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flatstarcarcosa · 3 months

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All ship questions for Abe :) (dadbodsandbots)

PRE-RELATIONSHIP

How did they first meet?

he broke into my fucking house and refused to leave. i have our story pick up after he dips in s2, and figure that i'm /near/ sleepy hollow but not directly in it. he finds my cabin and just thinks it's empty and free real estate. it is not. although. he never pays rent so i guess for him it was free real estate.

he kinda gets stuck because there's a bay window in the kitchen with sunlight blocking him on one side of the cabin and that's how i find him when i come home.

What was their first impression of each other?

monster fucking tendencies aside, there was some stuff on fringe news sources about the headless horseman. SH police tried to keep a lid on it but you know how the internet is. i am trope aware enough to be a bit wary of the headless serial killer now in my kitchen but also. i am on day 8 of 9 of work before a single day off between another 9 day stretch so i'm a bit kinda.

"don't gotta work if no head tho-"

Did any of their friends or family want them to get together?

doesn't really apply for obvious reasons. eventually i DO talk about 'the boyfriend' but am understandably cagey about a lot of it. i think some people think i'm just making up a boyfriend for some reason until he finally gets his head back and can like. be in public.

Who felt romantic feelings first?

oh i think he did. mine was just MAN BIG MCLARGE HUGE SEXY for a good bit, meanwhile me just treating him normally and putting effort into being able to communicate with him and being willing to trust him when he says (writes a note) that he just wanted to be left alone but hadn't considered what that entailed and as i've done him no wrong he has no reason to be hostile towards me so like. could he idk hang out. started getting to him.

his own mistakes leading to his own suffering aside there is the fact that like. man was already half dead when moloch showed up, it's heavily implied moloch and hell targeted him specifically because of his relationship with both ichabod and katrina to become the horseman, and regardless of people having damn good reason to treat him like a monster it still throws him for a loop to fumble into someone who. doesn't do that.

Did either of them try to resist their feelings?

also him. he teeters for a while between still wholly blaming ichabod and katrina for how things went with growing realization that they're NOT entirely to blame. also my hc's of 'he was in love with both, got neither, went a bit unhinged about it' he's hesitant to open himself up.

also, joking about it aside, he thinks for a while there's no way i'm not fucking with him because. he's fucking headless. he hasn't treated me monsterably but he is undeniably a monster so what could i possibly be interested in.

If you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think?

sometimes when it's late at night, especially if i've been having a bad time and am only finding sleep after days, and he's still awake watching me curled up next to him he thinks it's weird how things turned out. he's not a 'everything happens for a reason' type of guy, esp considering the things he's experienced but.

what are the odds, you know?

What would their lives be like if they had never met?

man wandering loose and alone in woods, foraging for murder victims. local alcoholic pharmacy tech crashes and burns.

GENERAL

Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go?

it was mutual. the notes/charades and half-assed ASL and me learning his body language actually made us VERY good at communicating non verbally. he started doing nice things initially out of boredom and to pass the time while stuck inside in an otherwise tiny cabin, but eventually realized that it was also. oddly rewarding to have it appreciated.

i don't think he realized it was mutual until i started being physically affectionate though. first time he was sitting on the couch and i plopped my ass down on his lap had him like

Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?

not really because of the obvious. i think the FL vacation we take after his reheading should count though. we spend two weeks down here and then spontaneously add a third only because he spent enough days being besieged by demons he felt cheated of an actual vacation.

"so you're telling me the nations oldest city isn't haunted, it's full of demons?"

"it's goddamn infested is what it is and i didn't bring enough shotgun shells for this"

"i mean. it's florida. they're not hard to find."

What was their first kiss like?

POV abe abbie and ichabod pop out of a hell port 3 days late after disappearing to stop an apocalypse. i'd assumed they'd succeeded when the timer ran out and the world kept spinning but i'd started getting worried. all three of them are exhausted and bloody.

abe only went because they cajoled him into it out of desperation, and the agreement that if he helped they'd give him his head back.

me, having the enchanted ring means i don't immediately realize he's already taken it back. surprise!

Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?

i definitely think i was too focused on being an insane alcoholic trying to make it day to day to have had any relationships in this setting, so.

What’s their height difference? Age difference?

in my mind he's 6'4 (with head). which means he was already tall before imagine how fucking mad i am after the reheading when he's taller. age difference is like what 220ish slutty slutty years.

although, i remember something somewhere saying he was only 27 when he died. i don't know if that was an official age thing or just a fanon thing but if we roll with that and discount the years he was waterlogged in the river we're close in age.

What’s their relationship with each other’s families?

non-applicable. man's reheaded before he even finds out i have a sister. (so like, almost two years into knowing each other)

Who takes the lead in social situations?

by necessity for a while, me, because our only social situations outside each other are w ichabod and abbie and someone has to translate. post reheading it's usually him.

Who gets jealous easier?

him. i only do it if it's funny.

Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear?

oh that's equal depending on the situation.

LOVE

Who said “I love you” first?

probably him, but not until after getting his head back. cringe comp, horseman of death less emotionally constipated than i am.

What are their primary love languages?

Abe is gift giving, which is. ironic because the man fucking sucks at giving gifts. he STILL falls into thinking "expensive = good" and gets confused when he buys something meant as an obvious joke and i end up being DELIGHTED by it. also he turns himself into an acts of service ass mf, stays confused at how this happens.

mine is also acts of service, as well as quality time.

Who uses cheesy pick-up lines?

both but only For The Bit.

How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?

i don't tend to engage in PDA much but i also don't rebuff it. i do however climb like a fucking tree at home, esp when it's a case of i had to struggle through work and my brain shut off the second i walked in the door.

Who initiates kisses?

it's mutual and genuinely depends on who's hornier.

Who’s the big and little spoon?

i am just a leetle creachur, i cannot help des.

What are their favorite things to do together?

when he's still headless obviously it's a lot of inside stuff. i think we do get to the point where we take the horse out at night though, but he's always a bit on edge to make sure no one is around.

reheading opens it up a lot more. he likes doing a lot of stuff outside just because of the novelty of being able to be out in the sun without burning to a crisp.

Who’s better at comforting the other?

look he tries but his immediate go-tos are a "oh, darling" and tea and sometimes i'm at the point where if this mf shoves one more cup of tea at me he's gonna have hot liquid in his newly regained eyes.

Who’s more protective?

him most definitely. although, i get defensive of him sometimes when it comes to abbie and ichabod. you don't have to like him or trust him (even though at a certain point it's clear he's not going to fuck them up any longer) but you're not going to be rude in my fucking house.

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?

abe leans towards both and i lean towards physical because i have Weird Hangups about Words.

What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?

Royal Blood -- Little Monster

The Black Keys - Next Girl

What kind of nicknames do they call each other?

Abe. :) even though canonically others refer to his as Brahm/Brom as a nickname i think he likes i just defaulted to something else all on my own. Petnames aside he has a very specific way of saying Reese sometimes that makes it feel like a nickname.

Who remembers the little things?

i have chronic forgoring disease so it's not me, usually.

DOMESTIC LIFE

If they get married, who proposes?

we do not. he does eventually consider the idea despite initially thinking he was never gonna do that again but i am staunchly anti-marriage.

What’s the wedding like? Who attends?

How many kids do they have, if any? What are they like?

Do they have any pets?

Rufus :) also I end up getting some hamsters. he is immensely confused about having rodents as pets. he is also eternally frustrated that they keep getting out of the fucking cages.

it happens so often he'll find rufus just standing somewhere and looking between a spot under a piece of furniture and back again and it's just [deep sigh] "is there a hamster loose, rufus?" [small boof] "of course there is. you could eat one, i won't tell on you."

Who’s the stricter parent?

Who worries the most?

in general about anything i have the anxieties disorders. about specific things, he genuinely worries about the fact he's a magnet for demons and other hell creatures, and it only gets kicked up after some of them shred the cabin.

Who kills the bugs in the house?

it depends on the bug. he finds my eternal war against cockroaches fascinating and concerning. the way i can hear them in the fucking baseboards is genuinely unsettling.

one time a snake got in and all he heard from the other end of the house was "oh. ohhhh nooo, no not today. no sir. no thank you. may i ask you to vacate the doorway-"

How do they celebrate holidays?

i'm in the funk of just not doing so when we meet but i do think over time ichabod and abbie's influence drags us into it.

Who’s more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning?

me, but he doesn't need much convincing.

Who’s the better cook?

well it's not the 18th century aristocrat that never did a single thing for himself before dying that's for fucking sure.

Who likes to dance?

i'm prone to moving around if i have music going and i think he tries to get me to like. dance-dance sometimes but i always get weirdly flustered about it for some reason.

#txt.txt #ship: trouble my heart

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truetgirl · 1 year

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This got long so I’m gonna put it under a read more but basically, TLDR: Guide My Way from the finale, when taken in context with the other songs of Team RWBY, got me thinking.

I am obsessed with how Red Like Roses Is basically just a battle theme that drops quick references to all of team RWBY, Part 2 is really both Ruby and Summer’s song, a glimpse into a conversation neither of them would ever really get to have, and now Guide My Way (AKA Red Like Roses Part 3) seems (from what we have of it so far) to be about Ruby coming to terms with having felt like half a person for so long. Like the first two songs feature her but they aren’t, strictly speaking, for her.

Part 1 is a thesis statement on her entire team and a backing track to a fight sequence, and that all makes sense. It and the Red trailer in general were meant to be eye-grabbing, interest piquing stuff. A first showing for the whole show. But the consequence of that is that Ruby herself didn’t really get the same level of setup in her trailer that her teammates did, nor a song that was wholly dedicated to her.

Part 2 is closer to being Ruby’s song, but she’s still sharing it with the ghost of her mother. Still sharing something that should be a pure deep-cut look into her soul, from the audience’s POV, with her mom. Lines like “you weren’t the only one who needed me, I thought you understood” and “it doesn’t matter how, the petals scatter now” are unique in the four original character themes in that none of the others have to share thematic real estate like that.

When other characters or nebulous “people” are referenced for Weiss, Blake, or Yang it’s still kept strictly in the bounds of each of their perspectives. Mirror Mirror is strictly about the disparate parts of Weiss’s self. From Shadows talks about other only in terms of how Blake’s struggles fit into the larger problems between humans and faunus. I Burn is 100% about Yang being a fuckin’ hotshot cocky bitch (god I love her) and only references anyone else for her to laugh at the thought that they can take her down. And then after these every one of them has gotten like 2+ songs that are also exclusively to highlight the major points of their journeys!

Meanwhile Ruby’s song is not just about her own pain, but about how Summer would feel if she were still here. Every time Ruby tries to say something in the song about how she feels, it immediately swaps to Summer’s response, usually as a sort of counterpoint to what Ruby herself said. One way you can read that is as Ruby feeling like her own feelings don’t matter in the face of her mother’s memory and sacrifice, and that stunting her development as her own person.

Cut to nearly 9 full volumes later and Ruby’s been a leader for a long time, always putting her team and her friends before herself, and that’s taken a serious toll on a girl that wasn’t doing great anyway. She finally crashes, finally breaks, cries out in anguish because despite everything she’s tried to d she’s never measured up to the example of her mother. In her own eyes, she’s been at best half the woman she needs to be. A failure next to her perfect mother’s ghost.

And now, after all of this, as Ruby finally chooses herself for the first time in her life, as she finally accepts herself who is as a person worth of respect and love as everyone around her, she finally gets a song that belongs completely and utterly to her. She rises stronger than she’s ever been to the tune of “Other side, did you mean to make me half or make me whole? Will I ever be complete? When will I become all of me?” and it is SO. FUCKING. GOOD! She’s finally ha the time and grace afforded to her to grapple with these questions. Finally had the perception of her mother as this perfect woman brought back to earth. Finally accepted that, good a person as her mom was, she’s not some infallible archetype up to which she has to live forever. Accepted that she, as she is and as she will one day be, is enough.

God damn it I love this show.

#rwby #rwby volume 9 #rwby volume 9 spoilers #ruby rose #summer rose

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novantinuum · 3 years

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Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: Teen Audiences

Words: 2.2K~

Summary: A series of shorts detailing what might’ve happened in the moments after I Am My Monster, told from six different points of view.

Greg apparently had a LOT on his mind, because this was supposed to be short and instead it’s over 2000 words, ahah. Final chapter!

If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3. Thank you! <3

Chapter warning: Allusions to past non-canon character suicide.

____

Chapter 6: Greg

Hours pass.

Bismuth makes quick and quiet work of replacing the cracked slider door in Steven’s room while he sleeps, and secures a thick tarp over the open front of the house to keep the coastal breeze somewhat at bay until she can finish her repairs to the windows and siding. She warns that might take a day or two. Garnet, meanwhile, busies herself the rest of the afternoon and evening fielding all of the Diamonds’ frazzled calls, and reassuring them of the boy’s current stability. Pooling their knowledge, Dr. Maheswaran and Peridot make sure to confirm that. Beyond some minor scarring, neither his organic or Gem half seems to exhibit any serious physical health conditions in consequence of what happened today, news which works to ever so slightly lift the air of the household. With no other concrete tasks to complete, Pearl, Amethyst, Lapis, Connie, and Greg all rotate between sweeping debris off the floor, wandering the beach to mentally recuperate, and dutifully sitting at Steven’s side as he rests. It may not sound like a lot, but alas the level of emotional labor demanded by such a situation is immense.

All in all, the sun’s long since dipped below the horizon by the time Greg finally collapses onto the mattress laid out in the back of his van, craving if but a moment of privacy and respite from all the chaos. It’s been... an insufferably long day, to put it lightly. Busy. Tons of cleaning, and intercepting nosy neighbors, and bedside monitoring...

He offered to take the first night shift watching Steven a few minutes ago, but Pearl must’ve noticed the dark circles creeping ever wider under his eyes, because she proceeded to gently overturn his offer and remind him of humanity’s daily sleep requirement. And she’s right, of course. He can’t stay up as long as he used to in his twenties anymore. Plus, he probably deserves some time to himself after everything that’s transpired. There’s plenty of Gems left in the house who can keep watch, after all. Steven will be fine for a few hours. Surely nothing else can happen when he’s asleep, right?

Right??

Exhaustedly slumping against the side wall, Greg offers a glassy, vacant stare at the contacts list of his phone, roughly wiping the damp from his cheeks with his other hand as his thumb hovers over one of the numbers. Does he dare drag someone else into this whole situation? Surely the kinder solution would be to refrain from widening the circle any more, from letting anyone else learn about today’s harrowing events. And yet if he fails to find a proper outlet for the raw emotions all of this has violently hauled to the surface, he fears he just may suffer a mental break himself, repressed memories bursting like a vicious flood through the dam he desperately tried to seal them behind all those years back. Much of this is just... far too familiar.

His phone slips right through his trembling hands as the cruel reality of what he witnessed today finally begins to carve its indelible presence in his mind. A strained sob leaking from between his tightly pursed lips, he buries his head between his knees, clutching at the worn bottom hem of his jean shorts like an infant to a parent’s finger. Small. Vulnerable.

Helpless.

His son... oh stars, his only son, he—

He can’t talk about any of this to the Gems; they wouldn’t wholly grasp the uniquely human nature of his concerns. And he doesn’t feel comfortable discussing these matters with Dr. Maheswaran, especially not after the stern words she dealt to him back at the hospital. He’s burdened her enough already, by this point. No, there’s only one fellow human he feels close enough with to engage in this sort of conversation.

Taking a deep, cleansing breath, he reaches for the phone he dropped on the mattress. Turns it on. Nervously clamps down on his bottom lip as he selects his cousin’s contact and dials.

The passing heartbeats slamming against his ribs are almost nauseating in their needy clamor as he waits, his calloused fingers tapping against the thick rubber of his phone case. Andy’s never been a particularly tech savvy guy, so honestly, it’s well within reason he might not even carry his phone on his person to answer. And that’d be fine, really. In fact, he might even prefer it, since he’s still not confident he’s emotionally prepared to discuss any of this at this precise moment, anyways. But just as he’s beginning to undergo mental preparations for what on Earth he might leave as a voicemail message, his older family member finally picks up.

“Greg?” Andy’s gravelly voice rings through, sounding somewhat tinny through their connection. “Hey, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? How’s the ol’ Universe family unit doin’?”

“Not great, honestly,” he narrowly manages in response, his throat constricting tight. “That’s kinda why I’m calling, if you have the time to listen?”

“Heh. I’m a drifter, you know I ain’t got no schedule. Carry on.”

“Well... geeze, how do I put this. There was, uh... a bit of an incident today. With Steven.”

“An incident?” his cousin questions, marked worry immediately painting his tone. “The kid okay??”

He falls silent for a few seconds upon this question, threading his hyperactive digits through the split ends in his hair on automatic, a stress-induced habit. “Unclear,” he says, a slight quiver making itself intimately known in his words. “I mean, physically, at the moment, yes, but—“

He cuts off once more. It suddenly occurs to him that little of today’s events would make sense to Andy without providing the appropriate context. Or, at least, what little context he’s capable of giving as a father. It’s still terrifying to admit the truth to himself— that he doesn’t possess the full story. That he hasn’t been paying close enough attention. That, in many ways, he willfully blinded himself to all the troubling events transpiring around his son throughout the years, foolishly believing that if he didn’t involve himself... that if he simply stayed out of the Gems’ hair... everything would go to plan, and Steven would finally receive the training he needed. He didn’t expect things would grow so complicated.

He didn’t expect that his teenage son would have to march into battle carrying nothing but his wits and a shield time and time again.

With a weary sigh and a quick apology, to which Andy brushes off, Greg begins to weave a verbal picture of everything that’s transpired across the last few days. First, the hospital call. Rushing home from tour, only to find his son giant and flushed pink, literally filling an entire room with the sheer volume of his trauma. The shattered x-ray in his chart, hinting towards hidden hurts that— before all this— even Steven seemingly hadn’t processed or quantified. Then, the road trip. The unwanted reminders of his childhood. That blasted CD. His expression sobers as he describes the fateful argument they had on the road home, one which lead to his son accidentally breaking the steering wheel and flipping the van. Next... his disappearance. No texts for four whole days, which is so unlike him. He was worried sick. And the next time he saw him, he was eight feet tall, glowing, and painfully manic in behavior, with each new sentence spilling from his mouth revealing an even more heartbreaking picture of the sort of poor mental state he’d spiraled into. It was nothing short of a father’s worst nightmare, propelled into horrifying, vivid reality.

Nothing in this corner of the galaxy could’ve prepared him for the primal surge of terror and anguish he was engulfed within when that nightmare distorted and transformed even further.

His only son... colossal and coated in thick scales and spines, sclera black as night... roughly clawing at this unfamiliar form, smashing his skull against the cliffside, roaring with an inner pain so primal that the sound now haunts the depths of his very soul—

“I- you remember what happened with cousin Jo, back when we were young?” Greg says softly once he’s caught Andy up with the details of situation, his voice frail and unsteady, the tone of a man helplessly marooned amidst his anxieties. “Before she was sent to that mental rehab place? Well, I’m... with the addition of Gem magic, it almost felt like that. I mean, h-he’s fine for now, we have him resting, but... but I’m just so scared he won’t come out of this, like her, a-a-and that one day he’ll—“

A mewling sob bubbles up in his throat, swiftly severing that train of thought. N-no. No, he refuses to even utter that horrible idea out loud! After all, a world without Steven in it isn’t worth envisioning.

Andy’s eventual response— albeit tinged with a justified shade of awkwardness, given the emotionally charged nature of this conversation— is filled with genuine compassion, and for that he’s dearly thankful.

“Aw, hell... Greg, I’m- I’m so sorry. I, uh- I could fly over, if any of ya’ need me? For emotional support, or whatever?”

Upon this kind offer, he inhales deep to steady his breath, and wipes away dewy beads of moisture from the corner of his eyes, desperately hoping that he can mitigate the pitiful wavering of his voice over the phone. He’s gotta fight to reliably keep some form of composure in front of other people, damnit. His kid can’t have his dad breaking down around him too, of course.

“No, you’ve got places to be,” he replies evenly, pressing his thumb and pointer against one of his aching temples. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“You ain’t asking,” he retorts, the eye-roll evident in his tone. “I’m offering. Listen- family takes care of family, y’hear? And I’m only about a day’s flight away, anyways. It’s really the least I could do.”

He sighs. Absentmindedly tugs at a thick strand of his hair. Offers a long, contemplative stare at the rickety age-worn handle affixed to the inside of the van’s back doors. Truth be told— ignoring his deep-seated guilt at dragging Andy into all this to begin with— he’d love having another family member around to embrace, especially a human one who can more deeply understand the crux of his anxieties about this delicate situation. But in the end, he shouldn’t be prioritizing his own feelings and comfort. He’s not the one in crisis, his son is.

Desperately hoping he’s making the right choice, Greg flexes his fingers, and acquiesces to the offer, on one condition: only if Steven consents to having visitors, once he’s awake.

Andy hums in approval. “Understood. Don’t wanna overload the poor guy with any surprise visits, or whatever.”

“Yeah. The last thing I want to do is push him too hard, too fast.”

He pauses, braving waves of parental grief to spend a moment to reflect on Steven’s emotional progression over the past few months... a stray negative comment here, an unusually forlorn mannerism there... All of them events that, in isolation, wouldn’t point to anything more than your standard ‘teenage angst,’ but when observed in strong, unceasing patterns, begin to reveal deeply harrowing truths about the state of an individual’s self-image. How did he never notice? Why wasn’t he there to catch him in his fall?

“I think he hates himself,” he says quietly, his voice hitching up at the end. “He didn’t say so directly, but- but I can sense it. And I don’t know how to help him, I-I... I don’t know if I can.”

“Nonsense,” his cousin scoffs, “‘course ya’ know what to do! What does any good father worth their salt give their sons?”

Unable to evade the momentary temptation of feeling miserable and sorry for himself, he slumps back against the wall, giving a weak shrug that his current audience would never see.

“I dunno, maybe a stable, safe childhood? Not growing up poor as dirt in a van?”

“No, you numbskull,” Andy immediately cuts back, “you love on ‘em and support ‘em just as much as you always have! Y’ show him that you’re always gonna be there for him, and that he can trust you with anything.”

“But I haven’t always been there for him,” he exclaims petulantly. “That’s the whole problem! That’s one of the reasons he ended up like this.”

“Greg,” he says, his voice softer this time. “Listen to me, ain’t nobody perfect, okay? We’ve all made our mistakes with people. Me? More than most. But what we can’t do is let those mistakes cloud what’s happening right now. Y’know, that’s one of the hard lessons I’ve had to learn over the past two years, that you can’t always make things about you. Because right now, it’s about him. He’s dealin’ with some hard feelings, and he needs all of our help. So, let’s help him. Together. We’ll start with one foot in front of us, and we can take it from there. All right?”

Closing his weary, exhausted eyes and pressing his thumb firm against his still-aching temple, Greg Universe gives a long sigh and finally concedes to the reality that— just as he’s not solely responsible for the decline of his son’s mental state— no man should be an island when it comes to the task of supporting one’s journey towards recovery. As with everything, the extended Universe family unit will face the future together, hand-in-hand. Step-by-step.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah, I think that’s do-able.”

#su #su future #greg universe #andy demayo #su fanfiction #my writing stuff

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fizzingwizard · 3 years

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Episode 32 arrives! It’s, I gotta say, quite an improvement on what we’ve had lately. Quite an improvement. Even so, it’s nothing that’s gonna rock the world... but hey, I was so desperate for something different to happen that y’know what, I’ll take it.

Pic of the week:

A Digimon who just wants to roll around in the grass. Go’way, baddies.

More below!

So as you probably gather... we start with Takeru this week! Haha! Good riddance Taichi! I luv ya but I’ve had enough of ya! Take a break!

jk I totally missed him the whole thirty seconds he wasn’t on screen

Takeru and Patamon are running for their lives, of course! Patamon makes a valiant effort to evolve to protect Takeru but...

... Poor baby. He gave it the ol’ college try but he just ain’t as young as he used to be.

Things look grim until Komondomon shows up with a creepy disembodied hand sticking out of his fur!

Phew, it’s just Sora. Her brilliant plan to rescue Takeru is to grab his arm and drag him along with them... I mean... sure... Whiplash has been proven Not A Thing in this universe so...

After getting rid of their pursuer, the group checks in with the others. I’m reminded of how silly separations feel when you can just communicate with each other by walkie-talkie. Yamato’s been riding Garurumon for a long time now lol. At least we got to see him...

He sweetly encourages Takeru and tells him the best thing he can do to help Patamon with his evolution issues is be there to support him. Then he tells Taichi “I leave Takeru in your case.” Ok sure, like Sora’s not right there...

Taichi: In my care? Should I point out that I already lost one little sibling to the dark side? Nah...

Seriously, though... that’s the current situation. Taichi is actively going over SkullKnightmon to get Hikari back. If Takeru stays with him that just means Takeru gets to go into danger again too. Of course, it seems that the dark side is suddenly uninterested in Takeru and Patamon so... I guess it’s okay 9_9

We then check in with Mimi! Who is being her awesome Mimi-tastic self. Ugh I love her.

Wondered what happened to Golemon. Turns out there was nothing much to worry about because no one loves a macho boxing match like Tachikawa Mimi. If there’s ever a season where these kids grow up, I hope Mimi is like, a big fan of sumo or something.

Taichi: O... kay... well... Mimi sure is... an intersting person...

Agumon: Hey you should make her your girlfriend!

Taichi: what nOOO BAD IDEA ABORT ABORT

Meanwhile, the situation with Jou is, um, questionable to say the least...

(how is keeping that towel on)

Jou: HEEEEELP!!!

Taichi: ... you didn’t hear anything, did you? Me neither. *closes link*

Finally we check in with Koushirou. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you what he says. -__-;

At least we see him get bombed a bit. He’s okay though.

Meanwhile unconscious Patamon gets a visitor from baby angel Lopmon, who tells him about hist lost memories.

He adds that the other legendary warriors have lost their power and it’s up to Patamon and his bond with Takeru to save the world more or less.

He encourages Patamon to find his hope.

Patamon: Who am I? What am I? All before me is dark. I know not what path to take.

The others, having nothing better to do, peep on Patamon’s crisis of faith.

Takeru relates a story about learning to swim and being scared of the water, but Yamato stayed with him so eventually he was able to learn to do it. Aww. Not quite comparable to Hikari’s “I wet the bed and Taichi changed the sheets and then told our parents that he was the one that did it” from the 99 series but still pretty good.

The sweet moment is interrupted by a flash of light! Then dark! Then light! Then dark!

It’s another scary Digimon! Oh dear. It’s Kerberomon. A three-headed Cerberus as I’m sure you figured out. Once again, this show does not how to convey what the stakes are. After everything we’ve been through, it’s hard to take random nobody Digimon as serious as each episode wants us to take them... but it’s obvious from the build up here that Kerberomon’s going to be tough to beat for Reasons.

Greymon gets hit and says, “I let down my guard!” MAYBE DON’T DO THAT THEN

Also it is very windy.

Le ouch. This is the Digimon from earlier whose name I forgot to take down. He’s come back with his friend...

... Scarier-in-the-dark-mon.

They’re surrounded~ Oh noes and whatnot.

Taichi is a bit cool here, clinging to Komondomon’s helmet and directing the battle like a war general. Mostly he’s telling them how to avoid getting hit by Kerberomon’s powerful attacks but I like that we get to see him using his head like this.

What I think is happening here is, Komondomon isn’t as fast as the kids could be if they were on their own, so their speed is hampered and that plus the number of assailants makes this battle tough. I am sure we’re supposed to assume that the reason WarGreymon doesn’t appear is because it takes a lot of energy to bring him out, even though last time he appeared twice in the same episode -.-;

Sora decides to be useful and goes to help Takeru get to safety.

... She is immediately struck by an attack and collapses, badly hurt somehow. This is so dumb. First of all, they don’t even animate her getting hit. There’s a flash and then she’s down. She should at least get to throw herself over Takeru protectively or something. Geez. 90s anime did it so much better. She’s just standing there and gets hit. What, did she forget there was a battle raging around her?

Second, WE ALREADY HAD DAMSEL IN DISTRESS SORA. It was Jou’s motivation to be cool way back when this show was rather more interesting than it has been of late. Why do the boys need Sora to get SERIOUSLY INJURED to be able to fight?? WHY?? Like, Taichi gets caught in the line of fire ALL THE TIME, but he never gets injured to the point where he can’t continue on. (Except for that one time with Devimon but those were exceptional circumstances!)

Like, why are we making Sora so weak?? This is so unnecessary.

I guess Yamato was right by entrusting Takeru to Taichi instead of Sora though...

... Uhhh.... never mind X’D

Taichi: Whew... m-maybe no one saw that...

Our be-bibbed god reappears to offer sage advice.

Patamon recalls his final moments as Seraphimon... being enveloped into darkness.

This is cool - we see his angelic wings turn to demon ones briefly before he slides back to lower levels. Not sure if it means anything but we have been theorizing that Patamon could still be infected by the evil that wounded him in the past.

Patamon then recalls things that happened after he was reborn and I’m reminded for the billionth time how much harder the emotions around Angemon’s death hit in the 99 show...

Suddenly Patamon realizes - his hope is Takeru, and he is Takeru’s hope.

The boys put on their game faces. This is what I mean by Sora really didn’t need to get hurt here. I get that it gives Takeru a reason to be protective, but the thing that evolves Patamon is Patamon’s feelings, the same way Agumon’s feelings were what rescued them from Devimon etc. That’s an interesting thing about this show - the Digimon’s feelings seem as important to evolution as, if not more than, the kids’.

Patamon evolves!! Very creepily! But... not to Angemon!

He becomes Pegasusmon! Who... looks a lot bigger than I remember, even considering Takeru is very small... xD

So this is pretty cool! I’ve been wondering how on earth the show was gonna keep introducing evolutions after already using up so many key players, especially for Taichi. But it looks like Armor Digimon can appear, and that makes me think that we could see all kinds of evolutions for the entire team that we’ve never seen before. I like that idea, but I don’t really know if this show has time for it. Maybe it will just be Pegasusmon and Nefertimon who are available to Takeru and Hikari so the writers can preserve the angels for the most epic moments only. That seems the most likely way things will go here, and the only qualm I have with it is, they’ve played all of Taichi’s cards already, and he’s the main character. He has to have something else in the future...

He attac!!!!

Kerberomon doesn’t last long, although why is wholly inexplicable. What about Pegasusmon gives him the edge when MetalGreymon and Garudamon couldn’t handle it? Is it because he’s an Armor Digimon? That may be it but the show doesn’t bother to explain.

Another thing I’d love to see, if there are gonna be more than just one evolutionary tree for the partners, is the kids actually strategizing when they decide which evolution to use. One of the cool parts of Tamers was the kids actively supporting their partner with skill as well as heart. I don’t think that’s gonna happen in this season, but you know, a girl can dream.

Takeru: Hurray for murder!

The three Digimon work together to put the lid on Kerberomon. Garudamon has the coolest moment. Squash.

Taichi checks on Sora who seems fine now. Grrrrrrrrrrrr.

Aw, but these two really are adorable.

What a sweet ending card T_T I want more of these.

Okay so yeah, this episode was a much needed upper after the stream of “watch Taichi fight random forgettable monsters” episodes we’ve had lately. I’m glad we got it. I still, just, like, why can’t they get the emotional build up right?? I wouldn’t say 99 Adventure did anything insanely unusual in how it treated the various crises the kids faced, but it def did a better job than this show. In 99, they understood the importance of moments of reflection, of talking about things, of showing expressions and how other characters react... And I still feel like this reboot DID do that, at least somewhat better, in the beginning. Like what went down between Yamato and Taichi after Ogremon was killed. That was pretty good.

They’ve totally lost what makes Digimon great. I hope this episode is a sign that they’re gonna take it back, but, my heart just hearts y’all.

Next episode... I’m rather surprised since we are REALLY overdue some face time with Yamato, not to mention Mimi and Jou, but apparently we’re sticking with Taichi. At least it looks lke we’ll get some new plot stuff related to Hikari.

If this all leads up to something that makes sense, I will retract all my complaints, I swear. Except about the gratuitous nonstop fighting. But the rest, I will take back.

Taichi’s determined!! This is Digimon Adventure! Let’s go on a freaking adventure!!

#digimon adventure 2020 #digimon adventure:#digimon adventure reboot #digi spoilers #digimon #fizz watches digimon 2020

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theladyofdeath · 4 years

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In the Bleak Midwinter {11}

A Throne of Glass Period AU: 1920s.

Summary: 2 years after Arobynn Hammel is killed by Rowan Whitethorn, Maeve has returned from Eyllwe with a vengeance. Meanwhile, Rowan is getting married, Lorcan is a father, and Lysandra is finally ready to give her heart away. There’s been peace in The Cadre’s Orynth for 2 years, but peace never lasts.

A/N: this is pretty fluffy...right?!....

All characters belong to SJM. I am no more than a fan with a plot.

**Warning: mature content - language, alcohol use, drug use, sex, murders and shit.

Links & masterlists:

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The Cadre - 1920s AU {TOG}

In the Bleak Midwinter {The Cadre, Part 2}

Rowan awoke to a frigid bucket of water being poured over his head.

He shot up in bed, a crude string of curses flying out of his mouth as he wiped his hands down his face, only to be met with the narrowed, fiery gaze of his wife.

“Wake up,” she snapped. “I’ve tried waking you up for the last hour. You missed breakfast.”

His shoulders tensed. “Fuck. What time is it?”

“Almost ten.”

Water droplets fell from the tips of his hair. “Was that really necessary?”

“It worked, didn’t it?” she said, throwing the pail aside.

He sat still, his head pounding, his stomach churning, the upper half of his body soaked, as Aelin went to sit in front of her vanity. He was pissed, and he was tired, but he deserved it.

When he came into his bedroom, drunk off his ass, the night before, she was sound asleep, and the moment his head hit the pillow, he was gone, too.

So, now, ignoring his pain and nausea, Rowan pushed himself off the bed and slowly unbuttoned his drenched shirt. “I…”

It was all he could get out. He loved Aelin, more than anything in the world, but he still wasn’t good at sharing his emotions. Even with Lysandra, he only confessed anything when she caught him in his worst possible moments.

“Got drunk in the kitchen last night?” Aelin supplied, meeting his eyes in her reflection. “Yeah, Lys told me.”

Rowan muttered a curse as he slipped his suspenders down his arms, then his shirt sleeves. His trousers hung low on his hips as he said, “Yeah, that was stupid.”

“But better than having to be up here with me, right?” she asked, brushing through her already brushed hair.

“Don’t say stupid shit, Aelin,” he muttered.

“Seriously?” she asked, turning around. There was clear pain in her eyes. “Don’t act like I’m the one in the wrong here, Ro!”

With his eyes closed and his fingers rubbing his temples, he sighed. “I know. I know, okay? I know. You’re right.”

When he opened his eyes, once again, Aelin’s eyes were blurred, her head shaking furiously. “I’m so fucking tired of this, Ro. She’s taken control of you, and I’m...I’m losing you. We’re losing you.”

All of the thoughts faded from Rowan’s mind. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Maeve!” Aelin yelled, throwing her hands up, exasperated. “She’s taking you from me, Ro, and that’s just as bad as-.” Her words trailed off, she was clearly frustrated as her tears began to fall. “You’re not the man I married. The man I married, the man I wanted so desperately to marry...we were a team. He confided in me, and he didn’t treat me like some fucking damsel in distress!”

All he could do was stare. He wanted to rush to her, to wipe her tears, but he had a pretty heavy feeling that she didn’t want him touching her. He knew she’d been pissed, unhappy with his communication lately, but this was so much more than that. “Ae-.”

“Just stop,” she said, exhaustion lingering in those turquoise eyes. “If it’s an excuse, an apology, I don’t want to hear it.”

That was all Rowan had, his excuses, his apologies. Hesitantly, he approached her, down on his knees in front of her, but when he reached for her hands, she snatched them back, and when he reached up to cup her face, she was shoving him in the chest.

Rowan lost his balance and stumbled backwards, catching himself from hitting the floor with an outstretched hand.

“Don’t push me away, Aelin,” he breathed.

“Why?” she spat. “You’ve been pushing me away for weeks, Rowan!”

Rowan tensed, her words hurting worse than anything, but only because she was right. He had been, everyone knew it, himself included. He had his reasons, certainly, but those reasons were on the list of excuses Aelin didn’t want to hear.

“Fine,” he hissed, pulling himself back up on his feet, but Aelin was only a step behind.

“Yeah, walk away, that’s what you always do when I try to talk to you about anything,” Aelin snapped, and he knew he shouldn’t be arguing with his pregnant wife, especially on a day where a lot was on the line, but he couldn’t help it.

She knew just how to get under his fucking skin.

“Fuck, Aelin,” he breathed, stopping where he was and holding his arms out wide. “What is it you want from me?”

“To be you! To talk to me! To stop being such a distant asshole!” she yelled. There was a good few feet between them, and Aelin wasn’t moving to close the distance.

Neither would he.

“I’m trying to-.”

“Protect me, yeah, yeah,” she began, rolling her eyes, angrily wiping a tear from her cheek. “I don’t need your protection, Ro, I’m so fucking tired of all these men telling me that they want to protect me! Let me help!”

“No,” Rowan growled. “I want you nowhere near Maeve.”

Aelin took a slow, deep breath before she said, in a quiet calm, “I may have married you, Rowan, but that does not mean that you can tell me what I can and cannot do.”

“That’s exactly what it means,” he said, matching her tone, crossing his arms.

Aelin just shook her head. “Gods, Ro, fuck you.”

“Fuck me?” he repeated, laughing humorlessly. “Fuck me?! I’m trying to keep my wife and my baby safe! How does that make me the bad guy?”

“Because I can help!” she screamed. “I’m the one who killed the guy in the alley! I’m the one who stood on the roof with a machine gun when Arobynn went down! I’m not a fucking trophy wife, Ro, let me help!”

“No!” he spat.

But Aelin was hurrying at him, to shove him in the chest, once more, over and over and over again. He let her. This time, he was prepared, his feet planted. She could push against him all she wanted, but he hardly moved.

After a few seconds of her getting her frustration out against his bare chest, though, he grabbed her wrists, his fingers wrapping wholly around them. “Are you finished?” he snapped.

“Hardly,” she spat, but didn’t fight him, not anymore.

They were both breathing heavily, no more than a few inches between Aelin’s face and his as he looked down upon her and lowered her arms.

She let her breathing calm, and when Rowan began to finally loosen his grip around her wrists, she whispered, “Let me help, Ro.”

His fingers rested loosely around her wrists as he closed his eyes and said, “I can’t.”

Darkness was all he allowed himself to see as her voice broke when she asked, “Why not?”

Replacing the darkness was a memory. Behind his eyelids, Rowan saw Lorcan on the floor, cradling Elide, watching the life drain out of her.

“I can’t watch you die,” he breathed. “I can’t fathom the thought of her taking you away from me, of her taking both of you away from me, Aelin, I’m so fucking in love with you, with our baby, I couldn’t bear it.”

For a moment, there was only silence, then Aelin took her hands from his grasps, and he let her go, but it was only so that she could cup his face in her trembling hands.

When Rowan opened his eyes, a tear slid down to the top of his lips.

“I couldn’t bear it, Aelin,” he whispered, once again, as a soft sob broke him,and she brushed his tears away with her fingers.

Rowan took in her puffy eyes, her damp, flushed cheeks, and knew he had been hurting her with his distance, but she had to understand that there were horrors out there that would destroy him.

And they all revolved around her, his love.

“We did not choose this life, Ro,” she said, quietly, “but, we did choose each other, and that means that we are a team, a pair, a partnership, and we will get through the worst of the worst, together.”

He wanted to tell her no, but it was purely selfish. He only hung his head and let himself cry, weep, mourn out of fear, out of pressure, out of being unaware of the unknown.

When he was able to calm himself, to collect himself, he lifted his chin to find Aelin watching him, her fingers still on his cheeks, her eyes full of pain and adoration.

His shoulders sagged as he confessed, “I’m fucking terrified.”

“Me too, Ro,” she whispered, then leaned up on her toes to press her mouth to his. It was a soft brush of her lips, but Rowan felt like it had been too long since he felt that familiar brush. His alcohol rampage from the night before seemed underwhelming as the sensation of her touch swept through his body.

His broad arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her body into his, the only thing separating them being the tiny baby bump, still able to be seen clearly now through her loose-fitting dress. After hiking her skirt up, Rowan lifted her by her ass, and her legs naturally wrapped around his bare waist. He refused to break contact with her lips as he slowly trekked to the foot of their bed and sat down, Aelin planted firmly in his lap.

As his hands wandered up her dress, up her back, she pulled back, her hands on his chest, travelling down to the buttons of his trousers, which she quickly undid before pulling her dress over her head and discarding it on the bed behind them.

With his lips meeting hers, once again, Rowan’s hands instantly met his wife’s breasts before rounding to her back and untying the thin brassiere. He never got tired of her breasts, the way they fit perfectly into his palms, the little moans she made as his tongue brushed over her nipples.

There was no time wasted with meaningless foreplay. The need to reach that ultimate level of intimacy was far too overwhelming, so the second Rowan’s cock was pulled out of his trousers, Aelin slid herself down onto him, taking him into her fully, readily. Rowan groaned, quietly, his hands gripping her ass as she rocked her hips, his forehead pressed against hers, their lips lightly brushing one another’s.

Rowan decided then that fucking was the cure to any horrid hangover.

He also decided that he had no idea how this beautiful, strong, perfect woman loved him, but was grateful for that love, because he simply couldn’t survive without it.

As he approached his climax, Rowan held his wife tightly as he thrust his hips up into her. The sounds that tumbled freely from her lips had him on the edge, so melodic and sweet and captivating.

With a curse, he came inside of her, and slid his tongue between her lips as he rode it out.

Aelin’s cheek was resting on his shoulder, her lips pressing softly against his neck, his cock still up inside of her when their bedroom door flew open and Lorcan hurried inside.

“Fuck!” Rowan yelled, pulling a blanket up around his nude wife. “What the fuck?”

“Sorry, didn’t see a thing,” Lorcan said, covering his eyes as he turned his back to them, but his tone told them he wasn’t sorry, at all. When he said what he said next, though, Rowan didn’t care that he had stormed in, either. “Vaughan’s awake.”

~~~~~

Aelin and Rowan were the last to hurry in, and from their disheveled appearance and heated cheeks, Vaughan assumed Lorcan had rushed in on them in quite the intimate position. That was good, though, they needed it.

He was sitting up in his bed, eating a bowl of soup by himself. Vaughan had never been unconscious for that long, but once he got past the dry throat and stiff movements and pain where he’d been hit with the bullet, he felt pretty damn good, all things considering.

After she crossed through the threshold, Aelin let out a relieved cry, and Vaughan slowly set his bowl of soup down on the side table as she came to him and wrapped him into her arms. His arms swept around her and he patted her back, softly, as she wept. He knew she thought what had happened had been her fault, but it hadn’t been, not at all. He was glad it had been him instead of her, for if it had been the other way around, she may have died, and the baby would have most likely. Once she leaned back, Vaughan’s large hands reached for her bump with a soft smile.

Aelin wiped at her eyes as she chuckled, softly. “Glad to see Uncle Vaughan awake.”

Vaughan’s grin widened. Uncle Vaughan. He loved being Uncle Vaughan to Lucy, and couldn’t wait for another little one to join their little circle.

“How are you feeling?” Rowan asked, his voice almost gentle.

Vaughan shrugged, then pointed to where the paper sat on the table across the room.

Lorcan just shook his head from where he stood at the foot of Vaughan’s bed, fully aware of why he wanted to read the morning’s headline. “It’s Sunday, you’ve been sleeping for nearly three days, and we’ve got to be in the backwoods to face down Maeve’s men in a few hours.”

Vaughan stilled.

He hadn’t realized it had been days that he’d been sleeping, hadn’t realized that Sunday had already approached.

And he wouldn’t be there to help.

He had to help.

Vaughan went to sit up further but led out a mangled cry as his wound throbbed, his head growing lighter, his vision blurry. Aelin gave him a stern look as she said, “Well, I don’t know what the fuck you think you’re doing, but you’re staying in this bed.”

He shook his head, but fell back against the pillows, nonetheless.

“You have to rest,” Rowan agreed. “I’m sure today won’t be the end of this shit, so you have to get better to help us next time we run into trouble.”

“I’ll stay here and sit with you,” Aelin promised, then looked over her shoulder at Rowan, who nodded. “If I leave, it’ll just be you and Natalia, and I’d never push her onto an injured man.”

Lorcan snorted as he pulled on his cap.

Vaughan sighed, a huff through his nose, but he nodded, nonetheless.

It wasn’t like he had a choice.

Even though the thought of his men, his family, going to face off with the enemy without him made his stomach churn even more.

Rowan must have seen the look in his eyes, because he said, “Don’t worry. This time, we’re all coming back, unharmed.”

Vaughan nodded, but the feeling that sat in the pit of his stomach was anything but comforting.

~~~~~

Aedion looked in the mirror at his bare chest, covered with a fresh bandage. It was still sore, but mostly from the minor infection. Other than that, it was healing nicely.

Nice enough that Aedion would be joining the others against Maeve.

Which Lysandra hated.

She watched him wearily from his bed, wearing nothing but a knitted blanket wrapped around her shoulders as she took a long drag from her cigarette. He kept glancing up at her reflection, at her annoyed, judgmental gaze.

“I’m going to be fine, Lys,” he muttered, turning around to tug on his trousers. “I’m feeling great, I promise.”

Lysandra didn’t say a word.

Her eyes only narrowed.

“If you could say something nice, that’d be helpful,” he mumbled, pulling a shirt out of the wardrobe and tugging it on.

“I don’t want to be helpful,” she replied, simply. “I want you to come back in bed with me until that wound on your chest is nothing more than a scar.”

“Well, we don’t have that luxury, now do we?” he asked, keeping his voice light.

Lysandra only rolled her eyes and put her cigarette between her teeth as she dropped her blanket. Aedion had just buttoned his shirt as his eyes trailed down her body with a sigh.

“Don’t try and seduce me,” Aedion said, meeting her eyes with a grin. “It won’t work.”

Lysandra laughed, quietly. “You’re a liar, Aedion Ashryver.”

“Maybe so,” he agreed, quietly, and he definitely knew he was a liar when Lysandra started crawling on her hands and knees toward the foot of the bed.

Aedion groaned, turning his back to her, reaching for the wardrobe, once again, for his vest, which he buttoned up with shaky fingers.

“Cruel, wicked woman.”

She was on her feet, behind him now, her slender arms wrapping around his waist. He turned around to meet her embrace. After brushing her dark hair back behind her ears, he was kissing her, softly, just once.

“I have to go,” he whispered.

She nodded, shortly. “I know.” He kissed her again before she added, “Please try not to get shot this time.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” he muttered.

A knock came to the door, loudly and abruptly. “Hurry up!” Rowan’s low, demanding voice came through the thin wood. “Meeting in the dining room!”

Aedion sighed, and let go of Lysandra’s bare ass to grab his jacket off the back of a chair. After pulling it on, and grabbing his hat, he turned to his girlfriend, once more. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she whispered, and kissed him, softly, slowly. “Come back to me, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he promised. “I will.”

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

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#tacmc ITBMW #the cadre #1920s au #pb au #tog #throne of glass #fanfic #fanfiction

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turtle-paced · 4 years

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A:tLA Re-Watch: Fine-Toothed Comb Edition

Another long recap. Seriously, I doubt they’ll all be this long, especially when we hit some of the season one standalone episodes.

Book 1, Chapter 2 - The Avatar Returns

(0:33) Picking up with the new material in the intro to every episode in the series from this point forward. Aang’s status as the Avatar was shown to the viewer, but not internally revealed (to anyone but Zuko). Now the intro’s just going “yeah Aang’s the Avatar.”

(0:43) Again we’ve got that super-efficient outline of the series’ premise. Fire Nation attacking, Avatar needed, Aang not yet up to the job.

(0:46) But where the first episode panned over that empty spire while Katara said she had hope that the Avatar would return, now we pan up over Aang on top of that spire whille Katara says that she believes in Aang.

(2:34) Aang and Katara return under the still-visible signal flare to a decidedly mixed reaction from the village. While the kids are thrilled Aang’s back, the adults are much less keen.

(3:02) The discussion about intentional signalling of the Fire Navy vs. unintentional signalling of the Fire Navy boils down to the cold hard fact that Aang and Katara did something risky, and now the whole village is in danger.

(3:06) Aang, sweetheart that he is, steps in to deflect blame from Katara.

(3:20) The conflict between Katara and Sokka from the first episode reappears, since they never actually resolved it. Sokka thinks that Aang’s deliberately drawing the Fire Nation to them, and that the village is better off if Aang leaves. Katara thinks that Aang is not a spy, and objects to the hostility shown to a stranger. And neither of them are still wholly right or wholly wrong.

More broadly speaking, however, we’ve got two major protagonists in a serious conflict. Avatar lets its major characters disagree and argue according to their priorities. Here, doing right by others is a priority for Katara in a way it isn’t for Sokka. Likewise, her desire to find a waterbending teacher is completely alien to her brother. Sokka’s priority is Katara, and his words show how he’s gone about living up to the duty placed on him by their father.

Speaking of, that’s a heavy thing to lay on a kid. Sokka had to pick up adult duties too. Sokka himself might not see it at this point, but this is one of the most serious ways the Water Tribe patriarchy’s screwed him. Rather than the adult women taking charge and letting Sokka learn and grow, it became Sokka’s responsibility to do the man stuff. (Worth mentioning that the problems with the gendered division of labour hit Katara even earlier, but that’s a discussion for season three. It’s messed up whichever way you slice it.)

(3:29) Katara’s arguments (that Aang has brought fun to the South Pole) build naturally on the events of the previous episode, because we’ve seen Aang interacting with the kids in the village and making everyone smile.

(3:47) Gran-Gran, who despite the patriarchy is still clearly an authority figure, does not side with Katara. Thus far, the show’s done a lot from Katara’s PoV. Her PoV is the central PoV to this point, giving us the background, following the disruption to her routine with her brother as she brings her guest to the village. But being passionate and sympathetic doesn’t automatically get people with their own interests to change their minds. And though we’re being put in Katara’s shoes, to sympathise with her over Sokka right now, it’s real hard to totally condemn Sokka and Gran-Gran for wanting the village and Katara herself to stay as safe as possible. At the very least, they’re not arbitrarily throwing Aang out into what they know to be a hostile environment. They’ve got established reasons.

(3:52) Learning to waterbend matters so much to Katara that she’s willing to drop everything and leave home on a sour note and in a moment of temper. It’s worth noting here that she’s the one driving this, literally leading Aang over to Appa.

(4:10) Sokka asks if Katara would really choose Aang over her own tribe and family, and Katara stops, conflicted. One of the sweetest things over the course of season one (and something I’ll discuss more next episode) is how this ceases to be a conflict.

(4:14) And Aang, who is such a sweetheart, doesn’t want to force Katara to make this sort of choice. This is the starting point: no matter how immediate their connection, a friendship of a few days is not worth cutting off family and community for, not in Aang’s mind.

(4:30) “Guess I’ll go back home and look for the airbenders.” Try not to think of the hypothetical where Aang was alone when he arrived at the Southern Air Temple.

(4:45) Appa continues to refuse to fly, and continues to build up to the punchline.

(5:21) Katara’s angry rejection of her grandmother’s attempts to comfort her show in miniature something that’s very important for the storytelling in this series: emotional inertia and continuity. The action of this scene resolved with Aang’s departure, but Katara’s own feelings about what this represented for her desire to learn did not. They carry over to her interactions with other characters and inform her actions until she finally gets the resolution she was after (at the end of the season).

The writers account for their characters’ experiences and longstanding motivations. These things might take a backseat to whatever’s immediately demanding their attention, but it’s there, and it influences how they act and react from scene to scene. This is harder than it sounds with the episodic structure and multiple writers. The writing in this series was a team effort.

(5:50) Aang and Appa take a break in a random ice formation. “Yeah, I liked her too,” says Aang. Sad on first watch, but in context of ‘The Storm’ and indeed the series finale, Aang was feeling alienated from his peers since the reveal he’s the Avatar, and he still walked away from that sort of peer relationship and a high chance of wacky adventures. Because he knew that the course of action Katara was proposing would hurt her.

When Yangchen tells Aang that selfless duty calls for him to sacrifice his own spiritual needs, we know he’s capable of doing so, because right from the start we’ve seen him sacrifice his needs for others. (Though I’ll save discussion of what sacrificing his own spiritual needs actually means for much, much later.)

(6:00) The action in these episodes leading up to this conflict is so simple, but it’s the result of such nice, neat plotting, all informed by what these characters want and what these characters know. To recap:

Zuko was looking for the Avatar. The beam of light from the iceberg caught his attention, but he didn’t have an exact location, so he started looking around more carefully, a thing that takes time. In that time, Aang (who was avoiding information about the war) and Katara (who’s nowhere near as paranoid about Fire Nation attacks as her brother) did something important to them - had fun. In the process they took an inadvisable risk and attracted attention. This gave Zuko the information he needed and resulted in him heading towards the village. Meanwhile, the characters who are more worried about Fire Nation attacks took an action that made sense for them in asking Aang to leave. But since that happened out of Zuko’s sight, he doesn’t know that, and keeps heading for the village.

Not hideously complicated. But everyone’s actions make sense from their own perspective.

Also, shout out to Aang here, who just learned the Fire Nation are the aggressors in a hundred-year war, who just got kicked out of the village, and who, upon seeing the Fire Nation advancing on the village, goes right back to help without a second thought.

(6:07) Brief montage of Sokka and Zuko each preparing for a fight. Aside from the fact that it’s pretty grotesque for these teenage boys to be gearing up for war, the contrast between Zuko receiving assistance in putting on armour and Sokka kneeling alone in a tiny tent to prepare himself is striking. One of these parties has more resources than the other.

(6:44) Sokka stands alone on the wall of the village. Thus far he’s been suspicious and sexist, and arguably takes himself and his duties too seriously, but at crunch time he gives his duties the appropriate weight.

(7:20) Zuko’s ship emerges from the mist, towering over Sokka. The shot and his repeated “Oh, man,” does quite a bit to convey just how futile fighting back is here.

(7:39) She might not be fighting, but Katara’s not sitting around doing nothing. Aside from rescuing this kid from a tumble into breaking ice, she’s also been trying to get the elders in the village out of the way.

(8:29) Zuko and henchmen appear at the top of the gangplank, fully armoured. Very pointy. Most of Zuko’s soldiers throughout this scene have their faceplates down. From the Water Tribe’s perspective, these people are terrifying and mostly faceless.

(8:42) Having faced down a ship a hell of a lot bigger than he is, knowing that this is probably going to be useless, Sokka tries to physically defend his village anyway. He’s quickly and rather comically kicked away into a snowbank.

(8:59) And after that scary introduction, crashing into the village, neatly dispatching Sokka, we get, “Where are you hiding him?”

It’s easily missable, precisely because Zuko’s crashed into the village and is legitimately, intentionally terrifying our protagonists, but. Think about how Azula would have opened her speech here. Zuko’s a scary antagonist here, but he’s still socially awkward, forgetting to mention who he’s looking for, or why, or even who he himself is. He’s gone straight to the point. Social niceties? Never heard of ‘em! (Pro tip: ‘breaking the ice’ is supposed to be a metaphor.) Sometimes Zuko communicates beautifully. Other times…

(9:08) Zuko roughly grabs Gran-Gran and reveals one of his mistaken assumptions. He’s looking for an old Avatar. Not that he’s outright said ‘I am looking for the Avatar.’

(9:24) Sokka makes another attempt at defending his village from the guy who’s crashed into it, assaulted Sokka’s grandmother, and brandished fire in their general direction. Once again Zuko deals with him easily enough, but -

(9:31) As Sokka rolls to his feet and throws his boomerang, it stops being quite so comical. The viewers know what a boomerang does. So does Sokka, we can see that from his expression. Zuko, however, dismisses it.

(9:55) Then, even after Sokka’s been knocked over for the third time in two minutes, the boomerang comes back and clocks Zuko in the back of the head. Giving Sokka a boomerang as his weapon of choice was a great idea. An unconventional weapon for an unconventional thinker.

(10:06) The undignified boomerang thing is followed up by Aang’s dynamic entrance on a penguin, bowling Zuko right off his feet with his helmet flying into the air and landing comically on his butt.

When we get other villains, we’ll see how unusual this treatment is. Avatar has plenty of humour in it, but the threat that its villains pose is a serious matter. The show certainly doesn’t pretend that Zuko did nothing wrong - explicitly points out that he did plenty wrong, multiple times, in fact - but it does use humour to distinguish several of Zuko’s villainous efforts from those typical of other longstanding antagonists.

(10:28) Sokka’s utterly deadpan “Hi, Aang. Thanks for coming” is just delightful to me.

(10:44) Aang makes a show of airbending snow onto the soldiers and asks, “Looking for me?” This is either a remarkably insightful guess from Aang or another minor inconsistency. How does Aang know who or what Zuko is looking for? Has he been in earshot since the nine-minute mark? If so, what’s he been doing? Looking for a penguin?

I tend to run on the ‘remarkably insightful guess’ assumption, which reconciles the potential inconsistency. Aang knows he’s the Avatar, after all. Yet again I’m going to reference what he knows from ‘The Storm’, where he absolutely knew that the monks were getting worried about a war.

(10:49) Zuko finally says the word “Avatar” and connects the two parts of the series’ title for us. The Avatar is the last airbender. And vice versa. It is, however, a reveal to Katara and Sokka. Cut to commercial break.

(10:57) Aang and Zuko start circling each other, Zuko helpfully informing the viewers that he’s been on the Avatar hunt for literal years.

(11:04) When Zuko calls Aang a child, Aang does not take offence. (Like I said last episode, Aang knows he’s a kid.) He does, however, point out that Zuko’s a teenager. So. By this point, the viewer knows that Zuko has been looking for the Avatar for years. The viewer knows how long the Avatar’s been missing. The viewer knows that Zuko expected the Avatar to be an extremely powerful master of all elements. The viewer knows that Zuko needs to capture the Avatar, that his honour depends on it.

Halfway through episode two, the viewer’s got the bare bones of what they need to start asking some pointed questions about Zuko’s backstory.

(11:13) At this point of the show, Aang is clearly uncomfortable fighting in earnest. He doesn’t strike back and simply defends.

(11:17) The potential of fire to hurt people nearby through accidents is clear as Aang hears the villagers behind him scream at his deflection. So Aang finishes dissipating the fireball and then offers to go with Zuko, on condition that Zuko leaves the village alone.

(11:28) Zuko nods. He stops attacking and leaves without another word to the villagers or another threatening gesture, Aang in custody. This is very initial setup for Zuko’s eventual heel face turn. He’s scary and destructive, his goals are not friendly to the people trying to fight invaders in their homeland, and he doesn’t seem to see the issue with roughing people up a bit and breaking their stuff in pursuit of his goals, but he is, at least, true to his word. He isn’t actively malicious.

The setup’s also more for the viewer than for Aang, Katara, and Sokka right now. Together with the PoV of Zuko that we’ve already had, we’re starting to get the picture of an awkward, angry, teenager crashing into things both literally and metaphorically, hurting others and himself, in the unhealthy pursuit of something that may or may not be just the Avatar.

(11:45) I love that Aang asks Katara to look after Appa for him. He thinks of Appa’s wellbeing and trusts Katara with it.

(11:48) Zuko’s order to set a course to the Fire Nation, with the accompanying line “I’m going home,” is yet another thing that hurts more on the rewatch.

(11:58) Aang’s brave face visibly fails as the gangway draws back up after him. Commercial break #2!

(12:10) Establishing shot of the damage done to the Water Tribe village. There’s the hole in the ice shelf. Hole in their one actual building. Knocked-over tents. We cut to the villagers doing a bit of manual labour to get their homes and structures back in working order.

(12:31) Katara looks out to sea and says that they have to go after the ship and free Aang. The ship that just crashed into their village. To fight the guy who just kicked Sokka’s ass. Because it’s the right thing to do.

Meanwhile, in the background, Sokka’s walking back and forth with stuff in his arms.

(12:45) Katara continues to argue that they owe Aang for his help, and that she and Sokka should both go. Which is when the punchline kicks in - Sokka’s been loading a canoe so they could. While he and Katara are on the same page as far as saving Aang goes, this is probably the first instance of Sokka’s developing “plan guy” tendencies. Practical stuff.

(12:53) Episode two and already there are “he is not my boyfriend!” jokes. It’s also something that makes Katara and Sokka’s relationship feel like an actual sibling relationship, with the genuine and open affection transitioning into giving each other a hard time in seconds.

(12:59) Gran-Gran comes up behind Katara and Sokka and pulls exactly the same joke as Sokka did seconds ago. Surprise, she doesn’t disapprove! She wants to help her grandchildren rescue Aang! Looks like everyone was convinced that Aang wasn’t a spy, and that everyone broadly accepts Katara’s argument that the tribe owes Aang.

(13:26) Then there’s the whole Avatar thing. As Gran-Gran says, the Avatar is the world’s only chance. This is now an issue bigger than their village. “You both found him for a reason. Now your destinies are intertwined with his,” she says.

Narratively, the same principle applies to Zuko as well. He could have been sailing anywhere, but he’s right there in the South Pole, looking in the right direction at the right time.

(13:37) Katara points out that there’s no way they’re going to catch a warship with a canoe. For the vast majority of the series, transport is a consistent concern as the characters travel from place to place. The advantages and disadvantages of flying show up. The difficult of walking places shows up. Right here we start with the fact that the canoe’s just not going to cut it. Which is when Appa shows up from after his nap.

(13:53) “This staff will make an excellent gift for my father,” Zuko says. Which is our first indirect reference to Ozai. It also shows that Zuko is thinking of pleasing his father.

Note also that Zuko calls it a staff and Aang does not correct him.

(14:07) Zuko rather rudely shoves Aang’s glider at Iroh with a brusque order to take it to his quarters; Iroh rather more politely asks the nearest soldier to do it instead. Again, Iroh doesn’t go along with Zuko’s poor treatment of him - Iroh’s not there to fetch and carry for Zuko.

(14:25) “I guess you’ve never fought an airbender before.” Aang can get his head around the fact that there aren’t many airbenders around any more. He was planning to go look for more airbenders earlier. He used his airbending to prove his identity to Zuko. But what he hasn’t grasped just yet is why there are no airbenders left.

(14:31) Aang bets he could take both Fire Nation guards out with both hands tied behind his back. He can! But what we see in the next minute or so is Aang’s real forte - evasion. He knocks both guards over with an airbending-charged sneeze and runs for it.

(14:53) As we see, the guard Aang knocks over is back on his feet in seconds, none the worse for wear. This is a kids’ show, you can’t be having the protagonists killing people right and left, but this is integrated into Aang’s fighting style and character to the benefit of the story as a whole. Right now it’s making for a tense fight scene, one Aang versus a shipful of Fire Nation soldiers.

(15:09) Katara is very much the positive reinforcement sort of person. Rather than Sokka’s cynicism, she tries to encourage Appa into flying, both because Aang needs them and because she believes in Appa.

(15:29) Meanwhile, Sokka recalls the one prompt Aang gave Appa to fly, more than a day ago. Good listening, Sokka.

(15:38) Appa flies!

(15:42) And cynical Sokka shouts with excitement. Sokka does have that sense of wonder Katara does, but a bit more deeply buried.

(15:46) Katara gives him an excellent told-you-so look (siblings!). Even though Sokka tries to play it cool for her after his loss of composure, he still gives another little smile and eager look down for the viewer afterwards. Commercial break!

(16:08) Aang’s response to armed men facing him down with swords in a narrow corridor is to ask them if they’ve seen his staff (he’s still calling it a staff, no hinting at the glider function), and then to avoid fighting them even as he pursues his objective. Ditto the firebender who tries to blast him. The most Aang does is knock people over.

(16:34) Aang bursts in on Iroh’s quarters, where Iroh is asleep. Sure is convenient that the best fighter on the ship by a large margin is taking a nap right through this alarm and all this shouting in echoey metal corridors, isn’t it.

I mean, I don’t know that Iroh is faking. It’s just awfully coincidental, that’s all.

(16:39) Check the angle on the door here. Look at how little space there is behind it.

(16:47) It turns out that Zuko was in that tiny, tiny space the viewer couldn’t see. He also shuts the door to limit Aang’s ability to evade.

(16:58) We get a decent shot of Zuko’s quarters here. He has a nice table for meditation. He’s got some hangings, a reed mat on the floor, and some hangings. And right on the edge of the shot, he’s got a pair of swords.

(17:09) Aang still hasn’t thrown a punch or made any sort of attempt to strike back. Again, he knocked over those first two guards with a sneeze, not an actual blow.

(17:33) Ah, the counteroffensive from Aang. Wrapping an opponent in a wall hanging. Zuko burns through it - the first thing in his room that he’s actually set on fire, by the way, despite throwing a lot of fireballs around over wall hangings and flammable floor coverings.

(17:41) Aang finally actually counterattacks, launching a mattress at Zuko to knock him into a wall. Twice. And then he runs again while Zuko’s stunned and prone. It looks to me like Aang is not at all comfortable with hitting people directly.

(18:03) Hope spot as Aang launches his glider to escape.

(18:05) Literally brought down by Zuko leaping out into the air, well above the metal deck of his ship. If Zuko hadn’t caught Aang, he was going splat. Complete disregard for his own safety. And somehow not the most ridiculously unsafe thing he does in the process of chasing Aang this season.

It’s one thing to tell us that Zuko’s been hunting the Avatar for years. It’s another to show us Zuko jumping out of what, the third storey? in order to get a single hand on Aang’s heel as he flies away.

(18:26) Socially awkward Zuko rears his head again as he actually gets distracted for a second by Appa’s appearance.

(18:49) Repeated fireballs from Zuko succeed in knocking Aang into polar waters.

(19:00) Mysterious glowing kicks in, as well as the theme music, and Aang comes to the surface waterbending.

(19:20) And in the Avatar state, Aang simply knocks all the soldiers off the deck. Doesn’t look like the kid whose most aggressive moves in the past three minutes were sneezing and throwing a mattress, does it?

(19:45) The mysterious glowing taps Aang right out of energy, leaving Katara, Sokka and Appa to finish the rescue here.

(19:58) Sokka goes to pick up Aang’s staff and runs into Zuko, who wasted no time getting out of the cold water and climbing up the side of the ship. This time, however, Sokka’s got the advantage. He pokes Zuko in the face with the end of the staff and knocks him back again.

(20:17) Katara tries waterbending in combat for the first time. It doesn’t go so well, accidentally freezing Sokka to the deck. She turns to try the move she just worked out on the Fire Nation soldiers rushing her with spears, because she’s got some real strong nerves.

(20:44) Now that everyone’s on the bison and there are no soldiers on deck, Iroh wanders out. First thing he does is go help Zuko back onto the deck.

(20:56) Iroh matches Zuko’s fireball in an attempt to shoot Appa down.

(21:05) And who could have foreseen it, but Aang deflects it! Right into the side of a glacier.

(21:25) If Iroh was trying to impress on Zuko that Aang’s just a child, he missed the mark. (Given Zuko’s relationship with Azula…) Zuko points out that kid or not, Aang just buried their ship. We leave our antagonists as Zuko orders the ship dug out and the Avatar followed.

(21:43) Meanwhile, somewhere in the sky, Katara has questions for Aang. Her first relate to waterbending, how? Aang, however, has no conscious knowledge of waterbending. So even though he’s the Avatar, he’s on similar footing to Katara when it comes to that particular skill.

(21:55) More seriously, Katara wants to know why Aang didn’t tell them he was the Avatar, and Aang’s answer “because I never wanted to be” is an important one. We’ve seen his courage and his selflessness. We can reason out that it’s not the actual saving of the day that he minds.

Aang doesn’t want the responsibility. He wants to be free.

(22:17) Katara gently points out that the entire world needs the Avatar to end the war. Aang doesn’t know how he’s going to do it. He’s got no idea how to tackle this problem (nor much emotional preparednesss to do so).

(22:23) In response to Aang’s despondence, Katara sets out the general outline of what Aang needs to do, and therefore the plan for the rest of the series. Aang has to master water, then earth, then fire. The plan for the rest of the season is to learn waterbending.

(22:31) “We could learn [waterbending] together!” Aang says. Again, the full context of this is that Aang (very much an extrovert) was abruptly excluded from airbending games by his same-age friends when they found out he was the Avatar. That’s the other thing Aang doesn’t want about being the Avatar - being set apart from others. We can start to see that in his eagerness to learn with Katara.

(22:33) As for Sokka, what he gets out of the trip is basically some fighting. Unlike Aang and Katara, he doesn’t have a clearly defined end goal here. Nor a clearly defined role in the group as yet.

(22:50) Aang insists that they stop a few places before going to learn waterbending. Mostly these places involve riding large animals. Again we’ve got the good and the bad here - Aang needs to make time for himself and it’s good that he makes time for himself, but he also can’t duck his responsibilities forever. Whether or not he wanted those responsibilities in the first place.

#a:tla #fine toothed comb edition

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narrativelysignificantturtleduck · 3 years

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id like to know more about the promise and lab partners pls <3

okay so both of these are pianjeong, no relation to the atla comic of the same name (just in case anyone was wondering)

lab partners is one of the semi-abandoned ones - it was based on a prompt by @pianjeong in our server fic exchange, and i ended up going with the epistolary prompt (army dreamers). i'm not a stem person so i'm kind of ill-equipped to write it, but i also did enjoy translating the characters to such a different setting.

what i came up with is this: jeong jeong is majoring in a stem field bc it's expected of him, but he really wants to change his major to something in humanities. meanwhile, piandao is passionate about the class and trying very hard because his academic scholarship is dependant on him maintaining high grades. so jeong jeong thinks piandao is taking everything way too seriously, piandao thinks jeong jeong is not taking it seriously enough, and neither of them are actually coping well with the pressure to succeed.

my actual favorite bit, though, was writing iroh as jeong jeong's roommate:

Jeong Jeong didn’t want to get out of bed for his 9 am lab.

This was very strange. Usually, he was an early riser, waking the moment the sun entered the window as if its light somehow imbued him with energy. He liked being able to count on a good few hours of quiet time before the rest of the world awoke, time to prepare himself emotionally for having to interact with people.

His roommate liked the sunshine too, but more in the way a cat likes a warm patch of light in the afternoon. No, Iroh was usually snoring away when Jeong Jeong awoke, unaware of his secret morning ritual. But today, Jeong Jeong was in bed and Iroh was up, yawning widely and staggering over to their illegal electric kettle to heat it for tea.

“Jeong Jeong?”

Jeong Jeong poked his face out of the covers. “Yeah?”

“Are you all right? You usually wake up earlier than I do.” He paused. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

Iroh was a nice guy, someone who was pleasant to live with and personally very kind. Jeong Jeong wanted to like him, but he had the unfortunate honor of being in a political science class with him, and it had soon become very clear that Iroh was the son of a wealthy businessman and wholly unaware of how the world worked. Sure, Jeong Jeong wasn’t exactly from poverty, but at least he was trying to be more aware. Iroh’s defenses of his grandfather’s business practices were certainly...something.

But Iroh did let him use the electric kettle, and even though Jeong Jeong didn’t agree with his politics, he wasn’t going to turn down a good cup of tea.

i'll talk about the promise under the cut (NSFW)

so the title is a reference to a promise piandao makes to jeong jeong in my fic i'm your light: "I don’t expect anything from you that you aren’t ready to give." to put it poetically, this fic is about that promise in the context of them rekindling their relationship. to put it bluntly, it's a smutfic with a LOT of talking and a heavy emphasis on communication. it keeps getting longer and longer, one of those stories where the characters seem to take charge and drag you along for the ride. here's the snippet that gave it its title:

Piandao placed a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t expect anything from you...”

“...That I’m not ready to give,” Jeong Jeong finished. “I remember.” He closed his eyes and exhaled. “I only wonder if you want what I have to give.”

He looked so noble, his profile in the fading light, the interplay of shadows and light on his face, and Piandao felt a tug in his chest. “I want you, Jeong Jeong,” he said simply. “And if you aren’t ready, I’m willing to wait.”

Jeong Jeong looked up, his eyes sad. “It's not a question of readiness,” he said. His hand reached up to brush Piandao's cheek, tentatively, like it was something he wasn't allowed to touch. “Nor of desire.” The rumble of his voice resonated through Piandao, the way a well-tuned note resonated through the body of a string instrument.

Then he pulled his hand back and turned away. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said. “I could not live with myself if I did.”

#ask #nina's personal log #my fanfic #pianjeong

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kylorengarbagedump · 4 years

Text

Line of Kylo Ren’s Dialogue (NSFW)

Read on AO3.

Summary: Being that this was a fanfiction written by kassanovella, it was to be anticipated that the Reader-character would, in fact, do something that resulted in violent sex with Kylo Ren.

What that would be was difficult to discern, as neither the title, summary, or tags gave any sort of helpful hints as to the content of this one-shot.

Words: 980

Warnings: egregious parody, dubious consent

A/N: I just wanted to make fun of myself because I'm sick of my own bullshit.

"Oh, boy," said the Reader-character (that's you, by the way), "I sure hope nothing happens today that will end with me having violent sex with Kylo Ren!"

That was the statement made by the main character indicating foreshadowing of future events. Being that this was a fanfiction written by kassanovella, it was to be anticipated that the Reader-character would, in fact, do something that resulted in violent sex with Kylo Ren. What that would be was difficult to discern, as neither the title, summary, or tags gave any sort of helpful hints as to the content of this one-shot.

The Reader-character continued throughout her day, doing nothing of value or worth remembering, as this was a one-shot, and her motivations were wholly unimportant. It was only after a short set-up and half-assed attempt at plotting that the Reader-character came into contact with the only person the audience actually gives a shit about: Kylo Ren.

"Kylo Ren," she said. "It's you!"

Kylo Ren looked blank, because writing that is an easy cop-out to make him look complex. "Yes."

"Wow, you sure are big," said the Reader-character, immediately throwing the audience out because that's something they would never say to Kylo Ren. "In comparison to me, I'd say you're massive!"

Kylo Ren took his big ol' enormous gigantic massive overwhelming hands and snatched the Reader-character's neck. Then he said nothing, since the author couldn't think of anything useful or exciting for him to say.

"Let me go!" In this moment, the Reader-character was articulating the exact opposite of what the audience wanted to happen. "I'm both angry and turned on by this!"

"I am annoyed by your shouting."

"This is my only way of demonstrating any sort of personality!" she said. "I have less than 3000 words to establish engaging characterization!"

"Enough." Kylo Ren was becoming inexplicably turned on by this, something that the author never decides to explain or elaborate on. "If you continue, we will have violent sex."

"Oh, no!" replied the Reader-character. "I only halfway want this to happen!"

"I know," said Kylo Ren. "One of the tags is Dubious Consent."

"What? How did you know that?"

"I looked up and read them."

The Reader-character scoffed. "That sounds like a waste of time. You know the author only uses tags to make luke-warm jokes, rather than filling them with useful information about what to expect!"

"Yes." Kylo Ren's face continued to be stoic, which the audience apparently needed a reminder of. "But I think this one might be accurate."

It was at that point Kylo Ren leaned in and started the sex scene, a signal to the audience that they should not have started reading this fanfic on the bus.

The Reader-character's thighs probably clamped together as she pretended to resist Kylo Ren for the benefit of the dubious consent tag. "Why do I never get to start the sex scene?"

"Because writing characters with agency is too difficult."

Kylo Ren then made obvious his thick erection, which was shocking to the Reader-character in its size and girth. Seriously, it was so big that it too could be described with words such as massive enormous gigantic and overwhelming, but those words were already used to describe other parts of Kylo Ren's body. The Reader-character made noises and experienced bodily reactions that were described with lots of adjectives with the intent to drag the scene out as long as possible.

Meanwhile, Kylo Ren refused to take his clothes off as he prepared to enact violent sex. This was both infuriating and baffling to the audience, because they came to read Kylo Ren porn, yet he never bothers to get undressed in any fic on this author's page. It was after some drawn-out foreplay that penis-in-vagina finally, finally happened, though it was written in a way that imitated a bad porno.

"I'm going to fuck your little pussy and make you cum, whore," said Kylo Ren.

"You do that every--fuck--every time!"

"But this time is different," he replied through ragged breath, "because it's happening in a scenario that the author hasn't written about."

The sex was very aggressive and violent in ways that would not appear pleasurable to any typical human. There was also, likely, a bizarre kink or two thrown into the scene, as creating a good or interesting story is always secondary to inserting whatever gross garbage the author has a taste for that week.

Finally, after some dirty talk and more verbal humiliation, both the Reader-character and Kylo Ren came simultaneously in orgasms that were written about in language that failed to capture the reality of most orgasms (disappointing). They breathed and stared at each other in acknowledgement that the sex scene was over and their relationship was now different than it was at the beginning of this fanfiction.

The audience was then forced to read through overwrought flowery paragraphs where the author was clearly trying to shove in as many metaphors and analogies as possible in order to look like she knew what she was doing. Of course, she didn't, and never does, but by opening a thesaurus and beating people over the head with as many different words as possible, the author believes she is tricking people into thinking she is competent. At some point italics were used for emphasis on words she couldn't bother to try and make important through showing versus telling.

"That was a lot of nonsense for one little sex scene," said the Reader-character. "Is the story over yet?"

"A line of Kylo Ren's dialogue."

"What?"

"The author can't think of titles, so I needed to say something she could use as a title."

"Oh."

Kylo Ren continued looking blank and vacant. The Reader-character ruminated on the change in status quo.

"So..." she asked. "How is she going to end the story?"

His eyes glimmered with an emotion. "Like this."

#kylo ren smut #kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren #kylo trash #I wrote this in 30 minutes on my phone before work #many apologies #I just hate myself and my writing rn lmfaoooo

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allmyspideys · 4 years

Text

Festival (h.o)

Summary: Harrison spotted a beautiful girl that he just needed to talk to. it's you. You're the beautiful girl

Warnings: light drinking, fluff, kissing, i guess a hint of a deep conversation

Words: 2k+

A/N: I felt really weird posting this bc I thought that my energies should be focused on the blm movement, but then I remembered that it’s okay to do both. You can be active and do other things, so to anyone worried that I don’t care or I’m not doing anything, don’t be. I am doing lots and if you want to talk about more ways to be active or educate yourself, come chat!! Anyway, I really wanna go to a festival or like any social interaction... my extroverted ass is sad

It was supposed to be an easy weekend with Tom and Harry. He wasn't supposed to see a girl that would end up occupying his mind. It wasn't a boy's weekend per se, but they all needed a good fun weekend. But Harrison saw a beautiful, ethereal woman; her head was thrown back in laughter with her friends and the sun seemed to shine directly on her. He longed to hear that sound of her laughter. For a moment Harrison found himself thinking of every possibility of this woman: what are her eyes like?, her hair must be so soft, what does she enjoy?. Quickly though, he shook the thoughts out of his head and returned to Tom's story, but the image of the beautiful goddess was still in his head.

When your best friend invited you to a festival, you immediately said yes. It was exactly what you needed: a fun weekend away from work and full of music and new people. You loved the idea of meeting new people and bonding over your good artists. You were excited to say the least.

You and your friends were standing around, drinking, telling jokes, laughing, when you spotted a group of really cute guys. One of them was looking at you too, making you blush and turn away. He was with other guys of equal cuteness, but there was something about the sheer blueness of his eyes that pulled you in to him. It was as if you couldn't look away.

"Y/N let's go! Rex Orange County is starting soon!" your friend called to you and pulled you out of your trance. Still, as you walked away, you couldn't help but want to run into the blue eyed man again.

As you and your friends walked towards the stage, you looked around to admire all the people that were surrounding you. Part of you was looking for that guy who’s blue eyes were still ingrained in your memory. To call them blue would be an understatement. No, they were more like an electric cyan, but had the softness of a baby blue and a twinge turquoise. They were the color of young love; the nervous kind that went to the fair at night to look at the neon lights and buy raspberry cotton candy, but grew old to be warm and loving, if not a bit cheeky too. You began to wonder about him, all because of his stupid blue eyes.

Though you and your friends had planned to get to the stage early, there were still many people that got there before you, making your spot to see one of your favorite bands farther back than you would have liked. Still, you were happy to be there and enjoying the buzz of everyone else around you. There was something special about festivals: the excited energy that combined with the chill attitudes and all summed up in the collective jump dancing. It was unlike anything else, that’s for sure. It really opened you up to opportunities that you’d normally question. For instance, hoping that the boy with the blue eyes would be legitimately interested and you’d actually meet him again.

Just as you began to imagine the eyes once again, you bumped into something. Immediately turning to apologize, you were stopped by those blue eyes staring at you once again.

“Hi,” you said with a breathless smile, “it’s you”. Quickly you realized how strange the statement was and began to stutter with an apology mixed with some comment about the concert, but thankfully, he understood.

“I’m Harrison,” he said, shaking your hand. It’s a total cliche, but it was true, there were sparks in that touch and there was no denying it.

“I’m Y/N”, again, a huge smile broke out on your face as you looked into those eyes that just kept popping up in your mind.

The show began just as you both called your friends over. It was a bit of a strange meeting; this guy you had just met that was meeting all your friends, and you all his, but somehow it just made so much sense. Maybe it was the festival feeling, but something was just right about it. The lights were shining all around you and you let the music take you a place of pure feeling and happiness. You were dancing with your closest friends and about 500 other complete strangers, and yet, you felt the most connected with everyone than ever. Harrison found himself drifting to look at you; the pure contentment on your face and the freeness of your body in your dancing was absolutely amazing. He motioned to you, but you couldn’t hear him very well, so he took the opportunity to touch you, gently. Harrison pulled your face in close as he leaned to whisper in your ear. His breath was hot against your ear, but it caused shivers to run down your spine.

“Do you want to get on my shoulders?” he asked.

“Are you crazy?” you laughed with wide eyes, “I can’t get up there!”

“Trust me. I won’t let you fall,” Harrison looked at you and wiggled his eyebrows. You let out a laugh and a gleeful scream as you took his hand. Harrison squatted down and gave you his knee, his eyes never leaving yours. After you got situated Harrison slowly stood back up, one hand’s fingers pressed into your thighs and the other interlaced with yours. You had to admit, the show was infinitely better from up there and Harrison made sure you were okay the whole time with an occasional squeeze of your hand. It was too soon to say you were falling, but there was a feeling running through your whole body that you were not ready to let go of.

Harrison helped you off his shoulders as the show ended. Part of you was kind of sad that you wouldn’t have the feeling of his fingers pressing into your thighs and the occasional looks up to make sure that you were okay. The feeling was mutual for Harrison; he didn’t want to admit it, but he enjoyed having your legs over his shoulders and even if his mind went elsewhere with that idea, he enjoyed the simplicity of having that moment with you. Your friend turned to you, beaming with happiness, “Girl!! You wanna go get some drinks?? I’ll get the spot set up for fireworks”. You immediately knew that she had already invited Harrison’s friends to join you and was thinking of all the questions she was going to ask you on the ride back to the hotel.

“I’ll come with,” Harrison perked up and looked to you for permission.

Not needing to answer, you winked at your friend and grabbed Harrison’s hand as you turned away to go find some drinks. You thought about holding it the whole way there, but decided against it. You had only just met and barely talked, but Harrison disagreed and as you let go, he tightened up, again looking to you for permission. You simply smiled and laced your fingers together. You had to admit, the fit of his fingers between yours was nearly perfect. It was a little tight, but only because you hadn’t held someone’s hand in a while, but the way his fingers wrapped around the back of your hand was the most amazing feeling that made you break out into a shit eating grin and caused flutters throughout your body.

Once you got close Harrison ran ahead to begin collecting the drinks.

“You go order the booze and I’ll grab everything else,” he said with a wink. Together you walked back to your friends, both arms full of goodies.

The fireworks started to go off, but neither you nor Haz could take your eyes off each other. You muttered to yourself again, those stupid eyes, as you watched the way the firework colors light up in his eyes. Honestly, it was magical; the way the firework color took over the almost translucent blue to become a wonderful purple or red in the glow of his eyes.

Harrison wanted to know everything about you. He wanted to know your passions and your loves, your past, things that you hated, especially the little things. He sat there looking at you with all this wonder and admiration in his eyes as you talked about your job and your future plans. He could see how passionate you were; he loved that you had dreams and were willing to go after them. Harrison was so enthralled by you and the light in your eyes that he didn’t realize you had finished until you said, “Harrison?”

“Oh! Uh,” he chuckled nervously, “sorry. I think it’s amazing that you know what you want to do and you’re going after it. It’s truly amazing… you’re amazing,” he said with a smile.

As you began to mention all the things he’s doing and the admiration you held for him, a young actor just trying his best and giving it his all, he stumbled over his thank you and turned the questions back to you.

“So,” you noted the curiosity in his eyes, “what don’t you like?”

Harrison marveled in the big laugh that you let out, again, finding himself thoroughly captivated in your stories. He couldn’t help but note the things that you loved and hated, just in case he needed them for future use. Meanwhile, you were taking as many mental pictures as possible to remember the look of someone who was truly interested in the things you were saying. It gave you hope; it gave you butterflies, no Harrison gave you butterflies.

You talked about everything. Occasionally the conversation turned a little deep, but it was still so open. You felt free to be wholly you, the version of you that you wanted to be. Harrison helped bring that out of you.

“You’re so great,” he said, looking down and biting his lip a little, “Why are you single? Wait, you are single right?”

You could see the panic on his face, but you just chuckled, “yes, I am single”. Harrison looked at you expectantly. Had it been someone else or maybe somewhere else, you wouldn’t have answered truthfully. You would have said something like, “I enjoy it!” or “I’ve just been too busy to date anyone lately”, but you felt accepted enough to tell him the truth.

“I’ve been so scared to date anyone because I don’t date just to date. I want to actually like the person, right, and I thought if I got into a serious relationship while I was in university or just after that a few years down the road, after we’d become dependent on each other, that it would just crumble and I’d lose a friend. So I decided that not dating anyone would be better than losing someone I loved,” you looked away, unable to look at Harrison.

“You can’t live in fear like that,” he said while turning your face back to him, “but I understand”, and you knew he truly did. Once again, your body filled with those flutters as you looked into his eyes.

The fireworks ended sooner than you would have liked and your friends began to pack up. Harrison routinely stole glances at you as he helped you pack away the day. Your friends began saying their goodbyes to the people they had grown close with over the day and your spirit started to fall. You tried to remind yourself to be happy that you got to experience everything, but you couldn’t help feeling a bit sad. Unwillingly you turned to Harrison to say goodbye and saw the same look in his blue eyes. Those stupid eyes, you thought.

“Thank you,” you said. Harrison was rubbing your arms and looking deeply into your eyes. He was trying his best to remember the way that they looked.

“It was so amazing meeting you,” he said back. There was so much unsaid, but so much understood.

As you were turning away from Harrison, the boy you had grown to have a huge, raging crush on, a smile broke out on your face. You were thinking of all the memories you’d think back on later that night and wish that you had asked for his number, email, something, but also be content in knowing that you had a moment. Harrison, however, was not content. He had just met this amazing woman that shook everything he thought he knew about girls. He was not done with you; he could not let you walk away. Quickly, Haz grabbed your arm and pulled you into him, placing another hand on the side of your face, steadying your body, and planting his lips on yours. At first you didn’t know what was happening, but very quickly, your body melted into his, and your lips began moving with his.

It was everything you thought it would be. It was the fireworks you just saw. It was the spark that you felt when your hands touched for the first time. It was the flutters that took over your whole body and mind every time you looked into his eyes. It was the first time that Harrison saw you. It was the feeling of his fingers against your thighs. It was the pictures of you running through his head. It was the melody of your voice that filled his ears every time you spoke. It was everything you hoped and so so much more.

You broke for a minute and rested your head against Harrison’s, foreheads still touching and fingers still intertwined. You had a great day with a great guy and your friends. You met someone great. Harrison was feeling the exact same way. He never planned on meeting someone, much less meeting someone as amazing as you. It was meant to be an easy weekend and it turned out to be so much more.

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mystiika · 3 years

Text

i mean you can read if you want? but it’s mainly for my own notes to refer back to. hades in ovid metamorphoses book v & the orphic hymns

Bk V:332-384

Calliope sings: Cupid makes Dis fall in love

‘This much she played on her lute, with singing voice. Then called on us, - but perhaps you are not at leisure, or free to listen to a repetition of our music?’ ‘Do not stop’ said Pallas, ‘but sing your song again as you arranged it!’ and she sat amongst the light shadows of the grove. The Muse renewed her tale ‘We gave our best singer to the contest. Calliope, who rose, with her loose hair bound with ivy, tried out the plaintive strings with her fingers, then accompanied the wandering notes with this song.

‘“Ceres first turned the soil with curving plough, first ripened the crops and produce of the earth, first gave us laws: all things are Ceres’s gift. My song is of her. If only I could create a song in any way worthy of the goddess! This goddess is truly a worthy subject for my song.

‘“Trinacris, the vast isle of Sicily, had been heaped over the giant’s limbs, and with its great mass oppressed buried Typhoeus, he who had dared to aspire to a place in heaven. He struggles it’s true and often tries to rise, but his right hand is held by the promontory of Ausonian Pelorus, and his left hand by you, Pachynus. Lilybaeum presses on his legs, Etna weighs down his head, supine beneath it, Typhoeus throws ash from his mouth, and spits out flame. Often, a wrestler, he throws back the weight of earth, and tries to roll the high mountains and the cities from his body, and then the ground trembles, and even the lord of the silent kingdom is afraid lest he be exposed, and the soil split open in wide fissures, and the light admitted to scare the anxious dead.

‘“Fearing this disaster, the king of the dark had left his shadowy realm, and, drawn in his chariot by black horses, carefully circled the foundations of the Sicilian land. When he had checked and was satisfied that nothing was collapsing, he relinquished his fears. Then Venus, at Eryx, saw him moving, as she sat on the hillside, and embraced her winged son, Cupid, and said ‘My child, my hands and weapons, my power, seize those arrows, that overcome all, and devise a path for your swift arrows, to the heart of that god to whom the final share of the triple kingdom fell. You conquer the gods and Jupiter himself, the lords of the sea, and their very king, who controls the lords of the sea. Why is Tartarus excepted? Why not extend your mother’s kingdom and your own? We are talking of a third part of the world. And yet, as is evident to me, I am scorned in heaven, and Love’s power diminishes with mine.

‘“‘Don’t you see how Pallas, and the huntress Diana, forsake me? And Ceres’s daughter too, Proserpine, will be a virgin if we allow it, since she hopes to be like them. But you, if you delight in our shared kingdom, can mate the goddess to her uncle.’ So Venus spoke: he undid his quiver, and at his mother’s bidding took an arrow, one from a thousand, and none was sharper, more certain, or better obeyed the bow. Then he bent the pliant tips against his knee, and with his barbed arrow struck Dis in the heart.”’

“Venus of Eryx, from her mountain throne, Saw Hades and clasped her swift-winged son, and said: ‘Cupid, my child, my warrior, my power, Take those sure shafts with which you conquer all, And shoot your speedy arrows to the heart Of the great god to whom the last lot fell When the three realms were drawn. Your mastery Subdues the gods of heaven and even Jove, Subdues the ocean’s deities and him, Even him, who rules the ocean’s deities. Why should Hell lag behind? Why not there too Extend your mother’s empire and your own….? Then Cupid, guided by his mother, opened His quiver of all his thousand arrows Selected one, the sharpest and the surest, The arrow most obedient to the bow, And bent the pliant horn against his knee And shot the barbed shaft deep in Pluto’s heart.” ― Ovid, Metamorphoses

Bk V:385-424

Calliope sings: Dis and the abduction of Proserpine

‘“Not far from the walls of Enna, there is a deep pool. Pergus is its name. Caÿster does not hear more songs than rise from the swans on its gliding waves. A wood encircles the waters, surrounds them on every side, and its leaves act as a veil, dispelling Phoebus’s shafts. The branches give it coolness, and the moist soil, Tyrian purple flowers: there, it is everlasting Spring. While Proserpine was playing in this glade, and gathering violets or radiant lilies, while with girlish fondness she filled the folds of her gown, and her basket, trying to outdo her companions in her picking, Dis, almost in a moment, saw her, prized her, took her: so swift as this, is love. The frightened goddess cries out to her mother, to her friends, most of all to her mother, with piteous mouth. Since she had torn her dress at the opening, the flowers she had collected fell from her loosened tunic, and even their scattering caused her virgin tears. The ravisher whipped up his chariot, and urged on the horses, calling them by name, shaking out the shadowy, dark-dyed, reins, over their necks and manes, through deep pools, they say, and the sulphurous reeking swamps of the Palici, vented from a crevice of the earth, to Syracuse where the Bacchiadae, a people born of Corinth between two seas, laid out their city between unequal harbours.

‘“Between Cyane and Pisaean Arethusa, there is a bay enclosed by narrow arms. Here lived Cyane, best known of the Sicilian nymphs, from whom the name of the spring was also taken. She showed herself from the pool as far as her waist, and recognising the goddess, cried out to Dis, ‘No’, and ‘Go no further!’ ‘You cannot be Ceres’s son against her will: the girl should have been asked, and not abused. If it is right for me to compare small things with great, Anapis prized me and I wedded him, but I was persuaded by talk and not by terror.’ Speaking, she stretched her arms out at her sides, obstructing him. The son of Saturn could scarcely contain his wrath, and urging on the dread horses, he turned his royal sceptre with powerful arm, and plunged it through the bottom of the pool. The earth, pierced, made a road to Tartarus, and swallowed the headlong chariot, into the midst of the abyss.

Bk V:425-486

Calliope sings: Ceres searches for Proserpine

‘“Cyane, mourning the abduction of the goddess, and the contempt for the sanctities of her fountain, nursed an inconsolable grief in her silent heart, and pined away wholly with sorrow. She melted into those waters whose great goddess she had previously been. You might see her limbs becoming softened, her bones seeming pliant, her nails losing their hardness. First of all the slenderest parts dissolve: her dusky hair, her fingers and toes, her feet and ankles (since it is no great transformation from fragile limbs to cool waters). Next her breast and back, shoulders and flanks slip away, vanishing into tenuous streams. At last the water runs in her ruined veins, and nothing remains that you could touch.

‘“Meanwhile the mother, fearing, searches in vain for the maid, through all the earth and sea. Neither the coming of dewy-haired Aurora, nor Hesperus, finds her resting. Lighting pine torches with both hands at Etna’s fires, she wanders, unquiet, through the bitter darkness, and when the kindly light has dimmed the stars, she still seeks her child, from the rising of the sun till the setting of the sun.

‘“She found herself thirsty and weary from her efforts, and had not moistened her lips at any of the springs, when by chance she saw a hut with a roof of straw, and she knocked on its humble door. At that sound, an old woman emerged, and saw the goddess, and, when she asked for water, gave her something sweet made with malted barley. While she drank what she had been given a rash, foul-mouthed boy stood watching, and taunted her, and called her greedy. The goddess was offended, and threw the liquid she had not yet drunk, mixed with the grains of barley, in his face. His skin, absorbing it, became spotted, and where he had once had arms, he now had legs. A tail was added to his altered limbs, and he shrank to a little shape, so that he has no great power to harm. He is like a lesser lizard, a newt, of tiny size. The old woman wondered and wept, and, trying to touch the creature, it ran from her and searched out a place to hide. It has a name fitting for its offence, stellio, its body starred with various spots.

‘“It would take too long to tell through what lands and seas the goddess wandered. Searching the whole earth, she failed to find her daughter: she returned to Sicily, and while crossing it from end to end, she came to Cyane, who if she had not been changed would have told all. But though she wished to, she had neither mouth nor tongue, nor anything with which to speak. Still she revealed clear evidence, known to the mother, and showed Persephone’s ribbon, fallen, by chance, into the sacred pool. As soon as she recognised it, the goddess tore her dishevelled hair, and beat her breast again and again with her hands, as if she at last comprehended the abduction. She did not know yet where Persephone was, but condemned all the lands, and called them thankless and unworthy of her gift of corn, Sicily, that Trinacria, above all, where she had discovered the traces of her loss.

‘“So, in that place, with cruel hands, she broke the ploughs that turned up the soil, and, in her anger, dealt destruction to farmers, and the cattle in their fields, alike, and ordered the ever-faithful land to fail, and spoiled the sowing. The fertility of that country, acclaimed throughout the world, was spoken of as a fiction: the crops died as young shoots, destroyed by too much sun, and then by too much rain. Wind and weather harmed them, and hungry birds gathered the scattered seed. Thistles and darnel and stubborn grasses ruined the wheat harvest.

Bk V:487-532

Calliope sings: Ceres asks Jupiter’s help

‘“Then Arethusa, once of Elis, whom Alpheus loved, lifted her head from her pool, and brushed the wet hair from her forehead, saying ‘O great goddess of the crops, mother of that virgin sought through all the earth, end your fruitless efforts, and do not anger yourself so deeply against the faithful land. The land does not deserve it: it opened to the abduction against its will. It is not my country, I pray for: I came here as a stranger. Pisa is my country, and Elis is my source. I am a foreigner in Sicily, but its soil is more to me than other lands. Here is my home: here are my household gods. Most gentle one, preserve it. A fitting time will come for me to tell you, how I moved from my country, and came to Ortygia, over such a great expanse of sea, when you are free of care, and of happier countenance. The fissured earth showed me a way, and slipping below the deepest caverns, here, I lifted up my head, and saw the unfamiliar stars.

‘“‘So, while I glided underground down there, among Stygian streams, with these very eyes, I saw your Proserpine. She was sad indeed, but, though her face was fearful still, she was nevertheless a queen, the greatest one among the world of shadows, the powerful consort, nevertheless, of the king of hell!’ The mother was stunned to hear these words, as if petrified, and was, for a long time, like someone thunderstruck, until the blow of deep amazement became deep indignation. She rose, in her chariot, to the realms of heaven. There, her whole face clouded with hate, she appeared before Jove with dishevelled hair.

‘“‘Jupiter I have come to you in entreaty for my child and for your own’ she cried. ‘If the mother finds no favour with you, let the daughter move you, and do not let your concern for her be less, I beg you, because I gave her birth. See, the daughter I have searched for so long, has been found, if you call it finding to lose her more surely, if you call it finding merely to know where she is. I can bear the fact that she has been abducted, if he will only return her! A spoiler is not worthy to be the husband of your daughter, even if she is no longer my daughter.’ Jupiter replied ‘Our child is a pledge and a charge, between us, you and I. But if only we are willing to give things their right names, the thing is not an insult in itself: the truth is it is love. He would not be a shameful son-in-law for us, if only you would wish it, goddess. How great a thing it is to be Jupiter’s brother, even if all the rest is lacking! Why, what if there is nothing lacking at all, except what he yielded to me by lot? But if you have such a great desire to separate them, Proserpine shall return to heaven, but on only one condition, that no food has touched her lips, since that is the law, decreed by the Fates.’

Bk V:533-571

Calliope sings: Persephone’s fate

‘“He spoke, and Ceres felt sure of regaining her daughter. But the Fates would not allow it, for the girl had broken her fast, and wandering, innocently, in a well-tended garden, she had pulled down a reddish-purple pomegranate fruit, hanging from a tree, and, taking seven seeds from its yellow rind, squeezed them in her mouth. Ascalaphus was the only one to see it, whom, it is said, Orphne bore, to her Acheron, in the dark woods, she not the least known of the nymphs of Avernus. He saw, and by his cruel disclosure, prevented Proserpine’s return. Then the queen of Erebus grieved, and changed the informant into a bird of ill omen: she sprinkled his head with water from the Phlegethon, and changed him to a beak, plumage, and a pair of huge eyes. Losing his own form he is covered by his tawny wings, and looks like a head, and long, curving claws. He scarcely stirs the feathers growing on his idle wings. He has become an odious bird, a messenger of future disaster, the screech owl, torpid by day, a fearful omen to mortal creatures.

‘“He indeed can be seen to have deserved his punishment, because of his disclosure and his words. But why have you, Sirens, skilled in song, daughters of Acheloüs, the feathers and claws of birds, while still bearing human faces? Is it because you were numbered among the companions, when Proserpine gathered the flowers of Spring? When you had searched in vain for her on land, you wanted, then, to cross the waves on beating wings, so that the waters would also know of your trouble. The gods were willing, and suddenly you saw your limbs covered with golden plumage. But, so that your song, born, sweetly, in our ears, and your rich vocal gift, might not be lost with your tongues, each virgin face and human voice remained.

‘“Now Jupiter, intervening, between his brother and grieving sister, divides the turning year, equally. And now the goddess, Persephone, shared divinity of the two kingdoms, spends so many months with her mother, so many months with her husband. The aspect of her face and mind alters in a moment. Now the goddess’s looks are glad that even Dis could see were sad, a moment ago. Just as the sun, hidden, before, by clouds of rain, wins through and leaves the clouds.

Orphic Hymn 17 to Pluton

Pluto, magnanimous, whose realms profound are fix’d beneath the firm and solid ground, In the Tartarian plains remote from fight, and wrapt forever in the depths of night; Terrestrial Jove [Zeus Khthonios], thy sacred ear incline, and, pleas’d, accept thy mystic’s hymn divine. Earth’s keys to thee, illustrious king belong, its secret gates unlocking, deep and strong. ‘Tis thine, abundant annual fruits to bear, for needy mortals are thy constant care. To thee, great king, Avernus is assign’d, the seat of Gods, and basis of mankind. Thy throne is fix’d in Hade’s dismal plains, distant, unknown to rest, where darkness reigns; Where, destitute of breath, pale spectres dwell, in endless, dire, inexorable hell; And in dread Acheron, whose depths obscure, earth’s stable roots eternally secure. O mighty dæmon, whose decision dread, the future fate determines of the dead, With captive Proserpine [Kore], thro’ grassy plains, drawn in a four-yok’d car with loosen’d reins, Rapt o'er the deep, impell’d by love, you flew 'till Eleusina’s city rose to view; There, in a wond'rous cave obscure and deep, the sacred maid secure from search you keep, The cave of Atthis, whose wide gates display an entrance to the kingdoms void of day. Of unapparent works, thou art alone the dispensator, visible and known. O pow'r all-ruling, holy, honor’d light, thee sacred poets and their hymns delight: Propitious to thy mystic’s works incline, rejoicing come, for holy rites are thine.

Orphic Hymn 28 to Pluton

Daughter of Jove [Zeus], almighty and divine, come, blessed queen, and to these rites incline: Only-begotten, Pluto’s [Plouton’s] honor’d wife, O venerable Goddess, source of life: 'Tis thine in earth’s profundities to dwell, fast by the wide and dismal gates of hell: Jove’s [Zeus’] holy offspring, of a beauteous mien, fatal [Praxidike], with lovely locks, infernal queen: Source of the furies [Eumenides], whose blest frame proceeds from Jove’s [Zeus’] ineffable and secret seeds: Mother of Bacchus [Eubouleos], Sonorous, divine, and many-form’d, the parent of the vine: The dancing Hours [Horai] attend thee, essence bright, all-ruling virgin, bearing heav'nly light: Illustrious, horned, of a bounteous mind, alone desir’d by those of mortal kind. O, vernal queen, whom grassy plains delight, sweet to the smell, and pleasing to the sight: Whose holy form in budding fruits we view, Earth’s vig'rous offspring of a various hue: Espous’d in Autumn: life and death alone to wretched mortals from thy power is known: For thine the task according to thy will, life to produce, and all that lives to kill. Hear, blessed Goddess, send a rich increase of various fruits from earth, with lovely Peace; Send Health with gentle hand, and crown my life with blest abundance, free from noisy strife; Last in extreme old age the prey of Death, dismiss we willing to the realms beneath, To thy fair palace, and the blissful plains where happy spirits dwell, and Pluto [Plouton] reigns.

#miscellaneous tag tba.#❘❙❚ ┊ hades. character study ➳ ❛ knowing yourself is the beginning of all wisdom ❜

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mogitz · 4 years

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They warn you that it’s hard, you know.

The moment you announce that you’re pregnant, there’s no shortage of horror stories - from the terrifying birth to the uncertain college years, every mother seems to have a tale to tell. These stories are often bookended with how regardless of the sleepless nights and the constant worry looming overhead, having a baby is the best thing that’s ever happened to them. I’d like to think that I was never naive about having a baby - I worked in childcare for almost a decade. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. But no one can truly express to you just how hard it can be until you actually experience it yourself. You had all those months to prepare for it, but nothing ever really does. Because out of nowhere, your life is split between two realities: what it was like before, and what it is now. I’ve told people the strangest part about being a new mom is waiting for things to feel “normal” again, but slowly realizing that they never really do. At least, not in the way that it was before. What you have now is a “new normal,” and like all major life changes, it just takes time to get adjusted. What no one told me was that while it might be the happiest time of your life, there’s also a quiet, dull ache of grief for the life you had before. It sounds so terrible when I actually say it aloud, but it’s true. Life - as you knew it - is gone now. And you’re suddenly putting your every need on the back burner for this little person. “You barely eat anymore,” Daniel told me a few days after we’d come home from the hospital with Cece. I pondered that for a moment. I couldn’t recall my last full meal. I hadn’t even thought about it; it didn’t even cross my mind. And in the first three and a half weeks since Cecilia was born, I think I maybe showered 4 times… (I’m working on that). As the hours pass and days melt into weeks, time doesn’t really make sense anymore. As she whimpers and sucks on her fingers, I think to myself that she couldn’t possibly be hungry already. Then I realize her last bottle was 3 hours ago - it feels like it was only 15 minutes since I did this. Diaper change. Bottle. Burp. Diaper change again (because thanks, Cece). Then rocking her back to sleep. Maybe. Hopefully. Then the cycle repeats. Over. And over. And over again. And I’m mad at myself that the parts of me that seem to be struggling the most are the selfish, “human” parts. The part of me that doesn’t WANT to make another bottle. The part of me that crawls into bed with a heaviness on me as I remember that I will not sleep more than a couple of scattered, restless hours before she needs me again. The part of me that audibly sighs when she immediately dirties her fresh diaper that I just changed seconds ago. The part of me that brokenly sobs on the phone to my husband while he’s on his way home. The first time I left them alone together, I remember explaining to Daniel with the certainty of an expert that there were logical steps to take to get her to stop crying. I even wrote him a little cheat sheet: Is she hungry? Is she peed? Is she pooped? Does she have gas/need burped? Does she want her binkie? Is she swaddled? Is she too cold? is she too hot? Does she want to be held and rocked?

But then 4:30 pm rolls around - Cecilia’s Witching Hour - where my cheat sheet is rendered useless. And nothing logical helps, nothing seems to soothe or her keep her from crying. Her screaming this time of day is the kind that slices through the entire house, cutting down everything in its path. It is shrill and loud; alarm bells that demand to be heard. And I can neither hear nor focus on anything else. I can feel my anxiety rise as I try to bounce, rock, swaddle, pat her into silence. I look at that clock knowing I have another three hours until Daniel returns home, and I just need to keep it together until then. How strange that those three hours feel so long - a sharp contrast from all those other hours that seem to bleed into one another and are gone in a flash. Then 6:30 pm is here, and she has finally given up, finally let sleep overtake her (but only in my arms). I almost wish she wasn’t so still and calm, so Dan can walk into the mayhem and see that I wasn’t making it up. That today was hard. Her cries are still ringing in my ears, although not so painfully now, as we settle into the silence. Once I can think again, I look down at her precious, perfect face. I want to cry when I realize that it’s useless to try to memorize each line and curve of her because her face is changing every day. How strange that I wanted nothing more than for her to sleep only moments ago, but as she sleeps now I already miss her. She is looking more and more like a baby now, less like a newborn. I am reminded time doesn't discriminate, it passes with or without us. I am achingly aware, in this moment, that I need to cherish every second I have with her. But some days - days like today - it’s harder and harder to remember that. And that just makes me even more angry at myself. Because my home feels like a warzone. Soiled diapers are littered around, bound tightly into little balls that resemble grenades. Tiny clothes, stained with spit-up, are scattered across the room like fallen soldiers. I haven’t fully slept in days. But she’s asleep now. Finally. And I have that nagging feeling that I might have won the battle, but I’m losing the war. I’m terrified to move from this position that seemed to finally quell her discomfort and get her to drift off to sleep... but not so soundly. One wrong move and she’ll be up again, declaring war on me and everything around us - her pleading screams feeling more and more like a warcry. I’ve never felt more helpless than I do in those moments where I cannot soothe her. Sometimes I’m anxious. Sometimes I’m scared. Mostly, I’m just exhausted. And right then, I’m sick to my stomach for feeling this way. How? How could I possibly feel anything but complete bliss with this perfect little being in my arms? I think about how much I wanted her to stop crying before, meanwhile, there are mothers out there that don’t get to hold their babies in their arms. There are childless mothers out there who would give anything to bring a baby into this world and tend to her cries. There are mothers out there who would give anything just to hear their babies cry one more time. Shouldn’t I be grateful? Shouldn’t I be so damn happy that my baby is healthy and here, and WOW, she has a set of lungs.

Dan calls me on his way home, and that’s when I let myself break down. He listens patiently as I cry to him about how hard it is. I am torn between loving this little thing in my arms so much, and admittedly (guiltily, and humanly) resenting her for not letting me comfort her before. As I weep, Dan is still about an hour away from us. He’s stuck in traffic, helpless to do anything to soothe me. And I can’t help but wonder... Does he feel about me the way I feel about Cece, sometimes? He offers me advice the way I offer her a pacifier - she spits it out and so do I. I don’t need him to fix it… I just need him to understand.

And I think he does. Or at least he really tries. And in that way, I’m incredibly blessed… but then come more lingering feelings of guilt. It’s not as though I am doing this alone, as some mothers do. He’s there for me, offering me help and reprieve that I hardly accept in the moment. Because I told him that I know exactly what she needs just based on the furrow of her brow - as a mother should. But today, I am glaringly aware of my shortcomings and it makes me feel defeated. But even through the toughest nights, the fear, and the guilt, I know that this time is only temporary. This acts as a mantra when she’s inconsolable, and a lesson when I just want time to stop so I can hold her just a little longer. The contradictions you face being a mother are so vast. I could be doing the mounting laundry and tending to my to-do list as she sleeps, but I’d rather just hold her and savor every second I have with her. It won’t be like this for long - this thought both soothes me and breaks my heart.

Daniel gets home, with food, and a hug. Cece’s still asleep, splayed out across my lap, so Dan and I can just be us for a little while. We watch a movie. We laugh. These are the times it feels like what normal used to be. But there’s always that part of me that knows she will be awake again soon, and reality will settle in again. Cece sleeps well that night, only waking with hardly a fuss for a clean diaper and a fresh bottle. I get longer stretches of sleep, and wake up to her cooing and smiling. As she looks up at me, I am back in love again - somehow even more wholly than the day before. Just when I think it’s not possible to love her more than I do, I feel something shake loose within me and my heart expands - more room to let the love in. Things will never be how they used to be, and I know that I don’t want them to be. It’s harder… but it’s better. They warn you that it’s hard, you know. And they are totally right about that. But they are also right that it is completely, undeniably, beautifully worth it.

#postpartum #post partum #ppd #post partum depression #post partum anxiety #new mom #newborns #support #mental health

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incoherentbabblings · 4 years

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Take Back the Cake, Burn the Shoes, and Boil the Rice (1/11)

Within two months there have been two murders of Gotham newlyweds moments after the ceremony. The only connecting factor was both brides wore the same designer's work. Needing to establish who exactly is behind the crimes, Bruce enlists Tim and Stephanie to have the biggest wedding Gotham high society has seen in decades, putting a target on their heads not just for the killer, but Gotham society too. It goes about as well as you'd expect.

Ao3 link here!

Hey, @thatblondeperson @our-happygirl500-fan the odyssey begins, huh? Thank you both for your help with this, I imagine I will keep bugging you with questions and pictures of pretty dresses going forward.

“No way.”

“Batgirl.”

“No! Are you serious? Look, I did the trip to England – even though I have a life here and didn’t want to – because it was like only for a semester and it was to help people… but this? No.”

“I agree.” Red Robin chimed, bolstering Batgirl against Batman. He pulled back his cowl, revealing the tired young man underneath. He didn’t look wholly invested in anything Bruce had to say. “Can’t you fake it? With Selina or… I don’t know. Zatanna or…” Tim shrugged uselessly. “I’ve already had a fake engagement! One’s enough, thank you.”

“No-one is going to believe Bruce Wayne’s engagement… They know it will all fall through.” Dick chimed up. He was sat at the batcomputer, feet up on the keyboard, eating chunks of mango and watermelon and looking completely indifferent to the outraged faces around him. He looked briefly at Bruce. “No offense.”

“Well you do it then!” Stephanie argued. “You’re a…fully grown adult. No-one would blink an eye if you and Babs got engaged! Everyone knows you’re sweet on each other.”

Dick slowed the chewing of his fruit. Looking Steph straight in the eye, he spat out seeds over the edge of the ground down in the depths of the cave. Tim watched out of the corner of his eye as Bruce folded his arms, exasperated. Finally, after a tense stare off, Dick grinned.

“Can’t. Going off world on Friday. Can’t get married if you’re not on Earth. And this case really needs to be closed asap.”

It was a shit eating grin, one that made Steph want to instinctively slap it off his face as she felt increasingly crowded into a corner. Tim meanwhile screwed up his lips.

“You seriously think the designer has something to do with it?”

“Two murders at a wedding in two months. Both bride and groom.”

“No such thing as a coincidence?” Asked Stephanie. She tugged off her cape, hair getting caught as she did so. After a brief fight with the cowl, she tossed both aside and spun back to look at Batman.

“No. Not in these instances.”

“But what’s the connection?”

“Both brides were wearing the same designer.”

Tim nodded, catching on. “So… someone either has it out for the designer and wants her life to collapse… or she’s a wedding dress designer who hates happy couples.”

“Potentially.” Bruce walked towards Tim, seeing he was less aggressively opposed then Stephanie. “All you have to do is pretend. Hire her for the dress, plan the wedding. I’ll find the truth.”

Stephanie was not moved. “Using us as decoys? Really? And with what spare time am I supposed to plan a wedding? This is my final year of college… I can’t drop it all for the sake of a lie.” She looked to Tim, hoping to implore him to side with her. Bruce couldn’t make them both agree, surely.

To her growing distress, Tim was frowning off to the side, pulling his usual thinking face when he was musing something over.

“We’d seriously have to go through with it? Like from engagement, planning…wedding. All of it?” Something sparked in Tim’s eyes, and Stephanie’s stomach dropped.

She shook her head at him, unable to beg out loud. Bruce’s large chest heaved up and down with an exaggerated breath.

“It would have to be public. We’ll be making you targets. Big ones.”

If anything, this seemed to further motivate Tim, rather than placing the pressing guilt that had formed in Stephanie’s lungs. He looked to Bruce, expression serious and earnest.

“But we’d be potentially redirecting it from innocent people.”

Dick blinked, his somewhat sadistic enjoyment of their discomfort shifting as he too noticed Tim’s expression. A sort of desperation that Stephanie recognized in a way that made her breath short.

Panic went through her then, and she blurted out a, “What if I say no?” She tried to put her foot down, but instead it came out quiet and pleading.

“Then I won’t do it either.” Tim said, looking her in the eye for the first time since the idea was brought up. “I don’t want to. Not without her.”

Dick’s expression morphed into what only could have been described as pity. Tim and Stephanie were not dating, hadn’t been for years, but everyone knew from watching that they still knew each other inside and out, better than most anyone else. For all Tim had been drifting in and out of closeness with Bruce and Dick the past three years, it seemed he had only relocated positions within the family. Always to Cassandra first, his sister in every way that counted, and, despite his initial reservations, also to Stephanie, who had taken every effort to move past the worst of their adolescence with open arms.

They had grown closer (still not close enough in Tim’s opinion) but a level of shyness, of fragility remained. One wrong step and the false peace they had put together the past few years would crumble and reveal structural faults that neither could fix.

For all Tim wanted a partner to ensure that his loneliness would depart from him permanently; for all Tim wanted Stephanie to be that partner – Stephanie in all her hard fought and earned independence – Tim knew he couldn’t force her to do anything. Neither could Bruce. Not anymore. That lesson, they had both learned a long time ago.

He had been treading on eggshells for some time now, desperate to not upset her, even if it came at the cost of his own happiness.

Stephanie knew all of this. She had watched him argue with himself and twitch in a way that indicated he wanted to move closer, and she had watched him refuse to verbalise any of it.

He wouldn’t speak; therefore, she wouldn’t speak. Ergo, their relationship was at a dead end.

Unless he could get her to agree to lie with him.

Which would make her miserable. Because he wouldn’t be talking to her. Not truly.

And the uroboros of a Catch-22 situation would continue to eat its tail.

Bruce watched the naked relief play out on Stephanie’s face that she had Tim’s conditional support. He gave another sigh, and Dick watched from his seat, knowing that Bruce was about to play dirty.

“I do not trust anyone else to follow this through.”

Tim groaned, and hung his head down, and Dick knew Bruce had won. Stephanie meanwhile, for a lack of a better term, flipped out.

“No.” She said, and she began to tear off her uniform until she was only in her black tank top and leggings, stomping barefooted back up the stairs.

Trying to not take it personally, Tim rushed to the changing area to get into his shirt and jeans and socks. Maybe if he just caught her…

Dick watched the pair go, chewing loudly on a crunchy piece of fruit.

“Sometimes you’re really cruel.”

“…I know.”

Stephanie rushed into one of the drawing rooms, grabbing her bag she had left resting on a seat to pull out her shoes, collapsing to the expensive rug. Her little purple car was parked out front, so she could make a quick getaway.

Tim practically fell into the room, having thrown on a checked shirt and jeans that made his butt look good.

Stupid Tim.

“Steph.” He breathlessly plead. She tied her shoelaces, ignoring his tone. Finding the expensive cream rug much more interesting, she aggressively tied knots in her shoes.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“We could end up saving a lot of people down the line and –”

“You know that throwing yourself in front of a bullet isn’t going to make daddy love you any better, right?”

Tim stopped breathing, and she knew instantly she had crossed a line. She slumped forward, head banging against her knees. Tim watched her shoulders heave with silent sobs. Instantly he moved to be level with her, curled up on the floor, hidden out of sight from Alfred, or Bruce, or anyone.

His hand hovered, wanting to stroke her hair, but instead he settled for her bare forearm. He felt her muscle spasm under his cold fingers and watched as goosebumps appeared on her arm. She was looking paler than normal.

“Steph I won’t... I won’t force you to do it. But, if we can make ourselves targets then we could be saving someone else, and if Bruce closes the case before we even get to the alter… It doesn’t have to be serious...” He murmured the last part, trying to hide the paranoid part of him that believed Stephanie was reacting so strongly to the idea of being tied to him again – even temporarily.

“Tim, if this were five years ago, I would have said yes in a heartbeat. And not just because there’s no-one else I’d rather do this with...”

Tim smiled, despite the general mood of the room. Stephanie, with her head pressed to her knees, did not see.

“But I’m not going to be fake marrying a nice boy from down the road.”

“What do you mean?”

She finally looked up at him, and her eyes were dry and clear.

“Your name, Tim. Bruce’s name.”

He blinked, still not comprehending. Her fingers crept forward, absently stroking the fabric of his shirt.

“If you were me... If you were just an average Gothamite, and you saw that one of the richest and most handsome guys in Gotham, the one who spends his life in the public eye... If you saw he was marrying a girl who has a father on death row, and a mother who has a history of drug abuse. A girl who he hasn’t publicly associated with before outside of days where his sister was present... A girl who got pregnant at fifteen... How would that look? A two-month engagement?”

“I’d think it was none of my business.”

“And then the marriage breaks off after a month. Or they don’t even make it to the marriage stage. What do you think happens to that girl? How do you think her life is going to be afterwards?”

Tim couldn’t help it, with his free hand he reached for one of hers. Tangling their fingers together, he felt her trembling. She squeezed back tightly, their fingers turning a little purple.

“Bruce and I wouldn’t let anything like that happen.” Tim swore.

“You can’t promise that.”

Still so jaded, under all that optimism. Still so doubtful of how kind the world actually was.

“Yes, I can. I can.”

“God Tim, you’re so naïve!”

She tried to pull away, but Tim held tight, not letting her leave. She stared at him outraged, as he tried to convince her.

“Please Steph. Bruce doesn’t make mistakes about this sort of thing. More people are going to die unless we do something.”

Pale blue eyes stared into indigo, and a long moment passed in silence, the clock on the mantle providing the only noise. Some garden birds chirped outside, and the fluttering of their wings past the window made Stephanie flinch out of the moment. She breathed unsteadily. Tim tugged their conjoined hands closer to his chest.

“You’d honestly rather do it with no-one else?” He asked, smiling crookedly.

She blinked, unable to stand the vulnerability anymore, frowned and looked out the window. “You said the same thing downstairs.”

He blushed, and she tugged her hands finally free. Tim tried not to grimace at the feeling. Steph was always warm, a beacon of tanned skin and golden hair. Without her, his fingers quickly grew cold.

He had run home once, on a cold Gotham day, when he and his dad had spent an afternoon playing catch outside. His parents had been home for two months that time, and he had run in to find his mother and beg for a hot chocolate. He had been only six, and Janet had been sat in front of the computer, dark red hair piled up in a messy bun. Tim remembered her always looking well put together, even in her messier more relaxed moments.

“Mom, mom!” He had cried, cheeks flushed red from the temperature. His mother’s stress lines had disappeared when she spied him coming her way, and she held out her arms to catch him. She had been in a good mood that day. Ready to indulge him.

She pulled him up onto her lap, and Tim had laughed.

“Feel my hands!” And he had put his frozen fingers on her cheeks, causing her to gasp exaggeratedly.

“Frozen solid!” And she had kissed and kissed and kissed him and with each kiss he felt warmer and warmer. “Cold hands mean a warm heart though Tim. That’s the most important bit.”

And his father had entered the room, and the smile had slipped from Janet’s face, and the soft moment with his mother had been over. The warmth fled him, her and the house.

Fifteen years later, Tim wasn’t sure he believed Janet’s little saying anymore. Steph was just plain warm. From her head to her toes, her golden skin gave off warmth like she had been laying in the sun all day. Like she held the sun in her chest, and her hair was the yellow rays escaping. His mother and father’s warmth had come and gone with their moods. Stephanie’s was ever present. Even when she was angry, even when she was being cruel, she seemed incapable of being cold whilst being so.

Tim blinked, realising he had completely drifted off and away from the present moment, and was daydreaming again. Stephanie sat with her legs splayed out, still upset but more reserved than before.

"I’m going to go home.” She declared. “And I am going to think it over. Give me a day.”

“You gonna talk to your mom?”

“If I do go through with it, she’ll need to know.” Stephanie shifted, putting on her other shoe. “You’re already on thin ice with her you know. Have been for years.”

Tim was going to tease her and ask why it mattered what her mother thought of him, but like Steph said, he was treading on thin ice. Even getting her to consider it was a victory in his eyes.

She said her goodbye and got up, Tim remaining sat on the floor. Impulsively, she tugged at his hair playfully. Tim may have imagined it, but he felt her hand stroke his hair, like she used to when he’d rest his head on her stomach. It had started when she had pulled him down in her room, on her little bed, to see if he could hear or feel her baby move. It had continued long after the baby had been given up for adoption. She had said his hair was nice to play with.

Stephanie paused, looking down on him.

“You really won’t do it with someone else? Just me?”

“Promise.”

She sighed and went to go. She stopped, blond hair swinging round her shoulders, and looked like she was going to say something else. She thought better of it, and gave a half-hearted wave.

“See you tomorrow.” She uttered, then she was gone.

Tim remained sat on the floor long after she left. He heard her car switch on and roll off, and he remained on the carpet. His mind was racing.

Bruce eventually found him. Out of costume, in a white t-shirt and black trousers, he sat on the loveseat by Tim.

Keeping his head down, Tim spoke.

“She said… she wanted the day to think about it.”

“Okay.”

Tim stared off, knowing Bruce was waiting for him to ask the burning question.

“Why us?”

Tim heard the frame of the seat creak as Bruce shifted. Neither man was looking at the other.

“As I said. I trust you two will do a good job.”

“And no-one else.”

“You work well together.”

“Do we?”

“Tim…”

“She said that she was afraid of how people would react. Poor girl and a rich boy get hitched quickly and all that.”

Bruce’s response was firm and immediate. “I won’t let people think of her that way.”

Tim tilted his head to look at his father, comforted by the protective nature in his tone. “That’s what I said. She didn’t believe me.”

“Hnn.” Bruce placed a hand on Tim’s shoulder, and squeezed reassuringly. “She’ll help. She won’t turn away from people in need. I’ll leave you to deal with the… nitty gritty of it all.”

He got up to leave, allowing Tim to brood alone on the floor.

“Bruce?”

Bruce turned, looking at him expectantly. Tim swallowed.

“You honestly think we work well together?”

Bruce chewed his tongue, thinking of how best to respond. “I remember, how happy you made each other, and I trust her with you. You’ll both do well in this.”

And that was all. Tim stared at the now empty doorframe, unsure of what to make of Bruce��s statement. His fingers twitched, craving the warmth of Stephanie’s grip once more.

He couldn’t decide if he was being selfish or not for wanting her to agree to such a silly idea. A silly idea that could save several people down the line. Maybe. Or maybe he just wanted an excuse to spend time with her outside of the costume. Only if she wanted it though. He wasn’t that cruel. Falling forward to the floor, butt up in the air, Tim grumbled to himself about how lovesick he was.

Stephanie meanwhile had to pull over halfway home, so emotional that she needed to catch her breath.

This was what was going to bring Tim and her together once more? Another lie?

She couldn’t bare it. To have to pretend to be happy and in love when really what she would be was miserable. But still in love.

She’d never stopped. She still craved his eyes on her (and only her), to hear him say how proud he was.

No.

No, she was past that. That was the point. The point of Batgirl, the point of returning to Gotham.

She rubbed aggressively at her eyes, sat on the layby of the road, and called her mother, unable to wait until she reached home. She put on the speaker, and set the phone on the dashboard.

Her mother had the next three days off, so with some luck she would catch her.

“Hiya Stephie.” She answered. “All good?”

“Yeah. Just driving back.”

“Then why’d you call?”

“I… mom… I’ve been asked to do something. For work.” She clarified. Her mother would understand. “And I’m not sure I should.”

“Why?”

Something in Stephanie snapped, and three years of grief came pouring out. Her mother listened, saying nothing. Stephanie knew that her mother was wary of Tim, of Batgirl, of the whole thing, but she was also the one who could give a somewhat neutral response. As she ranted, Stephanie grew more distressed. She knew from the outside she must have looked like a mad woman, arms flailing and legs kicking. As she drew to a close, Stephanie rested her forehead on the wheel of her car.

“...But I want to help people. And I want to be with him. And I don’t know if that makes me weak.”

“It makes you lovesick.”

Her mother’s tone was soft, sad, and empathetic. Stephanie didn’t know which emotion was comforting and which was upsetting. She sniffed loudly, pressing the heel of the palms of her hands so tightly to her eyes that she saw stars. Crystal was silent, letting her daughter think her rant through. A minute passed, and Stephanie lowered her hands from her eyes, feelings slowly clicking into place.

“Thanks mom.”

“You made your mind up?”

“Yeah.”

Turning her engine back on, she picked up the phone once more. “Gonna be a bit longer until I get back. We need anything from the shops?”

“Another two cartons of milk wouldn’t hurt.”

“’Kay.” She buckled her seatbelt on. “Love you. Bye.”

“Love you too, Stephie. Glutton for punishment that you are.”

Stephanie laughed, then hung up. The smile quickly faded, and she stared at her home screen. Closing her eyes, taking a breath, and flicking her indicator on, she got back on the main road, looking for a place to do a u-turn.

Alfred opened the door to find Stephanie hopping up the steps to the front door, having let her back through the front gates. She smiled bashfully at the butler.

“I’ll inform Master Bruce that you’ve returned.” He said, ushering her inside.

“And Tim?”

“Of course. Make your way to the kitchen, Miss Stephanie. There are some baked goods cooling. You can take some home for you and your mother.”

She smiled. “Thank you, Alfred.”

She perched herself on one of the breakfast bar stools, staring at the banana muffins on the cooling rack. They smelled very good.

Tim arrived first, Bruce following behind. Both men looked expectant.

There was a brief pause as Stephanie collected her words.

“I’ll do it.” Bruce nodded, and Tim, betraying himself utterly, smiled broadly. It made something in her gut jerk, and she continued despite herself. “Only to help you solve the case. You promise to protect me from bad press?”

Bruce’s eyes tightened. “We’ll need a lot of publicity to ensure we capture their attention.”

“Good publicity.”

“Yes.” Stephanie’s eyes flittered to Tim as he moved closer to her, only partially listening to Bruce. “You’ll both have the family clout behind you. Use it.”

“Fine.” She nodded one last time. Tim opened his mouth to say something, but Stephanie turned away to grab one of Alfred’s muffins. Sensing the mood of the room, Bruce left, passing ownership of the task to the two young adults.

Tim moved closer than she would have preferred, close enough to feel his warm breath move her hair, but she still couldn’t look him in the eye.

“Stephanie…”

Taking a large bite, she inspected the granite worktops, finding the little silver glimmers fascinating. Tim saw she was going to be unresponsive. Hating himself a little, he began to dictate their plan going forward.

“We’ll go on a few dates first. People have seen you, me and Cassandra hanging out, so it won’t be a total shock. When do you next have a spare afternoon?”

She bristled at being told what to do in the manner Tim had slipped into, but she answered quietly.

“Thursday.”

“I’ll pick you up from campus. We’ll go to Robinson Park.” Colour rose to Tim’s cheeks as he got lost in his own head. Stephanie continued not to look at him, finding Alfred’s baking less upsetting. He was looking at her longingly. She knew that look well enough that she could sense it on him.

“Sounds good.” She said around a mouthful of muffin.

“You still want me to teach you how to ride my skateboard?”

That got her to look at him. She shook her head, trying not to give in to his puppy dog eyes.

“Tim, not like that. Not with everyone watching.”

This is what she had been dreading. Things she wanted, things she craved, but built on a foundation of lies. She and Tim weren’t going on a real date, so why should she do something she wanted for real? She was fine with lying, she did it every day of her life, but not for this. Not when half-truths were thrown in with Tim.

Tim seemed confused. “You said it just the other day. This is a good as reason as any.” He pushed his way closer into her personal space. Frustratingly, she wasn’t unnerved by it. “Steph… It gets easier. Those guys being around taking photos... Bruce has so much hold over them they don’t come near any of us.”

“Frightened of the big bad bat?”

“More like the billionaire with a big pocket for legal fees.” Tim snorted. “Honest. You’ll forget they’re there.” His tone turned a bit more serious, a bit more somber. “I know the whole thing is…less than ideal. So, let’s try and have some fun, yeah?”

Tim thought he knew that Steph knew that he still loved her. He’d said as much. But that was years ago. He’d also tried to kiss her. But that was also years ago.

Okay, so maybe being forced to get engaged and married wasn’t the best foundation to start a genuine courtship, but Tim could make it work.

So he smiled at her, and Stephanie smiled back. It was genuine.

He could make her happy.

“Okay.” She picked up two muffins to take home. “I’ll see you Thursday then.”

Tim’s smile widened as he watched her go. Mind racing, he twirled around in the kitchen, smacking his hands repeatedly off the counter.

“So… you’re going to tell her that you want to pursue a genuine relationship once this is all over or…?”

Dick’s voice drifted over from the doorway. He was leaning against the frame, one foot resting on his other ankle. His body language was casual, but his expression was deadly serious. Tim dismissed his concerns.

“Won’t need to. I will…show her that I am emotionally ready to get back in a relationship with her, and I know she still loves me so… by the end, the lie can be over, and she can ask me.”

“She has to ask you?”

Dick sounded so unapproving that Tim’s hackles rose. He walked around to the other side of the counter, further separating him from his elder brother.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because…” Tim shook his head, baffled. “Because I’m the one doing all the work.”

Dick tilted his head, frustrated with Tim. “Define ‘work’? Buying her a nice dinner counts as work?”

“No! But I… She’s frightened. I’ll prove she doesn’t need to be.”

Dick’s eyes tightened. Like Stephanie, he thought Tim was being awfully naïve. Tim grumbled to himself.

“Just… go do your space adventure. When you come back in two months… you’ll see. We’ll catch the bad guy, innocent people will be saved, the press will love Steph as much as I do, and we’ll be on our merry way to getting out all the bad air between us.”

“By…not talking about the bad air.”

“We’ll talk! She… she has to start it. ‘Cause I did all the talking in the past. It’s her turn now. That’s all.”

Dick chewed on the inside of his cheek. Tim picked up a muffin and threw it at his brother, unable to bear the condescension. “You have no room to judge. I’ve loved her for half my life. I’m not going to have a mission be another nail in the coffin.”

Dick caught the muffin, ripping the top off and inspecting the inside. He turned to go, knowing he would get nowhere with Tim. Once the boy had made his mind up, it took a plan exploding in his face to realise he’d done wrong.

“No,” Dick said, nibbling as he walked away. “You want a lie to be the kiss of life.”

Tim stood in the kitchen, his loneliness creeping up on him. Looking desperately around, he grabbed his own baked good, then rushed downstairs to take his car back to his apartment.

He could make this work.

#dc #TimSteph #Tim Drake #Stephanie Brown #my fic tag #sorry for posting this twice i think i prefer this format for people

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mllemaenad · 5 years

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Wizards in Harry Potter aren't liable to be possessed by literal demons from Hell regardless of their good intentions. Furthermore, non-magical people in Harry Potter also have guns, sniper rifles combat planes, tanks, heat seeking missiles, NUCLEAR BOMBS to equalize the fight if a dark wizard starts thinking that he should rule them. The two settings are completely different. Give these advantages to non-magical people in Thedas and I will agree that the Circles aren't necessary.

Hi Anonymous person!

Look. I’m a little perturbed by what you’ve got there, because you seem awfully willing to cause harm to helpless people on the basis of what they might do. But I’ll do this in chunks.

Wizards in Harry Potter aren’t liable to be possessed by literal demons from Hell regardless of their good intentions.

Well. Neither are mages in Dragon Age, largely because ‘hell’ doesn’t exist. I know that sounds flippant, but it’s important. Andrastianism isn’t Christianity, of course, but it does have a Christian aesthetic – more specifically a Catholic one – and the Chantry operates in a world reminiscent of a time when a pope could dominate kings and start holy wars.

That Christian aesthetic is also applied to spirits. Instead of the ‘Seven Deadly Sins’ we have Enchanter Brahm’s five demons: rage, hunger, sloth, desire and pride. It’s a useful game mechanic, absolutely; you can’t have infinite monster designs in a game, and it helps the player figure out what kind of weapons to employ in any given fight. However, as the story goes on it becomes increasingly clear that the Chantry’s view of spirits and demons is simplistic at best and outright wrong at worst.

Spirits embody something that has become important to them. There are many, many more kinds than the Chantry’s sins and virtues lists would acknowledge. There’s a spirit of Command hanging out in Crestwood in Inquisition who just really wants someone to obey its orders for a while. Solas will talk to you about a spirit who embodies an ideal people have forgotten.

Demons seem to be largely spirits who have suffered in some way. We usually don’t know why. Solas’s friend is an obvious example – a spirit who was inexpertly summoned and trapped by frightened mages. It’s also noteworthy that Merrill talks about her ‘demon’ being bound and left over from war. While of course we can’t know exactly what happened there, we can fucking guess, right?

These are all just beings – people. And they’re all from the same place. Not hell, heaven, purgatory or anything like that. They’re from The Fade, which is their home, the source of magic, and was apparently much closer to the rest of the world before Solas and the Veil.

I’ve noted repeatedly that spirit possession is an important part of several cultures, and is often a positive thing. Possessed mages serve as companion characters (Wynne, Anders) and kick some serious arse in battle, and Justice just wanders around in Awakening wearing a corpse and it’s fine.

Of course, no one is saying that possession can’t go wrong. I’ve played the games, and of course my characters have killed both ‘demons’ and ‘abominations’. But. When you say something like ‘demons from hell’ you’re imposing a particular religious view on the story – one that allows you to simply declare that these people are evil and that it’s fine to kill them. We know that it is possible to liberate a possessed mage, and to heal a spirit who has been corrupted. We have seen both those things. But why bother if they’re evil, right? Just lock them up and kill them if things get tricky.

That view is wholly wrong for the setting of Dragon Age. But it is … pretty well on par with the view the Chantry actually expresses. So when you say ‘demons from hell’ I actually think that’s an excellent reason why the Circles should be abolished, because it’s imposing ideas on this situation that are wrong, unhelpful and cruel.

Also. I mean. Also. Yes, I have fought possessed mages in Dragon Age. I have also fought possessed templars. Possessed trees. Possessed bones. Possessed rocks.

If you feel we need to lock up everything that can get possessed, you’re going to have to start with all the people and then move on to all the plants and inanimate objects. If all things can be possessed, then all things need to be locked up. And if all things are inside the prison, couldn’t we just … not have one?

Furthermore, non-magical people in Harry Potter also have guns, sniper rifles combat planes, tanks, heat seeking missiles, NUCLEAR BOMBS to equalize the fight if a dark wizard starts thinking that he should rule them.

Um. Sorry Anonymous person but … what? Have you … read those books? Now, granted I haven’t read them in a while but I have read them. And … I have no idea what you’re talking about.

‘Muggles’ in Harry Potter are usually comic relief, and even the ones that aren’t simple buffoons are depicted as largely helpless against magical attacks of any kind. The British government shows up just long enough to express a heartfelt ‘What the actual fuck?’ at the war with Voldemort before promptly vanishing from the plot again.

All of this … stuff about conventional weapons you’ve introduced has come from your imagination. It’s not how the relationship between Muggles and wizards is portrayed in the novels at all.

In fact, conceptually, I would say that the wizards of Harry Potter are much scarier than the mages of Dragon Age. Tevinter had an empire in Dragon Age, and because they value magic the magisters undoubtedly used it in the fight to obtain that empire. But they were taken down by famine and Blight, and finished off by war. In the series’ ‘present day’ Orlais has achieved the exact same thing as Tevinter with significantly less magic (not no magic, of course, since they will drag their imprisoned mages into battle), and there’s no sense that Tevinter can just zap its way back into power. They are constrained by economics, geography and politics just like everyone else. Magic is useful, but only up to a point.

Now … in Harry Potter, there’s a pretty strong sense that wizards could just take over the planet any time they felt like it. In fact, the back story contains one Grindelwald, who actually did want to take over the world and enslave Muggles. This was not a war between Muggles (who are not supposed to have been able to prevent this) and wizards, but rather an internal schism in the wizarding community. Gindelwald was not defeated by NUCLEAR BOMBS (And seriously – what the hell, is your plan to defeat wizards ‘flatten Scotland’? because that’s what would happen if you tried to bomb Hogwarts. You want to take out Diagon Alley? Congratulations, you just blew up London.), but rather in an old style man-to-man duel with another wizard. In a castle. They were ex-lovers. I’m assuming it was on the ramparts, it was raining and everyone was screaming like Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker in Revenge of the Sith.

I haven’t kept up with it, but I am peripherally aware that J K Rowling has said … increasingly weird things over the years, and I’m not attempting to defend any of that. But there was a general … theme in the novels that … most people probably aren’t fascists, and when the fascists come from within it is the community that must take them down. So Muggles are not given much power or agency at all.

This had nothing to do with heat-seeking missiles. Just … what?

Meanwhile, over in Dragon Age the Chantry talks a lot about mages having advantages in battle, but in practice that’s not what we actually see. For a start, non-mages have plenty of weapons that work just fine against magical enemies - swords, spears, arrows, axes. Nobody in Thedas has NUCLEAR BOMBS, mage or not. It’s not setting appropriate. Anders may have been a mage, but he had to rely on explosive material (likely gunpowder) to actually get a significant bang.

Non-mages may also wield enchanted weapons, meaning that they can literally take magic into battle with them. The mage over there is shooting lightning from her fingers? Your sword shoots fireballs. What the hell are you complaining about?

Nor does simply having a weapon in your hand mean that you know how to use it. I don’t know how to use a gun. Someone could give me one, in a crisis, I suppose. But it would only be luck that allowed me to incapacitate an assailant, and I certainly couldn’t fight several. Most ‘ordinary’ people in Thedas won’t have much in the way of weaponry. But likewise, neither will mages. They have magic, but that isn’t the same thing.

How many dead bodies do you need to prove this? The mage who was apparently murdered by villagers in Crestwood, when she went in to try to help them. The mages cut down by the Qunari swords in The Demands of the Qun. The villagers who were going to fucking lynch Rhys and his friends in Asunder.

It feels like you’ve made up a story about how magic works in both of these series that isn’t true to either of them.

Give these advantages to non-magical people in Thedas and I will agree that the Circles aren’t necessary.

So … to be clear, you’re arguing for:

the abduction of and permanent separation of children from their parents

forced conversion to a religion and the suppression of alternative religious beliefs

deprivation of citizenship and the basic rights that come with that

reducing people to a permanent infantile status as wards of a religious institution

permanent surveillance of affected individuals (phylacteries)

execution without trial where deemed appropriate by religious authorities

… because people might get possessed and can sometimes make fire come out of their hands? Well. Okay then. Good to know.

#dragon age #chantry critical #Anonymous

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365daysofsasuhina · 4 years

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[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Three Hundred Fifty-Six: Don’t Go There ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Hyūga Hiashi, Uchiha Itachi, Tsunade, Hyūga Hanabi ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ] [ AO3 Link ]

Well, this...isn’t at all how she thought this would go.

This morning, Hinata was driven to the hospital by her father for a rather rudimentary procedure. Once a person turns sixteen, they’re of the legal age to have a piece of technology implanted into their wrist. Said to be a strange mix of science, astrology, and other...interesting methods, it’s proclaimed to be able to count down to the moment a person will meet the one they’re the most compatible with.

In other words...a soulmate.

Hinata, personally, has never put much stock in it. While records do show that divorce rates have fallen in the past few decades the devices have been around, it’s not shown to be perfect, either. Though she’s a romantic at heart (and part of her really does want it to be real), the skeptic in her just can’t quite accept that something based on such questionable evidence could ever be accurate.

But her father insisted she have the surgery done. And so, the morning of her sixteenth birthday, she had it implanted.

She’s now on her way home, the tech wrapped and hidden under gauze. And much to her chagrin, she’s being escorted out via wheelchair. Something about the anesthetic making it possible she could fall. Which is silly. She feels fine!

But it’s when she, her father, and the nurse pushing her chair make to step up to the elevator that the unexpected happens.

Barely in a handful of hours...her timer begins to beep.

And beyond the lift doors, so does someone else’s.

Everyone involved has frozen, save for one. A man in a wheelchair much like herself just seems lightly amused, smiling as the teen boy behind him and pushing his ride gawks at his blaring timer.

Beyond him, it’s Hiashi that reacts first. Though she really has no idea what she expected him to do, given how absolutely unexpected this is...getting angry isn’t what she’d have guessed.

Bristling, the man steps out in front of his daughter, the nurse wheeling her back in surprise. “What is the meaning of this?!”

The chair-bound man blinks. “...I believe this is the function of timers, is it not? To count down to a person’s supposed fated meeting of a soulmate?”

“My daughter just had hers implanted -!”

“Then I suppose that makes her a bit of a statistical miracle. From what I understand, that’s a very rare occurrence.”

As though mulling that over, Hiashi then rounds on the nurse. “Explain this!”

“Sir, I...I have no idea. In all my years working here, we’ve never had something like this happen! It’s...certainly possible. But very unlikely. It seems the young lady and young man are -”

“Don’t...go there,” he cuts in, tone icy. “My daughter is sixteen. That’s far too young to be entertaining the idea of a soulmate.”

Behind him, the seated man perks a brow. “...and yet you knew it was a possibility, given that she’s had it implanted at said age. Sasuke too is only sixteen. Has been only for a few months. But there’s no written rule saying they must now immediately wed. It’s just a knowing.”

“That is...not my point!” Hiashi stutters, clearly unsure how to make his argument, given his conflicting ideals.

“Dad, I -”

“Don’t interrupt me.”

“Sir, I think maybe we should all go sit, and -”

“No! I am taking my daughter home. And you -” he then spits, pointing at the one previously called Sasuke, “are to stay far away from her!”

“Dad!” Hinata cuts in, unable to take his attitude any longer, timid or not. “Don’t t-talk to him that way, you don’t even know him!”

“Don’t you talk back to me, young lady -!”

“What on earth is going on?!”

Storming down the hall, a blond woman of short and stout stature glares amber daggers at Hiashi. “I won’t have this nonsense in my hospital!”

The nurse tries to explain. “Doctor Senju, I’m so sorry - we had a bit of an incident, and -?”

“My daughter hasn’t had her timer for three hours, and she’s already been declared a match!” Hiashi cuts in, clearly trying to intimidate said doctor with his taller height.

Hinata just does her best to shrink in her chair, utterly ashamed at his behavior.

Hands on her hips, Senju doesn’t bat an eye at his posturing. “That’s not my problem, my nurse’s problem, or my hospital’s problem. If you want to make a ruckus, take it outside! I’ll throw you out myself before I let your conduct ruin the calm in this place of healing, am I understood?!”

Looking ready to explode, Hiashi demands, “Then let us go. Your nurse can entrust the chair to me. We are leaving.”

“But Dad -!”

“No buts!”

Meanwhile, the pair in the elevator have nowhere to go. Sasuke just stares, dumbfounded. His brother now looks wholly unamused.

“Excuse us,” Hiashi growls, pushing Hinata in as Sasuke scrambles to get out.

Heart racing and feeling desperate, Hinata calls, “I’m Hinata Hyūga! What’s your name?”

“Hinata, don’t -!”

“...Sasuke Uchiha!” he manages to reply, a bit too shocked for a moment.

The doors then close, and Hiashi rails on his daughter. “What are you doing?!”

“I w-wanted to know his name!” she retorts. “I should at l-least get that much, since you’re being so, so...obstinate!”

“Obstinate?!”

“The nurse was right! It’s always a possibility, and s-some people meet their soulmate even younger, before they can get the timer! Getting mad at me because y-you don’t like it, despite forcing me into it, is ridiculous!”

Hiashi goes deathly quiet. Neither of his daughters have ever dared spoken back to him like this...let alone in a way that proves he’s in the wrong.

His pride won’t stand for it.

“...I forbid you from seeing that boy,” he then demands. “Not until you’re eighteen.”

“Fine! The o-only reason I know is because you m-made me do this!”

“One more word with that tone out of your mouth, and the consequences will be dire, Hinata. Not another sound.”

Though hardly the sort to get mad, Hinata seethes, completely at a loss of how unfair this all is. Sasuke getting yelled at when he had no idea what was going on...her father being a raging hypocrite...and she never even wanted this in the first place! Now she’s in trouble because Hiashi refused to consider the very real possibilities?!

...still, she reins in her temper. As upset as she is, she doesn’t want to risk having anything taken away...especially her phone or her computer.

She knows his name. Knows what he looks like. Her father is just dated enough he doesn’t yet realize that she has ways to work around his ‘no meeting Sasuke’ rule. She doesn’t have to see him face to face to text him, or facetime him.

So long as she plays it cool...she can still make this work.

The car ride home is spent in bitter silence, Hinata staring out the window and doing her best to still act sore to hide her intentions. If he puzzles out that she has a plan, he’ll stop her.

“Go to your room, and remain there until dinner is ready. I want you to think about how you disrespected me, and ensure you never do so again. Am I understood?”

“...yes, Dad.”

Hanabi is lounging on a couch when they come in, watching awkwardly as she immediately notices the tension. As Hiashi starts banging things around in the kitchen, she sneaks around to the upstairs where her and her sister’s rooms are located.

“...‘nata…?”

“Come in, Hanabi.”

Peering through a crack, the younger sister then bounds in, confusion written all over her face. “What the hell happened?”

“Language, Hanabi…”

“I haven’t seen Dad that mad in...in...forever!”

Sighing, Hinata explains as briefly as she can, shushing her sister as she gasps.

“That fast?!”

“Yeah. And Dad was furious.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I’m too young.”

Brow furrowed and eyes flickering between Hinata’s, Hanabi considers that for a long moment. “...but you’re of age to get it.”

“That’s what I said, and he got mad. I guess he never expected it, but...it can happen. And now he’s mad at m-me for his own miscalculation. I didn’t even w-want the stupid thing…”

“Wow...man, Hinata I’m sorry.”

“...it’s fine. He’ll get over it.”

“Do you know who he is?”

“Mhm.”

“...sooo…?”

Hinata glances to her door, wary of being overheard and her plan ousted. “...don’t mention anything to him, okay?”

“I won’t, I won’t!”

“Thank you.”

Hanabi then sighs, glancing aside and clearly thinking. “...I’m sorry, Hinata.”

“Don’t be. It’s n-not your fault.”

“I know, but...jeez!”

“It’ll be fine. I’ll just keep pretending, and...he doesn’t have to be the wiser. Just remember, don’t say anything.”

“Dude, I’m the best at keeping secrets, don’t worry!”

“All right...well, you better leave before he gets any angrier.”

“Are you gonna try to message him today?”

“After dinner.”

“Man, I hope he’s cool…”

Hinata can’t help a short snort. “Yeah...m-me too.”

Half an hour later, Hiashi calls them both down for a rather tense and awkward dinner, no one really talking. Even Hanabi chews quietly, eyes flickering between her father and sister.

“...do you have any homework to do tonight?” Hiashi eventually asks.

“No...I got it all done early.”

“Good. Back to school for you tomorrow.”

“...yes, Dad.”

Once dishes are done and everyone retreated to their corners, Hinata begins her digging. Social media is her first stop. He doesn’t have a Facebook, or at least not one she can find. But she finds him on Twitter.

“...all right, Sasuke...time to say a proper hello,” she murmurs, clicking to follow him.

To her surprise, it takes all of five minutes for him to do so back. And less than a minute after that to DM her.

“Hey...are you really the girl from the hospital this morning?”

“Yeah...that’s me. Look, um...I’m so sorry about my dad. He was so rude to you…”

“I mean...yeah. But hey, it was a really weird situation. You okay?”

“I’m fine. Got yelled at but otherwise fine.”

“Does he know you’re talking to me…?”

“Oh gosh, no. He’d ground me into the next century. I just...wanted to say a proper hello. This is...weird, isn’t it?”

“...kinda, yeah. To be honest, I haven’t really been thinking about my timer. I knew I only had a few months when I got it, but...I lost track of time helping take care of my brother.”

“Oh, that was your brother?”

“Yeah...he has an autoimmune condition.”

“...I’m so sorry.”

“It’s all right. He’s doing pretty well with medication and stuff. We were on our way for an infusion when we uh...ran into you guys.”

“And then my dad ruined it...I’m so sorry. I hope you weren’t late?”

“A little. Man, that doctor was PISSED.”

“I bet…”

“She got it all ironed out though, and my bro got his meds. We’re home now and just kinda chilling. It’s always a rough few days after an infusion.”

“Oh...well, tell him I hope he feels better soon. What’s his name?”

“I will. And it’s Itachi.”

For another hour, Hinata just...talks to him. It’s funny. They’re strangers, and she’s usually so shy, but...for some reason, she feels totally comfortable. Part of her blames the timers, but...well, maybe there is something to it.

“Well, I better head off and get my homework done. But hey, I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Okay! Good luck with your work.”

“Thanks. Maybe after a while we could like...meet up or something? Since uh...our first run-in wasn’t very...great.”

At that, she bites her lip. “...maybe. Not that I’m against it! I mean I’d like to talk a lot more first, but...my dad said I couldn’t see you.”

“Oh...well, shit.”

“...let’s just...give it a while. Let him cool off, and get to know each other more. Then maybe I can have my friends help sneak me out. You know, just so happen to run into you while we’re like...at the mall or something.”

“Ooh, sneaky...I like it. Sounds good. But yeah, I don’t mean to come off as an eager freak. My bad.”

“Oh, no no! I know what you mean, I’m really curious too. And I feel bad about today...but best to just like...take things slow and easy, right?”

“Yeah, cool. Guess I’ll chat with you tomorrow, then.”

“Mhm! Goodnight, Sasuke.”

“Night.”

Glancing to her clock, Hinata finds it rather late...and after almost no sleep last night, she decides to call it a day. Readying for bed and bidding the others goodnight, she slips into bed, mind once again full...but in a good way this time. She doesn’t want to rely too much on the notion of a soulmate. After all, she still has no idea who this Sasuke is, what he’s like...best to be careful. Just in case.

...but for now, she’ll let herself dream about when they’ll meet. Properly this time.

.oOo.

Okay, more of the soulmate AU! This one kinda blew up compared to normal, so I wanted to get another part out as soon as I could! I might also be able to do ANOTHER part tomorrow, looking at my prompt list...I guess if you guys want that, let me know? xD I am very quickly liking this AU, lol - as I said, never done a soulmate AU before. It's neat! While I don't like this one QUITE as much as yesterday's (mostly, I will admit, because of Itachi's line at the end xD), it makes for a good segue, and has Hiashi's jerk reaction. Some verses I like to redeem his behavior. This is not one of those times, haha! Anyway, I gotta head to bed now, so that's all for now. Thanks so much for reading!

#sasuhina #uchiha sasuke #hyūga hinata #hyūga hiashi #uchiha itachi #tsunade #hyūga hanabi #best years of your life [ au ]#365daysofsasuhina

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