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zunra2 · 1 year ago

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Chell’s Memories

I don’t remember everything about my life before the day I stepped out of that cryo-pod and me GLaDOS. Brain damage will do that to you.

The farthest back I can really remember was when I was seven. It was a few days before the Aperture Science Science Fair For Young Girls. I was crying because I didn’t want to make a potato battery for the science fair because I had already done one in school. I wanted to do something that would impress my mom and dad and all the scientists, maybe even Mr. Johnson himself. But my dad just told me that Cave Johnson would be mad, and that was that.

…that was the last time I ever gave up on something. Every Science fair for the next seven years was not a potato battery. Granted, they weren’t exactly GOOD science projects, but they were different, and that was all I cared about. It drove a rift between me and my parents. Well, it deepened one that was already there. I knew why. They weren’t that good at hiding it. It was pretty obvious I had some Asian genes, and neither of them had any. It was pretty obvious in retrospect, but I was never mad about it.

When I turned fourteen, I finally got to stop doing those stupid science fairs and start testing. I only ever got to test with this crappy camera called an “Aperture Science Handheld Atomizing Camera”. It had some strange ability to turn objects into photos and back again. I never really understood it and it never really worked. But I never gave up, and by when I turned eighteen, I left Aperture with a small legacy. Not much, but something. I did miss Ms. Caroline, though. She was always nice.

I didn’t find many jobs on my own. Turns out a stubborn, grumpy jerk with raggedy hair wasn’t exactly a prime candidate for employment for anything but a Waffle House. So I ended up crawling back to Aperture at the age of twenty-four and got the amazing, highly-upheld, adored position of….. part-time janitor. I worked there for a year, my smugly quiet ass just sitting there, silently judging everyone and making fun of them in my head. In retrospect, I only made one real friend. Dr. Horatio Allen. He was a kind person, even though he looked like he hadn’t gotten sleep in years. And I still shunned him, not saying much. I thought “Maybe I am too stubborn”. But that didn’t last long.

On bring your daughter to work day, everything went to shit. Neurotoxin emitters online, chaos. Most of the employees were killed instantly. They were the lucky ones. I and about two thousand others had the unfortunate fate of ending up as test subjects.

I didn’t know how long I spent in that first cryo-tube. Could be decades, could be hours. In any case, I woke up. I was livid. Mad at the world, and mad at GLaDOS. I didn’t make a sound. Not even as I used the portal gun. Not even as I escaped from the “Victory Candescence”. Not even as I took down GLaDOS. Not even as I was dragged back into the facility.

And then I was asleep again. If I had to guess for how long, I’d say about five centuries. I woke up with a clouded head and burning body. Everything hurt. And there he was. Making light of my brain damage. I did feel alarm, but not too much. I did feel emotionally connected to him. And yet, I still kept my mouth closed. I even sassed him by jumping when he asked me to speak.

…I regret that. I could blame the centuries of being frozen, I could spend hours rattling off reasons or excuses, but… I can’t. It was all me. I hurt him. I didn’t catch him. I didn’t tell him that it was me who killed GLaDOS. I didn’t even speak to him. And I still considered him a friend. I didn’t notice how small and helpless he felt. How insignificant. And then… I couldn’t grab him. I was so angry and furious at him for so long, but when he flew out of my grasp… all that resentment went with him. I finally spoke, calling out his name. But it was swallowed by the vast abyss. I didn’t even hear it.

I have a recurring dream. In it, I am holding onto Wheatley. I am being blown into space, barely able to hang on. GLaDOS’ arm reaches out and grabs me. Wheatley slips from my grasp. But this time… I reach out and catch him. I hold him close, apologizing. Saying I forgive him, and that I’m sorry. I wake up holding my Companion Cube, tears streaming down my face.

GLaDOS… what about her? She seemed so cruel. So bitter. I almost felt bad for her that she had to resort to such meaningless insults. Fat? We both know that’s not true. Adopted? Who cares? I was angry at her, but seeing her turned into a potato, a core that couldn’t even move on its own… I felt bad. Seeing her realize the truth about herself… it was odd. Hearing her horror stories about having cores stuck to her… it made me surprisingly sympathetic towards her. When she deleted Caroline… it stung more that I thought it would… and when she gave me back the cube…

I started crying. Sobbing. I couldn’t take it anymore. The shit I had been through was overwhelming. Where would I go from here? All I had was a portal gun and a cube. But… I never give up. Ever. Even when it looks like all is lost, I keep going. Because I’m a stubborn bitch.

So I kept walking. I saw remnants of concrete here and there, signs of a past apocalypse. Signs that maybe I had been better off in Aperture. I knew there were humans out here. I was sure of it. But the first “human” I came across wasn’t exactly… friendly. They had something attached to their head, and they were approaching me fast. I used the grip of the portal gun and my cube to bash it over the head. I eventually did come across a peaceful village of people and these strange one-eyed creatures. I didn’t speak their language, but they seemed interested in my portal gun.

I decided to live with them. It was easy enough overcome the language barrier. I learned a few words. Their language was similar to English in a way. I never became fluent in the six years I’ve lived with them.

And then I left. The humans and…. Vortigaunts? Liked me a lot, and I didn’t want to hurt them. I just left them a message saying I’m leaving to find more people and more places. In reality… I’m dying.

Repulsion Gel, Conversion Gel, Asbestos, Material Emancipation Grills, Blunt Force Trauma, Brain Damage… the list goes on. I started coughing blood a week ago. I left and started heading in any direction. I still haven’t found a way out of this wheat field. It’s night now…

I reach up into the sky and look towards space. There’s a full moon tonight.

“… i’m sorry…”

I can’t speak anymore. My whole body aches. My lungs burn. I’m so tired…

…

AAAAAUUHGHHH RRRAAGGHHHH WHY MUS YOU DO THSI TO ME I RECOVERRD FROM THE POST CREDITS SCEEN and THE YOU HIT ME WITH IT AGAIN AUAUUGHHH 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

jokes aside you’re writing is amazing!!! feel free to send me any more fics you have! ◡̈

#asks

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flaminpumpkin · 4 years ago

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Happy birthday, Jordan

It wasn’t even 4am when Hal woke up to the gentle green glow of his ring announcing a new message from the Corps. They really couldn’t leave him alone, even on his birthday now, could they?

He had half a mind to pretend not to notice and go back to sleep. His last mission had been short but exhausting, leaving him completely drained. His dark circles had dark circles at this point, even though he had slept basically all day the day before, waking up only to go to the bathroom and eat half an apple and a toast.

Unfortunately for him – and fortunately for the Corps – Hal Jordan was a devoted man and an Honor Lantern so he kind of had to.

With a loud groan, he straightened a bit so he could prop his chin in his hand, not moving from his position on the bed where he was sprawled on his stomach, pillow still half under him. He had been Earth-side for barely two days, if they were expecting from him to look decent, they could fuck right off.

But when he ordered his ring to open the message, he was greeted by a short and simple: Happy birthday, Hal! Just this. It made him smile (and also breathe a bit more easily, he really didn’t want to go back to space this quickly.)

Then his ring pinged again and there was a little hologram of his fellow Green Lanterns. He could see Kilowog and Tomar, Jess and Simon. John and Kyle, the younger man grinning like a five year old as he held a notepad with a caricature of Hal drawn on it and come on Kyle, my head is not that big. There was also Guy. Who was… Hal sighed, shaking his head. Guy was harboring a shit eating grin while flipping him off. Typical.

Before going back to sleep, he sent back a simple thank you note to all of them and then, for good measure, he sent another one to Guy with a hologram of himself flipping the bird.

He swore he could hear him laugh all the way to earth. That asshole.

* * *

The second time he woke up, around three o’clock in the afternoon, Hal felt a lot less like a zombie. He probably still had a few hours of sleep to catch up on but it was nothing he couldn’t survive without. He had to be up in a couple of hours for monitor duty anyway, so might as well wake up a bit earlier and enjoy some peace before going back to work.

There was a little cardboard box on his kitchen counter when he emerged from the shower, with a fancy little ribbon and a card. He didn’t even need to open the card to know who it was.

Firstly, because Carol was the only one, with Barry, who had a spare key to his apartment in case he had an emergency call from the Corps and, secondly, because it just had her name written all over it. He recognized the design on the box being from that fancy French bakery close to her apartment and knew that when he would open it, he’d find a generous slice of their famous lemon meringue pie.

He ate it in silence with some coffee, responding to the different birthday wishes he had received. Some were from Tom and a bunch of coworkers. There were also several audio messages from his nephew and niece trying to figure out how to work around the feature until their parents probably had had enough and had decided to take family photos instead. Six in total, all of them blurry. But at least Hal could somehow guess what was written on the sign his niece was holding. It made him laugh and he decided to call his brother, just to tease him.

They ended up talking for a while. It felt good, this small bit of normalcy.

* * *

Hal was on his way for the monitor room, two cups of coffee in hands, when he heard someone call his name. Ah. He had hoped no one would catch him before monitor duty. He was already on the brink of running late and god knew Batman disliked lateness. But hey, after all it was his birthday.

“Hal! Hang on!”

He turned around just when Clark arrived at his level. The other man was smiling widely at him, holding a small plate with a cupcake on it in his big hands and looking like an oversized golden retriever puppy.

“Lois made enough cupcakes for an army because she was bored at home yesterday – I’m starting to think that forced leave really wasn’t our boss’ greatest idea but anyway. She told me to bring it here for everyone,” he said before Hal could even ask anything. “There’s a whole plate in the lounge but with Barry around I thought I’d give you one for your birthday before he wolfs them down.”

He snorted at that because, honestly, that was fair. Because of his powers, Barry was basically a walking stomach and everybody knew he had a giant sweet tooth.

“Thanks, Clark.”

“You’re welcome. And happy birthday!” he said, floating away.

Hal had given up on trying to balance the plate and his two cups in his hands, using a construct instead, when Dinah pounced on him, quickly followed by Oliver and Barry. She was the first one to hug him, kissing his cheek gently.

“Happy birthday, hot stuff.”

“Thanks, Di.”

“Hal, my man! Happy birthday!” Oliver shouted before squishing Hal’s cheek between two big, callous hands, not even waiting for Dinah to be out of his arms.

In retrospect, he should have expected it – it was Oliver after all, the guy didn’t know what “inhibition” meant – but, he couldn’t stop his eyes from going wide as saucers as the blond placed a resounding kiss right on his lips.

“So? How’s that for a birthday present?” he asked, smug, earning himself an eye roll from both Barry and Dinah.

“That was my present?”

“Yes. Wonderful isn’t?”

“Truly. I’m delighted. Such a generous present.”

“I’m a generous man.”

“So charitable.”

All eyes turned on Barry.

“Was that sarcasm, Bear?”

The speedster fixed Oliver with a blank stare. He looked even more exasperated than usual, which made Hal snicker. People assumed way too often that Barry was a goody two shoes but Hal had witnessed firsthand how quick witted he really was. “A snarky little shit” Oliver had called him once. And he was right.

“Happy birthday, Harold,” Barry said after a few seconds of silent judgement, opening his arms to embrace Hal.

He returned the hug good heartedly.

“Bear, you can’t wish me happy birthday and then call me Harold. That’s not legal, buddy.”

“Just say thank you.”

Hal simply squeezed him one last time before letting him go, winking at the group as he started to walk down the corridor again.

“Gotta go. Don’t want Bats to be mad at me on my birthday.”

“Like that would bother you!”

“Well yes, actually,” he almost said but he didn’t want to spend the next thirty minutes explaining to Oliver why so he pretended he hadn’t heard.

Truth was, Hal and Bruce were friends. Good friends, even. Recently, the pilot had even caught himself hoping for them to become more than that. They still had disagreements of course, they were both stubborn but they were past that now. Most of the time, it felt more like some weird kind of aggressive flirting than a real fight.

Hal enjoyed the other man’s company, especially now that he was comfortable enough with him to talk about more personal matters, like his family and boy did Bruce had things to say about the weird little clique that was his family. The fond look on his face just made it all the more worth it.

He cherished those hours spent together on the Watchtower, sometimes wishing they could do this outside of their hero work. Maybe he could pretend to need help on the Javelin’s new update to see him. She needed one and the only other person who knew her as well as Hal did was Bruce. He could buy him dinner too.

Sounds like a plan, he thought, entering the monitor room.

Bruce was already there, of course. His cowl was pulled back like every time when they were paired up, his hair looking ridiculously good even mussed. The man was always so effortlessly pretty, it was revolting.

“You’re late, Jordan.”

He didn’t even glance in Hal’s direction but it wasn’t like he needed to check that it was him.

“Better late than never, Spooks.”

That earned him a huff and then he saw Bruce slide a cup of coffee towards him on the desk.

Oh.

“It’s probably cold now.”

Lukewarm was probably more accurate – Hal wasn’t that late. But he refrained from mentioning it to the other man, instead grabbing the two still steaming cups from his tray construct and handing his to Bruce.

“I thought about preparing some too, so lucky us, I guess.”

He smirked at the Bat, oddly proud when Bruce smiled back, even just slightly.

“Miss Lane’s?” Bruce asked, nodding in direction of his construct while taking a sip of his coffee.

Hal looked back at the still floating, green glowing tray and reached out to retrieve the plate Clark had given him.

“Yep. Wanna share? It was your birthday yesterday after all. And happy belated birthday. By the way.”

It wasn’t lost on Hal that he had completely forgotten to even text him for his birthday but, like he had said, better late than never. He knew it probably hadn’t bothered Bruce, maybe hadn’t even registered with him that Hal hadn’t said anything but it sure did bother the pilot that he had forgotten. Bruce smiled again anyway, something small and secretive. Something just for him to see. Hal could feel an unusual blush creep up his cheeks.

“No, thank you,” Bruce said, turning back towards the screens in front of them, the cup Hal had given him cradled in his gauntleted hands. “Clark actually flew all the way to Gotham yesterday to bring us some. I left it for the kids. Too sweet.”

Hal had to laugh at that.

“Says the guy who takes his coffee with a metric ass load of sugar and cream in it.”

“I’m full of surprises.”

Bruce side-eyed him, half hiding a smirk behind the rim of his cup and Hal laughed again.

They focused on the monitors after that, a companionable silence between them, and Hal regretted not sleeping those two extra hours earlier. He could feel the bone deep tiredness take over him after a mere half an hour, his body sagging in his chair and relaxing into it despite his best efforts to stay alert.

He was nodding off, barely even conscious anymore, when he felt Bruce take his cup from his lax fingers.

“Idiot,” he heard him whisper and Hal wanted to retort something but he was too far gone to even form a coherent thought at this point.

Then he felt fingers graze his forehead, brushing away wild strands of hair, followed by a pair of slightly chapped lips pressing there. He automatically leaned into the gentle touch, sighing long and deep. The lips stayed there a second longer, lingering and warming up his skin, his whole body.

Hal wanted to wake up, to say something cheeky or, even better, just kiss Bruce. Properly. On the lips. Like he had been longing to do. But all he managed was a weak little whine as he turned his head towards the other man.

“Happy birthday, Jordan,” was the last thing he heard before drifting off completely.

(A few seconds later. Training room. Watchtower.

“Hey, Ollie?”

“What is it, Barry?”

“I think I just saw Bruce kiss Hal.”

“WHAT?!”)

#happy birthday Hal!#batlantern #hal jordan #green lantern #clemwrites

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icecreamkink · 4 years ago

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watched all of the untamed / cql in two weeks after my friend 1 told me abt mdzs a hundred years ago and my friends 2 and 3 tried to get me into cql for like two whole years and there are.

feelings.

very first scene is a very dramatic death in the middle of nightmare battle on sith planet land . i will forget abt it in the next tenish episodes and then will be very surprised when it becomes Extremely Painful

anyway magic flying gays and possession and human sacrifice! we are off to a great start

in retrospect, chaos goblin wei wuxian must have had a blast pretending to be so cRaZy and be as disruptive as he could as mo xuanyu lbr

listen. why is fire always evil coded. cant a magic clan wear red, black and orange and have flame motif while being wholesome?

For Legal Reasons These Are Not Zombies

i wish the politics of the sect were a bit clearer, especially at the beggining when the wen clan had sm power, was wen ruohan the chief cultivator? is that why they were so slow in responding to the attacks? im v confused by the pre yiling patriarch politics

fighting in the roof by the moonlight as way of flirtiiiiiiing. as i understand this is a wuxia/xianxia trope and honestly...... thank u for ur service

slight bullying and being a nuisance in general, as a way of flirting we love to see it

wwx: if i drink on the rooftop, thats not inside the cloud recesses! hmmm check and mate :D lwj: i will fuck u up so help me god wwx: :0

i lov them

through hell or high water (quite literally) wei wuxian rem ains a trashfire gremlin till the end and i love him with my whole heart

in the pt subs wei wuxian calls jiang cheng a stubborn duck and i dearly wish that had come back

my opinions on almost every character goes from love to hate u - Hmm Me Like U - BABY. ILY. and i am Very Pleased w that. its been a while since i loved such a complete cast so much i think

no really. i WONT go into a detailed rant abt what i love about each of these characters and each of their relationships to each other. but i COULD.

some lan disciples in the loudest whisper ever: YEAH THATS THE JIN BASTARD MENG YAO HEARD THE GOT SUPER HUMILIATED BY HIS DAD LOL SURE HOPE HE DOESNT TAKE SLIGHTS TO HIS CHARACTER TO HEART

lan xichen, immediately: i must Love him

being into problematic ppl is in the Lan genetics, we come to realize

wen qing deserves so many awards for so many things but not snapping and just stabbing wen chao is at the top

that scene at lan qirens class where wwx talks about using resentful energy to fight a violent spirit. exquisite.

It establishes Good Student lan wangji, wei wuxian as curious and questioning and not afraid of taboo, lwj sees that wwx is not, in fact, a dumb ass hes just a Dumbass, shows us the audience (esp. a western audience) how shocking the idea of disrupting the dead/dying and controlling resentful energy actually is, the theoretical foreshadow arguing, everyone else like ‘shUT UP’, “and how could you ensure that the resentful energy would obey you and not hurt other?” “well i havent thought that far” and of course, lan qiren just straight up lobbing a hard object at wwx head,. chefs kiss

fellas is it gay to bother the hot rule obessessed nerd from ur school and make drawings of him with flowers in his hair and then hide gay porn in his book to antagonize him and ask him to hold ur hand and be ur friend and talk to him all the time and get him drunk and give him bunnies bc you know he likes them and give him a lantern and always want his attention and dedicate yourself to getting him to smile-

and after all of that wwx rly said oh i Admire him, aksd like yeah we all were there in high school buddy

i have Learned. caves = gay.

accidental marriage +beint physically tied together with the sacred married ribbon+ gay panic+foreshadowing+bunnies! in the cave (1)

the story abt lan yi and baoshan sanren tho. i would like to see it

early days wen bros pull my heart strings like a guqin

EVERYTHING about the lantern scene; disaster hets jiang yanli and jin zixuan; how wwx made lwj a bunny lantern. how soft and touched lwj was. wwx gleefully pointing out he was smiling and lwj IMMEDIATELY PULLING HIW SWORD ON HIM LMAO. tragically foreshadowy promises to do right by pepople, living without regrets. lwjs 'oh no do i love him??' face. just. all of it.

i have it on good acc that in the novel lwj is explicitly Repressed Gay Panicked Big Horny which is delightful and rly Adds to the performance

baby lwj is really just conceal dont feel dont let them know u have EMOTIONS (derogatory)

jiang cheng rly went "why dont.u go play with HIM if u like him so much"

jc and wwx have big BIG annoying sibling energy dont think too hard abt it or youll cry

lotus pier is soo pretty :((((((((((((((((

up until episode 13 you could think this could be a magical ancient chinese gays pride n prejudice w swords and shenanigans ................youre just not prepared for the game of thrones of it all

seriously ha ha ha i cried so much w this show my eyes genuinely swelled up . like. physically. fun timez fun timez

that being said, its hilarious that wen xu goes to cloud recesses like 'come out or ill kill all these hostages' and then DOESNT WAIT FOR AN ASWER AND KILLS THEM ALL IMMEDIATELY. do u know how blackmail works sir

would like to make it recorded that from day one i was like 'CALL A GODDAMN CULTIVATION G20 THIS ASSHOLE SECT IS LITERALLY MASSACRING YALL!!' and it took them like 3 or 4 massacres to do anything and they STILL sent their heirs into their territory LIKE

when wwx cites the gusu lan rules to wen chao tho. that rebel/attention whore/cutie pie 'look lan zhan i DID memorize the rules after all' ‘also a big fuck you to the wen sect :D :D’ sweet spot that scene achieves . delicious

all the cultivator young masters being petty af even though they are practically prisoners at the cave is hilarious and i love them

hurt and comfort + gay mistunderstandings + watsonian gay declaration music + accidental evil acquisition! at the cave (2)

its like where do i start? the fact theyre both trapped and kind of heavily injured inside an isolated cave with a murder turtle? wwx gay panicking lwj into coughing up bad blood? lwj being jealous as wwx babbles abt mianmian? telling him he shouldnt play with people and wwx saying he never played him? wwx going Oh. I See what is happening. YOU like mianmian, and lwj absolute done face ??? (iconic) wwx touching the sacred married ribbon Again? the telepathic communication? the sword? WEI WUXIAN ASKING LAN WANGJI TO SING TO HIM AS HE IS PASSING OUT AND LWJ SINGING HIM. THE SONG. HE WROTE. FOR WWX. AND THAT HE CALLED. THEIR SHIP NAME????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

they are SO insufferable pleeeeease

in the words of my friend 1 : “CQL is so gay we were all amazed how it got past the censors Ofc unfortunately it can't be novel level gay But they did their best And we love them for it”

in the theme of songs THIS OST. WUJI HAS BEEN LIVING IN MY MIND RENT FREE SINCE I FIRST HEARD IT the whole ost is so so sO beautiful.

the costuming in this is also soooo exquisite. the embroidery? the fabrics? the details? how every sect and clan has a distinct style and architecture? (also ik they based each off of dif periods in chinese history which is REALLY fucking cool) just chefs kiss

the direction too!. i enjoy the unusual camera movements and i think they give it that Vibe, also their composition is PARTICULARLY good when it comes to telling the subtext through position of camera/position of character (like nhs off to the side in scenes he at first glance doesnt need to be/ how lwj is often centered when hes Jealous Yearning at wwx being affectionate w other ppl, wwx return from burial mounds etc)

ik madam yu is like Badass Milf Check and shes not getting any mom of the year awards but im delighted at how messy she is. IMAGINE that woman on tiktok

you better have enjoyed gay cave (2) bc its Just Pain from here on out!

jiang fengmian and madame yu win the Most Dramatic Way to show they do care about each other, actually ..... ever :)

i thought jiang yanli jiang cheng and wei wuxian forcing themselves to escape yunmeng barely holding on after their parents are killed was going to be the height of pain in this show. ha.

the family dynamics in general on this showwwww, both blood/ adopted/ found families, brotherly bonds and lifelong friendships just. rly. truly. fucked me up. theyre all so important and complicated and well rounded and beautiful and tragic

and beyond being a Win For the Gays im so glad the relationships w wwx and jiang yanli/ wen qing were NOT changed from platonic bc they are so much better like that imo. like maybe if we didnt Live In A Society it wouldnt be so, but the fact wwx and others can love and value them so much and theres nothing romantic or sexual abt it is like. so refreshing. especially @ jyl, with the way he and jc are overprotective of her and shes such a nurturing/care taker figure for them, it would just not vibe as well if they made it romantic

i love that this is a story abt Wei Wuxian, the Yiling Patriarch aka Actual Satan/Boogey Man/Village With/Public Enemy Number One , my dude is literally a necromancer who only dresses in black and has evil smokey black tendrils wafting out of him, but the really edgy one is still jiang cheng, pastel purple fashion icon

and speaking of best/worst siblings wei wuxian and jiang cheng *immediately starts crying*

The Golden Core Transfer i just. no thots only tears

wen qing and wen ning putting themselves in so much danger just.... to help them. wn saving jc from wen chao. wq finding a way to get wwx to transfer his core. like thinking about the monumental work these two did to help wwx and jyl and jc... jyl trying so fucking hard to be strong and keep on moving and giver her little brothers comfort after losing everything... jiang cheng. losing his parents and his home and his ability to do anything abt it and his complete desperation and lack of self worth and turning on them with agression when he didnt realize all that they did for him ... hhhhhhhhhhhhh

me, pointing at the whole cast “i just LOVE them mom!!!”

its sad tho, that BARELY ANY of the women have like.... actual important conversations let alone relationships with each other at all in the story. and like wq and jyl have stayed at the same place for extended periods of time, where wq actively took care of her TWICE, and still! not one measly convo, nothing! ................ .𝓌ₕᵧ

everyone in this show need a good sip of Self Worth and Stop Sacrificing Yourself juice

ngl the sword flying looks very dumb

“a-cheng, please bring a-xian back.” “i will, i promise.” ;-;

the whole calling each other by the More Intimate Version of the name, first as teasing and later as true intimacy. mmmhmmm yes

untamed where everythings the same but wwx evil flute song is eoeo

related that scene when wwx comes back from the burial mounds for the first time w demonic cultivation and he acts all formal and calls lwj hanguang-jun and keeps being evasive and distant and mean and soooooo................. facetious

and how hes kind of desperately trying to keep intense lwj at bay (A FIRST) and avoiding actually talking to either of them and its all tension ughhh and then he MOCKS his and lwjs relationship, he jokes w him in this like... mean echo of their usual ~banter~ oof

and like!!! uncertain but so relieved jc who just HUGS him w no reservations for once and its not like he isnt just as worried as lwj abt wwx and what hes doing, but he chooses in that moment to enjoy getting him back first and mmhmMMMmMm yes (maybe my favorite scene in the whole show? MAYBE SO. )

highkey hurt me but also. i might be into mean wwx. i will take no criticism.

lan zhans sad eyes tho :(((((((((

on one hand i wish we could have seen what happened at the burial mounds but on the other the timeskip adds so much flair to his return so im hnnn

also i love that hes been missing for 3 months reappears kinda melancholic and bloodthirsty and knowing malign tricks and jc is like 'so. are u sad bc of lan wangji'

when ur bae survived the war but he thinks ur evil/ might be evil so you cant kiss :///

hmmm talking at the rooftop under the moonlight not mentioning everything that stands between usssss

they are the two jades of lan and we’ll be the two heroes of yunmeng is the type of line u dont even need to know whats gonna happen to know thats gonna be sad

when they fight wen ruoshan at the nightless city i thought that was the battle we see at the first ep and its not and its so easy and theyre all like ‘yayy we won go wwx!’ i was just. SCREAMS WHAT is gonna HAPPEN

so like. post burial mounds/sunshot campaign pre yiling patriarch wwx is like. ultra arrogant, ultra mocking, peak lil shit and it gave me e v e r y t h i n g i wanted

even tho having the wen prisoners at the targets at phoenix mountain and still having wwx and jzx shooting the arrows was???? so.... tone deaf

wwx: fucking w demonic energy jyl: he has never done anything wrong in his life, ever <3 <3 (mood)

the parallels between meng yao/wei wuxian (and even xue yang a bit?) are Seen and they are Valid

wwx post burial mounds: can yall SHUT UP abt the goddamn sword (suibian left the chat)

LIKE truly, we talk abt the angst and yearning with wangxian. but what abt wwx and suibian. xianbian / xianqing angst and comfort 100k

take a shot everytime someone coughs up blood

zidian is simply the coolest spiritual weapon rip to suibian and chenqing and bichen and sendou and baixa........ but tis the truth

cons: everyones families died in a nightmare war! everyones homes burned to the ground! everyone is traumatized! pros: everyone gets cooler clothes and weapons!!

wen ning and a-yuan and yanli bestest babes squad dont touch me rn

everyone: brooding and fighting wq and jyl: why dont you try some acupunture/drinking some soup and calm down huh? how abt that bitch??

showing the battle/massacre at the nightless city first was genius actually bc then everytime we have a cute scene w yunmeng bros and theyre like 'we'll be together forever! uwu' youre like oh. oh no. oh no no no.

justice vs lawfulness vs means and ends 👁

jc: stay in the right path and practice the art of the sword wx: yeah thats not gonna happen chief

my reaction to wwx renouncing to the sect politics to help the wens was just that elmo burning gif in succession

the dramatic rain. wen qing desperately calling out to wen ning. the ghosts/puppets killing the guards. how terrifying wn actually was while wwx was controlling him :( lwj goeing after him to try and stop him and then he just; he Sees him and understands him even if he cant actually do anything about it other than let them go.

“there must be somewhere in this earth we can go to :(((((((((”

"IF I HAVE TO FIGHT THEM, I'D RATHER IT BE YOU. DYING BY YOUR HANDS WOULD AT LEAST BE WORTH IT." oh my god oh my god oh my goooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooddddddd

also lwjs umbrella is white w black smoke.. . . nice

yiling patriarch / demonic farming burial mounds settlement is like one of my favorite concepts. they an "EVIL" FARMING COMMUNITY LED BY THE VILLAGE WITCH COME ON

they planted TURNIPS and LOTUS FLOWERS and ONE (1) baby and made lanterns and a common hall :(((((((

wen qing and wei wuxian, baddest bitches and genius science best friends i absolutely LOVED to see it. they rly went ‘is anyone gonna sibling/project partner that’ and didnt wait for an answer

both wwx and jyl getting lotus ponds at the burial mounds and in lanling bc they miss lotus pier ;;;;;;;w

;;;;; wish jyl had actually gone into the burial mounds. we were robbed of jyl and wq meeting again and jyl meeting a-yuan and seeing the settlement and the homes and all ;w; at least jc did go, stab wounds and broken arms and all

wwx like... having thrown his whole life away to help the wens (yeah the sect leaders and jin guangshan in particular wanting his stygian tiger amulet was an Element but still) and not.... necessarily regretting it, but grappling with all of the consequences of it... becoming moody and drepressed at times, missing his family and lotus pier and his friends and probably simply missing being around people and causing trouble, extrovert that he is, lashing out at the wens and at a-yuan, just in general the whole messiness of that experience

the way the resentful energy does affect his temperament is rly nice bc its not too in your face,(i mean outside of the Shaky Hands of Rage) but like he clearly has a much lesser control on his anger and impulsivity (tall order) than both before bm and after hes ressurected

on that note A-YUAN BABIEST BABY BOY BEST BOY

lan zhan being like oh hey there wei ying fancy meeting u and our son here. just passing by u know how it is hmmmmMm and then PLOT TWIST having defied orders to go see him and being punished for it. oof;;

they habent seen each other in like? a year? and now theyre tgt 10 seconds and are already parenting a child together

also lwj rly kneels down in the snow way too much to be healthy

wwx: calm down guyssss i wont lose control of demonic cultivation omgggg . spoiler alert: he loses control of demonic cultivation

did u enjoy cute children? good bc now the Real Pain Begins

jiang yanli and jin zixuan rly out there APROPRIATING both disaster gays AND bury ur gays huh ;w;

i KNEW jin lings birthday was gonna fuck something up but the GASP that left my body when wwx lost control of wn and killed jin zixuan .. . .

im sorry and thank you aaaaAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaAAAAaAAAAA

when wen ning and wen qing were telling wwx their plan i was saying NO NO NO NO NO NO out loud in despair

also can we talk abt how wq is definetely talking about only the both of them surrending themselves but then? everyone else just surrenders w them? IT MAKES NO SENSE LIKE WHY WOULD THEY what would be the Point

sometimes there are some pretty gaping jumps in logic and continuity that are just like ? ?

wwx: oh so when you try to murder me its justified but when i survive through dark magic and murder all of you its a "war crime"

unsurprisingly, his most feral, most spiraling moment talking to the sect leaders on the roof and attacking them and even fighting lan zhan is among my favorite scenes... its like, so painful to watch but also so thrilling (and maybe my wen bbs dying arose some resentful energy in me what can i say)

and its JUST, all they ever wanted was to do good but then... war. and trauma. and hubris.

jiang cheng on the ground clearly thorn between what to do and feel is a Mood, lets just say

i was already crying when jyl showed up, but if i wasnt-

i suffered SO MUCH through this series trying to figure out WHY jc would kill wwx. and when i understood. its somehow not as bad as i thought and also MUCH MUCH WORSE

a look into my group chat during the last flashback episodes:

SO ANYWAY. after the BLOOD BATH and RIPPING YOUR HEART OUT and FEEDING IT TO YOU the untamed goes ‘ayy back to the present!! tu du dud ud du’

literally it ends a quarter into an episode and then KEEPS GOING i had to pause and stare blankly at the ceiling for an hour

babie cultivators and detective soulmates . i do need some cute after All of That

(not that the pain is over LOL)

lwj is significantly less emotionally repressed in the present and its delightful. hes just ALL IN with wwx. and not just in the ‘i would and have killed various men and risked my reputation for you’ but also ‘ur tired here have a drink i brought it up cause i know u like it and it want you to be happy, always’

“when everyone praised me and wanted my power, you were the only one that challenged me. now that everyone hates me and wants me dead, youre the only one that stands by my side.” hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhnnnnnnnnnnnnnn

and just filling in the blanks how lan zhan searched for him. for all of those 16 years he searched for him and was punished for it and raised a-yuan, the only survivor of the burial mounds settlement, as his own in gusu......

and jiang cheng. being the tough love uncle . having raised the yunmeng jiang clan from the rubble all alone, his whole family dead, some of it on the blame of his own brother, his siblings, his closest friends gone.......and only jin ling there needing his guidance.

THE PARALLEL BETWEEN JIN LING BEING A LIFELINE FOR JIANG CHENG AND A-YUAN FOR LAN WANGJI AFTER THE BATTLE AT THE NIGHTLESS CITY

great now i made myself sad

and like . the fact! that lwj and jc dislike each other!!. jc projects blame onto him for wwx both “leaving” him and indirectly causing their families deaths and when hes so consumed by it he makes wwx an enemy, lwj is there now? trying to protect him?? and lwj, who can never understand the pain that wwx , indirectly or not put jc through, but who was right there when jc tried to kill him and will never allow him to hurt wwx again. and how they like. in a way project blame of their tragedies onto each other while dealing with some type of survivor guilt and in their own way still loving wwx through it all??? amd in way its kind of fundamentally selfish but also tragically understandable? and like when u put it against the fact that after he disappears during the sunshot campaign they were looking for him together and fought together??

JUST. THE CHARACTERS. AND THE RELATIONSHIPS IN THIS. MAN. UGH. GOD.

and like i think thats what makes it so good? its such a sad and painful and violent story, edgy even, but its compelling bc at the center of it there are all of these relationships and different types of love and hope and. :( i love it

enough crying lets talk abt wwx sleeping at the jingshi with lwj and wearing his under garment for a minute 🙏

jin ling just has that Was Raised by JC energy tho lmao i love him

babie cultivator squad is the perfect ammount of cute and comedic relief while still bearing the weight? of the narrative in a way, both from sizhui and jin lings existences, and also. like. how do i put this. they feel hopeful? they were born after a war, they came of age at a time of relative peace, they dont hold on so closely to the resentments of their parents/father figures, they are specifically shown as more accepting and open minded. and its like.... Hope for the future

one of the ?? things i love the most is the fact that the main cast are often in situations where theyre hunted/running but they like. never wear disguises... just going around in their gorgeous expensive clan clothes and hair ornaments and distinctive spiritual weapons.... maybe w a straw hat on, just for kicks

wwx teacher 🥺🥺🥺

so this is why its called Yi City Misery huh

a-qing is such. an icon. im so sad. my girl even knew to leave xys dumb self rotting by the road but no one listens to her thats why theyre all dead or sad

her and xue yang measuring each other up was so entertaining lmao

its the funniest thing when hes like. HERES MY SAD STORY. FOR WHY IM A SADISTIC MURDERER. I BROKE MY HAND ONCE.

like ok someone broke his hand in a horrible way, and like Poverty, i get it but also like.......... that lost the brunt of a proper sob story like, 50 sadistic murders ago bby

and i love that xingchen does not entertain that for a second hes like ‘not ?????? good enough???’ and the best thing is he wasnt even like 'u hadto be the bigger person' or sth but ' well then break that dudes hand back, rip his arm off for i care, what do the rest of us have to do w anything???”

anjo sensato :(

xue yang is like..... the sexy sadistic evil version of a himbo..... a meanbo...

the fucked upness of xy’s feelings for xxc/ xxc and sl feelings for each other... like my dude literally gave his bf HIS EYES. and xy getting so attached to xxc .... the fucked up fake domesticity.... having him hurt sl..... then desperately trying to bring him back ...................... oof

song lan........... literally had his eyes AND tongue removed, his bfs eyes put in place, was almost killed, turned into a puppet by his bf unknowingly, manipulated by xy, sees his bf killing himself in despair.... and STILL finds the strenght to get up from there, and keep on traveling and helping people and attempting to fix xxcs soul.......... like, my man. damn.

wangxian looking at songxiao and seeing an Actually more painful parallel for themselves. ft. that Color Coding.

THE A-YUAN/SIZHUI REVEAL PUNCHED ME IN THE HEART but in a good way for a change

should have know that he would be the Best Boy the cute one w all the braincells

the butterfly AND the bunny lantern. i see how it is

u know is very convenient that no one can see the stark black veins on wen nings neck, ever

BAT WEN NING

wns face when lwj comes into wwx room like ‘:0 omg did u two finally get your shit together? good for you master wei good for u’

(they didnt) (yet)

DISASTER DRUNK LWJ. JUST. THRUST SOME CHICKENS TO SHOW UR RESSURECTED BAE THAT U LOVE THEM.

i have absolutely no idea WHY they gave lwj the same punishment for fighting his own sect/allies to protect the burial mounds as when they got drunk on cloud recess class days.... like? its such a ... emotional continuity error again

also is lwj gonna get an actual friend besides wwx , ever

mianmian marrying and having a family and a cute life after saying FUCK U AND UR SYSTEM TOO in a much less unhinged and dramatic way than wwx......... fills me w joy

also lol the idea that like. her husband not knowing that shes friends w satan/the boogey man/the village witch is hilarious

i love nie mingjue bc hes the resident Though Guy but also the most dramatic bitch in this show and thats Saying Something

jin ling cant have one uneventful relative can he

the fact that everyone present already knew “mo xuanyu” was wwx at the stairs is so funny, their faces are like ‘oh............ wow. that. sure is a development. shock”

in the tradition of extremely loud whispers wwx tells lwj with twelve guards standing like one meter away from them: HEY PSH LAN ZHAN PRETEND IM FORCING YOU TO STAY W ME DO IT

oh my god oh my god

the absolute Yearning on his face when he leaves wwx and a-yuan at the burial mounds and refuses to stay for dinner was already Enough but the fact?? they brought it back?? to this declaration of love?? their expressions??????? strike me dead right now just go ahead

lFor Legal Reasons We Cant Kiss but we will have a very sappy declaration of love and trust and look at each other in way that is the actualization of 💞💘💗💖💓💘💞💗💖💘💗💖💕💞

also icb all the sect leaders and guards are standing there watching them say they like like each other with a dozen swords pointing at their neck

i enjoyed the depiction of the fickle public perception and how easily it can be used to scapegoat people. when the sect leaders turn on jgy and wwx knows thats its more for convenience than anything else...

poor lxc is literally like 'oh so when YOUR problematic boyfriend gets called evil its a misunderstanding but when its MY problematic bf-'

ok like i cant get over nmj let jgy play a song that messed with his temperament at all, like maN u KNEW he might be shady wth

wwx: “hey dont say anything bad abt lan zhan hes not an arrogant dick, thats just his face.

ME ON THE OTHER HAND"

the cultivators as wwx is poking holes in their narrative is literally *nazaré meme*

"wei wuxian-!" "what did i break your leg, too?" not to be problematic but i laughed so hard

not as hard as "you dont have the rank to talk to me " tho

i Enjoy that, over the course of story, wwx sees that... theres nothing truly to Do, but move on. he saw how his arrogance and his mistakes hurt others, and hes trying to fix what he can, but he already did die for his mistakes and there are things he cant fix and that's. just how it is. even towards jgy, the narrative doesn't go gleefully and completely with "lets make THEM pay bc theyre the big bad" bc its not that simple, and it wouldn't lead anywhere but more pain...

re him and jiang cheng and the wens and kinda. isnt that what nhs did? scheming to displace jgy out of revenge more than any justice and doing so in the most painful way?

idk if that actually makes sense im truly just babbling

i thought the scene at the lotus pond would be CUTE but the context was PAIN again

jiang cheng finding out about his golden core and his conflict with wwx at the guanyin temple .... destroyed me but in a nice way kinda.... same way it destroys him look at his face oh god

and. the fact??? he sacrificed himself for wwx?? first?? and he'll probably never tell anyone much less wwx???? keeps me up at night

i havent decided if the neckbreak transition between jgy does sth super Evil or does he he does OR Does He yes he does O R does heeeee is sth i dislike or not

jin guangyao and wei wuxians most interesting parallel is that... theyve both seen 'hmm hey this system is fucked up' and wwx went 'so fuck it all i will renounce it and challenge it' and jgy went 'so fuck it i will use all of it to my advantage and manipulate it to my goals and whims'

the fact jgys mom was actually great and he loved her and his whole issue w it was more than simply being ashamed of being a bastard kinda got me ngl

never trust a dude with a fan.

nhs and jgy: the first rule to a convoluted and decades spanning violent revenge plot is to have fun and be yourself!

when a-yuan finally FINALLY remembers ;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;-;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;; wen ning has someone in his family back and a-yuan has someone to talk abt his wen family and wwx has him back bc he survived and lwj raised him anD HES THEIR SON. THEYRE MARRIED AND HAVE A SON. UGH.

and theyre allowed to heal. everyone is allowed to try and recover and be happy

netflix put all of the 3 endings on top of each other and it looks kinda weird actually BUT I DONT EVEN MIND :’’’’’’’’’)

the gasp that left me when lwj says ‘wei ying’ and wwx turns.........

there was also a screen with ‘thank you mxtx for creating these characters, we hope their wishes come true’ and i might. have cried then too. maybe.

that was . a ride. as is proven by this behemot of a ramble clearly i just really needed and Outlet. i am currently trying to convince dumb monkey brain to not consume the other medias of mdzs immediately bc i REALLY need to like. live. a life. and take care of real responsibilities. *longest oh boi ever*

#m.#ANYWAY #ENOUGH TALKING #THIS IS SO LONG #LOL #but whatever this is MY performative journaling i do what i want #rambling impressions abt what i watch is a thing i do now? apparently??#cql #untamed #the untamed #fun fact that chat is named 'k keeps on babbling abt the untamed' and it STILL wasnt enough #also it took me 15 episodes to realize lwj was yibo #IT WAS V SHOCKING #i did not recognize him at a l l #but in retrospect he WAS the perfect choice

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warrioreowynofrohan · 4 years ago

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Character Thoughts - Finwë and Turgon

These are two Silmarillion characters who, despite not having done anything objectively terrible, frustrate me deeply, and who I tend to feel very judgey towards.

With Finwë, I don’t have strong opinions on whether or not it was right for him to remarry - it was a complicated situation and difficult for everyone involved (which is basically what the Valar ended up saying). But I don’t like his treatment of his family with Indis. I don’t like the favoritism towards Fëanor that makes it seem like he’s apologizing for Fingolfin and Finarfin’s very existence. I don’t like his refusal to do anything about the divides within his family even when they start embroiling the whole of the Noldor in political conflict. I really don’t like him responding to Fëanor pulling a sword on Fingolfin and threatening his life by siding with Fëanor. What is Fingolfin supposed to conclude from that? How he he supposed to feel? How could that not give him the impression that his father doesn’t care about him at all? And on the political level as well, decamping to Formenos in temporary abdication is pretty much the worst possible thing he could do - as the narration notes, it makes Fingolfin king by default and so appears to validate all the Fëanorians’ conspiracy theories, something that wouldn’t have happened if Finwë had deigned to do his job. (I’ve read claims that Finwë leaving was a protest against the Valar passing judgement on a Noldor matter, but that doesn’t scan for me. The Valar are incredibly lighthanded throughout - they invite the Elves to share their home, welcome them, give them free rein, and the only two rules they enforce are “don’t threaten to kill people” and “don’t kill people”. [And leaving Finwë to rule on a case involving wrongdoing by the son he’s consistently favoured would break every concept of ‘conflict of interest’ - even assuming Finwë would do anything at all, which is not something one could clearly conclude from his previous actions.])

My opinion of Turgon has gotten worse since I processed the fact that Idril was a young child during the Return of the Noldor, something that I hadn’t realized for a long time. Who drags a child across the freaking Helcaraxë when they have other options? I am not in any way letting Fëanor off the hook for betraying and abandoning the majority of the Noldor - you led them into this, this was your idea, some of them have fought and killed their kin in a battle you led them into, so you’re damn well responsible for leading them whether they like you or not, and their needless deaths are on your head. Nonetheless, Turgon looked at two choices - one that was horrifically dangerous, and one that was humiliating but safe - and chose the former. When you’re choosing whether or not to take your young daughter into a situation that has a high probability of killing her, “the alternative would would be very embarrassing” is not a very strong argument! Yes, he would also be leaving a large part of his family, but the Eldar deeply value children - I think all of them would definitely understand wanting Idril to grow up peacefully in Tirion rather than crossing a frozen hellscape. (In retrospect, it was clearly a very good thing for Middle-earth that Idril was there, because she’s an intelligent, clearsighted and heroic person who is responsible for saving a large part of the Noldor who made it through the First Age - but no one knew that at the time.)

And I think, from Elenwë’s death onward, that Turgon is heavily driven by regret for that choice, because he turns around and tries, insofar as possible, to pretend that he hasn’t made it. He walks away, recreates a replica of Tirion in Beleriand, and has as little to do with the war as possible. (And then refuses to leave Gondolin despite Ulmo’s advice, even though Ulmo was largely responsible for Gondolin existing at all.)

And in that way, Finwë and Turgon are acting similarly: they’re trying to have things both ways. They are, at the same time, both too committed to their choices and not committed enough, and in their own ways try to walk those choices back at the precise point after they’ve become irrevocable. Finwë chooses remarriage and then spends all his time favouring Fëanor over the family that is the product of that remarriage, and leaving them for Fëanor when the split (due to Fëanor’s actions) becomes complete. Turgon chooses the crossing of the Helcaraxë, loses his wife, and once he’s in Middle-earth, spends his time wishing he was back in Valinor and trying, insofar as possible, to recreate his home there.

It’s a rather different, and contrasting, case from the characters, like the Fëanorians, who make very clearly wrong decisions and refuse to turn back from them. In the case of Finwë and Turgon, the pivotal decision each of them makes is a genuinely difficult one with strong emotional ties on both sides and understandable feelings for and against - it’s not inherently or fundamentally wrong - and they make things worse by trying to walk it back or compensate for it after it’s too late, rather than owning their choice and moving forward. They’re simultaneously too stubborn and not stubborn enough.

#tolkien #the silmarillion #character thoughts #character parallels #finwë #turgon

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neighborhoodmoonchild · 5 years ago

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Happy.

Prompt(s): “I can’t help it, you’re fun to mess with.”, “Were you ever going to tell me?”, “I just want you to be happy.”

Pairing(s): non-idol!Jungkook x Reader; mentions of Hoseok x Reader

Genre(s): Angst

Summary: Best friends don’t keep things from one another.

Warning(s): angst and tears, maybe unhealthy friendships?? (idk)

Word Count: 2.1k

“Jungkook, I swear, throw that pillow one more goddamn ti—“

When the soft plush of the pillowcase is suddenly all you can feel against your face, an unbothered laugh filling the small space of your apartment, you can’t help the exasperated sigh that escapes your lips.

Sitting on the floor surrounded by mountains of pillows, blankets, and snacks, you grip the pillow harshly to your chest, desperately trying to calm your rising temper as the doe-eyed boy crumples to the floor in a fit of giggles, loud and obnoxious.

It’s a sound you’d grown used to over the years of being best friends, unfortunately most incidents being at your own expense, but you were subconsciously fine with that if it meant making your best friend happy.

You raised a hand to smooth the now-stray locks of hair in disarray from impact-over-impact of the pillow bombs Kook had been tossing over the last half hour.

Why you bother to lecture him about manners and how hitting people upside the head with pillows when they’ve asked you to stop is rude, you don’t know. It always falls on deaf ears, and Kook has never been one to listen, to anyone.

Wiping the forming tears gathering at the edge of his lashes, he sends you a big grin, knowing that if he plays his cards right, you’ll forgive him in a few minutes and all will be as it was.

“Come on, y/n, lighten up a little!” You roll your eyes at his antics. It was always like this. Jungkook would do something stupid, dangerous, a little rude, or all of the above, he’d play it off as you being a ‘stick in the mud’ and eventually you’d give up and let him go about doing whatever he wants.

Sometimes it felt less like you were his best friend and more like you were his babysitter.

Don’t get it twisted, though, you love Jungkook more than anything. He’s been your best friend since God knows when. When bullies picked fights on the playground, Kook was there. When your first date ditched you freshman year, Kook was there. When your parents were fighting and you didn’t want to be home, Kook was there.

You’d practically grown up together and shared everything. Maybe that’s why you felt a swirling sense of guilt building in the pit of your stomach.

You’d never kept something from him before.

Rolling your eyes, you willed yourself to breath and calm down. You’d already been a little jumpy all afternoon, and the more you overreacted, the more suspicious he’d get.

Jungkook was no idiot, though, and he’d known the second he came over that something was up. It wasn’t unlike the two of you to have late night movie sessions, laughing, talking, and just being weirdos together, but something about this time felt off.

He wouldn’t say anything, though. After all, you both never kept things from each other and he believed that if something was wrong, you’d tell him. Perhaps that’s why he felt a bit guilty deep down. You would always tell him if something was going on.

“Fine, lets just watch the movie, okay?” You ask, tone showing some defeat, but Jungkook could easily play that off to the fact that he’d been pestering you all night to get you to say something, tell him the truth, yell at him, anything that wasn’t just this passive apathetic attitude you’d had all night.

As you leaned forward to pop the disc in the DVD player, what movie, you weren’t really sure at this point, but it wasn’t uncommon for the two of you to watch the same few movies over and over again, you felt Kook scoot closer, dragging the heap of blankets along with him.

The hangouts weren’t for the movies anyways, they were more for relaxing and venting to the only people you both had to be honest to.

Previews began and you kept your eyes glued to the screen. You knew Kook was staring at you and it killed you inside knowing that you wouldn’t be able to keep this up any longer.

Body heat creeping between blankets as he pushed even closer, only centimeters apart, and you finally turned your head to face him. Right there on his face, just as you thought, sat that quizzical yet knowing expression he wore whenever he knew you weren’t telling him something.

The heat rose to your cheeks and you hated the way the guilt licked at your throat, threatening to spill out in words you weren’t quite sure you were ready to tell him.

Instead of breaching that topic so soon, you opted to remain oblivious.

Turning your head back to the screen, you let a little sigh out, breathing in deeply to settle the nerves growing within you, “Kookie, stop staring at me like that. Watch the movie.”

Silence. Preview after preview played when you decide to look back again to see if the expression had changed. As your head swiveled to face him, you met his features only a breath’s width apart from yours.

It had you freezing in your spot, afraid that if you moved even a molecule, you’d occupy the same space, too close to stop something you might regret.

His eyes, narrowed and hard set on yours had you swallowing the lump that formed in your throat.

He knows.

“Jungkook, I-“ but before you could get he damned words out he had already pressed forwards, stealing them right out your mouth, lips pressed against lips.

All of a sudden you were too warm, too dizzy, too confused, and the only thing you could do was pull back, resting a hand on his shoulder to keep the distance.

His expression didn’t change, until he registered the panicked one you wore. As quickly as the kiss came, he was pulling back and chuckling halfheartedly.

“Geez, Y/N, calm down. I’m just messing with you.”

Your face didn’t drop the look you held firm, but your hand did fall into your lap, suddenly burned by the touch of his skin.

“Why would you do that?” Your voice is small, frail, like a thin pane of glass in a weak frame, and the tiniest disturbance would shatter you.

He didn’t look at you, rather, focusing on the screen ahead. The sound escaping your lips as you talked had him stiff. He fucked up.

“I can’t help it, you’re fun to mess with.” It’s short, void of emotion and he doesn’t even turn to look you in the eyes as you stare at him.

This was all wrong. How had everything gone so wrong so fast?

The only thing crashing around in your mind was the thing. That one thing you wanted to wait to tell him, but now it was ringing in your ears, the only sound you could hear.

It was out before you could stop it.

“I’m moving in with Hoseok tomorrow.”

Oh.

So that’s why you wanted a movie night out of the blue. Come to think of it, this was the first time you and Jungkook had hung out just the two of you in a while.

He didn’t even register the lack of your personal belongings strewn about your apartment, or the two boxes sat to the right of your door.

He’d been too busy being excited to finally have some alone time with you that he’d been oblivious to all of the signs.

You were leaving him behind.

Not saying anything, Jungkook gathered his belongings and stood from his spot on the floor. You shot up to follow him, forcing the tears to stay in your eyes as you frantically thought of how to fix this.

This wasn’t how this was supposed to go.

Kook grabbed his shoes from the front tray, sliding them on, just as you got to the front door and grabbed the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

When he finally turned to look at you, the pain in his eyes had the tears fleeing yours. You ignored them as they flowed down your cheeks.

“Kook, wait-“

“No. I... I just. I shouldn’t be here.”

Turning the doorknob, he tried to walk through, but your hand latched to his sleeve kept him in place.

Another awful silence sat between you.

Cold night air seeped through the open door, clouds dispersed enough to see the pitch black of night peak through, little stars shining in the void of darkness. It was a sight you once fawned over, but now it sat cold, like a block of ice in your heart.

“Why didn’t you tell me... tell me before?”

It was something you always suspected could happen, non-platonic feelings blossoming over the many years you’d known each other. You’d entertained the thought of Jungkook being more than a friend once before, when the two of you were young and a little bit stupid and thought the world was yours for the taking.

But time had changed that, changed the two of you.

When you met Hoseok two years ago, the feelings that burst within you for him were some you’d never felt before. And Jungkook, well he was supportive of the whole thing. Said he seemed nice, and after they got to know each other, ‘if you’re gonna ditch me for anyone, I’m fine with it being him’ when you had to postpone ‘his time’ for your boyfriend over and over again.

Seems like things had once again changed.

In retrospect, he should’ve seen it coming.

“There’s nothing to tell, y/n.”

You dropped your hand from his sleeve, once again nursing the burning sensation from close contact. Of course, you thought, stubborn as hell.

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

Jungkook turned around as he stepped through out onto the porch. There was enough space between you now, and he felt safe enough to turn back, just to look at you one more time.

He took note of the way you held the hand that once held him. The tears tracking across your cheeks, red and puffy. The slight quiver in your bottom lip.

It tore his already shredded heart to bits. Pummeled it into the ground and stomped on it too.

He didn’t answer; didn’t know how to. He’d had years to tell you how he felt, had his chance to keep you when you asked him his opinion on Hoseok.

Hoseok. As much as he wanted to hate the guy, show up and beat the shit out of him for taking the only thing he cared about, he couldn’t. Hoseok was a great guy, the kind of guy you deserved. The guy that wasn’t afraid to tell you you looked beautiful, to bring you flowers for no reason, and kiss you under the moonlight. Hoseok was a great guy, and he got you.

He honestly, maybe even stupidly, thought you two weren’t that serious. Maybe he just refused to believe you were.

A pathetic smile plastered itself to his face, wishing to every power he knew that he would take it all back if he could.

“I just want you to be happy,” Jungkook whispers, voice low and strained from keeping his own tears at bay. This was it, and if he was going to do one last thing, he’d wish you the best. Because you deserve the best.

You took a feeble step forward, reaching out for a moment before pulling back.

You pulled yourself together enough to look him in the eyes, seeing the sparkle that usually sat within them clouded by the glimmer of tears. Mirroring his pathetic grin, you sniffed, wiping a few tears from your face.

“I want the same for you...”

Staring at one another, time seemed to freeze only for a brief second.

Before he could stop himself, Jungkook reaches a shaking hand out to brush against your cheek. The wet tears seeping into his skin made his body shiver.

You stood there, face subconsciously leaning into his palm, the warmth not as comforting as it had once been.

“I know.”

It was quick, and suddenly he was pulling his hand away, wiping his palm on his jeans.

You watched as he tore down the staircase and out into the parking lot. As he started his car and drove off, leaving you there.

Eyes gazing up to stare at the stars twinkling millions of miles away, you let the tears flow as hard as they needed to.

You were mourning; grieving over the loss of a friendship most people could only dream of.

For a moment, your mind pondered over everything. Maybe you shouldn’t have told him. Maybe you should’ve said something when you had the chance.

The thoughts disappeared into the night just as Jungkook did.

You both would’ve found out each other’s secrets sooner or later, would’ve gone through this hell at some point.

After all, you both never kept anything from one another.

____________________________________________________________

A/N,

I’ll probably be posting some little one-shots here and there in-between updates for ἀγάπη just because I have a lot of ideas and things bouncing around in my head and I suck at sticking to a single task, so...sorry in advance. But don’t worry, an update is coming soon!

-Moonie🌙

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madasthesea · 6 years ago

Note

BREAK MEEEEE

Remember how you sent this to me literal months ago??? Here ya go, babe :D

In retrospect, the flash of fear he feels upon seeing Peter lyingmotionless and maskless on the concrete floor is not nearly strong enough. Itshould have taken him out at the knees, his entire world should have fallenaway from him, crumbling and cracking under his feet ready to swallow himwhole.

As it is, all Tony does is hurry over to Peter and shake hisshoulder.

“Come on, kid, nap time’s over,” he bites out, glancing behind himwhere Steve and Nat are waiting at the door. Karen hasn’t alerted him to anyproblems, so he doesn’t even think to worry.

He shakes Peter again.

“Kid?”

The others are looking over at him. Steve walks forward, his browsdrawn low over his eyes as he kneels across from Tony. He glances up at Tonyfor the briefest second before hovering a hand over Peter’s mouth. Then hepresses his fingers to Peter’s neck.

As Steve looks up and solemnly shakes his head, Tony, for thefirst time in his life, wishes he could say that he doesn’t understand. Wisheshe could ask why Peter isn’t moving, why Steve is looking away from him with guiltand pain written all over his face. He wants to be one of those people thatscreams and fights and demands an explanation, demands that Steve check again.He wants to deny it so insistently, so stubbornly, so certainly that the universe has no choice but to listen.

But he knows. He knows.

He can feel it.

Peter’s dead.

Tony falls heavily backward, sitting down hard.

Natasha is suddenly next to him, her hand on his arm.

In his nightmares, Tony has always found that the world ends whenPeter dies. Tony watches him fall, blood and Tony’s name on his lips, and thenthe world stops spinning.

Tony sits and waits for everything to fall to ash around him.

And then he remembers that life is worse than his nightmares.Because Nat and Steve are still looking at him as he sits frozen, staring atPeter’s slack face. They’re expecting him to react, to do something, andeventually he’ll be expected to carry Peter’s body to the quinjet and take itto his aunt and bury him and keep living without Peter there knowing that it’sall his fault.

Please, he thinks.Please give me this one thing. I don’twant to do this anymore.

It’s his fault. There are certain undeniable, universal truths,and Tony has known from the moment he met Peter Parker that if anything happensto him, it would be Tony’s fault.

“Tony?” Nat murmurs and Tony sucks in a breath. He doesn’t look ather.

He knows Peter is beyond hearing him now, but, “Peter,” he whispers.“Peter. Kid.”

Tony reaches forward, his hand trembling slightly as hisfingertips brush Peter’s hair.

Steve gently catches Tony’s wrist, but Tony jerks back, yankinghis hand away. Steve’s face crumples in pain.

“Tony, don’t.”

“Just…,” he trails off, not even sure what he’s going to say.When he speaks again, he hears his voice beak. “Just let me hold him. Please, Iwant to hold him.”

“Tony.” Natasha’s voice is steady, but her eyes are squeezedclosed like she can’t watch.

“Please.”

He knows he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t have his last memory withPeter be cooling skin and stuff limbs, but that’s his kid. His child layinglimp and motionless on the floor and Tony feels some primal need, more instinctualthan fear, more necessary than breathing, to cradle his son one last time.

Finally, Steve relents. “Ok. Ok. Just for a minute.”

Tony scoots forward. He suddenly isn’t quite sure how to touchPeter, where to put his hands. Normally he’d just hold out his arm and Peterwould tuck himself into his side, curl into his space with zero regard to Tony’sprickly façade and halfhearted protests. After a moment of ghosting histrembling fingers across Peter’s chest, he slides his arms under Peter’sshoulders and knees, carefully lifting him and settling him in the spacebetween Tony’s crossed legs.

It is the semblance of tenderness—a perfect vignette of a fatherholding his child—until Peter’s head lolls off Tony’s shoulder at a sickeningangle, his muscles unresisting and loose.

Steve looks away. Natasha covers her mouth with her hand like she istrying to hold in a scream.

Tony’s vision blurs as he looks down at Peter. He can’t stop theflood of concern, of attentive worry. He makes a small shushing sound as headjusts Peter so his head is nestled in the crook of his neck; like a parentcalming an infant.

“Peter,” Tony whispers. He brushes Peter’s hair out of his eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

What else can he say? What would ever make up for the life thatTony has stolen from Peter, all of his potential, all the memories he willnever make? How can Tony tell Peter that the rest of his life will be spent ina grief-laden haze of regret and longing?

A tear falls, landing on Peter’s chest.

“I’m sorry.”

The boy is horribly still against him. Tony pulls him closer as iftrying to keep him warm.

“I-I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Tears are running steadily down Tony’s face, dripping unheeded offhis chin. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t think he’ll ever care about anything everagain.

He finds Peter’s limp hand and delicately tucks it against hischest, covering it with his larger palm. “I’m sorry, Pete.”

It’s the nickname that does it. This is Peter. Tony’s Peter. PeterParker, genius, superhero, who likes pickles on his sandwiches and snores inhis sleep and hums the Star Wars theme under his breath without realizing it. Peter,who, until this moment, was going to be the Avengers’ future, SI’s future, Tony’s future.

In the next moment, Tony’s face screws up and he takes a ragged,gasping breath.

“I’m sorry,” he coughs out, burying his hand more firmly inPeter’s hair, tightening his hold. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

I loveyou, I love you, I love you.

Tony’s shoulders are shaking, sobs tearing through his chest. Hebows his head over Peter’s like he’s praying, like he’s begging.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Please,please, please.

Each breath aches, each repetition of his apology closer to awhimper.

He clutches Peter tight against his chest, presses his lips toPeter’s hairline.

“I’m sorry,” he sobs against Peter’s skin like a brand, aconfession.

Finally, Steve can’t take it any longer. He puts a hand on Tony’sshoulder. It does nothing to ground him, nothing to tear his attention awayfrom the child in his arms.

“Tony,” Steve says. His voice is even, but he’s crying too.

“No.” He doesn’t want to let Peter go. He doesn’t care that he’sgoing to grow cold, he doesn’t care that he’s just clutching a body right now,that everything that made Peter Peter is gone. He wants to stay here, where hecan hold Peter just a little longer.

“Tony, we need to go. Come on, give him to me.” Steve’s voice isgentle. Another tear drops from Tony’s chin and lands on Peter’s suit,darkening the material where it fell.

Tony looks down at Peter. That one stubborn curl is sweepingacross his forehead. Tony winds it loosely around his finger, like he used towhen Peter was just waking up in the morning, when he would squint one eye openand see Tony next to him and instantly relax.

“I’ll carry him,” Tony whispers, tucking the curl back. He kissesPeter’s forehead. “That’s my job, huh, kiddo. I always carry you when you can’twalk.”

“Ok,” Steve says. “Ok.” He helps Tony stand, Peter still in hisarms, and then adjusts his arm so it isn’t hanging limply behind him.

When Tony’s knees almost buckle, Steve holds him up.

He has held up buildings and nuclear bombs and whole entire countrieson his back. Peter’s body is the heaviest thing he’s ever held.

Natasha goes in front, Steve behind. And Tony, in the middle,carries Peter to the quinjet.

When Clint sees their procession, he punches the wall and storms offto the pilot chair. Sam sags where he stands, his eyes instantly closing as ifin pain. Tony ignores all of them.

As the ramp closes, a presence, invisible and inaudible, confusedand concerned, slips on board.

Peter Parker watches as Tony carefully arranges his limbs on acot.

“Mr. Stark,” he tries for the dozenth time. No one hears him.

Part 2

#irondad and spiderson #Tony Stark #Peter Parker #MCU #my writing #fic #brotp: speaking of loyalty #angst #emkayohh

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whalohs · 5 years ago

Text

i’m back with meta.

( and then immediately i hecked up the tags, so deleting and reposting. sorry for the spam! )

let’s look at caleb and jester’s relationship, as mainly a retrospective of where it started. i’m also going to talk about where it has gone since, and how the heck we got here. not particularly shippy unless you ship it already (in which case i hope you enjoy the ship meta), and ready to discuss anything as long as you’re respectful about it.

as always, general disclaimer: for me, it’s more interesting for me to think “[character] would do this because [actions]”, rather than “[character] would do this because [player preferences]”. i can’t claim to know the critical role cast, and i think it does a disservice to their characters if i try to bring them in like that. a weird distinction, i know, but i always think it’s important to mention! i try to distance my meta from the cast, and take the character’s actions by their own merit.

anyway.

for all we joke about how ridiculous jester is or how much caleb was ready to run from the mighty nein, it’s hard to deny these two had a really, really rough start. jester was everything caleb didn’t want in a person, and caleb was someone jester never... really had experience with.

lemme explain, first with caleb’s perspective: caleb is running from trent & the cerberus assembly. the last thing he wanted was to be noticed or seen, let alone get his name out there in any way shape or form - and yet here comes the most silly, obnoxious, ready-to-turn-the-world-upside-down tiefling he has ever met, and he met molly at the same time.

naturally, he hates it. but it runs a deeper than having to travel with someone who doesn’t give a shit about discretion when caleb is discretion personified. i think when we dislike someone, it’s because we see parts of ourselves reflected in them; not necessarily all bad, but parts we have lost, never had, or don’t want to acknowledge.

it’s important to note that while caleb and jester are very different, there are parts that are shockingly similar; caleb started as a very hopeful, bright, and confident young man at the time he entered the assembly, not unlike where jester started in their adventures ( now is a different story, and i’ll get to that later ). they are both stubborn in their ideals and put a lot of faith in the people they care about ( caleb with nott, jester with the traveler, marion, and fjord ).

i would not be surprised if caleb sees a little bit of his younger self in jester. but the conflict occurs where he sees his younger self as a very flawed, terrible individual, while jester is not... that. he simultaneously wants to protect her from becoming jaded (as anyone with experience tends to want to), while also knowing she could make very awful mistakes (like he did) if left alone.

that said! jester is the way she is because she was able to foster her positivity, her hopes, and her ideals in a way that didn’t come and bite her in the ass. so it’s not “jester is caleb pre-development”, and more “jester and caleb are two different results due to different experiences from similar individuals”. unfortunately, caleb can’t think like that with the experiences he’s had, hence all of this.

i think that it’ll make more sense from jester’s perspective: jester’s living conditions weren’t perfect by any means, but they weren’t exactly trauma central, either. she had loving, kind people in her life that allowed her to develop by encouraging what she enjoyed, as opposed to molding her a specific way. again! she was able to grow the strong parts of her personality - her hopes, her positivity, her confidence - in a way that didn’t come and bite her in the ass. she doesn’t regret anything that she did, because she has never had a reason to.

you could say that she doesn’t have enough experience to see the negative consequences of her actions, and i both agree and disagree. experience doesn’t always equate to hardships; while failure is an important part of learning, it is not the only way you learn. caleb is not necessarily more experienced because he suffered negative consequences, but because he experienced more types of consequences.

that said, she is sorely lacking in some experiences! primarily in dealing with people with different wants and opinions than her. having a loving, encouraging, but ultimately sheltered environment likely means she got to have a lot of things her way. and we see a lot of that at the start of the campaign.

so the simplest way to say is: jester has never really had someone who dislikes her for who she is. she has never sat through a level of conflict resolution her and caleb needed, and so in an attempt to do things in the way that made the most sense for her, basically got off on the worst foot.

and so, you know, this goes on for a while. start of campaign two is hilariously turbulent for the both of them. caleb makes nice because he sees the benefit of someone like jester in a party (and not much else), and jester isn’t going to treat caleb any differently than she does anyone else. hence, friction.

then the money conversation / argument / caleb-smears-mud-on-his-face-out-of-spite happens. which i think really was a bigger turning point than we originally thought it would be (because the nature of the fight wasn’t too serious), mostly because caleb took forever to warm up to the party (disclaimer: i love caleb).

it’s interesting because it’s the one of the first times we actually see... any actual conflict involving jester. most people brush jester off as the quirky weirdo at first, and doesn’t take her opinions as seriously as others. that makes sense, and jester is fine with that! but that’s what makes caleb’s reaction to jester basically saying she grew up spoiled really fascinating.

he’s furious, and rightfully so. and caleb back then was keen on making sure he didn’t attract any attention, that unless she really struck a nerve he was just gonna nod and not think about it. but as we saw -- that’s not how it happened. i think he especially felt stung because he tried to help, because she had been distressed, but all of it backfired terribly.

so they fight. they’re upset at each other. caleb smears mud on his face then walks away and i think it hits jester on the head that oh, what she said without thinking really did upset someone, when she hadn’t meant to necessarily make them uncomfortable.

jester, for the limited social experiences she has, is a very empathetic person. it doesn’t take a lot from her to understand why he would have been upset by what she said, once she cares enough to consider it.

the remainder is a gradual, but noticeable change to where we are now; while it’s outdated and my opinions on details have changed, i did write a shorter meta on caleb and jester on an earlier episode point. i think the bulk of it stands true, though, so feel free to read that and then come back!

spoilers: they’re destroying me now.

a few things i did want to add: i think a lot about how out of all of the nein, the main people who notice jester’s slowly dwindling confidence are caleb and caduceus (beau, nott, and fjord notice it too, just in a slightly different way; and yasha is.... bring ashley back 2k19). caduceus pretty much has 3 million in insight so i’ll touch on that later, but fitting caleb in here is interesting!

mostly because he likely, again, experienced that dwindling confidence in finding his place in life, just in a more drastic way than jester; he pretty much hit rock bottom at the start of the campaign! he’s definitely projecting a little, but a lot of relationships are built on people projecting parts of themselves to others; it’s the easiest way to relate to another person.

as an aside: it really is cool, and speaks to his development a ton, that caleb’s motives for helping the party have become a lot more altruistic than when i wrote the post above. he cares about them now, very, very deeply, and i have a lot of thoughts on why! this just isn’t the post for ‘em; maybe next time.

how he comforts her has changed too. before it was a lot of [ throw frumpkin at her and hope it fixes the problem ]; his attempts at bringing the party together were definitely more material in nature, compared to now.

it’s also really, really good to see jester slowly starting to see the “imperfections” in caleb ( the ones that caleb sees, anyway ), and accept them wholeheartedly. again! she is an extremely empathetic person, and once they understood each other it became a lot easier for her to actually provide the support he needed.

it’s the subtle things; less jokes at his expense, and more ridiculous things in general. sharing porn with him because she thinks he’ll like it. and, a surplus of optimism about her outlook on life that seems to affect the top row a ton.

they’re all in love with her. i can tell. that’s okay, jester has two hands and a tail ( i had to ).

so, where are we now? it’s obvious enough to say that they’re friends, good friends at that! they care about each other a lot! caleb makes the softest faces at jester and jester grins so happily at him and they really do have a good thing going.

i think the biggest change in caleb is that he trusts her enough to rely on her for things outside of her abilities. i think a lot about the conversation they had recently after talking to the scourger, and how caleb let himself be comforted by jester instead of denying her attempts completely. it speaks to the level of emotional vulnerability he is comfortable showing to the group now.

that said: i definitely consider jester to be the group baseline for caleb. liam has mentioned multiple times that out of all of the nein, jester is the one person who he doesn’t want to share his past with. which, again, given the juxtaposition in their upbringing, makes a lot of sense!

but the fact that he’s willing to be vulnerable with someone he didn’t want to be vulnerable is huge. the fact that he doesn’t see her optimism and ridiculousness as a weakness for the group, and instead looks to use them as strengths (how they use polymorph is a huge example) is very different than beginning-of-campaign caleb.

the biggest change in jester is that her worldview has expanded to understand what caleb needs, and how that might be different than what she needs. it wasn’t as huge strides for jester as it was for caleb, but i think that makes sense! a lot of jester’s development is internal, and reflects a lot about what she thinks of herself, whereas caleb’s development has been very external, and how he is beginning to view the people around him ( and allowing himself to be viewed ).

but still! it’s huge! jester has two decades of solving problems a certain way, and being told that that way was all that she needed; but her ability to listen, comfort, and provide insight in ways that others in the group can’t thanks to her unique world view really helped shaped the types of conversations she had with him.

a really, really simple way to say this is that jester started taking caleb a lot more seriously. which i think is hilarious, because you’d think that’d be more fitting for caleb’s thoughts on jester. but once she started reaching out to him to understand, the tone of their relationship changed. it seems less caleb-indulges-jester-on-nonsense and two equals who indulge each other on ridiculous nonsense, if that makes sense?

oh that said: i do attribute a lot of caleb’s relationship changes with the party to the fact that he went through a lot of external development. definitely not the place for that here, maybe i’ll come back to it some day.

well i’m back and surprising no one i wrote like 2k words on critical role so welcome back, me. i’m rusty and rambly and i may have written things here that aren’t as poignant as i wish it was, so please forgive me if anything seems off!

#critical role #jester lavorre #caleb widogast #the mighty nein #widojest #sure lets tag the ship why not #not particularly shippy though #just good ol character analysis #anyway i love them #i wrote all this in one sitting then never saved it #so we're really living life on the edge today #yolo #meta meta meta #what if i didn't suck at tagging #why is tumblr so hard

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burned-to-the-void · 5 years ago

Text

Siegemas Day 17

My prompt: “Everyone shut up and pretend to be happy.”

A pre-Christmas team dinner for GIGN, basically. Or, a tiny step in the process of being accepted.

2.4K words, G rated, no content warnings apply.

Thank you again @dualrainbow for giving me the opportunity to participate!!💙 I hope you guys enjoy my contribution to this wonderful event, and please go check their blog to read more from other talented writers if you haven’t yet, you won’t regret!

🎄 Happy Holidays, everyone ;)

~*~

Twitch leans forward with her hands on the counter, inspecting the food for the umpteenth time despite the fact she knows that everything is up to her standard, which can be considered a synonym for perfection. She has pestered Rook, who volunteered to help her preparing the food, enough times to ensure that. The pâté lorrain smells wonderful, just as her grandma’s used to do, and the roasted turkey, stuffed with plump chestnuts, looks almost heaven-sent with its skin crispy and glistening with rich fat. The desserts are already set on the plates―except for the chocolate mousse that’s still being chilled in the fridge―dazzling in their various colors and shapes.

Really, there is no reason to feel this nervous, it’s just another dinner with her teammates, not a cooking competition. No one is going to point out even if there is something that’s less than perfect, not even Lion would be that blunt.

He's really coming, isn't he. Reminded of the real reason behind her worry, Twitch has to suppress the urge to bury her face in her palms and groan, a bit over-dramatic as she's prone to be.

Inviting him didn’t seem like a bad idea, in the beginning. It’s not Lion himself that she'd like to avoid, it’s the inevitable tension that charges the air like static electricity when him and Doc are in each other’s vicinity, one that she can't help but pick up like a overly sensitive radar, putting her on edge as well. When Doc isn’t involved she has a nice working relationship with Lion, although they rarely interact in more personal settings, making today an unlikely exception.

It was Montagne who suggested that she should invite one more person to the team dinner, which she had meticulously planned out so they can celebrate together before they part ways to spend the actual Christmas with their respective families. Sensing her hesitation, he assured her that he'd have a talk with both of them in advance and personally see to it that they remain civil during the dinner, and this earnest promise from the most reliable man she’s ever known had been enough to persuade her.

Had been, that is, until some assholes decided to celebrate their holiday by threatening the local community with a thrilling promise of random bomb attacks, causing mass panic in the area, and along with several other operators Montagne was picked out to go and intervene. He tried to apologize before he leave, to which Twitch only shook her head because it wasn't his fault terrorists didn't give a shit about other people's holiday plans. But now that the drama of the evening is about to unfold, without him to defuse the situation if the things get heated, she can’t help but lament his absence a little.

“It’s going to be okay,” says Rook, bumping his shoulder with hers lightly, and places a tray of newly baked plum jam cookies on the counter. His eyes linger on them a bit too longingly, and Twitch sighs.

“I envy your optimism. You can have one now if you want, we’re one man short anyway.”

“Well, if you say so,” he grins, and reaches directly for the one that's practically oozing with ruby-red jam, as if he was just waiting for the cue. Twitch is opening her mouth to comment on it but that is the exact moment when the doorbell starts to ring, so she just rolls her eyes and hurries past him to greet the guest.

Doc is standing by the door, the tips of his ears reddened by the cold air but otherwise immaculate from head to toe, with a toned down blue scarf that actually matches the color of his coat, a feat not many men can achieve. Once again Twitch is reminded that without the near perpetual look of bone-deep tiredness he makes a strikingly handsome figure, even to eyes that are uninterested by principle.

Also, surprisingly, he isn't alone.

"We're not too late, are we?" To his credit, Doc's smile doesn't even look that much strained, despite his company.

"You two came together?" Twitch has to ask, blinking up at the hunched form of Lion who is tailing behind Doc, and for the lack of better word, sulking. Doc shakes his head with a chuckle.

"God, no. I just caught him fidgeting in front of the door."

"I didn't fidget," Lion mutters a protest, clearly still fidgeting. Doc, his smile somehow both sympathetic and smug, doesn't bother a reply but Lion glares at him as if he's heard one anyway. Twitch hastily beckons them inside to break the tension before it has a chance to develop.

Doc gives Twitch a quick hug on his way in, careful not to press her against the cold surface of his coat, and brushes past her into the dining room. When it's Lion's turn they both stare at each other, unsure, until he shoves a bottle of wine into her hand, almost as an afterthought.

"Thought I'd bring a gift," Lion explains with a sheepish expression.

"Thanks," Twitch arches her eyebrow, caught by surprise, albeit a pleasant one. Lion nods, looking satisfied, and follows Doc before she can find any more words to add.

"Mmm, something smells wonderful in here," Doc comments, taking his gloves off and rubbing his cold hands together.

"Hey, guys," Rook sticks his head out from the kitchen, oblivious to the fact he's got some cookie crumbs on the corner of his mouth. "And no, everything smells wonderful in here, we really put a lot of effort into it this year. Especially the desserts."

"I can tell," Doc deadpans, but not without a hint of indulgent smile, and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt to help them with the last of the preparation. He's no stranger to her kitchen, after all. Lion hovering near the counter, on the other hand, definitely is, so Twitch ushers him to the table and points down at one of the chairs.

"Sit," she orders, which he follows without any complaint.

"He's only playing nice because it's you, you know," Doc grumbles to her, when they're left alone in the kitchen by chance. Twitch only snorts.

"So, it's a bad thing that he respects me enough to listen to me?"

"Well… no," he admits reluctantly, adding sauce over the plate of oven-baked trout fillet with a skilled flick of his wrist. Twitch steals a glance at the table, where Rook is trying to make a small talk with Lion, although it's impossible to tell about what, and more importantly how smoothly, from where she's standing. Lion is drumming his fingers against the table, feigning collected boredom, while his whole posture screams tension. Not used to saying yes to personal invitations, her brain provides. When he did, he must have had no idea that Montagne, his social bridge when it comes to team dynamic, would be missing from the scene.

"Try to give him a chance, Gus. Just for tonight."

Doc's fingers falter, in the middle of putting up the garnish, but only for a split second. When he answers his voice comes out soft and pensive.

“For tonight,” he agrees, and Twitch lets herself hope that maybe, just maybe this evening won't end as poorly as she had imagined.

~*~

In retrospect, hope rarely does anyone a favor.

With the help of warm, quality food and a few glasses of wine, Lion slowly loosens up, looking less out of place, his answers not so clipped anymore. He participates in the conversation without being pressed to, although his smiles are still rare and fleeting, and as the host Twitch could have counted it as a victory, was it not for the way―

"Your claim here is outrageous, Kateb," Lion blurts out, cutting her off from her thoughts, and at this point, she neither knows nor gives a fuck what their current argument is about, or who started it this time. No point in keeping the score when they're so determined to make it a tie.

"I have statistics to back me up, and I might have shared them with you if you weren't such a stubborn asshole," Doc replies, his enunciation precise, but Twitch knows it's just because he's putting extra effort not to slur. Lion growls, unfailingly rising to the bait.

"Statistics can be flawed, more so when they're taken from the field. Too many variables."

"Actually, they're from the lab. Admit you’re wrong, it really is more fatal than a heart attack. The survival rate is almost―"

Across the table, Rook shares a pained look with Twitch. This semi-drunk, almost childish bickering has been going for god-knows-how-long over several different subjects now, changing the topic only serving as a temporary solution, and while it's better than the full-scale war they usually wage against each other, it's still giving her a migraine. She drinks what's left in her glass nonstop and sets it down with more force than she has to. It's not like they would notice anyway. Her phone buzzes from her pocket, signalling an incoming call. Twitch fishes it out in a heartbeat, eager for anything to distract her from this.

"It's Gilles," she announces, which goes largely unheard amidst the raging debate. Calmly, she takes a deep breath and slams her fist on the table, hard, making all of the plates and glasses shudder and clatter in their places. Instantly three sets of eyes fly up to her, stunned, but finally no one is using their mouth for purposes other than gaping. Good.

“I said, it's Gilles on the phone, and I’m gonna pick up now, so everyone shut up and pretend to be happy.” Just before tapping on the receive button, she adds a belated please, which does nothing to soften the blow.

Lion is the first to recover from the shock, and he gets up from his seat to exit the dining room altogether, huffing out loud. Twitch directs her gaze toward Doc, who is adamantly not meeting her eyes, his face flushed with mild embarrassment. Rook, of all people, is the only one who looks vaguely apologetic.

"Gilles!" She answers, aiming for the bright tone and probably failing, and puts him on speaker. "Glad you called, I was planning to check up on you. The mission went pretty smooth, I heard?"

"Oh, better than smooth. Turned out they were just a bunch of amateurs. The bombs wouldn't have even detonated properly, Monika said. The actual hard part was dealing with the panicked citizens, wanting to know if the packages they've just got can be timebombs in gift wrappers."

Twitch hums sympathetically, the mental image of people swarming up to IQ demanding she should take a look at their present boxes with her detecting device―that may even contain questionable items, only that they’re not bombs―vivid in her head. Doc and Rook scoot closer to add their own hellos, and Montagne is quick to notice the absence.

“I take it Olivier couldn’t make it?” he asks, and at his troubled tone Rook jumps in hurriedly to correct him.

“No, he's here. He just went to kitchen to fetch, uh, something.”

“He is?” Montagne sounds surprised, but also genuinely pleased, probably seeing the fact he didn't bail out as a personal progress, and would be terribly disappointed to find out he is still, to some degree, trying to. Twitch feels she has no choice but to jump into the lion’s den herself.

“Yeah, I’ll go and see what’s taking him so long,” she mutters and picks herself up from her seat to follow him outside.

She's ready to drag him in by force if needed, nevermind the solid thirty kilograms he has on her, but she hasn’t expected him to be actually heading back in, and almost bumps into him in the doorway. Lion takes a step back, quick apology on his lips.

“Gilles wants to talk with you,” Twitch informs him, but it comes out as an accusation. Lion, having no problem recognizing it, just nods along.

"I just needed to get some fresh air, before I go back to pretending I'm enjoying this... new-found peace treaty with our doctor," he smiles darkly, earning himself an incredulous stare.

“You call that peace?”

“Compared to what we normally do? Yes. We’re talking and not hating each other’s guts for once,” he shrugs, as Twitch steps aside to let him in.

“Whatever you say, but keep it down a notch. I’m positive my ears are bleeding by now.”

He does have a point though, so Twitch is willing to let the conversation slip as it is, but the way he casts his glance down and frowns suggests he has more to say, so she chooses to wait, despite the chilly air.

“I want to… thank you, for inviting me. I know I’m not the most welcomed person in house parties.”

Considering the context, his following smile could be more bitter, but it remains neutral. Not really self-deprecating, just stating what he’s accepted as a fact. The attitude suits him, Twitch thinks. Sharp and precise assessment delivered in the bluntest way possible, applied even to himself.

“No problem. The more the merrier, isn’t it? And cooking for one more isn’t that much of inconvenience,” she replies, and smiles as a thought crosses her mind. “You’re not that bad, as a guest. See, you're the only one with who brought gift today."

Lion makes an noncommittal noise at that, looking skeptical, and yes, maybe that only means he is still a guest in this house, when rest of them is a family, but it's a starting point, one that now Twitch is determined to make the most of it. And the thing about acquired family is, they all started from ground zero.

“Let’s go back in, poor Gilles must be thinking either we lied to him, or that you ran away. And in case you’re considering it, you’re not going anywhere before you try the desserts.”

"I wouldn't dare," Lion chuckles, and opens the door to the dining room. After a short break, the air feels pleasantly warm, overflowing with the rich smell of butter, chocolate, and cinnamon. It seems like Rook has begun to set out all the desserts, ever the enthusiast, while Doc has been keeping Montagne's company. Twitch momentarily forgets to announce their return, in favor of soaking in every detail of the scene, from the way the soft, golden light makes everyone's face glow in the same hue, to the sound of their shared laughter, feeling so fiercely right in place―and hopes one day, if not today, it would be the same for Lion as well.

#rainbow six siege #r6s #r6s twitch #r6s rook #r6s doc #r6s lion #r6s montagne #fan fiction #siegemas 2019

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poetzproblem · 5 years ago

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Posting the expanded snippet of the forever unfinished evolution by request of @dr-tan, who has been so nicely reviewing all my old fics.

It was previously posted as dialogue only. Under the cut.

“I just can’t believe you were kissing her in the middle of our room like that.”

“Rachel,” Quinn attempts, half sigh and half plea, but her unformed apology is cut off by a rush of accusations and jerky hand gestures.

“You should have let me know she was going to be here. I shouldn’t have to walk in on…on things like that.”

Quinn frowns, not understanding where Rachel’s offended attitude is coming from. Sure, it had been awkward and uncomfortable for her to walk in on Quinn and Megan in the middle of a kiss, but it’s not like they were doing it on Rachel’s bed. It wasn’t even all that hot and heavy. Unfortunately, Quinn understands her own slightly pathetic need to offer an apologetic explanation to Rachel all too well. “I didn’t know she was coming over. She wanted to talk about…”

“That didn’t look like talking, Quinn,” Rachel cuts her off with a frown of her own. Crossing her arms, she glances away, reluctant to meet Quinn’s eyes as she continues to talk. “But it’s f-fine. She’s gorgeous. Of course you’d want to…to kiss her.” Rachel shakes her head before finally returning her gaze to Quinn. “I just didn’t think she was really your type.”

“I don’t even know if I have a type.” That’s a lie. She has a type, and it’s standing right in front of her, but she still hasn’t mustered up the courage to admit that to Rachel and make their friendship weird right when she needs it most. “Megan is the first girl I’ve even gone out with. I’m still kind of new at this, Rachel.”

“So you thought you’d let Megan break you in?”

The unexpected sarcasm hits her like a slap in the face, fraying the edges of her temper. “God, what is your problem?” she demands, wanting to know where all of Rachel’s supposed support of her newfound sexual identity has suddenly gone. “Megan is exactly the second girl I’ve kissed, and the first one doesn’t count because it was Santana! Am I not allowed to act on my sexuality? Am I supposed to just spend the rest of my life alone and miserable?”

And pining for you? she thinks morosely.

Rachel’s entire demeanor changes in the blink of an eye—shame and regret instantly washing away the defensiveness. Her arms drop to her sides and her eyes grow wide and wounded. “No, of course not. But you shouldn’t just…just jump at the first girl who shows any interest in you. You deserve to be with someone who loves you, Quinn,” she explains almost plaintively. “Someone who knows you…and…and respects you. N-not a girl who…however, nice she may be…is a self-proclaimed flirt. I mean, she even tried to pick me up when we met.”

Quinn remembers, and she remembers Rachel claiming she was flattered but wholly uninterested—right before she’d rushed out to meet that guy from her acting class. “It doesn’t matter, Rachel, because I’m not even that into her. Okay?” In fact, it’s the reason Meg had come over to talk. She’d wanted to apologize for pushing too hard and fast with Quinn on their date, and Quinn had admitted that she wasn’t really ready for a physical relationship just yet—at least not with Meg.

“Then why did you even kiss her?”

“Why do you care?” Quinn fires back in frustration. The kiss with Meg had been more of a goodbye than anything, but it really shouldn’t matter to Rachel. Unless…

“Because I…I care about you, okay?” Rachel stutters out, growing defensive once again. “Megan isn’t right for you?”

Quinn silently agrees, but, “You don’t know that.”

“Yes! I do!” Rachel exclaims, pressing a hand over her own chest. “I know it because I know you, Quinn…and…and I know you’re not just looking for some random hookup. Deep down, you’re just as much of a romantic as I am, and you…you want to be wooed and…and fall in love…and have someone fall in love with you, all of you, the good and the bad and the…the bitchy, and to see how beautiful you are, inside and out.” With every impassioned word, Rachel’s eyes glisten more and more—or maybe it’s Quinn eyes that are glistening. “You want someone to talk with and fight with, someone who believes in you and…and challenges you. Someone to hold you when you cry and…and live for your smile. Someone who will stand proudly beside you no matter what life throws in your way. You deserve that, Quinn,” she says, voice trembling with conviction—and something else that Quinn prays to God she isn’t imagining. “You deserve all of that, and I wish…God, I wish…”

Rachel cuts herself off, agitatedly wiping at the obvious moisture beneath her eyes.

“What? What do you wish?” Quinn begs, afraid to hope—but God! That speech is everything that Quinn has ever wanted to hear. It’s everything she feels about Rachel so perfectly summarized that it has to be impossible for Rachel to be describing anyone else but herself. She carefully reaches out to take Rachel’s hand between her own. “Please…Rachel?”

Rachel’s tearful gaze meets hers. She looks a little lost, a little afraid, more than a little bit hopeful, and when she finally answers Quinn’s plea, the words are all but whispered. “I wish I could be that person.”

Quinn lifts her free hand to cup Rachel’s cheek, brushing away a stray tear with her thumb. “Rachel.” The name is both exhalation and exaltation. “You already are.”

Rachel’s breath hitches, and her eyes widen in wonder. The look she’s giving Quinn is—it’s that look; the one Quinn has been dreaming of seeing directed at her for nearly a year. There’s really no way she can even try to resist kissing Rachel, so she doesn’t.

And Rachel doesn’t stop her.

The first brush of their lips is soft, tentative and careful. It’s an answered prayer, a benediction, a veneration. It’s that moment when the first car of the roller coaster crests the hill and hovers for an instant a hundred stories high in anticipation of the big drop, all swooping stomachs and fluttering hearts. And then it drops—

A soft moan vibrates against Quinn’s lips, and it doesn’t matter if it’s Rachel’s or her own, because Rachel tilts her head just so and deepens the kiss, and just like that, Quinn’s world explodes in a rush of adrenalin. It’s thrilling and passionate and addictive and even better than she’d ever imagined, and she never wants it to end. It’s only the eventual need for oxygen that reluctantly parts them.

Rachel inhales on a shuddering breath—her arms wrapped tightly around Quinn’s waist. “Tell me this is really happening, that I’m not just dreaming this,” she murmurs in awe.

A breathless laugh escapes Quinn, because she wants to ask Rachel the same thing. “I don’t know. I’ve been having this dream for so long.”

“You never told me.” And she sounds so bereft about it.

In retrospect, Quinn realizes that she’s been so fucking stupid. But really? “How did you not figure it out?” There have been so many moments when Quinn had been certain that she’d failed to mask her feelings.

“Because you’re Quinn Fabray,” Rachel answers like it should be obvious, “and I’m….I’m just…”

“Everything,” Quinn supplies before Rachel can start doubting herself. “You’re everything, Rach. Beautiful. Talented. Caring. Stubborn. Exasperating.” Rachel frowns at that, but Quinn only smiles. “And so, so perfect for me. I’m so in love with you.”

Rachel’s eyes widen again, and she gasps. “You…you love me?”

That makes Quinn crash down from her euphoric haze pretty quickly, and her hold on Rachel loosens. “Is it…is it too soon?” she asks before realizing how stupid her own question is. They’d just kissed for the first time, for heaven’s sake! “It is, isn’t it?” she worries. It’s just like her to immediately screw up a good thing. She should have just been happy to finally have a chance with Rachel—enjoyed the moment and not rushed it. “I shouldn’t have said it…”

“No,” Rachel hurriedly exclaims. “I mean, yes. Yes,” she quickly amends. “You absolutely should say it. I love you too, Quinn. I do.” She hugs Quinn closer, and Quinn’s heart practically bursts out of her chest. Rachel loves her! “I don’t know how or when it happened,” Rachel continues earnestly. “I only know that I’ve never felt this way about anyone. Like I always want be close to you. Like your happiness means more to me than anything…and just knowing that you’re happy makes me happy. Like we just…fit.” Her eyes are filled with so much tender affection that Quinn can’t doubt for a moment that she means it.

“We do. I…I feel it, too.” She has for a while now. “I love you.”

It feels so good to finally say it—she can’t believe that she waited so long.

#devolution #evolution #dr-tan

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kinetic-elaboration · 6 years ago

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February 2: Kane/Abby, Blunt

Ark era, pre-Kabby, and if you consider the scripts canon I fudged their ages a little.

~500 words

When Marcus sees Abby's name on the candidate list for the open Council seat, he smiles, the sort of patronizing half-smile she'd hate if she could see. Abby Griffin on the Council. He doesn't see that happening. Not that it would hurt him if it did: he's not up for re-election himself, and as the Vice-Chancellor, he has a bit more power than any freshman member could hope for, old childhood friend or no. But still. It's a distant hypothetical anyway.

Abby Griffin.

He smiles again, then shakes his head and bites down hard on the corner of his lip.

The problem isn't that she's incapable, because he knows that she's smart and she's tough, not the type to be swallowed up by Ark politics, like he's seen happen to ambitious candidates before. It's that she's... blunt. Too blunt. Incurably stubborn. And not one to play by the rules. A potentially toxic, potentially dangerous combination of traits.

He knows she's one to speak, precisely and unhesitatingly, whatever is on her mind, because they were in school together all through their adolescence and once, when he was seventeen and she was sixteen, he worked up the courage to ask her out on a date. And in turn, she gave him a shocked and wide-eyed look, as if briefly scandalized, and then said, "No, I don't think that will work," just like that. It had been a bit of a blow. Nothing that matters now: it's been over fifteen years. She's married, and Marcus himself came to her wedding. What stings in retrospect is not the rejection but the sense, afterward, that he should have seen it coming, not just the no but the manner in which it was given: simple and without regret or apology, exactly what he would have said himself, if he were her.

He tries to picture her now in the Council chambers, sitting across from him, unreadable. Even after all these years, she is so often unreadable to him. She will sit with her hands folded on top of the table, leaning toward each speaker in turn, forming her opinions so inscrutably and so precisely that when she speaks at last, he will think, oh of course, the Abby I've known so long—but in the moment before, he would be as helpless as a blind man trying to read her face.

This is the sense in which Abby Mayfield has never let him go.

How she so frustrates him, almost infuriates him sometimes, how he can never bring himself to feel anything but respect for no, I don't think that will work, and every other impasse they have reached between them since.

He glances down the rest of the candidate list.

She is the best choice, without doubt. But with her sharp, persistent, obstinance, her compulsive candid nature—a bluntness that is not honesty, that is not beyond the ability to obscure or even to deceive—no. He just can't see her making it to that empty seat in the Council room.

#kabby #marcus kane #abby griffin #marcus x abby #the 100 #sort of a stretch to call this kabby but it's abt their relationship #mine #my writing #the year 2019 #2019: free write #all pair challenge

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the-sky-fell-blossoms · 5 years ago

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Not as Easy the Second Time Round [NESTR] (Part 2)

I found myself at work after that intrusion. It was a welcome distraction after baring myself in front of a stranger. There was only one person I'd ever consider thinking about doing something so unnecessary with, and he was proving to be exceptionally hard to get in touch with.

Jihuyn always made it a habit of probing me for anything on my mind. No matter how irrelevant it may be to me in my opinion. He’s always had accurate hunches in regards to how I was feeling, often before I even began to feel it myself. Now, when I've never been more confused, it was morbidly poetic he's nowhere to be seen. I constantly found myself in need of one of our talks. One without a tape recorder and false pleasantries. Jihuyn would tell me everything wrong with me. Give me vague and sentimental advice, I wouldn't know where to begin with following. He'd pat my shoulder and smile warmly. Although debatably useless, the comfort from the teal haired man made up for that in leaps and bounds.

I, in return, would let Jihyun know when he's being too emotional. Give a practical approach to the problems the soft-hearted Jihuyn put himself into. Tell him point-blank he's being stubborn or ridiculous. Ironically it was him who was the more close-minded out of the two of us. I would relent when proven wrong. Jihuyn often chose to hang on tighter to his own stance and dig himself into a worse situation than necessary.

I sighed, or maybe it was a groan. Even a glass of wine wasn't taking the edge off tonight.

Usually, on nights like these, I'd open the Chatroom. I'd open the app and there'd be a new update waiting for me. Luciel insisted that maintenance was his highest priority, he would never let work get in the way. Years ago he claimed not to be a liar nor fool when it came to things so serious as a possible threat. I would take every update as proof as such. Although annoying when I was planning on sharing an update of my own to Assistant Kang and inappropriate when something important needed to be discussed regarding the RFA. It was at least a testimony that Luciel did take his responsibility for the RFA seriously.

I didn't tonight however, I was spending less and less time online. I remained oblivious to this fact until I was graced with a call from MC. Claiming everyone was concerned by my disappearance. More so than Yoosung's.

That made sense. What right did I have to mourn more than someone who's lost both their best friend and their cousin in the same year? Luciel was someone I met who happened to share a common goal. Although, the RFA was a family and treated themselves as such. To Luciel they must have had such an estranged relationship. Second to none but the one the redhead shared with my own Assistant.

The connection Luciel had with Yoosung, it was palpable. You saw it in both of their eyes, although they held vastly different things. I often prided myself on being able to read those around me. It was obvious there was more there. The subtext in Yoosung's words. There was no way the older of the two missed that. I was certain even the newcomer MC felt it after only a day although she said nothing. It would have been a pleasant relationship. Luciel would have never smiled more than teasing Yoosung for kisses and hugs, Yoosung would have accepted whatever he felt without looking back and made him feel that he was needed at every turn.

I stared down at my drink in deep thought. Yoosung indeed had better justification in his mourning. I'll have to make a note to pay him a visit. Perhaps out to dinner. Yoosung would never refuse an invitation to free food. Maybe while out I'll take the opportunity to talk to him about working for me in the near future. Luciel would be pleased to know the blonde wasn't left to wallow on his own again. When Rika left us, Luciel was away with work, not returning until just before the funeral. His return mere days before and he didn’t even seem aware of the passing. He immediately asked for Yoosung. They drove together to the funeral later that week. Comforted him, or at least attempted to after he got into a screaming match with his mother at the reception. There was only one time that entire night he ever left the boy’s side. It was to speak with Jihyun and I.

Everything today went back to one of the two. Jihuyn… Luciel. My thoughts recently indulged in clear bias. It is hard not to think about them, however. When Rika passed and Jihuyn started his disappearance act, it was the same.

The only difference is I’m not as sure I should be mourning at all. At first, I did, blinded by loss and the news that Luciel had not been retrieved when Prime Minister Choi was brought into custody. All I could think was the worst. Everything was spinning and it was as if I was suffocating. Luciel was gone. The man I watched grow all those years. He was taken from us. I stood there trying not to let emotions, I didn't know were coming, take over. My breath through my nose short and hectic.

It had, indeed, been a hard time.

But after a week, I got a sudden call from Yoosung. Whatever spirited him to do such a thing was beyond me. What willed me to answer, even more so. "You… Understand. I saw it on your face. Seven always teased that reading you was easy if you get a feel for how you looked when you actually couldn't care less. And Venn diagrammed your faces. I didn't get it, but then… at that moment when they told us… I think I got it."

I said nothing. What Luciel joked about to Yoosung was none of my concern, nor why. How you would even go about following his inane instructions wasn't at all a can of worms I wanted to indulge in either. How I came up in conversation. There were no topics to touch on. I wanted no part in acting like a widow, reminiscing. I didn't want to remember.

"I really miss him…" I steadied my breathing, that week I had buried myself in my work and pathetically called Jihyun. Perhaps by the hour. "He always said he'd be gone, that- that he might not make it to see the end of the year." Yoosung was crying, I couldn't bring myself to end the conversation or change the subject. I sat there at my desk like a fool listening to the boy bare his heart to me in some desperate attempt for connection. "He always said not to worry, that we should keep going, be happy, and keep going even if… I just miss him so much."

"I do too." I do not know what possessed me to say that, but I kept going. "No one could have known this was going to happen. Not even Luciel." Had he known he wouldn't have been taken.

"No." He chuckled, even through a sob, "he just thought he was talking about leaving forever. I told him we'd help him, everyone in the RFA would. If anything happened. But we couldn't. We tried, everyone, even Saeran. So why…"

I paused at this. "He… was very adamant about protecting everyone no matter what. Were something to happen, he'd take any measure."

"Yeah…"

After that, I let him go on about anything that came to mind, classes, how everyone was keeping up, Saeran. I didn't say much at all, but he seemed not to notice. Or perhaps he didn't care. He didn't come to me when Rika had her time, and Jihuyn would have mentioned it if he had given him the same treatment I was receiving. He said i understood, that he saw. But even in retrospect, I have nothing to have any kind of understanding on.

It was troublesome to dwell on. But I'd be forever thankful for that call. It gave me some kind of hope. Luciel had training, means and years of resources. They had not found a body and Prime Minister Choi had admitted to nothing.

I reminded myself of this, though foolish to keep faith in such a small, minute, possibility. It was a possibility. Until the day I identify a body. It's a possibility.

It is a possibility I found myself resigned too. I am not personally one for betting, but Luciel proved himself to always be a safe one.

…………

He was there again, this time by himself. He stood in the door frame in a hoodie that seemed much too big for him. It did nothing to make him seem more comfortable or fool the CEO into thinking he wanted to be here. If anything he looked like he was barely holding in a sigh when the man opened the door. He was tired but tried hard not to slouch, his expression cold and unimpressed by the other. Which was not unwarranted, Jumin had just gotten home from work and was reasonably disheveled. Company had not been on his mind that night. Though from the other’s expression it probably wasn’t on his either. He stepped out of the way wordlessly and let the smaller male in, pulling at his tie with intentions of removal, preferably. He’ll regret his lack of manners later, after he had a drink. The silent gesture luckily didn’t go unnoticed, after a moment his guest stepped in and made a B-line for the couch. For the best.

Jumin stepped back in and went to the kitchen to fetch what seemed to be two minutes overdue. “Is there anything you would like? I remember you had opted out of a glass last time you were over.” He said pouring a glass for himself. Fortunately, his fatigue had not made him forget all manners.

“No.” He looked over through his wire glasses. His golden eyes just as piercing from here. They kept eye contact for a short while before Jumin pulled away and sat with him across the couch, bottle and glass in hand. He seemed to tense as the ravenette got closer. Watching as if there was a chance he’d pounce at any second, Jumin made no reaction to this, however, simply taking off his jacket and sitting down with practiced elegance. He still felt the other’s eyes on him but he simply sat quietly and put his drink to his lips.

They sat like that for a while, Jumin didn’t mind, however. It was perhaps what he was going to do anyway, he was thankful that he wasn’t being distracted from his alone time. Luciel seemed more than happy to sit there and stare until dismissed, and while he did not want it, the company was not despised. He was most likely in a good mood or maybe just in the mood to drink and be stared at.

By his third drink, however, Luciel seemed antsy. And while Jumin usually couldn’t care less normally. He was feeling talkative, and he was interested as to why the boy paid him a visit tonight. The wine doing its job of loosening him up.

“Why are you here?” Didn’t mean he was any less blunt, however. He still kept in the back of his mind that Luciel was a guest but all parts of his mind slipped into parts they didn’t belong. Constantly fixing the leaks before talking is a skill he is well versed in though.

He nodded his head as if thinking of how to answer, his curly bangs shifting lightly over his hooped glasses. He seemed pensive, as if he really didn’t want to say the wrong thing, somehow sitting up straighter, his hand gripping at the velvet of the couch. “V said I should see you. I don’t really know why.” He cut himself off prematurely. He obviously had more to say. Jumin was getting a better feel for the boy, or at least when he was uncomfortable, a constant state for the boy. But he seemed well adapt to silence. So Jumin just took another drink and decided it was best to continue.

“I spoke to V shortly on my way home. The conversation had no real subject, but he seemed interested in when I got in. I should have suspected something sooner... “ It was a short conversation, Jihyun hung up as soon as he got the estimate. There was really no time to question his behavior. “

“I believe he wants us to bond for some unforeseen cause.”

“Perhaps I’m secretly a clone gone wrong, or an illegitimate child.” The redhead mutters to himself, in all honesty, Jumin was surprised he answered at all. He finished his glass and hummed in thought at the statement.

“Well, there was this one time I decided to indulge in a commoner stylist. There is no telling what they did with the snippets… and there was the one time when I was five and had my first sip of wine… That night was rather blurry. How old are you again?”

“I’m 17…” Jumin looked him over. He looked much younger than that. He almost didn’t believe him. Luciel hardly seemed surprised at someone openly studying him. “My birthday is pretty soon.”

“Ah, sometime in the summer?”

“Yeah…” He seemed uncomfortable, whether it was about his age or his birthday, wasn’t certain, but Jumin took note. Leaning forward towards him Jumin squinted as if looking for something he found in the other’s eyes after a moment.

“So it’s possible.” He whispered as if telling him a secret.

Luciel blinked caught off guard for a moment. Jumin could tell the second the joke had registered in his head. The beginning of a smile ghosted over the smaller male’s lips before he turned away and muffled a laugh, which was also taken into note by the older man. After a pause, he turned back once again expressionless. “Very.” In one word he lost all the tension in his shoulders. Oddly enough, Jumin also felt himself lean back.

No, he didn’t mind the unexpected company at all. He’d sooner die than admit this to Jihyun, alcohol speaking or not.

#Mystic messenger #mm jumin #mm luciel #juciel #jumin x Luciel #jumin x 707 #jumin han #luciel choi

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asterythm · 6 years ago

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of delirium and dandelions // 1.1: e = mc scared

Title: Of Delirium and Dandelions Pairing: N/A Word Count: 2.5k Chapter Summary: In which a plan is proposed to an unwilling partner. General Summary: Ah -- what a shame. Patton's gotten his new apron dirty, and dried bloodstains are just so difficult to wash out, you see. Warnings: insanity, threats, blackmailing, blood, needles (the sewing kind), absolutely atrocious pacing, italics abuse

In retrospect, the signs had all been there — that is, signs that today would not be exactly like other days. They had just been too slight to notice unless one was actively looking for them.

Unfortunately for him, Logan had not been looking.

But they were undeniably there. The air had held a certain quality of heaviness so that every breath was not quite enough to satisfy. A metallic tang hung on the tail end of every word he’d exchanged with Virgil that morning. The subtlest notes of apprehension laced the walls and floor like a thread of fragile fairy lights, barely there unless you were looking for them, blinking out an unsteady tune: dot-dot-dot/dash-dash-dash/dot-dot-dot. It was almost as if the mindscape itself had known what was coming, and was trying to warn them in its own abstract way.

Alas; poor Logan hadn’t caught the hazy messages of the mindscape. One might be inclined to wonder what might have happened if he had, but the fact remained unchangeable that he simply had not. It was quite useless to cling to might-haves.

So what exactly did happen? Now that, my dear, is a fine question.

xxx

Logan flipped yet another page of his novel, a bored expression on his face. Although the cover had advertised a thrilling horror story, Logan had discovered rather quickly that the contents of the story did not meet his expectations. A compelling plot had been destroyed by watering it down with too many words and not nearly enough action. Logan wasn’t finding himself to be too fond of the writing.

So when he heard Patton come in, he was grateful for the distraction. Of course, he didn’t want to let it show too much — he didn’t want Patton to think that it would always be acceptable behaviour to interrupt him when he was in the midst of reading.

“Hello, Patton. Do you require something from me?” He asked, not looking up from his novel, the very definition of cool indifference. Logan assumed that Patton had finally come to ask for advice on whatever had been causing him to act so abnormally as of late. It was about time, honestly — Thomas had been experiencing heavy mood swings as a result of whatever Patton was having trouble with, and if Patton hadn’t come to find him today, Logan probably would have confronted him anyway.

“Oh, how kind of you. You’re so considerate, Logan.”

The words themselves weren’t too much out of the ordinary, but there was a hollow, unhinged quality to Patton’s voice that made Logan shudder involuntarily. He glanced up from his page.

And froze.

Morality stood with his arms twitching at his sides and his head tilted at an unnatural angle. His eyes were wild and clouded, a too-wide smile stretching from cheek to pallid cheek. The moral Side was in far, far worse shape than the last time Logan had seen him — when was the last time Logan had seen him? He hadn’t really been keeping track.

Logan was starting to regret that now.

“Patton?” he faltered. A sense of uncertainty beginning to make itself known, Logan slowly lowered the book. “Patton, are you alright? You’re… scaring me a little bit.”

“Well, I should certainly hope I am!” the other Side giggled. The face belonged to Patton. The voice did not. “So nice to hear that you do care after all.”

“Patton, what are you… what do you mean?”

The Patton-who-was-not-quite-Patton leaned in, close enough that Logan could feel warm breath tickling his ear. “You know, I was really starting to wonder if you noticed anything at all. How silly of me, right? You see everything . It’s just that you never really act. You just watch. Seems a little useless to be so observant when you never do anything.” Every syllable dripped with sour maliciousness.

Logan was starting to panic. Who was this strange imposter who had come into his room, wearing Patton’s face, carrying Patton’s voice? He opened his mouth — perhaps to cry for help, perhaps just to cry — but before he could, a feather-light finger fluttered down and came to rest on Logan’s lips. The sudden touch paralyzed him.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Logan registered the similarity of his current captor’s demeanour with that of a formidable predator, perhaps a lion, playing with his food before the kill.

But the next words that came out of the wild beast’s mouth were unexpected and almost seemed to carry notes of genuine concern. “I really do love you, Logan. You love me too, don’t you?”

Logan blinked, confused, a muffled sort of hysteria growing stronger by the second. “I— yes, of course, but—”

Patton’s mirthless smile grew even wider, a feat that Logan wouldn’t have thought possible. “Oh, that just thrills me to hear! I care about you so much, Logan. I would do anything for you. You can say the same for me, right? If I asked you to do a tiny little job for me, would you do it?”

Logan’s instincts screamed at him that he shouldn’t speak — that anything he said would only end up being used against him. But this… this monster chilled him to his core in a way that he’d never known.

Logan’s breathing came quick and shallow now, unsteady gasps murmuring in-out-in-out at a pace almost matching the turmoil of thoughts swirling in and out of focus. Words were forming and bubbling in his chest, pushing up, up, up, demanding to be let out — or was that just another scream?

He needed to release the phantoms, or they’d rip their way out themselves. A raw, almost primitive, need to survive took over. He gasped out, “Yes, I’ll — I’ll do whatever you ask —” I’ll do whatever will let me live the longest, was perhaps what the logical Side meant to say, but Logan was petrified out of his mind and could hardly hear the words he was saying. The accuracy of his statement hardly mattered at this point.

Just as he’d hoped, Logan’s words seemed to placate the porcelain-doll Patton, soaking a little life into the moral Side’s freckled face and softening the harsh corners of his eyes and mouth. The slight change was enough for Logan to take a breath and allow himself to hope that perhaps Patton was satisfied, perhaps Patton would leave him alone now, perhaps —

“I’m not just asking out of curiosity, you know. There actually is something that I need your help with. I’m glad you agreed so quickly, Logan! And without even knowing what you were signing up for. It’s so great to know you trust me so much.”

Then again, perhaps not.

xxx

Yesterday, Logan thought in rational shades of blue. His mind was a deep, thoughtful cerulean ocean, calm and collected. Tranquil. Accustomed to clear azure skies; not a cloud in sight.

Today, Patton spoke in ragged shades of red. He spoke in jittering, glittering letters that had been dunked in crimson dye and laid out to dry in the hot scarlet sun, drip — by drip — by drip. His words were bloodred and bursting with imperfect implications.

Patton had begun by asking Logan if he’d noticed anything odd about Roman and Virgil lately. Logan had to admit that the two Sides had been butting heads even more than usual.

“They’re hurting Thomas,” Patton insisted. “All the shouting is just making Thomas feel worse. He hasn’t put out a video with us in forever. You know why? It’s ‘cause Roman has pretty much zero confidence left! And Virgil’s just getting more and more anxious. Don’t you see it too? We gotta help them, Logan.”

Drip. A red pebble quietly tossed into a deep blue sea.

Logan spoke, against his better judgement (indeed, he would come to regret having said anything at all very soon): “Well… how would we do that? Virgil and Roman are both undoubtedly stubborn. I imagine that it would have to take quite the grand gesture to move either of them.”

“Exactly!” Patton beamed. “I’m glad you get it, Logan. If we’re gonna fix Thomas, we have to do something big , or Virgil and Roman won’t change at all. You know that, right?”

Drip. A red raindrop, rippling the blue surface. And then another.

Patton continued. “Don’t worry about coming up with a plan. You already do so much thinking around here! I thought I’d spare you the trouble this time, so I came up with a plan of my own. It’ll be perfect.”

Drip, drip, drip, drip, drip…

His lips moved without giving his mind time to catch up to what he was saying. “What do you need, Patton? Just name it.”

xxx

Morality spoke of —

a prince, crown cracked and lopsided, pain and doubt starting to seep through the bright and happy face paint he wears. Eyelids plastered with artificial colours and flavours cannot hide the heavy bags that will not disappear no matter what he tries… so he stops trying. If sleep will continue to elude him, he might as well make the most of his time awake and churn out idea after idea after idea. Crumpled-up balls of paper litter the floor. He cannot outrun his failures; in fact, he steps on them wherever he goes — so he decides not to go anywhere at all until he’s come up with something that’s good enough. It has been six weeks, four days, and eleven hours. Nothing is good enough. The paint rubs off a little more.

Morality told tales of —

a troublemaker, good-guy/bad-guy/good-guy/bad-guy. Standing with one foot on both sides of a great ravine, unable to decide where he belongs. Begging for help, reaching out a hand with fingernails long and sharp that draw blood from the first wrist they manage to grab onto. Digging deeper. Pulling and pulling and finally pulling hard enough to swing to safety, but in doing so, pulling their saviour into the gaping maw of the canyon with barely a second thought. He is on steady ground. His helper has been thrown to the wolves and is still falling.

Morality built a world where the prince was pacified, satisfied, always smiling. He’d see to it that the smile wouldn’t slip, not even for a second. After all, if he could make the prince’s physical state reflect his mental , the prince would learn quite quickly that painful thoughts weren’t quite worth lingering on anymore.

The troublemaker would reach out and pull their hero back to the surface, and he’d never be able to hurt anyone so deeply again. It would be quite simple; all they had to do was take away his speaking privileges. Morality had already located a needle and some nice, colourful thread. The job would not be difficult.

Through it all, the logical Side sat, stock-still, silent, scarcely able to believe what Morality had said. Logan was almost able to hear the cracks running up and down his body — large, unsightly chasms made of terror and distress and revulsion. He had to hold it together or he’d break and send tiny sharp shards of himself scattering all over the hard, unforgiving floor.

A minute ticked by, then two, before he was able to find his voice. Even then, his mind ran fast and his words were stumbling and uncertain, unable to keep up.

“You want… you want me to… to help you torture Roman and Virgil,” he meant to ask. The sentence came out flattened and wilted, a period floating at the end instead of the question mark he’d intended. “You want me to aid you. In breaking Thomas’s creativity and anxiety.”

“Yes, but we’ll build them back up afterwards. They’ll be so much better in the long run,” Morality said dismissively. “You know, like that time you took apart your computer and put the pieces back together so it ran faster? It’s just like that. Same kind of concept. You’ll help me, right?”

“What?”

Patton’s careless comparison snapped Logan out of the disbelieving trance he’d been put into. He continued, speech growing steadily in volume until he was shouting:

“You’re comparing a computer, a literal machine, with Roman and Virgil? They are not the same, Patton! These are living, breathing, feeling beings that we are talking about!” A sharp, disbelieving laugh escaped from Logan’s mouth. “Yes, the circumstances between Roman and Virgil are not ideal, but that doesn’t mean that we can hurt them. This is their problem to work out! I don’t understand what’s gotten into you, Patton! You’ve been acting so strange recently, and — and now this?”

At first, Morality said nothing. The silence stretched out long enough for Logan to hope that he’d perhaps gotten through to the other Side after all.

Until he watched Morality’s shoulders begin to shake with barely contained laughter.

“Oh, Logan. You know, it would’ve been great if you’d seen reason , but… well, I was kind of hoping you’d say no.”

Behind his thick black glasses, the logical Side’s eyes widened.

“Because if you’d said yes right away, this wouldn’t have been quite as much fun.

“Y’see, Logan, you don’t actually have a choice. I just wanted to give you a chance to get on my good side before the fun begins.” A grin played on his lips. “Oh! Would you look at that! I made a pun! Get it? Get on my good side? Ha! Oh, sometimes I crack myself up, you know?”

Seeing that Logan wasn’t having any of it, Morality’s smile was suddenly gone as quickly as it had come. “Anyway, not the point. What I’m trying to say is, I’m not really asking you. You are going to help me. That’s final. Because even if you don’t, I’m going to go ahead and fix up Roman and Patton anyway, but I won’t stop there. Without your clever mind to tell me the best way to do this, I’ll have to go straight to the source and do a few touch-ups on Thomas, too.” “You wouldn’t,” Logan managed to say.

“Aw, what makes you say that, kiddo?” The once-familiar nickname tasted so unnatural in Morality’s mouth, now. “I’ve gotta fix our family somehow, but it won’t be nearly as fast without you helping me out. I want to get this done quickly though, which is why I’d need to make some minor adjustments to Thomas himself. But that’s another thing! You’re a lot less likely to make… careless mistakes than I am. If I do this myself, what if I mess up and accidentally end up causing more permanent damage than I’d accounted for?

“...Hm. I guess this means that I lied a little bit. You actually do have a choice. You can either stand by and do absolutely nothing… or you can help me out and make sure that Thomas doesn’t get hurt. Well, not any more than necessary, at least. So, what’ll it be, Logan?”

xxx

Today, a raging red storm came screaming in and threw the blue into a frenzied panic. Crashing waves came rolling in, slamming fiercely into one another and sending seafoam flying. The blue swells grew higher and higher, surging, frenzied, into the once-peaceful purple sky.

Ah, but despite the chaos… it was such a mesmerizing shade of purple, and Logan found that try as he might, he couldn’t look away.

xxx

ring around the rosie;

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #thatsthat24 #sshorrorfamily au #spectral scribbles #of delirium and dandelions #tw insanity #tw threats #tw blackmail #tw blood #tw needles #spec made something

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thelawyerthatwaspromised · 7 years ago

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House Stark and the Northern Fool Fallacy

“Maybe you are just a Northern Fool.”

~Tyrion Lannister, right before Jon Snow upstages all of his influence over Daenerys Targaryen

If you believe the Starks are less intelligent than any other group of characters, you’re wrong and you’re buying into the show’s propaganda.

The popular conception of House Stark (and the North at large) is that of a simple, hard people that are stubborn, honorable, and stupid.

Are the Starks actually less intelligent? Do they have trouble connecting dots? Can they not trace chains of events? Do they struggle with building winning strategies?

“No” to all of this. The Starks simply play the game differently than the others...but the constant underestimation of their wits has not only been shown to be untrue by the actions and reasoning methods of the Starks, it’s been shown by the contents of the series itself to be an inaccurate caricature.

The most unfortunate part (or fortunate if you’re looking to be surprised and enjoy when characters exceed your expectations as a viewer) of this misreading of House Stark is that it’s lead a lot of the general audience to believe that Jon Snow is stupid and hasn’t thought through the political ramifications of his interactions with Daenerys Targaryen.

This is one of the ironies of the show. The general audience - which largely sees the Starks as stupid or foolish - are themselves being guided wrongly into a false position even though we’re shown more than enough to KNOW that the Starks aren’t stupid. They simply value life and justice differently than the other houses.

There are specific examples of characters underestimating the Starks supplemented by specific examples of historical events portraying the Starks as unthinking barbarians which are so blatantly false that viewers should also understand that the Starks are not stupid - and yet that myth persists.

We can essentially knock down these lies character by character:

Ned Stark the Fool / The Play in Essos

One of the most gut-wrenching and significant moments of the entire series has been warped into largely a comedy act in Essos.

The saddest part might be that Ned Stark is now quite often considered a stupid character. He may have made mistakes but what he “stupid”? Let’s look at the fiction followed by the fact.

The Portrayal

Portrayed as an unwashed Northerner who doesn’t understand the line of succession. Viewers get that he wasn’t power hungry and didn’t speak like an idiot. Yet somehow the view of Ned being stupid persists.

The Truth

Ned figured out the Gendry / Robert connection. He also figured out that Cersei’s children were not Robert’s. Ned’s reality in trying to uphold the proper line of succession and rightfully deny Joffrey the throne is the exact opposite portrayed in the play in Essos (which is the popular narrative in Westeros, one can then gather).

What was Ned’s great mistake?

His refusal to drag children from their beds in the night. His refusal to be like Tywin Lannister. Was this stupid? Did he not understand this was playing with fire? No. He told Varys that his madness in telling Cersei was that of mercy. He was betrayed by Littlefinger (who preferred Joffrey to stay on the Throne to Stannis). A series of events led to Ned’s beheading. None originated from Ned’s stupidity.

In fact, the Starks are exceptionally skilled at snuffing out bullshit. Take Benjen, for instance. Tyrion is offering empty platitudes. Benjen knows what he really thinks, even if Tyrion initially won’t say it.

Benjen knows what NED taught him, that everything before the word “but” is horseshit. Benjen can see right through Tyrion. It’s a small example but one that reinforces the idea that the Starks as a bunch are extremely perceptive people who, while choosing not to play the games the other houses play all the time, understand when someone is feeding them bullshit.

Ned’s Execution

The way in which Ned was executed, including what his daughters perceived at the time, became important (rather stupidly so) in Season 7 with Arya temporarily believing that Sansa had taken part in Ned’s betrayal.

Ned, perhaps the most dignified person in the show’s history, did not blubber or plead. He even lied to the world in backing Joffrey’s claim with the hope that it would save Sansa’s life.

Portrayal

This is the Sansa that Arya seems to remember. And it’s a mistaken memory. Arya seeing events this way (the play sort of echoes how she described Sansa in Season 7) completely colors how she treats Sansa and leads her to question Sansa’s loyalties to Jon.

Looks pretty stuipd in retrospect, right? Yet one of the biggest popular theories before Season 7 was Starkbowl. The idea that Sansa had been around Littlefinger and Cersei too much. That she was too dark now. Too jaded by her life events.

Truth

You, the viewer, saw Sansa’s anguish. You saw how much it crushed her in the coming episodes. You saw her look at the doll Ned had made for her with regret and sadness at Blackwater. You saw her fight to take back Winterfell, mentioning her father nearly every step of the way.

It’s a bad look for Arya to have acted like this towards Sansa. The interesting part was, she echoed so many of the foolish things that viewers seem to have believed (or maybe even hoped for) all the way through Season 7 / Episode 7.

Sansa Stark

Little bird. Stupid little girl with stupid dreams that never learns.

Littlefinger, through Season 6 when Sansa reunited with Jon, had been the closest thing to a lasting friend that Sansa had after leaving Winterfell. She was used as a pawn, manipulated, sold, basically treated the same way Daenerys had been without receiving the same measure of sympathy.

She’s constantly ridiculed and left without agency up until her escape with the Boltons. Her greatest crime was naively believing the the world wasn’t terrible and that people meant it what they told her. Then her father died. She lived as a prisoner at the hands of Cersei and Joffrey. Her ONLY respite was a temporary friendship with Margaery.

Her other “friend”, Baelish, still treated her like a stupid little girl. His plans to win the North and the Iron Throne centered on using her as a pawn. He never truly respected her.

One of his lessons was that she’s a poor liar. She proved this wrong when she lied for him regarding his murder of her Aunt Lysa.

He began treating her more as a mature adult after that but he never stopped manipulating and underestimating her.

He believed he had her in his clutches. He didn’t at first understand that he couldn’t wedge the bond formed between Sansa and Jon. When Jon choked him and LF observed Sansa longing for Jon as he departed Winterfell, he abruptly switched to trying to wedge Sansa and Arya.

LF thought Sansa could be turned. Littlefinger thought surely she couldn’t break free of his machinations. MAYBE betrayal and treachery are actually NOT tactics that are as effective as a casual political philosopher might believe?

Then this happened:

Sansa knew all along during Season 7 what he wanted. She couldn’t just have his head hacked off while he carried influence. His scheme to drive apart Sansa and Arya allowed her the timing to have him executed. She may have questioned Arya at points. Arya sure acted aggressively towards Sansa after their reunion. But she never took her eyes off the bigger picture: that LF was as threat to their home and family and at some point he had to go.

Robb Stark

Perhaps my least favorite characterization of a Stark is Robb.

Portrayal

Another unwashed Northerner. He’s shown running around proclaiming himself as the Rightful King (itself a lie). It doesn’t show Robb possessing anything that can be described as honor or cunning.

This is to be expected. It’s war propaganda. The Lannisters would never publicize the fact that they COULDN’T OUTMATCH ROBB ON THE BATTLEFIELD.

This portrayal of events is the EXACT opposite of how things happened.

Truth

The fact of the matter is that Robb captured Jaime Lannister at Whispering Wood not because he had a direwolf or slew 1,000 Lannisters single-handedly. He won because he outwitted them. He laid a trap and both Tywin and Jaime fell for it.

Tywin was forced to acknowledge Robb’s intellect and the devotion he inspired from his men after he continually got his ass kicked by the Young Wolf.

Tywin, the same guy who had routinely talked down the threat of the Young Wolf in the build-up to the war, found himself begrudgingly accepting the fact that he would have to rely on political maneuvering and deceit in order to end this war because, when it came to traditional means, he was no match for Robb.

That’s pretty damn significant. And yet the portrayal of events is a complete fiction...

What did Robb in?

Even more than the Freys and Boltons, Robb was defeated because he chose justice for slain Lannisters rather than forgive the actions of Rickard Karstark.

This event, and the beheading of the head of House Karstark, more than even breaking the betrothal to one of Walder Frey’s daughters, put Robb in a position where he was forced to choose between justice and military benefit.

The easy call would be to keep Karstark alive. To somehow keep his forces in the fold. Instead, Robb did what he thought was right and he died for that. I don’t blame Sansa for saying that Ned and Robb made stupid mistakes and lose their heads for it because in the end, Robb and Ned DID make stupid mistakes.

The difference seems to lie in how much House Stark was forced to suffer for their mistakes compared to other houses.

Jaime and Cersei tried (and failed) to kill Bran which is the event that really sparked the War of the Five Kings.

Robert became fat, lazy, and continued his philandering and behaved like a teenager all the way up until his death. His neglect of Cersei (driving her back into the arms of Jaime) essentially caused a powder keg politically which exploded into the War of the Five Kings.

Tywin stupidly bedded the person Tyrion loved (or at least believed he loved) and unnecessarily included her testimony when a conviction was a foregone conclusion which motivated Tyrion to murder him with a crossbow. His house suffered immeasurably and the best chance for its survival now lies with Tyrion, the child he hated.

Olenna underestimated Cersei entirely. She completely misread what Cersei was capable of and her house was destroyed for it.

Ramsay Bolton stupidly castrated Theon and continually tortured him physically and psychologically which eventually led to Theon helping Sansa to safety and his ultimate destruction at the hands of Jon and Sansa at the BoTB.

Roose Bolton first stupidly thought that his hold on the North could survive the ultimate betrayal of House Stark when he murdered Robb at the Red Wedding. He stupidly believed Ramsay could be trusted with political power and with responsibility and believed that Sansa Stark’s presence would help his cause rather than ultimately lead to the destruction of his house.

Littlefinger stupidly believed that Sansa was incapable of turning against him. He believed she was nothing more than a pawn to be used in his games. He believed that she would love him and give him the affection that Catelyn never did. We all know what happened to him.

The point is that not all the characters are stupid. The point is that the Starks are not. They make mistakes and are punished severely. They suffer consequences for their actions - but they are completely operating at the same intellectual level that any of the other supposed “experts” are operating.

So why do I care and why do I think it matters?

I care because I love the Starks, first off. Their house represents the one with the healthiest worldview, in my opinion. Only the Tyrells are really shown to have had much a healthy intra-family dynamic compared to the other houses. Yet the Tyrells were all to willing to form alliances, play games of deception, betrayal, and murder, and ultimately the Tyrells fell.

Where am I going with this?

Jon Snow, as a player of the game and a member of House Stark (if not in name yet) is most assuredly not a Northern Fool.

Jon Snow is the character that I believe holds the most significance for the survival of Westeros and the improvement of the Realm after the Great War’s conclusion.

Season 7 may have featured more mentions of “Northern Fool” than any other season and viewers bought this lie hook, line, and sinker. D&D love their setups and if you believe Jon isn’t always thinking how to do what’s, isn’t always thinking about how his actions might affect his family and the people he loves, and is simply acting on his gut all the time, I have news for you: You don’t know Jon Snow.

Portrayal

“Maybe you are just a Northern fool.”

~Tyrion, S7 / E3

What better moment encapsulates how others view the North as a whole than this one?

If my suspicions are proven correct, that Jon Snow’s arc in Season 7 is centered entirely on his MISSION to bring Daenerys North at any cost, then he will have played the game absolutely masterfully while maintaining the image of the Northern Fool.

His enemies’ (and potential allies) misreading of his capacity for real politik puts him at a ridiculous advantage. Yet we’ve seen Jon play the political game. We’ve seen him observe and learn lessons.

He very quickly thought of how to earn Mance’s trust and gave the Night’s Watch invaluable intelligence regarding their plans. He couldn’t have done this as a dimwit incapable of quick-thinking and deceit.

People try to twist Jon’s murder as the result of his foolish bravery...yet my take (obviously) is very different on the matter. He knew it would be an unpopular position. He knew it put him at risk. He sought Aemon’s advice specifically because of this. Aemon gives the famous “kill the boy” speech which was Aemon’s way of saying “stop trying to please everybody and do the right thing”. In essence, isn’t that what the Starks just do?

It’s why they inspire their subjects, rather than continually finding themselves putting down their subjects. Say what you will about Robb’s assassination as contrary evidence to this, but Robb was killed because he brought justice to the Karstarks. Roose Bolton was a schemer that was simple trying to accumulate power, and House Umber felt betrayed by Jon’s granting the Wildlings lands in the The Gift. Which one of those events were caused by House Stark trying to do something other than the right thing in an intelligent, if not difficult way?

Which brings me back to Jon Snow.

Am I to believe that he hasn’t thought about how his alliance with Daenerys Targaryen will be perceived by the Northern Lords?

Am I to believe he didn’t consider the repercussions of announcing at the Dragonpit at the behest of Cersei Lannister’s demand?

Am I to believe he initiated a physical relationship with her, which by Tyrion’s look alone are foreshadowed as terribly complicated from a political standpoint, because he was just head over heels in love and it had no strategic purpose?

Am I to believe that Jon Snow isn’t hiding something when his mission to Dragonstone in the first place was to specifically get Daenerys to come North to fight the Night King?

Am I to believe that he isn’t skeptical of Cersei Lannister while knowing what she’s done to House Stark and also not even originally considering her as part of his mission when he departed for Dragonstone?

All of those questions I posed to myself are answered with a resounding “NO” on my part. Each one could basically be a meta individually but the bigger point is that if I answered “YES” to all of those, it would require that Jon Snow not have a thinking, planning, strategic bone in his body. That he’s like Forrest Gump drifting in the wind like a feather and simply lucky to be taking part in so many historic events.

My viewpoint is that Jon operates similarly to the other people in his life. He acts deliberately and with an eye towards a larger purpose. He may not always make the most advantageous choice but he’s not the type of person to throw his kingdom to a foreign queen because he wants to sleep with her.

When people call Political Jon a character assassination on Jon Snow, I have to answer that the idea that he would give the North to Daenerys without any other consideration or counsel from his own people or family the TRUE character assassination. It’s a viewpoint that paints Jon as stupid and it’s a characterization of multiple House Stark members that just falls flatly on its face when held up to scrutiny.

Think less of Jon if it turns out that he used Daenerys’ affections for him to get her to come North if you will but I will not fault the guy when he thinks it’s the difference between the extinction of men and it’s possible salvation.

Just don’t tell me Jon Snow is stupid and don’t tell me that House Stark consists of anything less than intelligent, capable leaders.

You might have believed that Jon and the Starks are dumb. You’ll be surprised at the end of the series. You believed the false narrative the show put out there. You fell for it. You will wonder how the Starks survive since the show said they were stupid. I will say....

#house stark #jon snow #robb stark #ned stark #sansa stark #arya stark #political jon theory #political jon meta #the north remembers

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storiesbydtcecil · 3 years ago

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Excerpt First Chapter

Full story at https://www.wattpad.com/myworks/227866715/write/897410237

The night was cool as the storm intensified outside but Byakuya Kuchiki was in a hell of his own making. His body shot through with tension and need that made it impossible for him to get any rest. His mind was no better. It's as if he's the target of an unrelenting barrage and he was losing. His own body was turning against him because all he could think about was Rukia lying beneath him, her sexy cries in his ears as he possesses her repeatedly with his stiffen flesh; her heeled boots digging into his back.

"Dark gods!" He curses with a miserable groan then turned from his back to his side, his breaths shallowing. Just envisioning that had his body thrumming.

No! Ashamed at his thoughts, ashamed that he couldn't stop. Fucking powerless to get this under control...

Hours drained on yet his erection insisted doggedly. The swollen head jutted past the waistband of his hakama, the top glistening with beads of precum it had already offered up from the unbidden thoughts that streamline nonstop to his mind. Byakuya didn't know what else to do at this point. He already spent too much time in his shower, allowing the icy water to cascade over him and 'it'. If anything, he grew harder which frustrated the hell out of him! He had thought about touching himself and trying to release into his fist but to do that meant that he would have to think about Rukia, the very thing that he was trying not to do and failing! He removes the top half of his night attire and sweat rolled off his bare chest down his torso. His sack was so heavy, aching tremendously.

Damn it! Why the hell was he feeling so strongly about this now? Byakuya has not had to deal with this sort of thing in over fifty years so it felt nigh foreign to him to be sexually starving for release. Plus, the shame of masturbating to the image of Rukia, his sister, by marriage, yes- but still... it was sending him reeling as he obstinately acknowledges that he almost didn't feel any shame at all and he wondered what that meant. Perhaps the feeling was delayed and only his honor which he was holding on to with teeth, nail and some good old fashion Kuchiki stubbornness was preventing him from wrapping his fingers around his cock (again) and thrusting until his eyes rolled back while thinking about screwing Rukia's brains out.

Spent, up to my chin. I didn't even know I could cum so hard. Byakuya had thought dazedly on the second night in this week of sexual torment. Not even with Hisana-his late wife- had commanded such a reaction from him and Byakuya felt awash in dishonor anew for lusting after her sister like he was.

Disgraceful. Deplorable! Disgusting! He berated himself vitriolically constantly for allowing this to go on for as long as it has. His mood grew markedly more malodorous by the hour.

For the last few nights, ever since that crazy encounter between them in the Kuchiki Osen, he had found himself unable to sleep the night through. While at the barracks, he dives into his work, attacking reports with a lethal stroke of his quill terminating stacks of paperwork that might have taken days in hours. His mind kept thoughts of Rukia's naked body- of the steamy water sluicing over taut nipples, hanging from their pink edges like jewels, prisoner. Or on the backburner, as they say in the World Of The Living. But at night, his body was in utter torment. So much so, that on more than one occasion he had awakened to himself thrusting into the sheets or in his fist. The shameful acts confounded him but the pleasure-indescribable! Impossible to deny. Too much to bear. To his eternal disgrace, he continued each time unable to stop himself until there was release so violent, so intense that his shuddering torso was awash with sweat and seed with each episode. His teeth bit into the pillow to reduce the roars tearing from his throat as he climaxes.

Byakuya closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. "Hisanna would turn in her grave if she knew the traitorous thoughts I'm failing to keep at bay." He said softly, his voice drowning in a blast of thunder.

With his eyes still shut he tries to think of nothing. Tries to feel nothing. By all the Gods, it's been a long horrible day for him. He had a feeling he should have stayed home but then that bastard Ichigo came and made a mess of things and then Rukia just had to be involved with him. Why did that boy get him so annoyed especially when it came to Rukia? He chose not to acknowledge the answer to that question. He should have let Renji handle the barracks for the remainder of the time he had to be away from it.

"What is wrong with me?" He questioned himself.

What was the sense of having servants and people to assist him if he didn't allow them to do their jobs? Why couldn't he let everything be as they should? He had to ensure that they were up to his standards. The Kuchiki in him demanded it and sometimes, he hated that aspect of himself. He looked down the length of his body, to 'that' opinionated part of his anatomy and commanded very slowly,

"Go. To. Sleep." He hissed at it. He wasn't hoping for much anyway and when his cock just continued throbbing to the point of bobbing as if mocking him, he miserably grabbing one of the pillows, buried his face in it, and groaned a long-winded groan.

No! He couldn't continue to masturbate to Rukia's image. Why her? Of all the women in the Soul Society. Of all the high-born picks the Elders had tried to butt into his life with. Why did it have to be Rukia his body reacts so strongly to? It wasn't right! He knew that it wasn't. The breath-taking scandals that would sweep over the Kuchiki name if someone even suspected he was having feelings like these for his sister. Tarnishing his clan all because of these emotions...

A muffled frustrated yell fired from deep within the soft padded pillow after starting life as another long-winded groan. Five minutes of useless strangling yells, long streams of invectives, and blasphemously invoking gods long forgotten passed before Byakuya decided to remove the pillow from his face. His chest heaved for breath after his shouting purchased all the air out of his lungs. He got up from the bed endeavoring one more method to grasp the sleep he so badly needed. And to, maybe, just maybe, kill the part of his anatomy that's now earned his enmity.

He got to the closet and opened the right side and parted the line of white Captain coats to a built-in small cabinet he had a hidden sake rack that he kept locked at all times. A man of his status couldn't be seen drinking like a fish as much as he should be with the kind of responsibilities that he has as the head of the clan and the shit he had to deal with daily, less he got a disreputable reputation like a certain flower Captain. For any other stresses, he could meditate, indulge in his hobby, or train and work off some steam. He only indulges on occasion when it was necessary.

He walked back to his bed and sat on the edge of it. In the morning he could regret his decision but tonight he needed this. No one would dare disturb him this night, not with the mood and the spiritual pressure he unleashed an hour before as he had that argument with Rukia. Thinking about that he didn't bother with a glass, he just removed the cork from the bottle with an audible 'pop' and put his lips on the rim, drinking deeply.

It burned his throat like liquid fire but he welcomed the new feeling, anything to distract him from his increasing need to think about the woman that he shouldn't. The indecent acts he wanted to do to her over and over again and how that same woman hated him now. He continued to drink until his inner voice told him that he's had enough. It didn't feel like he's had enough. It didn't feel like he was now a free man from the claws of reality but with practiced restraint, he set the sake bottle down on the bedside table and cradle his face in his hands before running his fingers through his thick long mane. With his head bowed, he took deep breaths. Rukia hated him now and in retrospect, he would hate him too despite his reasons.

Why was nothing simple when it came to her. She threw him at every turn, pushed his buttons like no one else in his very long life has ever done, and yet none has ever thrilled him more. Made him feel so alive.

She is barely a full-grown adult and I have done my share in damaging her as if the slums had not given her their best efforts. And now I want to fuck her? His thoughts reached such a level of self-loathing it should have qualified an upheaval from his stomach, he was so disgusted with himself.

For a man who worshipped logic, it was completely illogical for him to want to be with someone that he ignored, was jealous of for some time because she was the reason his wife couldn't love him completely, tried to kill, and then resigned to kill himself because of the confliction of the whole thing.

Too much, Byakuya! He swung a narrowing glance at the bottle of sake.

Fuck it! He drained the bottle, gulping down the contains quickly and relishing again the raw burn of it then went for a second. The food from his dinner staved off the effects of the liquor, delaying the bliss that he so desperately needed right now. He flashed stepped back to the closet to get another bottle as soon as one emptied, then again.

About a quarter way through the fourth bottle of sake, he started feeling the seeds of buzz blossoming, numbing reality into a dull hum at the back of his head.

Finally!

His vision swam a little in the darkened room lit only by the slim reach of the light from the lamp on his desk. He felt a little dizzy from drinking too much too fast, the weight of the bottle in his hand seemed to have double, penance for his rebellion against his sound judgment but he needed the escape if only this once.

Over the roar of the storm outside, Byakuya could have sworn that he heard a knocking somewhere, perhaps on his door.

But that's impossible, he thought hazily, feeling like his head and his body was separate from one another.

He was still seated on the edge of the bed staring out into the nothingness of his bedroom, a perfect reflection of his life. Just walls of responsibilities and they were so hard to climb. So empty within. He almost felt like breaking down. It was tempting to feel sorry for himself. To cry and just empty his lonely soul. To stop being the strong twenty-eighth head of the clan for a few moments and just-

"Nii-Sama." He heard Rukia's voice coming from the other side of his door.

"I'm drunk for sure now because I'm hearing things." He said to himself chuckling a little to the hollow joke only he knew about. Could he never escape this storm of temptation? Could he never escape from what he couldn't have?

He wanted to scream to the universe, 'I FUCKING GET IT, ALRIGHT! I AM ONLY QUALIFIED TO BE ALONE. YOU CAN STOP NOW!'

A mountain of built-up frustration made him hurl the bottle of sake against his door, shattering it into a thousand shards. Sake ran down the dark mahogany wood in thin rivulets unto the marble floor.

The door opens just then and the object of his miserable desires came rushing into his room. Standing before him like a damn paradox to his logic. Byakuya dilated pupils took stock that her face and hair were wet from the deluge outside. That the night yukata she wore, which was made from a thick material, was soaked through and sticking to her form perfectly outlining full pert breasts, the curve of her hips, and the "V" in the center of her thighs. His head lolled to the side then he rolls it on his shoulders - left to right. His need for her coming back tenfold.

Damn her for this!

The combination of his intoxication made all the reasons for not being with her blur away so easily even as anger shot through him and he rose to his feet. The alcohol in his blood making his movements sluggish as he straightened to his full height. He half-glowered, half-leered at her.

Why in the ever living hell was she here!?

Of all times when he was so hard and ready for her.

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#mature #sexualcontent #byakuya kuchiki #rukia kuchiki #fanfiction #bleach

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