on her floor (although, after a few nights of awkward small talk over rubbery pizza, she has stopped accepting).
But still. Despite the built-in camaraderie of the freshman experience, of being one of many sharing the same anxieties, excitements, and first-time hangovers, she feels…foreign. A little out of her depth.
She tells herself it doesn’t matter. College is, after all, simply a means to an end. But when she calls her parents on Sunday afternoons and her mother asks if she’s making friends, having fun, having the all-American college experience—the one she herself, married and pregnant right out of high school, was denied—well. Dana’s never enjoyed lying.
So she’s glad for the library. She may not know the difference between all the fraternities or where to find the best pizza in town or what a Jägerbomb tastes like, but she has the Dewey Decimal System down pat. She knows all the nicest reading nooks—even the ones the other freshman haven’t found yet—and she gets a startlingly large amount of satisfaction out of booting couples who think they’re sly enough to make out in the fifth-floor economics section. (In the three and a half weeks she’s been working here, she’s kicked out four couples. A rush, every time.)
She likes being the one who, at least for a few hours a day, gets to ask how can I help you? She likes that she has the answers. And she likes—perhaps better than anything—that here, it is perfectly fine to be alone. She doesn’t feel self-conscious behind the circulation desk the way she sometimes does sitting alone at a table meant for four in the student union. There’s nothing sad about it. There’s no pressure to socialize.
Or: there didn’t used to be.
Because now there’s a boy. A persistent boy. A persistent, irritating boy who is tall and lanky with a flop of dark hair and a collection of wrinkled t-shirts, who goes by his last name even though (in Dana’s opinion) his first is actually kind of nice, who, for some unknown reason, has set his sights on her and has made it his life’s mission to not give her a moment’s peace, who has decided that any day she is here, he will be too, hanging all over her desk, following her from floor to floor like a lost puppy, forcing her to listen to his questions and his stories and his inappropriate flirtations which, despite her best efforts, turn her pink as a cherry blossom, damn her Irish heritage.
Even when she tells him to get out—Mulder, I need to work—he will only grin and lean closer like he was never taught about personal space and say something completely disarming like, Dana, has anyone ever told you that you have Cassiopeia right…here? And then he will touch her little constellation of freckles so gently with the tip of his finger, like he’s really not touching her at all, and she will lose track of her filing or her faxing or whatever it was she was doing before he sauntered up, so cool and composed, to lean across her desk in the first place.
It would be easier, she thinks, if he wasn’t so nice. And clever. And handsome. If he was a dumb, ugly jerk, she would have no problem throwing him out (and she’d probably take an even greater amount of satisfaction in it than with the horny couples).
Because she’s not stupid. She knows that pretty, older boys with low, rumbly voices and plush, pink lips don’t seek out girls like her. Not with good intentions, at least. Boys—men, she corrects, because, god, he’s twenty-one—like him go for a different sort of girl. Taller. Older. Louder, funnier, sexier.
So there has to be some ulterior motive, has to, and it’s only a matter of time before his sweet exterior cracks to reveal whatever is really lurking beneath those puppy dog eyes and big smile and soft, gentle hands.
She hopes he just leaves her alone before then. It will be easier, really, for everyone involved.
It is a quarter past ten, and Dana lies curled on her lumpy twin bed, her phone cradled in both hands, her back to the wall. The cinderblocks are cool through her thin pajama top.
“He came in again today,” she says, low, like a secret.
“And?” Her sister’s voice is tinny and amused, two thousand-odd miles and a phone line away.
“He said I was beautiful,” she says. “He said I was going to win the Nobel Prize.”
Missy hmms. “For being beautiful?”
Dana shakes her head even though there’s nobody here to see it. Her roommate has been gone for three nights in a row.
“For curing cancer.”
Melissa snorts. “And what’d you say?”
Dana bites the inside of her cheek, the sore patch she’s nibbled raw.
“Nothing.” She draws the blankets tighter around herself. “I told him to leave.”
A pause. Dana thinks her sister might laugh at her, but Missy only sighs.
“Dana.”
“Yeah?”
“Why?”
“Why?”
“Don’t do that. This guy likes you. Why are you—”
“No, he doesn’t,” Dana says. She scrunches the phone cord between her fingers and releases it. Scrunches. Releases.
Melissa does laugh now. “Excuse me, what?”
“He doesn’t like me, Missy. He’s just…playing.”
“Just playing.” Melissa doesn’t sound convinced.
“The way guys do. You know. When they don’t mean it.”
“Oh, my god, Dane.” Melissa laughs again. “‘Just playing’ is calling you after midnight to ask what you’re wearing. It’s…it’s buying you a few drinks, taking you home, and not calling you the next day. This boy is not ‘just playing.’”
When Dana doesn’t say anything, Melissa continues: “Babe,” she says. “Do you honestly believe this guy would be spending that much time in the library if he was ‘just playing?’ Last week, you told me he was there until eleven o’clock on a Friday. Trust me. No guy is spending his Friday night in a library for a girl if he’s just playing.”
Dana bites her cheek again, licks her bottom lip. She thinks about last Friday. He’d shown up a little after eight, fresh from a shower, his hair still damp. She’d been in the fourth floor biology section, pulling books on tree frogs to fill a hold request, and he’d materialized behind her, smiling, with a cup of coffee and a packet of peanut M&Ms. The flip in her stomach had almost knocked her over.
“Hey,” he said. “I was looking for you. Here. Sustenance.”
And he’d thrust the coffee and the candy out at her with a dip of his chin, almost shy. She’d had a lab at eight that morning, and she’d been exhausted. The coffee smelled heavenly—rich and creamy. Exactly what she hadn’t even known she’d needed.
But instead of taking it, she’d folded the books about tree frogs to her chest, lifted her brow, and said, “Mulder, no. You can’t be doing this.”
“Why not?” He seemed genuinely curious. Concerned, maybe, that he was breaking some food-and-drink policy.
She tightened her grip on the books and said, “I don’t need it. I’m working. I need to focus.”
“Exactly,” he said. “Caffeine. Sugar. I only have your best interests at heart.”
Her cheeks flamed and she turned away, trying to seem like she was looking for the next book on her list even though all the titles blurred together.
“C’mon, Dana,” he said. “I come in peace.”
“I’m busy.” She didn’t turn around even as he came up behind her, so close she could feel the heat of him, could smell his foresty, manly soap.
“What are you looking for?”
And she’d relented. Something about his closeness, about the way he leaned over her just a little bit, made her weak. She’d shown him the list, and she’d accepted his help.
But she hadn’t accepted the coffee or the candy. Not even when he’d followed her back to the circulation desk and spent the next two hours shifting his weight from one foot to the other, asking her about class, her day, the best book she read that week, her last name, her phone number, and would she like to have dinner one night—any night—he was free any time?
“Good night, Mulder,” she said about ten times before he finally left—not without a few glances over his shoulder—so she could close up.
He’d left the coffee (cold) and the candy (unopened) on the desk. The coffee she poured out in the women’s room. The M&Ms… The M&Ms she ate later, one by one, while she called Melissa, sucking the candy coating off to make them last.
“Dana,” Melissa says now, breaking the silence. “You know he’s not going to wait forever, right?”
Dana frowns against the receiver. “What do you mean?”
“I mean this guy is clearly crazy about you. But if you keep playing hard to get—”
“I’m not!”
“—then he’s going to get bored, okay? It’s fun for a little while, but then it’s like…like running your head into a brick wall, over and over and over again. Eventually, if you keep telling him to get out, he will. And he won’t come back.”
“Good,” Dana says, even though the unexpected ache in her chest doesn’t necessarily agree. “That’s what I want.”
“Hmm.” On the other end of the line, Dana hears the flick of a lighter. “Well. If you really don’t want him, tell him you’ve got a sister in California who would be more than happy to entertain him.”
An image—brief, but not brief enough—flashes through her mind and her stomach clenches.
“I have to go, Missy,” she says. “Good night.”
She recradles the phone on her bedside table and turns out the light. She imagines walking into the library tomorrow, no Mulder. And the day after that, no Mulder. And next week, no Mulder.
She imagines that today was the last day. She imagines him never coming back to lean over the circulation desk and waggle his eyebrows at her, or stand too close to her in the stacks, or surprise her with a little treat ever again.
Maybe she’d spot him on the green one day and he’d point her out to his buddies and laugh. Hey, that’s the girl I messed with last semester. You know, the dumb one who really thought I liked her? Maybe he’d be too busy making puppy dog eyes at some other girl—some tall, willowy, interesting girl—to even notice her.
It would be for the best. This past week has just been a sort of…temporary universal insanity. A paracosm. A Dickensian glimpse into what her life could be if, perhaps, she lived in some alternate reality (which, let the record show, she does not believe in—but hypothetically).
Here, Missy’s voice interrupts, echoing in her head. This guy is clearly crazy about you. She frowns into the darkness. It sounds so simple when her sister says it, so reasonable.
And then there’s Mulder’s voice, too, low and intimate, asking her to coffee, to dinner, to a movie, to anything, really, anything at all. And not just one day. Every day. Several times a day, again and again and again, no matter how many times she says no, says Mulder, please, says I have work to do.
Dana tosses and turns and draws the covers up over her head, curling herself tight against the seductive pull of fantasy. She has always been the level-headed one, never a daydreamer, never impractical. She resents the idea that some boy who will no doubt be gone in another week’s time can ruffle her so much.
Huffing, she hugs a pillow tight to her chest and resolves to put Fox Mulder from her mind. It works, like most nights, only until she begins to dream.
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