#'he had a reputation' yeah the entire army saw them doing it up there

[taravangians-storming-balls]

Listen. We dont know for sure that moash and leshwi didn't fuck nasty in the air after they were done talking

[fangirlingatstuff]

Can you maybe write a bunch of random headcannons or a x reader for Mandrake? Sorry I'm weird lol.

Indeed I can, anon!! And dont worry, you’re not weird

Hell yes, mandrake stuff!!!!

Mandrake General and Romantic Headcanons

General:

While it may seem like Mandrake has a short temper, that couldn’t be farther from the truth. He wouldn’t have gotten as far as he has being Lord of Wrathwood if he was quick to anger.

He does, however, find a lot of things annoying, and his solution to that is usually to get rid of the annoying thing (said thing usually being troops of leafmen, toads looking to make a quick buck, rowdy boggans, etc.,)

He is opportunistic by nature. If Mandrake sees a chance, for anything, he will take it. This is why he was suddenly more aggressive on the offensive when Queen Tara was to pick an heir to the throne. He saw a chance to completely throw off the scales in his favor and he took it.

If it wasn’t already clear, this man is a family man. He fucking LOVES his family, they don’t just mean the world to him, they ARE the entire world to him.

If Dagda said he didn’t want to keep fighting anymore, Mandrake would begrudgingly come up with a truce with the Leafmen, he cares that much.

Whether he wants to or not is another story, he quite enjoys being a menace and having others fear him.

Mandrake goes through shifts with his son, Dagda, when it comes to commanding the troops. That way they both are able to get proper rest, but it also means that they don’t spend as much time together as they could.

When there is a lull in Mandrake’s offensive nature, him and Dagda will go on patrols or hunting together to catch up. He always tries to make time for his son when need be.

However when he does have free time, Mandrake can be found riding with his grackle, Nightshade, either hunting or exploring certain areas he had never been before, or back at Wrathwood reading stolen scrolls or working on new weapons.

He is curious by nature. If he finds something that catches his interest, he wants to know every little thing about it. He’s particularly interested in human music, instruments and records are fascinating to him, especially if music is on a CD or something like a phone or radio.

He has broken in to Nim’s tree multiple times. He doesn’t just read out of necessity but out of actual interest. He probably has taught himself and his son how to read English so that they can break into Professor Bomba’s house and read some of his books. And just in general harass him, they find it funny to steal his things and watch him fume over himself trying to figure out where they went.

Unlike the leafmen, they made it a point to mess with the human as much as possible. It became a game to see who could steal the most stuff without him noticing. Dagda currently has a streak.

While he doesn’t as much anymore, Mandrake loves to just in general mess with others. It is his form of entertainment.

Mandrake and Ronin have a serious score to settle between the two yet no one really knows why. Ronin won’t talk about it, especially after Tara’s death, and Mandrake will only allude to it in passing. The only people who know why is Ronin’s second in command, Finn, Nim Galuu, the late Queen Tara, and one of Mandrake’s closest confidantes, a boggan named Weevil.

Mandrake is a lot stronger than others give him credit for. That scene where he brought down a huge oak tree single handedly from meters away? Yeah, that’s not just a one-off feat of strength. That’s barely a taste.

For all his cruelties and reputation as a feared warlord, this man has a soft side and the common person will see it when he is around kids.

He loves children. He can’t resist being soft for a child and is really gentle with infants. If he could, he’d have a whole litter of them, he loved being a father and adores just being around kids.

He makes it a point to never harm a child directly, and he makes sure that the rest of his army knows the consequences if they do so.

Romantic:

I mentioned that Mandrake is very family orientated. This also applies to his partner. If you aren’t just a fling and you and him are together, this man is the definition of devoted husband.

When I say devoted, I mean D E V O T E D. Just say the word and he will be leveling the entire forest for you. Please say the word. Just give him the excuse to do it. Don’t ever joke about it because he will take any chance he can to burn the forest to the ground with glee.

In a relationship with him, there is noone above the other. The two of you are equals, both in public, in private, and in power among the hoard. Your word means just as much if not more than Mandrake’s, only because Mandrake has a pension for punishing those who disobey his partner. The boggans hope you’re the more agreeable of the two, because if you say “No you cannot kill another boggan just because they forgot to go on patrol like I told them to,” then everyone can breathe a sigh of relief.

That being said, your relationship is built on trust and honesty, so there is a LOT of leeway for teasing. So much of it. If it wasn’t for your relationship, it would seem mean, but he never means any of it and neither do you.

If anything either of you do or say crosses a line, there is no shame in telling the other so, boundaries and limits are always respected, and “no” will usually never need to be repeated.

The only exception will come to affairs with the leafmen. You will have to be very firm if you ever disagree with him in those matters. It might irritate him, but he isn’t mad for long. Even if you do argue. He firmly believes in not going to bed angry and he will be open to talking to you about whatever the issue at hand is.

He loves to make you flustered. Especially if he has to work hard for it, it makes the sight of you blushing even more satisfying.

Challenge him. Physically, intellectually, emotionally, playfully, he does not like anything easy and he doesn’t find complete submission interesting. It actually makes him uncomfortable. If there is a set power dynamic between you two, be a brat. It’s more fun for the both of you.

There is one hard line that Mandrake doesn’t break: You have to get along with his son. If you and Dagda don’t get along, sorry, he’s not interested.

Though, it’s very hard not to get along with Dagda, he’s generally fun to be around and you’d most likely be best friends with him if you hadn’t gotten with Mandrake when Dagda was a child.

Expect a lot of roughhousing. Whether it’s you and Mandrake, Mandrake and Dagda, whatever, this man is like a cat and will pounce on you without warning for an impromptu wrestling sesh. Sometimes its playful, other times it’s like trying to run away from a dog who is set on trying to tackle you.

While Mandrake is busy, very busy, usually, when he has down time he is always with you. He hates being away from you for long and gets extremely clingy. Depending on how much time away you spend from him, he might not let you out of his sight and will follow you around.

He will make excuses, though. Saying he has nothing better to do or that he has free-time. That’s a lie, he is purposefully skirting his usual responsibilities just so he can refill his “you time” meter.

He lives off of domestic moments, but he can pull out the romantic in him. Solo flights with you at night, finding a clearing and just lying down in the grass to watch the stars, bringing you trinkets and gifts that he had found on patrol, wait the gifts—THE GIFTS!

He is ALWAYS trying to bring you stuff. It could be stomper jewelry he found, something he stole from the Jinn, weapons, furs, fresh kills, cool bones or rocks, he is like a crow and he wants to show you all the near little things he found. Hang them up on the walls or shelves of your chambers or wear them and he will puff up in pride.

If you show in an interest in something, he is going out of his way to try and find every little thing that fits that interest. He can have a one track mind so you might have to keep him on a leash and tell him he cant just break into a stomper’s house and steal their stuff.

There are no secrets between you two. If there were, they aren’t kept for long. Mandrake doesn’t like gossip, but he makes an exception for you. The two of you will gossip like teenage girls but then never say a word to anyone else.

If you couldn’t fight before, that’s fixed within the week. Sparring is his version of a date night so you pick up very quickly how to at the very least fend off your partner. And if you can hold your own against Mandrake, you don’t really need to worry about anyone else.

But lord forbid if anyone hurts you. There isn’t anything, leafmen and nature be damned, that will get in his way once he finds out who dared to lay a hand on you in malice. He will make an example of them, and it will give him a lot of pride if you are happy to watch.

By himself, Mandrake is the most feared being in the forests of Moonhaven. By yourself, you might as well have the power to take over not only Moonhaven but the rest of the surrounding forests if you so pleased. But by each other’s side?

Ronin needs to be careful. Upsetting you just gives Mandrake the “go ahead” to raise living hell upon the forest.

You occasionally will turn around and see Mandrake gazing at you with the softest and warmest look in his eyes. You mean everything to him, you are his family, his world, and he would do anything for you if you allowed it.

Call him a sap, he won’t deny it.

[dameronology]

love in a time of p.t.a. meetings {marcus moreno} - 5/5

v summary: you hadn’t expected to find anything at a stupid p.t.a. meeting - but somehow, you found everything {series masterlist} 

warnings: swearing, one very mild innuendo 

there’s a long message at the end but...this is the last official part and i’m very sad about it. with that said, i hope you enjoy❤️

- j

Being a parent was tiring.

So much so that you hadn’t even made it to bed last night.

In fact, none of you had. The entire household was slumped together on the sofa; Marcus was in the middle, with one arm wrapped around Missy on his left side and the other stretched across you and Jack on his right. You’d completely flopped into his chest, with your kid passed out on you in a similar manner. The dogs (plural - but more on that later) were both stretched across the four of you on your laps, snoozing quietly. It had been a long week, clearly; between the school year coming to an end and the hot weather, you were all worn out. It had been a rush of finishing up projects at school, evenings in the pool and ordering take out. Marcus had been working late and your cooking skills were...well, calling them skills was an overstatement in itself. 

You grumbled slightly as you woke - why the fuck did your neck ache so bad? Right, because you’d fallen asleep tilted sideways. You probably would have stayed passed out for hours more if it hadn’t been for the sunlight streaming through the blinds. The TV ahead of you had stopped now, displaying an are you still watching Friends? message. You’d started watching it at what...six o clock the night before? 

Rubbing your bleary eyes, you sat up. Instead of waking up, Jack simply flopped into your lap, clearly not phased by the sudden movement other than letting out a tiny oof! as he fell. The kid had fallen asleep on the log flumes at Coney Island, so really, it wasn’t a surprise. Plus, him waking up would mean having to get up and make breakfast, which you really weren’t ready for just yet. 

‘D’you know what day it is today?’ Marcus quietly muttered. 

‘One year.’ You peered up at him, a sleepy smile spreading across your face.

‘So where the hell do you think you’re going?’ He pulled you back towards him, broad arm wrapping around your shoulders to trap you against his chest. ‘Happy one year, baby.’

‘Happy one year.’ You leant up to a soft kiss to his lips. 

You stayed like that for a minute, head resting against Marcus as you gently ran a hand through Jack’s hair. It was sort of a moment of...reflection. A lot had changed in the last year and yet somehow, it felt like your life had always been like this. The four of you have had gelled together into a slightly chaotic but ever-loving entity and you loved it. With the combined antics of your energetic children, everything was in disarray practically all the time but you wouldn’t have changed it for the world. It had been the thing you’d had all along and the very thing that Marcus had been looking for; you had been the one to bring it into his life and he had been the one to teach you to appreciate it. 

The two dogs had brought a lot of chaos into your lives as well. After weeks of Missy and Jack insisting that the garden was too big for just Optimus Prime, you’d ended up traipsing to the dog shelter late on a Saturday afternoon. Bumblebee had become a valued member of the Moreno family within a matter of hours. 

‘I love you.’ You murmured. You could feel yourself getting sleepy again. 

‘I love you more.’

‘No, you don’t.’ You pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

‘At least that’s the only fight we’ve had over the last year.’ He reasoned. ‘What time d’we have to be at cook out?’

‘Twelve.’ You replied. Glancing at the screen of your dying Apple watch, you squinted at the screen. ‘It’s just gone eight.’

Every year, the PTA threw a cook out on the school field to celebrate the end of the semester. In previous years, you’d avoided it like the plague but this year you were actually excited. The last one had been in the very early stages of your relationship, and you and Marcus weren’t publicly showing affection when you’d been. There had been a lot of lingering glances across the field and knowing looks at one another but this time, you were solid. Everyone knew they were together and like hell where they gonna say things about you when you were with Marcus Moreno. Whether it’s because they’d suddenly got a newfound respect for you or because they were scared into silence by his reputation, you didn’t know, but you weren’t going to complain.

‘Do you want breakfast, hermosa?’ He asked.

‘Yeah, I’ll help-’

Having heard the b-word, Jack suddenly shot up. He was six now (too old, in your book) and just as much of a tiny, evil genius as ever. He’d upgraded from a Chewbacca onesie to an Ewok onesie, so that was something too, and you were proud of him. 

‘- what’s for breakfast?!’ He demanded. ‘I want waffles.’

‘Then waffles we shall have.’ You stood up, sticking your hand out to him. ‘What about you two?’

‘I want waffles.’ Missy sleepily murmured.

Jack followed you through to the kitchen, swiping his iPad off the side as he did. Despite the fact you’d put it in a nuclear bomb proof case, he’d still managed to crack the screen. There had also been at least five occasions where he’d tried to take it in the pool. And this was the same kid who’d insisted he was responsible enough for his own hamster. 

Marcus breezed into the kitchen a few moments later, pressing a kiss to your cheek and ruffling Jack’s hair as he went by. You heard him rustling around behind you for a few minutes whilst you prepared the food; he came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. He placed a terribly wrapped gift on the counter in front of you, head coming to rest on your shoulder. 

‘Happy anniversary, baby.’ He murmured.

‘Hey.’ You dropped the knife you were holding, turning around to face him. ‘You didn’t have to get me anything.’

‘I know we said we wouldn’t do presents but since you got me a present last night and-’

‘- Marcus!’ You clamped a hand over his mouth. ‘There is a child in the room.’

‘He has his headphones in!’ He protested. ‘Just open it, please?’

‘Of course.’ You smiled. 

‘Jack even helped me wrap it.’ He said. ‘And decorate it.’ 

‘That would explain a lot.’ You replied.

Pulling the paper off it, you felt your heart drop in your chest when you saw what it was. 

It was a bright red photo with random doodles in puffy paint; the photo itself was one of you and Jack from when you’d all gone to New York for the weekend a few months previous. You were stood on top of the Rockerfeller Centre, the Empire State in the distance behind you and Jack on your shoulders. You were both grinning despite how windy it was, and his hat had blown off seconds after the photo was taken.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t - ah, dammit.

‘I love it.’ You tried to keep your voice steady, but it wobbled despite your efforts. ‘I love you.’

‘I love you too.’ He flashed you a lopsided grin, pressing another kiss to your forehead. ‘I figured we could hang it up in place of the one he managed to smash last week with the broom stick.’

(He’d recently watched Harry Potter. Don’t ask.) 

‘Of course.’ You gave him one last kiss, before heading over to the empty space on the wall. It fit perfectly in the space, right between the photo of Marcus and Missy, and the sign that said 0 days since Jack’s last incident.

---

Four hours later, and after consuming enough waffles to feed a small army, the four of you finally reached the school. Both of the kids seemed excited to see their friends, but you were a little nervous.  What if people asked questions about you and Marcus? About your divorce? Or Jack’s behaviour, or whether or not-

‘You okay, baby?’ Marcus had suddenly appeared beside you, an arm coming around your waist. You’d been stood on the sidelines of the football field for way longer than you realised. ‘You’ve got eyes like dinner plates.’

‘I don’t know how to interact with these people.’ You murmured back. ‘They’re all...you know.’

‘They’re all what?’

‘Perfect. And shiny.’ You huffed. ‘Look at their cars! There’s not a dent in sight. And their kids aren’t wearing an Ewok onesie to a cook-out in July.’

‘I think Jack is admirable for embracing his unique sense of fashion.’ You could practically hear the smirk in his voice. ‘C’mon! They’re gonna run out of food if you keep longingly staring at their minivans.’

‘You’re right.’ You stumbled slightly as he dragged your hand, pulling you towards the crowd in the middle of the field.

‘I mean if you want a minivan, we can get one.’

‘Moving to the suburbs was already a big deal for me.’ You grumbled. 

Marcus continued to laugh, pulling you closer into his side as you reached the other parents. 

Naturally, he immediately jumped into conversation about one of the other dads with...actually, you weren’t really paying attention. You switched off as soon as you heard the word football. One thing you did notice, however, was his ability to be completely and entirely charming with anyone. You lacked that, normally shying away from talking to strangers. Especially strangers who had previously cast you out for being a single parent and constantly given you the side-eye. The only reason they’d stopped was because you and Marcus were together now.

You tried to remind yourself that it didn’t matter, that their thoughts and feelings weren’t relevant. They shouldn’t have been. You had the best guy in the world by your side and two amazing kids. The people most important to you were the ones whose opinions mattered - and they all thought the world of you. Marcus loved and supported you unconditionally, and Missy thought you were a bad-ass. Jack, though probably a little bias, thought you were the best parent in the world. That was what counted. 

But still, you couldn’t help but feel a little angry. You’d worked your ass off to get where you were, to raise your kid and make him a semi functional human being. You’d single-handedly kept a roof over both of your heads and provided for your family, even when you’d been married to a dead beat husband. 

Things were different now; brighter, happier, filled with more dogs and more love than you could ever have imagined. You didn’t want to linger in the past, not when everything else was moving forward. If anything, being here had just solidified your faith in your relationship. If all you wanted to do was go home and be alone with your partner, then that was a sure sign. 

‘Mum!’ You heard Jack from across the field. ‘Can you get my football out the car?’

‘Duty calls.’ You finally spoke. Marcus had noted how quiet you were, having made a mental note to bring it up later. ‘I’ll be back in a second.’

‘Okay, baby.’ He pressed a kiss to your check. 

The sun beat down on your back as you trudged across the field, Doc Martens kicking up grass around you. Your outfit was cute at least; a pair of denim shorts and an old tank top with one of your boyfriend’s plaid shirts thrown over the top. You hadn’t even realised it was his until the lingering smell of aftershave hit your nostrils when you got in the car. After that, there was no way in hell you were taking it off.

The car park was around the corner from the field -- it was nice to get away for a minute. Even though you’d simply stood beside Marcus like an older man’s sidepiece at a business meeting, just being in the presence of the people and listening to them talk about their kids was exhausting. At least he had been good at pretending to be interested in their sugar free diets and screen time limitations and how their French lessons were going. You, meanwhile, hadn’t even tried to look like it piqued your fancy. You’d been half-tempted to put your sunglasses on so they couldn’t see you roll your eyes. 

Pulling Marcus’ car-keys out your pocket, you opened the boot and began to rifle around. His car was a thousand times more put together than yours, but it still accumulated a bunch of crap. 

You jumped backwards when you heard the gravel crunch behind you. 

Glancing over your shoulder, your eyes fell on Carol. It had been a while since you’d last seen her, but she looked a little worst for wear. What’s more was that she had a cigarette between her lips, despite being the one to run the entire school’s anti-smoking campaign.

‘I didn’t know you smoked.’ You commented, catching her attention as you slammed the boot shut. 

‘Oh!’ She jumped, quickly throwing it onto the floor.

‘Hey, I’m not bothered.’ You leant against the back of the car. ‘A lot of people do it.’

‘I don’t normally.’ She stamped on the remains to put it out, dusting off her bright pink work-out jacket. ‘I’ve just been stressed lately.’

‘Are you okay?’ You raised an eyebrow at her.

‘I’m fine.’ 

You tossed the football between your hands, giving her a nod. ‘If you’re sure.’

With that, you locked the car and began to make your way back towards the cook-out. If you could wear Jack out by playing with him all afternoon, then you might be able to catch some peace and quiet that evening. Then, you and Marcus could celebrate your first anniversary by ordering take out and watching Friends.

(Which is ironically, what you’d done for the last four nights).

‘Y’know, I’ve always been jealous of you.’ You froze when Carol called after you.

‘What?!’ You turned around to face her, confusion etched on your features. ‘Are you talking to someone else, or?..’

‘No, I’m talking to you.’ She muttered. 

‘Why me? I thought you hated me?’

‘Because I was jealous of you.’ She said it as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

‘Carol, you’re the perfect one here. You’re married to your high school sweetheart, you’ve got a big-ass house - with a gate! - and your kids are perfectly well behaved. And you drive a fucking minivan!’

‘Oh, please.’ She groaned, falling back against the nearest car. ‘My husband is married to his job and my kids are more interested in their iPads than me!’ 

‘So’s mine-’

‘- you’ve always provided for yourself.’ She continued, cutting you off. ‘Always put your kid first and just did what was best for you without worrying what anyone else thought. That’s..admirable.’

‘Thanks?’ You furrowed your brow. ‘I never really gave it that much thought.’

‘I never thought I’d wish for your life.’ She muttered. 

You gently approached her, placing a hand on her shoulder. With caution, obviously. You know that she had a tendency to be vicious and bite. Like a chihuahua. 

‘My life isn’t perfect.’ You said softly. ‘There’s a difference between happiness and perfect. And if you keep trying for perfect, you’ll never be happy.’

‘That’s deep.’

‘Actually, it’s a quote that you shared on Facebook.’ You snorted. ‘You just gotta appreciate what’s around you. Your house, your kids, your husband.’

‘Maybe you’re right.’ Carol nodded. ‘You’re a good parent. A good person. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel less than that.’

‘I mean...you were an asshole, I won’t lie. You’re nosey as fuck and you got involved with my kid, but I’d probably be doing the same if I wasn’t satisfied with my life.’ 

Okay, so you didn’t mean for that to sound so rude, but who could blame you? The woman had given you nothing but crap. You’d already felt bad for her, but now you felt worst.

‘C’mon.’ You stuck your hand out to her. ‘You have two lovely daughters and a husband waiting for you back on the field....you family waiting for you back on the field.’

Dragging Carol off of the car, you dusted off her arms and forced a smile. It didn’t make you happy that she was miserable, but at least offered an explanation for her behaviour. The fact she’d envied you this entire time didn’t make up for what she’d done - the rumours the spread, the things she said - but it at least helped soothe you a little bit. 

‘Can we be friends?’ She asked quietly, traipsing beside you. 

‘...maybe in a few years.’ 

---

As it turned out, Jack did not pass out early. Instead, the four of you ended up having another night on the sofa -- this time with an extra large pizza, just to celebrate the special night. 

Your head had been spinning since your conversation with Carol. You were glad you finally had closure on the whole thing, but it had completely fried your circuits. She was the queen of the hive, the perfect mum, the perfect wife. Her kids wore matching outfits to school and they never had a hair out of place. Her Facebook was filled with family photos of their international vacations and outings to all their activities. Was she not the blue print?

It made you take a step back and look at your own life, which was something you hadn’t done in a while. In fact, last time you’d done it, you realised you’d weren’t happy with your ex-husband. 

Now, it was the opposite. You were in love with somebody who was better than you could have ever imagined; he wasn’t perfect - he snored and he never did the dishes and he always forgot to put the bins out - but he was everything to you. You had a kid who, although was undeniably a tiny meddler, you loved with your whole heart. You had Missy, who had welcomed you into her life with open arms and embraced the chaos you brought. You had dogs, and a house with a fucking garden. 

You didn’t blame Carol for being jealous because, even though it was from perfect, you didn’t need it to be. You had everything you ever wanted and heck, you would have been jealous of it too if it wasn’t completely and entirely yours. 

For the first time all day, you finally had a moment to yourself. You were stretched out across the couch, feet propped up on a pile of cushions; Marcus’ shirt was still on, only now you had changed out your shorts for leggings and your boots for socks fluffy enough to be dangerous on the wooden floors. 

‘Hey, baby.’ Marcus quietly greeted you, shutting the living room door behind him. ‘Kids are asleep.’

You gave him a doubtful look. ‘Even Jack?’

‘Okay - Missy is asleep and Jack is on his iPad.’

You opened your arms to him, grinning. ‘I’ll take it.’

Marcus dropped onto the sofa, an equally big smile falling onto his face as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down to kiss you. He wound both of his around your waist, lifting you off of the couch and into his lap. It always reminded you of when you’d kissed on your first date -- it seemed like worlds away now. 

‘Has it really been a year?’ You murmured softly, resting your forehead against his.

‘Yeah.’ He shyly smiled at you. ‘I don’t know how I got so lucky.’

‘We both got lucky.’ You reminded him. ‘I got lucky that Carol guilt-tripped me into that fucking meeting.’

‘And I got lucky that you were the person I chose to victimise with my small talk.’ He chuckled. ‘You know you’re my whole fucking heart, right?’

‘Yeah.’ You slowly nodded. ‘And you’re mine.’

You’d completely changed each other’s lives - blown them apart, and used the tiny pieces to rebuild everything back into one. Neither of you had even been looking and you’d still managed to find one another. You’d been hurt before and he’d been patient. He’d lost a lot before and you helped him find it again. What he lacked, you had. What you lacked, he had. 

Above all, Marcus had embraced what everybody seemed to encourage; he saw value in the things you’d been insecure about and when he fell in love with him, so did you. In return, you brought an energy and light to his life that he didn’t even know he needed.  In one another, you found unconditional love and support, and a feeling of security that you’d both lacked for so long.

This was it. And it was everything . 

--

OKAY i’m actually so sad this story is over -- i’ve written over the course of maybe 2 weeks but when i TELL YOU i have become so attached? u better believe it. if you check out the series masterlist, you’ll see that there’s a few little fics i’m gonna write to fill in the gaps that were in the time skips between chapters, so that’s still something to look forward to!

thank so so so much for all your support on this series; it’s been so much fun to write & your comments are what encouraged me to finish it so quickly. 

- jamie xx 

taglist: taglist: @naivara-duneimith @1-2-3-4-5metalfingers @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky @phoenixhalliwell @crazycookiecrumbles @bitchin-beskar @comphersjost @absurdthirst @mjby @parkjammys @kteague @katdante @vonschweetz @cyarikashakira​ @mrsparknuts​ @starryeyedstories​ 

[bbygirljuvi]

Gruvia Week 2021 Day 3 - Discovery

Author’s note: This emotional roller coaster turned out longer than I intended. Hope you enjoy ^^

Summary: It take place several hours after Alodron’s defeat, on the way of Drameel.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Group had stoped over in a small yard inside the forest before continuing their path to Drameel. It was the excuse they gave the army. They were campers which had been attacked by some wild animal on thir campsite. They would head to Drameel right after dressed their wounds. Aldron was just a town’s name they knew. To their surprise, army really bought that.

It was really small yard, just enough to lit a campfire. So everybody was spread around the forest. Less injuried members were gettering up wood and food to prepare dinner while Wendy was running around, healing big injuries with last drop of her magic.

Everybody was tired, injured and confused yet happy. Small victory smiles were visible on every face. Joyful whispers were rising from everywhere. Fairy tail was safe and together again.

Gray leaned on a tree which wasn’t too far away from campsite but private from other sights. He closed his eyes with a big sigh while Juvia went to get health supplies. The nauseous feeling had been crippling inside him since the event with Metro kept getting stronger and he was at his limit at this point. His head was aching, there was a still fresh wound end of the dried blood track, his left shoulder was at least dislocated and without adrenaline rush, he was feeling like fainting.

He opened his eyes with two different footsteps coming to his way. Juvia was carrying dressing matterials while Wendy was carrying a bowl of water. Both of their faces was twisted in worry. Was he looking bad as he felt?

“Gray-san what’s wrong, where did you get hurt ?” Wendy asked in rush. “Just my arm and head, not big deal” he said with a ressuring smile but nobody bought that.

Juvia was sitting in the corner, giving Wendy enough space to do her stuff. It wasn’t easy tho. He looked like a mess. She’d been aware that his condition was getting worse every passing minute as they walk but he wasn’t looking half as bad before she left, had he’s been faking it not to worry her? Her heart twitched with another wave of affection.

Wendy checked his head first and gasped a little. It was worse then she initially thought. “Do you feel dizzy or like vomiting Gray-san?” she asked. He gave a small nod then hissed in pain. That hurted, he thought.

“You’re probably having a concussion, I will heal it right away. You should still rest tho.” she said while using her magic. With that ice mage started to feel alive again. “Shit, I’m feeling awesome Wendy, you are amazing!!”

She mumbled something like thank you with one of her cute blushes on and tend towards his left shoulder, fixed it instantly too. This time Juvia talked “ We are so luck to have you Wendy-san~” she said with a bright smile. The gloom had been radiated from her was long gone. “I’m glad I can help my friends. Juvia-san what about you, Did you get hurt too?”

“No, just some scratches, Juvia is okey.”she said while giving an impish look to Gray. Which led him to blush and turn his head. Wendy didn’t know what was that about but she had a guess. “Is that so, than I’m heading to Erza-san. Don’t hesitate to call me if you need.” And left while ice and water mages were waving goodbye, warning her for not to overuse her magic.

Idiot,idiot,idiot he repeated himself as Wendy’s footsteps faded. She’s my power to live?? What will you do next time, kiss her in the battlefield? You extra little-

His inner scrolling cut short by a wet cloth. Juvia was cleaning his face. “Dressing time” she said, trying so hard not to grin like a cheshire cat. She knew it would scare him if she teased him about it longer than she already did. But remaining calm was hard when all she heard was her beloved’s voice echoing in her head. Juvia was his power to live!!

With that she bit her lower lip in an unsuccessful attempt to stop a smile from forming. Gray rolled his eyes to that but relaxed a bit. Her dramatic reactions were so familiar... Yeah, he had practically confessed but it wasn’t something new. Things wouldn’t changed between them. With that realisation he even smiled when she covered her mouth to muff her slipped out giggles.

“Oh,shut up” he said while rolling his eyes once again. But this time he was chukling too. “Juvia’s mouth is sealed.” She said while switching to his arm, cleaning the area with a bright smile. She had almost finished bandaging his right arm when he stopped her. “Wendy healed me, I should have done dressing to you first.” “Not until Juvia finishes mummifing Gray-sama” she said, pushed him back and continued her job. “Hah, I knew it, you had come out of nowhere to kill me. White mage was just an excuse, wasn’t it?” He said playfully. So he was comfortable enough to joke around again? He usually needed more time for his awkwardness to fade off. Progress, she mentally noted.

“Of course it was.” She put her best yandere impression on: “ She missed her Gray-sama too much while he was away, she come here to make sure he won’t leave her ever again!” Than laughed grisly.

“Okey, that was terrifying. You are terrifying Juvia” he played along. “Oh and you should be terrified, Juvia is dead serious, see?” she said, started wrapping his abdomen faster while touching that soft spot she knew Gray was ticklish more than she had to.

His response was immediate. “Stop, no, Juvia sto-“ his words cut off with a laughter. His eyes began to fill with the effort not to burst out. He was crawling in different shapes to save himself but Juvia was merciless. She cornered him between her body, large tree that he was initially leaning on and ground he was currently laying. And tickled him more aggressively as she finished bandaging his wounds. “I have a reputation damn it, stop.” he said between laughters and hold her wrists together in a, successful this time, attempt to stop her. But instead of trying to tickle him more or accepting her defeat, she hissed in pain.

He got up fast, questioning what was wrong while rolling up her sleeves. When he saw weird, bruis like wounds covering her whole arm, he yelped.

“Juvia!! Why didn’t you say anything?” Juvia was looking pretty surprised too. “Where Juvia had been pinned inside Metro was stinging a bit but she didn’t think it was something important...” Her voice kept getting lower once she saw his angry expression. “Your whole arm and-“ he checked under his long boots “ leg are covered in red bruises and you didn’t think it was important!?” Juvia opened her mouth but Gray was just started. “You never take care of yourself. Can’t I even trust you when you say I’m fine?” He started to unbuttoning her coat aggressively since bruises were going beyond her upper arms. He’s stripping me, she mentally noted and placed it aside for later. It wasn’t the right time, he was really angry.

“And you bandaged me with those arms! Always depriving yourself, UGH” She opened her mouth once again when he paused his silent yelling to search right ointment in first-ait bag. But before she could found an excuse, moment passed. He continued scrolling her while angrily rubbing oinment on her left arm.

“What should I do, do I need to strip you every time after a mission to make sure you are okey-“ he paused once again when his eyes slightly crossed over the scar on her abdomen, the one he couldn’t stand seeing. Oh-uh Juvia thought, knowing this would make him grumpier. And she was right, his grip tightened on her wrist. Continued his speech angrier which was about how reckless she was, how she was not listening her physical needs, how she should get her priorities right...

And at that moment, it hit her... She knew her feelings were not as unrequited as it was before. She had known it before that sweet words from several hours ago, she’s my power to live. She had known it before he had claimed her body by saying it’s his. She had known it before unpleasant encounter with Invel. She even had known it before he had promised an answer to her on starry night.

But at that exact moment, while he was grumbling about how reckless she was and angrily wrapping bandage above her elbow; she realised he may care her more than she dared to assume. And at that exact moment she felt loved, more loved than she felt her entire life.

He stopped when he saw her eyes were shining with tears. His expression softened with guilt. Lightened his grip. “I’m sorry. Did i hurt you?” She shooke her head and hugged him carefully, trying not to ruin his effort by rubbing ointment off.

“Juvia will take care of herself more from now on, she won’t act reckless, promise.” She said with a touched voice. It was obvious she was crying. “Hey, hey what’s wrong?” Gray tried to push her, to saw her face but she tightened her arms and buried her face deeper in his neck. “Nothing, really. Can we stay like this for a while please.” she said. Gray was about to object when he felt her tears in his neck, followed by a smile. That was a genuine smile. Gray had never been good at reading people’s emotions but Juvia was different. He would understand if she faked it.

So he mumbled “What is this for all of a sudden?” but still wrapped his arms around her waist, rested his blushed cheek on her hair. They were out of sight anyway.

They stayed in that position until Mirajane declared it was dinner time.

[stillness-in-green]

I felt like the plf war was rushed

1.Plf advisors getting hype but no payoff

2.Only miruko, Momo, and Kirishma got time to shine

3.Machia got defeated to easily

4.The war felt more like a raid

I don't know if I feel like it was rushed, per se--it's by far the longest arc in the story so far by number of chapters, and would be even if you cut off the Tartarus jailbreak and the entirety of the hospital aftermath. What it absolutely does feel like to me is unbalanced.

You note that the "war" feels more like a raid, and you're right. As a caveat, it's worth keeping in mind that "Paranormal Liberation War" as a name for the arc in question is entirely an invention of the fanbase. To the best of my knowledge, the reasoning for the name was that big action shonen series like BNHA (Naruto, Bleach, Hunter x Hunter, etc) always have a war arc, so what we were seeing in the lengthy, mass combat confrontation with the PLF had to be HeroAca's equivalent. It's not a term that's in the manga itself, however, not called as such by the characters, not referred to as such by Horikoshi or his editors, not even namedropped in chapter or volume titles. If it feels like a raid, that's probably because that's what it was intended to be.

And that's the problem, really. This arc shouldn't have been about a couple of raids; it should have been about a war.

(Below the cut: a bunch of fired-up complaining. Uses some harsh language, and talks about both injuries and deaths we did see and some we logically should have.)

From the outset, we were told that the resources Shigaraki had amassed were "on par with, or even stronger than" the resources of the hero-saturated society. Yet, we're expected to believe that a force that strong is so easily taken down by a single coordinated set of raids? Yes, the heroes had the benefit of surprise, but there's just so much that doesn't work for me.

First off, and to get this out of the way, it's ridiculous that the heroes even had the benefit of surprise. The MLA had an unknown number of hero double agents. They had people in the government; they had people in the infrastructure. This is an organization that had been living undercover completely unsuspected for multiple generations--how did the HPSC ever manage to carry out a massive, country-wide investigation on such a secretive group and coordinate multiple simultaneous, comprehensive raids without a single person finding out and alerting the higher-ups over a period of only three and a half months?

When exactly did Hawks have time to go and revive Best Jeanist--which he tells us he did personally--such that none of the bugs and micro-cameras he was covered with picked up on it, and both he and BJ could be back in the positions they needed to be in for the raid to begin?

How did Skeptic find out about the raid such that he only discovered it at the last possible second and not minutes, even hours, before it kicked off? How did hundreds of heroes (and even "hundreds" is being conservative, given the fact that they had seventeen thousand people to detain) close in on the villa without anyone from the PLF noticing, either Skeptic with his information network or mundane precautions like people on watch?

Even granting the heroes their surprise advantage--which I don't want to--if the advisors were all supposedly "stronger than the average hero," why didn't we see any of them winning? Okay, yes, Hose Face beat Midnight, but he had every possible advantage in that "fight"; I hardly count it as some big impressive defeat that shows us that the villains were holding their own.

Here's another thing: the MLA styled themselves as an army--they were demonstrably trained in troop tactics. When we saw them in Deika, even their nameless on-the-ground people were capable of coordinating with each other on the fly in response to the movements of the enemy, as we saw come up repeatedly:

Yeah, they were off-guard at first, but as soon as the advisors made the front line (which, you'll note, was immediately), that disadvantage really should have begun eroding. Certainly once Geten--Geten! The number one MLA member most willing to disregard collateral damage! And there he was being a proper leader!--got to the front and started yelling orders, we should have seen the PLF rallying, and I can't imagine any sensible justification for the tides not turning when a) Re-Destro showed up to occupy the highest-ranked hero on the field, b) a bunch of heroes peeled off to try to stop Machia only to get trampled for their efforts, and c) Trumpet got dug out.

You know who don't style themselves as an army, though? Heroes. Oh, they get some basic lessons in cooperation as students, but the extent of such lessons we see is stuff like "why it's important for heroes to have signature moves"--so that on group missions, their reputations will precede them and fellow heroes will already know their shtick. U.A. teaches the odd lesson plan that involves the kids fighting in groups, but there's a huge difference between you and 3 to 6 of your buddies fighting a similarly-sized group in a practice fight, or a handful of heroes teaming up to take down some criminal low-lives, and the mass combat scenario that was the raid. For heaven's sake, look at our closest other equivalent: the raid on the Hassaikai base. At every turn in that encounter, the heroes let themselves get split up and picked off, winnowing down their numbers. It's even explicit in the narrative that hero team-ups were, in the age of All Might, uncommon, and heroes are only just beginning to adjust to fighting in teams. The erstwhile MLA should have had the advantage there.

As to Machia's defeat, I think the big problem with it is not how it happened, per se, but the timescale involved. The plan itself was sound enough, and even with all the kids' efforts, it still took Machia reaching Shigaraki and not getting any new orders to follow to really do him in. Given what we can extrapolate about his movement speed, though, I just don't think the kids should have had time to set all those traps, especially given how much of that equipment would have had to be fabricated by Momo on the fly. I know she's gotten stronger and all, and good for her, but you're telling me that in the four months between Joint Training and the raid, she went from passing out because she created a bag of goodies and one (1) cannon to being totally fine and still able to coordinate her fellow students while cranking out 23 jars of sedative, dozens of feet of rope/cable, multiple fire-resistant coats, explosives they somehow had time to bury, and three cannons?

For fuck's sake, Jirou gave Machia's ETA as under ten seconds. Yeah, Mount Lady slowed him down, but "only a little"--how much time could she possibly have bought them, that the kids were able to to coordinate and enact everything that plan involved?

You guys, go read this post by @codenamesazanka. Machia is so fast. So unbelievably, incredibly fast. "Twice as fast as the fastest train in the world" fast. "Horikoshi clearly did not stop to think about the distances involved here" fast. Three miles in ten seconds fast. It would have been hard enough to square with the needs of the plot that the kids were sufficiently far from the villa to have the kind of time they needed to swing Momo's plan at all, but Horikoshi explicitly letting Machia get right on top of them before the kids even start just makes it completely impossible for me to credit. Machia clearly being slower aboveground than he is when burrowing does not make that much difference to my suspension of disbelief.

My other big complaint? More people should have died, for real. The PLF warriors would not have been holding back. They were ready and willing to kill anyone they came up against. The heroes did have to hold back, because heroes, as we're told over and over again, are not supposed to kill, no matter how dire the circumstances. That difference in ability to exercise force should have been yet another significant advantage for the PLF. I could write an entire list of characters that I think could have reasonably been killed during the raids. That wouldn't be to say that I think any individual, specific character on that list should have died, just that, based on the parameters as they were presented to audience, some number of them should have.

I mean, honestly. How did Horikoshi wanna show us Gang Orca's unmoving claw in the wake of Machia's passage and not have Gang Orca on the list of the dead? How did Fat Gun run right into a mass melee and still have enough fat left over afterward to survive getting trampled by a walking mountain? How did Thirteen survive not getting pulled out of the hospital basement when Shigaraki's Decay hit? How did Trumpet survive getting a staircase dropped on top of him? How did Gran Torino survive a fist through his tiny old man chest cavity?

I could go on and on, but it's not just about the deaths, either. I'm not saying that Kamui Woods necessarily should have died by swinging himself face-first into a blast of blue fire, but I am saying that he should have been out of commission for longer than three goddamn days. You bet your ass I'm saying that after telling us that Hawks' weak point is fire, making us watch him spend at a solid minute or more with his wings wholly enveloped in Dabi's 2000 degree flames, and having Dark Shadow exclaim that his back is completely burned away, Hawks should never have grown his wings back, much less so quickly that they were already visible under his shirt a single day later.

More deaths, more maiming--heck, even more retirements. I'm not saying I love that kind of thing in my fiction--I don't, actually. I think an overreliance on it is a sign of edgelordy nonsense. But the scenario that we had demanded to be treated with the kind of gravity that would have led to such an outcome. To set up a conflict like the raid and have the villains only barely be able to scrape a partial escape, to try to tell us that Shigaraki's victory in Deika granted him such a terrifyingly powerful force only to have them lose every battle they got into, to tell us this was a blow that shook Hero Society to its core, only to be so unwilling to kill or retire any heroes the audience cares about that Midnight is literally the only significant loss… It doesn't work. None of it works.

I don't have much to say on which characters did or didn't get a highlight. I think there were a few more people than you listed that got some good scenes--Tokoyami and Uraraka both got material I liked quite a bit; Dabi famously out-trended the U.S. presidential election on Twitter when he (literally) came clean, and Mr. Compress gave us some wonderfully interesting and characteristically opaque material to chew on. On the whole, though, adding more character moments would only have been dragging out the problem: the scale of the PLF's threat and the HPSC's chosen method of dealing with it are simply incompatible with the feeble "neither side truly won or lost" resolution we got.

And that's my rant on that--thanks for the ask!

[vickyvicarious]

what do you make of Eliot's pre-show reputation for working alone? it makes sense for Parker and Hardison, who've always worked that way, but Eliot has a history of working as part of a team in various contexts

Yeah, it's definitely interesting! Really, Sophie never gets that label of 'always working alone' (and in fact later we see her bringing in Tara, which supports that she has friendly contacts still). It's just Parker, Hardison, and Eliot. And like you said, it makes complete sense for Parker, and even Hardison's hacking is just typically more suited to be done alone even if he is a social guy on a personal level. Eliot is different, given his history.

One thing I noticed a while ago, which is also interesting, is that Eliot's job by its very nature depends on other people. Sophie, Parker, and Hardison all steal what they want - as retrieval specialist, Eliot had to be hired. That's not to say he never just took something he wanted, necessarily, but his role majorly depended on people a) knowing of him in the first place, b) trusting his reputation enough to hire him, and c) being able to get in touch with him to hire him. I highly doubt he was handing out business cards left and right, so he had to have a network of contacts to at the very least pass his name along as an 'I know just the guy for the job' kind of thing. In fact, we see him bring in a friend on a con early in S1, and he is in contact with/does jobs for old military contacts throughout the show. (Once again, in the first episode Parker and Hardison were successfully recruited for someone else’s job, so it's not like that never happened for the others. But the general trend was that they picked their own heists; Eliot was hired on by other people.)

So we have a guy here who has a history of working on teams, a reputation as a loner, and yet still actively works for people who he has to keep on good enough terms to keep hiring him. How did that happen? In my opinion, it all comes back to Damien Moreau.

Eliot's timeline goes through some distinct phases:

Rural teen with a relatively poor family, I think they mention he played football; very all-American.

Joined the army with "a flag on his shoulder and God in his heart" or however that quote went.

Highly trained military operative involved in very classified operations.

Working for Damien Moreau.

Working solo as a retrieval specialist.

Leverage.

It's easy to track him through 1-3. He was recruited into the army with promises of heroism and glory, excelled at what he did, was eventually disillusioned. Getting from there to Moreau is a bit more of a jump, and likely didn't happen immediately. Given how protective Eliot gets over people he's working with, and how vigorously he hates betrayals of trust from his team, I think it's not unreasonable to assume that part of the reason he left the army had to do with whatever unit he was in getting very hurt. Likely in a way that made him feel he failed to protect them; maybe he was the only one who made it out of one specific situation. Maybe just a bunch of people he worked with got whittled down, or maybe it wasn't anything so deadly but he saw how little their lives mattered in the grand scheme of those in charge, saw how amoral the missions he was given were, and it was more of a gradual slide into illegality. There's also the detail that as he got into more and more classified work, he might be less and less likely to have a large group of people he could talk to/be a regular team with. Either way, I think Moreau didn't completely hire him straight out of the army, but there probably wasn't a tremendously long time between him leaving that group and joining up with Moreau.

*I originally thought Eliot didn't meet Toby until after he left Moreau, but a helpful anon corrected me on that! 'In the French Connection Job he says to Nate "I was out of the service and working for my 2nd PMC", doing wetwork.' He 'should've' killed Toby but instead stayed with him for months, 'learning how to cook and how to feel'. It certainly seems like he had gone some degree of numb after his experiences in the army and even since leaving it. His second private military contract/company... still implies he was working for organizations of some sort, though I get the impression he wasn't sticking around for terribly long times. Still, even if he then works solo retrieval type gigs for a while, I don't think he was nearly as insistent on working alone/had such a clear reputation about it, not yet.

Eliot no longer believed that he was doing good. He'd lost his naive patriotism and seems to have lost his religion for the most part as well. He didn't trust the system, but for the most part he still seemed to have faith in individuals. He still kept in touch with some old colleagues, he'd learned from Toby; he still wanted to be a part of something, even if that something couldn't be the US Army. He's a self-motivated criminal now but he still isn't averse to working with others.

Then comes Damien Moreau. Whether you read their relationship as romantic or not, it was undeniably important and personal. They knew one another well. Damien even still liked Eliot years after he'd left. There's good evidence for them having an emotionally abusive relationship where Moreau took advantage of Eliot's tendency to do things for those he cares about (I reblogged a great meta on this a little while ago). But essentially what we see here is that in all his time working for Moreau, no one else made such a strong impression on Eliot. Moreau definitely seems the type to play favorites and emotionally distance Eliot from other goons - Eliot isn't just another goon after all, he's the best. He's worthy of Damien's time and attention and specific assignments that only Eliot can be trusted to get done right. Whatever process of estrangement Eliot's superior skills may have begun, Moreau quickened until there was only one person who was the most important to him. Eliot didn't just work for him as a part of some vast criminal network by the end - no, he worked directly for and with Moreau himself. He was part of a team of two for all intents and purposes, regardless of how often he may have cooperated with others on specific jobs (though I suspect that got less frequent over time as well).

And when Eliot realized how deep he'd gotten, how terrible he'd become? He left, and left Damien Moreau specifically behind. Maybe he took a break for a while, went underground... it certainly doesn't seem like he had a conversation with Moreau and resigned so much as he just ran. And when he returned it was as a solo act. What this tells me is that not only did his time with Moreau break Eliot's trust in himself, it broke his ability to trust others. Not everyone necessarily, but in a working capacity. It probably was not the first time he'd experienced betrayal (in some form or another, his time in the army definitely qualified) but it was the most personal. Eliot trusted and liked Moreau - and he did the worst things in his entire life for him.

He couldn't repeat that. He couldn't leave himself open to getting sucked in like that again. And what's more, at this point he really didn't need to. His skills were such that he could get the job done himself (and had perhaps even honed those more solo skills while working for Moreau), and doing so meant that he never had to leave himself vulnerable to someone else like that again. He didn't have to be responsible for someone else getting hurt, and he didn't have to accept that he'd put someone else in charge of who he hurt. Eliot starts being more careful not to permanently injure or kill people, starts getting more selective with his jobs, and makes it a requirement that he works them alone. He still has to accept jobs from others, yeah, but he has ultimate control over what jobs he does accept, and if he operates purely on a freelance basis without getting too involved with any one client, then he can avoid the emotional entanglement that lead to such horrific loss of judgement in the past. It's hard, because he is naturally drawn to other people... but Eliot thinks that letting no one in is by far the safer option for everyone involved. He still builds relationships with others in order to get his name out, and may do repeat work for certain people, but no one is going to own him anymore. He is good enough that he can afford to set the terms like that; when he keeps getting the job done the word will spread that even alone he is worth the money. Eliot relies only on himself and any relationships he has are necessarily shallow. Professional, brief. This extends even to friendships (that seem to involve infrequent contact for the most part) and romantic relationships (he has plenty of sex but doesn't get emotionally close to anyone, does not fall in love). He is alone - in fact he is emphatically and outspokenly alone, because he doesn't want anyone to get their hooks in him like that ever again.

(*Doing jobs like this also limits the likelihood, especially in the beginning, that he's going to end up working for Moreau again in any real capacity. As time passes and Moreau doesn't attempt to bring him back too hard, that may become less of an issue in his mind, but it could certainly be a perk at least as the start.)

Then of course we eventually come to Leverage. It's been a while since Moreau. Eliot has built a solid reputation for himself - and he is being offered a LOT of money for a job that promises to be fairly quick. At this point, he probably feels like maybe he can trust himself as part of a team again without getting too sucked in - he will just keep it to one job and go his own way afterwards. It'll be fine.

...And then he immediately gets sucked in, bonds right away and wants so badly to stay. But even then, it's because of Nate. Eliot knows Nate, trusts him to be the 'honest man', is certain enough of Nate's moral compass that it's okay to get drawn in if Nate is the one making the plans. If it weren't for him, Eliot would have walked right away. Eliot was never going to allow himself to be ruled by others again... but Nate isn't like any of those people, he is a good man. Eliot can trust him not to lead him into anything too morally wrong, and in fact the work with Leverage is a way to bring some good back into the world. Not redeem himself, that won't ever happen, but under Nate's leadership Eliot can do something good for once. He doesn't want to stop.

By the time he moves past trusting Nate's judgement so much, he already trusts and loves the whole team. Parker and Hardison especially, so now he has to stay to keep them safe... even from Nate's plans sometimes, when he gets drunk and reckless. Eliot is secure in his role as part of a team again - and he probably was very lonely without one for all that time. It's not really in his nature to work alone long-term. And a key difference this time is that everyone else gets just as invested as he, and there's a good balance of power and respect unlike all of the more hierarchical teams he was in before (army, Moreau, they would have clear command structures - hell, even high-school football has a captain and a coach). Nate is nominally in charge but they talk back to him and lead where they have the most expertise. They dedicate themselves to him as much as he to them, they change together. And they change for the better, together.

[imemeyoumemeweallmeme]

Quotes from “Twisted: The Untold Story of a Royal Vizier” as starters

But today could be the day I finally make a difference!

Where are you off to today, you no good piece of shit?

You’ve got to dream a little harder!

It took you long enough, you shit-eating dog.

Oh, so you think you're better than me just because you can read?

Just try to keep your fat face out of that motherfucking book.

Why am I the only one who sees things as they are?

Oh, ___, sometimes I feel you're my only friend in this world.

Today, things got a little out of hand and a lot of good people are dead.

Did we get the loaf of bread back?

Why do you even bother visiting us commoners anymore, you aristocat?

I sure hope you haven't goofed this one up, ___.

Tsk, tsk, tsk, look at this mess. Dead bodies in the street.

Did you know in this barbaric country they only give you money if you work?

Who would seek employment when life offers such enjoyment?

You're only in trouble if you get caught.

My father says that you must marry me now, or I'll bring dishonor to my entire family.

I can't give up on my dreams and settle down just 'cause your dad's being a dick.

‘Cause you stole my daughter’s hymen!

That’s completely fair, but in my defense - dude, your daughter’s hot.

My ass cheeks…they're hanging out.

And what's this? Blood. Blood on my ass cheeks. Tell me, ___, how the fuck did it get there?

Oh I am grateful for your tiny ass, ___!

This really is an act of war, ___!

Do not feed me shit and call it couscous, ___!

Well an hour free is better than a lifetime in a cage. Being fed and pampered and cleaned up after. What kind of a life is that?

When are you going to learn that your actions have consequences?

One of these days, you're going to learn that life isn't about dreams coming true. It's a series of compromises and disappointment.

That's supporting a corrupt system. You're a part of the problem.

I want everything, and more!

My secret is simple, really. Anyone could do it. I just follow the golden rule!

Always treat others like sisters and brothers and they’ll do the same for you.

I get back what I give!

My hunger blinded me and forced me to act like an animal.

But we're not animals. We're gifted with minds to reason and hearts to love!

I think that's enough fun for one day, eh, ___?

Well, we have our own golden rule here. Whoever has the gold…makes the rules.

The gold that my neighbor earns through his labor is gold I’ll never see.

So keep your mouth shut and your palm open, and you may just get...filthy stinkin' rich!

You could start by telling me your name.

I suppose this will be the end of me.

I am a servant to the people, and therefore your servant.

Magic does nothing if not touch the soul.

I want to know your story, I want to know your past, I want to know your future too.

Fill my days and nights with the tale of you.

I never cared for stories until you entered mine.

Let’s make ours the story with no end.

Their mouths aren't fit to hold a donkey's shit.

Many years ago, I took my finger…and I pushed in my penis…and it hasn't come out since.

A very wise and enthralling tale, ___. We can all learn a lesson from it, I expect.

Where's my opium?

Speak now, ___! And don't fuck it up!

Well, maybe I have a new purpose now.

That is what your story is about.

I wish I had the power to rewrite this tale.

Never stop wishing it, ___.

We will be reunited one day, and unlock wonders beyond your wildest dreams!

After all, I must be pretty great, if you believed in me.

I only hope you haven't fallen prey to some sex-crazed ruffian!

Right this way, babe.

This is so unfair! Poor people need slaves just as much as rich people do! Maybe even a little bit more.

Of course it's a free thinker like who's struggling to get by. And all because of our totally corrupt class system.

I hate the class system. That's why I said, "Fuck it, I'm never going to school again."

So, you abandoned everything, to be free? That is so brave.

Brave? Me? Yeah.

All my parents ever did was support me. Give me a place to stay, tell me they loved me, no matter what. They were really bad parents.

How's a thirty-three-year-old kid supposed to know how to survive on his own?

But that is not fair! ___’s a victim of circumstance!

Don't look at me like that! These are my orders from ___.

Wait, wait, what? You slit people's throats? I didn't tell you to kill anyone! This is awful!

___, no. That is just an expression.

I'm gonna have so much gold I could swim through it! Like a pool. Do you think people can really do that?

Once I get my mind set on a chick, I just can't move on until I get this nut out.

I can’t wait to be a rich dude!

Stealing is so much easier when you’ve got already tons of gold.

We’ll get our happy ending tonight.

We weren't sure if you were ever coming back, ___.

Everyone, look at my ass!

You received the manhood of a badger?

Those are stretch marks, they happen.

Oh, I see! You received the manhood of a tiger!

Did you hear that, lads? ___ made love to a tiger!

Tiger fucker! Tiger fucker! Tiger fucker!

I DID NOT FUCK A TIGER!!!

Am I not a thing of beauty? Don't you want a piece of this? Wouldn't you gladly give up all of your worldly possessions just to greet me when I come home from a one-sided massacre, and bathe my sweaty, bloody body with your tongue?

Oh…you. Aren't you busy ruining my life?

I noticed you weren't at dinner, but I saw you tried to poison my wine. Usually when you do that, it means you want to talk. What's up, are you mad at me?

You ripped my heart out and smashed it into a million pieces. And don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about.

He/she/they was perfect! Like if you cobbled together all the best features from all the best guys/girls/people, and then gave them a tragic backstory! It's like he/she/they was designed specifically to appeal to me.

I knew everything about him/her/them! He/she/they was my soul mate! My -- my -- God, I am freaking out, what was his/her/their name?

Believe it or not, I care about you.

I don't want to be prepared. I want to expect the unexpected.

Look, you're young. You don't exactly get how things work yet. And, while I don't appreciate any of your ideas, I do appreciate the fact that you HAVE ideas. Maybe one day you'll have some GOOD ones.

Sexual predators the lot of them! Their tactics target vulnerable, young girls, and build up false senses of trust and then isolate them on magic rides of sorts. And when the moment is right, they whip it out. You know... their songs.

Be wary of young boys who whip out their songs. A song is often a prelude to a dick.

A song is a dick in sheep's clothing.

Can't you see I'm trying to impart a life lesson?

I feel like you only come to see me when there's bad news.

I counted thirteen dead before the peacocks got to them.

How the fuck did you know it was me?

Because it IS you, you're just wearing different clothes.

Wow. Pretty AND smart. You're the whole shebang, babe.

Everything I told you the other night was a lie. Don't you trust me?

Ugh. Oh no. Okay, um, now I'm kind of feeling like everything about you that was attractive to me before isn't really there anymore.

No! No, I'm just being indecisive. It's still you.

I've just got to get back on that high that I was on before.

Look into my eyes and talk to me some more about the world's injustice!

Sure. Just let me roll this blunt first.

But I don't want her/him/they to love me. I just want her/him/them to fuck me.

You guys know there's a way to get people to think about sex without even talking about sex? You just gotta do it subliminally.

Hey, babe, it's such a beautiful night -- take off your clothes.

But…let me ask you this: is your penis an innie or an outie?

___ explained everything to me. He/she/they was just pretending to be a ___. For fun.

I bet the ___ is under that ___ sized hat!

Bullshit! Why would I pretend to be a ___? Just to get laid? That's not me.

Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa! Why are you picking on me, ___? Afraid I'll reveal your little secret?

Whoa! I thought I was just bullshitting you guys!

What made me think that I could get away with such a plot?

How does the golden rule apply in such a situation?

Whichever road I take, I will only encourage someone’s wrath!

‘Til now I’ve always traveled down the straight and narrow path.

But which way do I turn when the road’s become so... so... twisted?

You think you know me, as others think they know you, but there are two sides to every story.

I was prepared for anything, except for what ensued.

They weren't ready for my ideas.

Fortune favors the beautiful.

My only crime was love.

But the heart wants what it wants, and sometimes what it wants, is twisted.

I only wished to reclaim what was mine!

I only wished for equal rights for all!

I only wished to save her/him/them!

I only wished to be invited to the party!

I only wished to improve relations between the races!

I only wished to teach ___ responsibility… so he/she/they wouldn’t end up like me!

I only wished to give the people a voice… To help the miserable, lonely, and depressed!

I never knew my father!

It's an unfortunate situation…But you do have a choice.

What remains of a man when that man is dead and gone?

Why protect my reputation? I’m a dead man/woman/person either way!

How will they tell my story? How will they tell my tale? Will anybody even care?

Is it nobler in the mind to be well-liked but ineffectual, or moral but maligned?

If I hide to save my life, what has my life been for?

The road ahead may twist, but I will never swerve!

I’ll give them all the unsung antihero they deserve!

I’ve nothing left to lose, to the only path to choose is twisted.

So let them twist my words, let the people scorn me.

Who cares if no one will ever mourn me?

Let them bury the side of the story that they’ll never learn!

Let the truth be twisted!

Let my life be twisted!

I’ll be twisted, it’s my turn!

Your armies have abandoned you. Your ruling class is corrupt and we have come to put an end to your tyrannical rule!

You'll never end our tyrannical rule!

It is I who will be doing the fucking today.

It appears that ___ has cold feet!

Yes I am talking to you! Now get your ass over here!

I've got to become a sorcerer! Can you do that?

Yes, I do feel lucky. I've got a ___! But I think he might be a fucking moron!

My fuse is about this long right now.

You either need to back me the fuck up, or shut the fuck up. Got it?

And what's the last thing you wanna do before that happens? Take off your clothes. That's right, have sex! Hurry, take off your clothes.

I'm not going to take off my clothes in the middle of a battle!

My skin is melting!

Would you stop acting like an asshole for one minute?

I'm not a tease. I'm just…not a freak.

You're making sex seem gross and lame.

You got that, ___? We are not a thing anymore, okay?

We're just having our first fight. Maybe after some make up sex…

You're the guy who killed my parents. Where have you been?

Okay, Jesus Christ, I don't know what's going on here.

That's the trick! You just really have to believe your own bullshit!

It takes someone who believes they can change the world to actually do it.

This isn't fair! Life is supposed to be fair!

Your youth and your passion, and yes, your naïveté -- these give you power.

When I was your age, I thought I could accomplish anything I ever wanted and more! But I didn't. Perhaps no one does. But you have to think you will or you won't have the strength to try.

Maybe you won't make any big changes, but a few little ones that pave the way for the next generation. And then they'll make small changes and leave it to the next and the next! It's a bit like a carousel of progress. Always spinning towards a great, big, beautiful tomorrow. And tomorrow is just a dream away.

But what if tomorrow never comes?

Tomorrow always comes. Even if it comes without us.

What will I do without you to guide me? When I am lost, where will I turn?

You remind me of someone I knew long ago.

You’re the one who put it there -- the power in me.

The power to love one another is the greatest power of all.

No matter where life leads us, we’ll never be apart.

Through thick and thin, success or ruin, I’ll carry you in my heart.

I will treasure forever what the world will never see.

You are kind, and that’s enough.

I wish you didn’t have to go when our story’s just begun.

Then I wish you every happiness.

It was more money than I had ever seen. But I was able to count it.

And that's the end of the true story.

[unohanadaydreams]

So, it’s time for some more re-read updates bc I’m incapable of not dumping my thots kthx.

The thing is, seeing this entire scene play out makes me even more depression that this was never taken full circle in terms of Rukia and Ichigo’s connection to Kaien being revealed to them.

Like, you’re telling me glutton for punishment Rukia Kuchiki wouldn’t have felt even MORE guilt after finding out Kaien was related to Ichigo? That she robbed one of the most important people in her life of having KAIEN to help him?

And her confronting Ichigo with that and telling him abit about Kaien and he’s just like ‘I can tell you learned a lot from him, he sounds just like you’ and she just can not handle that and breaks down because holy shit? She really has passed on the heart Kaien gave her to Ichigo and she’s kept his memory alive all this time. His heart is in her and it’s made it’s way to Ichigo THROUGH her.

Like 😔 where was Rukia’s final catharsis moment and taking Ichigo to the Shibas, alive. Where was her not leaving this time, not carrying the blood of a teacher but the shoulder of a student. She isn’t the reason a Shiba is dead now. She’s the reason one is alive.

You think Gin and Luppi had a lot of meaningful conversations about uuuuh…..hot bods. Like part of me thinks Luppi is one of the only Arrancar who could stand Gin and also that Gin does not mean this bc he saw those tentacles on Rangiku.

Personally I think Gin encouraging Luppi to attack the human world to ‘assert his new rank’ or whatever is an awfully good way to off some strong Arrancar from Aizen’s army especially since he would KNOW about sealing procedures among captains/lieutenants.

Gin’s happy ending is you dying, Ulquiorra, isn’t that nice? 💕

I love how he contradicts himself instantly. Why are you treating your brother’s wounds if he’s just a box and you only cared about the data? Why did you single out the guy who killed him?

Science men in Bleach are positively PHOBIC to looking like they have meaningful connections.

Szayelaporro “I’m too mature to care about things that aren’t me, myself, and my science” Granz stfu

This confuses me. Like, WHERE is that good score counting towards??? Sure as fuck not the kido corps. Like, this further lends to my theory that lots of students are getting offed for not being strong enough in the academy because going back to the rukongai isn’t an option.

No way this academy is getting full classes of new students every single year and yet they only have a handful of thousands in the gotei 13. Especially considering that for, presumably, the original run of Bleach, it was canon that soul society was THE ONLY soul society, for all human dead. Which is honestly less confusing than every country having their own bc like…..borders and shit have changed so many times just in the past 1000 years, how do you even go about deciding which humans go to which soul society (and like are there multiple versions of Hueco Mundo? Of Hell? It’s too much)

This scene hits, but it would be even more devastating with a fade in and out of that month they spent together just saying Kubo it’s okay to give us content of two women talking about not Ichigo.

Also, I love that Rukia still finds a way to think about Kaien’s lesson and apply it to herself in a negative way. Like you can not get a bad grade in dying, ma’am. You’re doing your best.

Also Orihime seeing Rukia almost die is ❤️ very angst much horror thank you.

This entire line of thought was so unnecessary and held up exactly 0 percent. It wasn’t even needed for Ichigo to go after Aizen bc like…..he already took Orihime???? Why make him a little bit more mad about her reputation?

You can not tell me that Aizen, who has been playing 4D chess for hundreds of years, was like ‘yeah it’ll be very convincing that this teenage girl decided to jump to my ship after I had numerous people she loved almost killed and my goal is definitely to have Soul Society not help Ichigo and co under that premise. I’m not planning anything, Soul Society and definitely not moving up the war love u xoxoxo.’

Yamamoto could have just straight up said ‘I’m not sacrificing my soldiers for one human girl but gl with Aizen bitch.’ Because that’s what it really comes down to. Yamamoto is trying to fake out Aizen and seem on lockdown/like he’s waiting until Winter—the whole Orihime Is Traitor thing makes very little sense in that regard.

I will say that Hueco Mundo arc really upped the casual violence and body horror in Bleach as a whole so yet another win for this arc.

Also I love how Grimmjow is one of the villains in Bleach that even the most ‘problematic characters haters’ will simp for when this is his baseline when it comes to just annoyance. He is so hot he transcends dumb fandom discourse. This man is causally annoyed so he’s slowly and purposefully breaking Lollys leg so she fully understands before he does it. The ultimate vindictive bitch.

I know that she probably is freaked out about her leg coming back because it’s a bat shit amount of power involved in doing that, but I think she’s infinitely more horrified that Orihime not only healed her, but does so without a word, almost devoid of emotion.

She freely cusses Grimmjow out, tries to barter with him, tries to persuade him, and generally feels comfortable running her mouth because she knows violence is happening regardless. She is afraid and doesn’t want it to happen but she knows the song and dance.

But she hits Orihime with a lot of fear behind it, barely able to say more than get away. And despite that, plus the beating (AND BROKEN FUCKING PINKIE just hanging there bent) Orihime was given, Lolly is given her leg back. And she says nothing. She doesn’t ask for anything. Or want anything.

And in a place with a violent ridden caste system, I imagine that would be a lot. How do you reconcile your everyday life and how you treat everyone around you and how they treat you when you’re faced with a person who doesn’t adhere to those rules. How do you face the realization that some human girl can give you back a leg and bring back your only friend and do it not because you deserve it, but because you’re alive and need help and that’s all the reason needed. Kindness can be a curse. Cornered dogs bite and then ache for the hand upon their head again.

Renji does this twice in this arc so far, this being the first time. This man is like ‘I may not be the strongest but I can take second degree burns and falling buildings like a fucking champ and that’s about to be your problem’. You can’t tell me he doesn’t play chicken with Ikkaku by standing way too close to fireworks after they’re lit and seeing who’s less fucked up after. Sake of course included.

Also Szayelaporro and Uryu are like rival theater kids in this fight trying to bang out the best one liner and pose. Too bad Uryu wasted time trying to run away instead of pulling out his sewing kit to outdo Szayelaporro’s costume change.

Actually, I’m Frankenstein, not Frankenstein’s monster :/

[kyrievali]

I've been reading your posts and in one of them you mentioned that Iroh in fact is very shady and Azula has every right to hate him, may you explain why?

Sure, I’ll go into it. 

Let me start off by saying that I actually really like Iroh as a character. I think he’s great and well-written. I think the fandom tends to gloss over his flaws and label him as “perfect”, which is not true. One of his greatest failings (aside from making two teenage siblings fight each other for the throne...or really not intervening at all where Ozai is concerned) is his treatment of Azula, and him saying “No, she’s crazy and needs to go down” and essentially writing her off when, if you compare Azula’s personality with Season 1 Zuko, they’re really not all that different. Azula, people tend to forget, is a 14 year old girl who was as much a subject of abuse as her brother. Zuko and Azula were essentially pitted against one another to both gain Ozai’s affection and, more importantly, avoid punishment. The only difference is that she was rewarded and praised by Ozai for her power and cruelty, while Zuko was punished for his “shortcomings”. Zuko’s entire storyline proved how important it is to have a good, guiding parental figure in one’s life, and it’s tragic that Azula didn’t have that.

Now, let’s talk about why Azula probably hated her Uncle.

1. She thinks he’s a failure and, worse than that, weak

And I don’t mean weakness in terms of his firebending skills. Let me explain - Fire Nation citizens are ingrained with Nationalistic pride and complete loyalty to the Fire Lord from a very young age. Iroh, once upon a time, was the heir to the Fire Nation’s throne and the favored son of the notoriously cruel Azulon. He laid a 600 day siege against Ba Sing Se during which his son, Lu Ten, was killed. This tragic event caused him to withdraw his troops, despite having breached the outer wall.   

Upon his return home, his father dies under mysterious circumstances and decrees that Ozai will be the heir to the throne. Instead of contesting it, Iroh leaves the Fire Nation and ostensibly spends his time traveling the world, meeting with the Dragons, and getting in tune with the Spirit World. Doing so gives him the knowledge and wisdom to see the error of his ways, at which point he returns to the Fire Nation and serves as a General in the army. 

Let’s look at this from the perspective of Azula, or really any other citizen of the Fire Nation. Their country waged a nearly 2-year long siege against the Earth Kingdom - and right when they make progress by breaking through the first wall, the Crown Prince gives up because his son died. Countless Fire Nation lives and resources were spent on this 600 day campaign, and they end up with nothing to show for it. If you look at the philosophy of Sozin, Azulon, and Ozai, they likely would have used the death of Lu Ten to galvanize the troops and double their efforts, in an attempt to exact revenge against the Earth Kingdom for daring to spill royal blood - and so that their sacrifices thus far would not have been in vain.

And then, not only does Iroh withdraw from Ba Sing Se, he also abandons his duties and his country completely. Iroh had a reputation as a fearsome Firebender and cunning strategist - and he just leaves. So now not only is he a failure, but he’s also a deserter, one who abandons his nation while it’s reeling from a humiliating defeat and the loss of its Sovereign, Azulon (who, by the way, ruled for about 80 years).

In Azula’s eyes, all of this amounts to weakness, and as we all know from how she was raised by Ozai, weakness is unacceptable. 

2. She is parroting her father’s feelings of resentment

Given that Azula was the favored child of Ozai, it’s likely that she idolized her father and thought he was superior to her uncle, the Crown Prince (for the first few years of her life, at least, Iroh WAS the Crown Prince) and should have been the true heir to Azulon. We don’t see a whole lot of Ozai or his backstory/characterization, but it’s not unreasonable to assume that he, being many years younger than Iroh (it’s never officially stated, but Ozai is around 45 at the time of the show and Iroh appears to be in his late 60’s/early 70’s) had an inferiority complex growing up, and probably some form of sibling rivalry. After all, Iroh is already an adult by the time Ozai is born, and the Crown Prince, who has been groomed from birth to be Azulon’s heir. Ozai is an afterthought; an insurance policy, who at the very moment of Lu Ten’s birth, is outranked by an infant. 

Ozai probably resented Iroh his entire life, so it is not unlikely that Azula would probably feel the same way. 

3. He’s a traitor to the Fire Nation

Azula is a Nationalist and Ozai’s most loyal enforcer. Iroh’s a traitor, and as far as she knows, a corrupting influence to her brother, Zuko. She also probably thinks that he’s committing treason because (she doesn’t know any better) Iroh wants to be the rightful Fire Lord, and she is not going to stand for that. 

4. He reminds her of her mother

Azula is used to being the golden child - a prodigious Firebender, the favored daughter of her father, representative of everything the model Fire Nation child should be. And yet, her own mother does not appear to love her. Her Uncle has stated distaste for her. She thinks she’s doing everything right - because according to Sozin and Ozai’s philosophies and the emphasis of power and loyalty to the Fire Nation - she is; so why do two of her own family members prefer Zuko, the “screw-up” of the family - to her? 

It’s clear that Azula craves the love and adoration of others, but she doesn’t really understand it. I think as she grew older and saw more of the world and how people behaved toward her, she understood on some level that she was considered a “monster” and that people were afraid of her; but that’s how she was raised. Fear was power, and power was everything. And growing up, she was only ever positively reinforced for her ruthlessness and cunning by her father (of whom she is very much afraid, by the way...that is made perfectly clear in her attempts to bring Zuko home and also give him credit for allegedly killing the Avatar. Part of it is actually probably due to some level of affection she has for him, but part of it is definitely motivated by having someone else take the heat off of her in an abusive household) and she witnessed firsthand how perceived weakness was punished - so she did everything she could to achieve the ideal of perfection that Ozai, Azulon, and Sozin had proliferated. So she probably never really understood why her own mother and Iroh didn’t like her. And the fact that they both seemed to prefer Zuko, who she’s been taught to think she’s better than, would only further that resentment.

She thinks she can earn people’s affection by being a perfect Fire Nation soldier, because that’s what works with her father - and when it doesn’t work with Ursa or Iroh, two important adult family figures in her life - she doesn’t understand why and, even worse than that, it makes her feel inferior to Zuko. 

5. My final point is purely speculative, but...He didn’t do anything to directly stop Ozai’s rise to power

In the years after the war, after recovering from her mental break and maybe rehabilitating to become an advisor to Zuko (let’s be totally honest, a Nation whose entire economy for the past 100 years has been built on war and imperialization is not going to have an easy transition into peace, especially when they are expected to give up their colonies and play nice with an equally corrupt government that was controlled by the Secret Police force which has no qualms about brainwashing its own citizens...also the new Fire Lord is a banished Prince who is the apprentice of the Disgraced Prince and who returned to defeat the pride of the Nation, Princess Azula, Ozai’s Chosen Heir and the Conqueror of Ba Sing Se), Azula’s going to be pretty pissed that her supposedly wise and worldly uncle did not intervene in her megalomaniacal and abusive father’s rise to power. 

If my uncle, who never liked me, lost countless Fire Nation lives and resources in a battle that ended with him retreating, abandoned the Crown to go on a sightseeing tour of the world, returned and became a traitor to the nation by foiling the Admiral’s conquest of the Northern Water Tribe resulting in the loss of more Fire Nation lives, escaped from you multiple times and went on to become a tourist and small business owner in an enemy nation, turned your brother against you, did nothing to stop his own brother whom he knew was deeply abusive even after he came back after gaining all this supposed wisdom, and THEN also left you alone with your abusive father while taking your inferior brother under his wing and helping him become an extremely powerful bender who eventually defeats you with the help of a Water Tribe peasant...yeah, I’d be pretty pissed at him, too. 

To be fair, she probably never would have willingly gone with them because they were basically just sent on a wild goose chase at that point...but he never even tried to help her.

Anyway, that’s why I think Azula hates Iroh and honestly, she has every right to hate him. He abandoned her Nation and wrote her off completely, so there’s no reason she wouldn’t do the same.

[foreverdavidbyrne]

David Byrne’s interview in NME magazine

In 1979, David Byrne predicted Netflix. “It’ll be as easy to hook your computer up to a central television bank as it is to get the week’s groceries,” he told NME’s Max Bell, sitting in a Paris hotel considering the implications of Talking Heads’ dystopian single ‘Life During Wartime’.

He predicted the Apple Watch in that interview too: “[People will] be surrounded by computers the size of wrist watches.” And he foresaw surveillance culture and data harvesting: “Government surveillance becomes inevitable because there’s this dilemma when you have an increase in information storage. A lot of it is for your convenience, but as more information gets on file, it’s bound to be misused.”

In fact, over 40 years ago, he predicted the entire modern-day experience, as if he instinctively knew what was coming. “We’ll be cushioned by amazing technological development,” he said, “but sitting on Salvation Army furniture.”

The 68-year-old Byrne says today, “You can’t say that you know,” chuckling down a Zoom link from his home in New York and belying his reputation for awkwardness by seeming giddily relieved to be talking to someone. “It’s crazy to set yourself up as some sort of prophet. But there’s plenty of people who have done well with books where they claim to predict what’s going on. I suppose sometimes it’s possible to let yourself imagine, ‘Okay – what if?’ This can evolve into something that exists, can evolve into something more substantial, cheaper – these kinds of things.”

It’s been a lifelong gift. Byrne turned up at CBGBs in 1975 with his art school band Talking Heads touting ‘Psycho Killer’, as if predicting the punk scene’s angular melodic evolution, new wave, before punk was even called punk. In 1980, Talking Heads assimilated African beats and textures into their seminal ‘Remain In Light’ album, foreshadowing ‘world music’ and modern music’s globalist melting pot, then used it to warn America of the dangers of consumerism, selfishness and the collapse of civilisation. Pioneering or propheteering, Byrne has been on the front-line of musical evolution for 45 years, collaborating with fellow visionaries from Brian Eno to St Vincent’s Annie Clark, constantly imagining, ‘What if?’

The live music lockdown has been a frustrating freeze frame, but Byrne was already leading the way into music’s new normal. Launched in 2018, the tour to support his 10th solo album, ‘American Utopia’, has now turned into a cinematic marvel courtesy of Spike Lee – the concert film was released in the UK this week. The original tour was acclaimed as a live music revolution. Using remote technology, Byrne was able to remove all of the traditional equipment clutter from the stage and allow his musicians and dancers, in uniform grey suits and barefoot, to roam around a stage lined with curtains of metal chains with their instruments strapped to them. A Marshally distanced gig, if you will.

“As the show was conceptually coming together, I realised that once we had a completely empty stage the rulebook has now been thrown out,” Byrne says. “Now we can go anywhere and do anything. This is completely liberating. It means that people like drummers, for example, who are usually relegated to the back shadows, can now come to the front – all those kinds of things – which changes the whole dynamic.”

With six performers making up an entire drum kit and Byrne meandering through the choreography trying to navigate a nonsensical world, the show was his most striking and original since he jerked and jived around a constructed-mid-gig band set-up in Jonathan Demme’s legendary 1984 Talking Heads live film Stop Making Sense.

The American Utopia show embarked on a Broadway run last year, where Byrne super-fan Spike Lee saw it twice and leapt at the chance of turning the spectacle into Byrne’s second revolutionary live film, dotted with his musings on the human condition to illuminate the crux of the songs: institutional racism, our lack of modern connection, the erosion of democracy and, on opener ‘Here’, a lecture-like tour of the human brain, Byrne holding aloft a scale model, trying to fathom, ‘How do I work this?’

“I didn’t know how much of a fan Spike was!” Byrne laughs today. “He’d even go, ‘Why don’t you do this song? Why don’t you add this song in’. We knew one another casually so I could text him and say, ‘I want you to come and see our show; I think that you might be interested in making a film of it’.”

Are the days of the traditional stage set-up numbered? “Yes, I think so,” he replies. “At least in theatres and concert halls the size that I would normally play, yes. The fact that we can get the music digitally [means] a performance has to be really of value. It has to be really something special, because that’s where the performers are getting their money and that’s what the audience is paying for. They’re not paying very much for streaming music, but they are paying quite a bit to go and see a performance, so the performance has to give them value for money… It has to be really something to see.”

How does David Byrne envisage the future possibilities of live performance?

“I’ve seen a lot of things that hip-hop artists have done – like the Kanye West show where he emerges on a platform that floats above the stage,” he says. “I’d seen one with Kendrick Lamar where it was pretty much just him on stage, an empty stage with just him on stage and a DJ, somebody with a laptop – that was it. I thought, ‘Wow’. Then he started doing things with huge projections behind. There are lots of ways to do this. I love the idea of working with a band, with live musicians. ‘How can I innovate in this kind of way?’ It’s maybe easier for a hip-hop musician who doesn’t have a band to figure out. The pressure is on to come up with new ways of doing this.”

In liberating his musicians from fixed, immovable positions, American Utopia also acts as a metaphor for freeing our minds from our own ingrained ways of thinking. As Byrne intersperses Talking Heads classics such as ‘Once In A Lifetime’, ‘I Zimbra’ and ‘Road To Nowhere’ with choice solo cuts and tracks from ‘American Utopia’, he also dots the show with musings on an array of post-millennial questions: the health of democracy; the rise of xenophobia and fascism; our increasing reliance on materialism and online communication; the climate change threat; the existential nightmare of the dating app; and, crucially, the distances all of these things put between us.

“The ‘likes’ and friends and connections and everything that the internet enables,” he argues, “even Zoom calls like this, they’re no substitute for really being with other people. Calling social networks ‘social’ is a bit of an exaggeration.”

Byrne closes the show with the suggestion that, rather than isolate behind our LCD barriers, we should try to reconnect with each other. In an age when social media has descended into all-out thought war and anyone can find concocted ‘facts’ to support anything they want to believe, is that realistic?

“I have a little bit of hope,” he says. “Not every day, but some days. I have hope that people will abandon a lot of social media, that they’ll realise how intentionally addictive it is, and they’re actually being used, and that they might enjoy actually being with other people rather than just constantly scrolling through their phone. So, I’m a little bit optimistic that people will, in some ways, use this technology a little bit less than they have.”

A key moment in American Utopia comes with Byrne’s cover of Janelle Monae’s ‘Hell You Talmbout’, a confrontational track shouting the names of African-Americans who have been killed by police or in racially motivated attacks – Eric Garner, Trayvon Martin, George Floyd and far, far too many more. Does Byrne think the civil unrest in the wake of Floyd’s death and the rise of the Black Lives Matter movement make a serious impact?

“We’ll see how long this continues,” he says, “but in projects that I’m working on – there’s a theatre project I’m working on in Denver, there’s the idea of bringing this show back to Broadway, there’s other projects – those issues came to the fore. Issues of diversity and inclusion and things like that, which were always there. Now they’re being taken more seriously. The producers and theatre owners realise that they can’t push those things aside, that they have to be included in the whole structure of how a show gets put together.”

“At least for now, that seems to be a big change. I see it in TV shows and other areas too. There’s a lot of tokenism, but there’s a lot of real opportunity and changed thinking as well.”

Elsewhere, he encourages his audience to register to vote, and had registration booths at the shows. He must have been pleased about the record turnout in the recent US election? “Yeah, the turnout was great. Now you just got to keep doing that. Gotta keep doing it at all the local elections, too. It was important for me not to endorse a political party or anything in the show but to say, ‘Listen, we can’t have a democracy if you don’t vote. You have to get out there and let your voice be heard and there’s lots of people trying to block it.’ We have to at least try.”

Will Trump’s loss help bring people together after four years with such a divisive influence in charge?

“Yes. I think for me Trump was not so much a shock; we knew who he is. He was around New York before that, in the reality show [The Apprentice], we knew what kind of character he was. What shocked me was how quickly the Republican party all fell into line behind him, behind this guy who’s obviously a racist, misogynist liar and everything else. But it’s kind of encouraging – although it’s taken four years and with some it’s only with the prospect of him being gone – that quite a few have been breaking ranks. There are some possibilities of bridge building being held out.”

But, he says, “It’s too early to celebrate,” concerned that Senate Majority Leader and fairweather Trump loyalist Mitch McConnell will use any Republican control of the Senate to block many of Biden’s policies from coming into effect. “[This] is what happened with Obama… I want to see real change happen. [Climate change] absolutely needs to be a priority. The clock had turned back over the last four years, so there’s a lot to be done. Whether there’s the willpower to do everything that needs to be done, it remains to be seen, but at least now it’s pointing in the right direction.”

How will he look back on the last four years? Byrne ponders. “I’m hoping that I look back at it as a near-miss.”

American Utopia is as much a personal journey as a dissection of modern ills. Ahead of ‘Everybody’s Coming To My House’, Byrne admits to being a rather socially awkward type. He claims that a choir of Detroit teenagers, when singing the song for the accompanying video, had imbued the song with a far more welcoming message than his own rendition, which found him wracked with the fear that his visitors might never leave. How does someone like that deal with celebrity?

“In a certain way it’s a blessing,” Byrne grins, “because I don’t have to go up to people to talk to them – they sometimes come up to me. In other ways it’s a little bit awkward. Celebrity itself seems very superficial and I have to constantly remind myself that your character, your behaviour and the work that you do is what’s important – not how well known you are, not this thing of celebrity. I learned early on it’s pretty easy to get carried away. But it does have its advantages. I had Spike Lee’s phone number, so I could text him.”

Talking Heads drummer Chris Frantz’s recent book Remain In Love suggests that the more successful Byrne got early on, the more distant he became.

Byrne nods. “I haven’t read the book, but I know that as we became more successful I definitely used some of that to be able to work on other projects. I worked on a dance score with [American choreographer] Twyla Tharp and I worked on a theatre piece with [director] Robert Wilson – other kinds of things – [and] I started working on directing some of the band’s music videos. So I guess I spent less time just hanging out. As often happens with bands, you start off being all best friends and doing everything together and after a while that gets to be a bit much. Everybody develops their own friends and it’s like, ‘I have my own friends too’. Everybody starts to have their own lives.”

The future is far too enticing for David Byrne to consider revisiting the past. “I do live alone so sometimes it would get lonely”, he says of lockdown, but he’s been using his Covid downtime to cycle around undiscovered areas of New York and remain philosophical about the aftermath.

“We’ll see how long before the vaccine is in, before we return to being able to socialise,” he says, “but I’m also wondering, ‘How am I going to look at this year? Am I going to look at it as, “Oh yes, that’s the year that was to some extent taken away from our lives; our lives were put on pause?”’ We kept growing; we kept ageing; we keep eating, but it was almost like this barrier had been put up. It has been a period where, in a good way, it’s led us to question a lot of what we do. You get up in the morning and go, ‘Why am I doing this? What am I doing this for? What’s this about?’ Everything is questioned.”

Post-vaccine, he hopes to “travel a little bit” before looking into plans to bring the ‘American Utopia’ show back to Broadway, and possibly even to London if the financial aspects can be worked out. “Often when a show like that travels, the lead actors might travel,” Byrne explains, “but in this case it’s the entire cast that has to travel. So you’ve got a lot of hotel bills and all that kind of stuff. We wanted to do it. There might be a way, if we can figure that out.”

Once we all get our jab, will everyone come to recognise that, as Byrne sings on ‘American Utopia’s most inspiring track, ‘Every Day Is A Miracle’? “Optimistically, maybe,” he says. “There will be a lot of people who will just go, ‘Let’s get back to normal – get out to the bars, the clubs and discos’. That’s already been happening in New York; there’s been these underground parties where people just can’t help themselves. But after all this it’d be nice to think that people might reassess things a little bit.”

And with the algorithm as the new gatekeeper and technology beginning to subsume the sounds and consumption of music, what does the new wave Nostradamus foresee for rock in the coming decades? Will AIs soon be writing songs for other AIs to consume to inflate the numbers, cutting humanity out of the equation altogether?

“It seems like there’ll be a kind of factory,” Byrne predicts, “an AI factory of things like that, and of newspaper articles and all of this kind of stuff, and it will just exaggerate and duplicate human biases and weaknesses and stupidity. On the other hand, I was part of a panel a while back, and a guy told a story about how his listening habits were Afrofuturism and ambient music – those were his two favourite ways to go. The algorithm tried to find commonalities between the two so it could recommend things to him and he said it was hopeless. Everything it recommended was just horrible because it tried to find commonalities between these two very separate things. This just shows that we’re a little more eclectic than these machines would like to think.”

And in the distant future? Best prepare to welcome your new gloop overlords. Byrne isn’t concerned about The Singularity – the point at which machine intelligence supersedes ours and AI becomes God – but instead believes that future technologies will emulate microbial forms.

“I watched a documentary on slime moulds [a simple slimy organism] the other day,” he says, warming to his sticky theme. “Slime moulds are actually extremely intelligent for being a single-celled organism. They can build networks and bunches of them can communicate. They can learn, they have memories, they can do all these kinds of things that you wouldn’t expect a single-celled organism to be able to do.”

“I started thinking, ‘Well, is there a lesson there for AI and machine learning, of how all these emerging properties could be done with something as simple as a single cell?’ It’s all in there… when things interact, they become greater than the sum of their parts. I thought, okay, maybe the future of AI is not in imitating human brains, but imitating these other kinds of networks, these other kinds of intelligences. Forget about imitating human intelligence – there’s other kinds of intelligence out there, and that might be more fruitful. But I don’t know where that leads.”

His grin says he does know, that he has a vision of our icky soup-world future, but maybe the rest of the species isn’t yet advanced enough to handle it. But if we’re evolving towards disaster rather than utopia, we can trust David Byrne to give us plenty of warning.

December 18, 2020

[mangobilorian]

Cooperation | (explicit)

Pairing: Captain Rex x Reader

Genre: Smut

Words: 5085

read first chapter

Summary: You fully intend to get a night alone with your captain.

Even if it means disguising yourself and outrunning rabid paparazzi.

Many people think that princesses live in indulgence. Opulent palaces, luxurious vacations, rare fashion. They’re not wrong; most of the time you find yourself living a more expensive life than the majority of the galaxy. But the galaxy is at war. A war that your planet, including many others, was dragged into. A war that blurs the edges between right and wrong, loser and victor. In wartime, there’s little to celebrate except for winning battles. However, despite the war sowing chaos and famine and death among your people, you can say, with confidence, that there's one good outcome to come of it: Rex.

Rex has been your one indulgence in the entire war, ever since the first attack on your diplomatic mission to now, nestled next to him in a dark alleyway. You would never be caught in such a scandalous position, your head nuzzled into his neck, arms wrapped tight around his armored body. The thought of getting caught, ruining your reputation, and potentially being cast off from your family occurs to you almost immediately, but— wrapped in the comfort of Rex’s arms— you can ignore the impending consequences for a bit longer.

“Are they gone?”

“Hopefully. Let’s wait for a bit longer,” Rex says, voice a filtered whisper above your head. He leans back, eyeing you through his visor. It’s not his usual helmet, no blue paint or jaig eyes or tally marks. No, he wears a simple white one to match his mostly-new, slightly scuffed armor. You remember him telling you that he swiped it off a shiny. The disguise worked of course; since the army is made up of identical men, civilians won’t bat an eye. As for your disguise… you should have worn better makeup and maybe a less transparent headdress. Or possibly a sturdier one? Honestly, you should have dressed up as anyone but a Pantoran. Oh well. You didn’t listen to Riyo when she said the plan wouldn’t work, but it’s not her place to talk when she has her own clone commander to sneak out with.

“You good? How’s the makeup holding up?” You frown. The blue paint already faded from your fingers long ago when you first held a cold glass of beer. It was an amateur move, and you’ll use better body paint next time. If there is a next time.

“I feel sticky. And hot.” Rex chuckles, causing you to rock in his arms.

“We did run around Coruscant.” He lifts a finger to your cheek and wipes. “Yeah, the yellow is completely gone.” Of course. The distinctive Pantoran markings were the first to go once you and Rex started fleeing. Rex peers over your shoulder and slowly detaches himself. You try not to whine at the loss of contact, but you do anyway, and Rex gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Come on.” His hand warms your own and, despite being slightly overheated due to an unforeseen chase, you welcome it.

Together, you dart between buildings and people. As you near a more commercial area, the crowds begin to grow. Rex separates himself, opting to walk a few paces behind. Even with the headdress on, you make sure to duck your head. No one questions Rex since the armor is a big enough deterrent. When you see two Coruscant guards, you force yourself to keep moving. It would be more suspicious for you to wait for a random clone trooper talking to his brothers.

By the time they reach Rex, you’re far enough ahead that you can’t make out their conversation. As much as you want to hide and wait for him so you can maintain a reasonable distance, you have another task at hand. You hail down a speeder cab, making small talk with the droid driver. Just before you speed off, you turn to Rex, a few meters behind. He scratches his helmet, once, twice. To anyone else, it wouldn’t be anything of note. To you, it’s a sign that he understands. Feeling reassured, you speed off.

The entire ride through the busy Coruscant night traffic is in complete silence. While the droid tries to make some conversation, your mind is entirely focused on one clone captain. The last time you both had the chance to meet was around three standard months ago. His recent campaign had been a long one, and he didn’t want to talk about it. You understand. It’s hard to lose fellow soldiers. It’s even harder when they’re your own brothers.

Despite not having any siblings of your own (courtesy of the strict regulations on the ruling family), you know what it’s like to lose the ones you care about. The last three months have been hard on you too: traveling all over the galaxy, passing legislation at home, dealing with scheming politicians. But the majority of your worry centered around Rex and how he was doing. It's sad, you think, that the moment he got back, he had to immediately deal with the complexity of your relationship.

He never explicitly told his brothers about you, but they know him well enough to read between the lines. Especially Kix. The medic figured out Rex’s feelings before he even confessed. He never compromised his duties, but suspicious marks on his neck and sneaking out at random hours only added to the theories. You worried that the rumor mill would spread, and your relationship would reach your parents.

While you might be stripped of your title as princess or forced to marry someone else, Rex faces the very real threat of decommissioning. Or reconditioning. Thankfully, the clones only gossiped amongst themselves. So while an entire battalion could know certain, scandalous details, no one else (not even their commanding Jedi) would know.

When Rex got back, you planned a simple date night at a bar with him. With precautions and his brothers’ discreet help, of course. He had to dress up as a shiny since, as Anakin Skywalker’s second in command, he was among the most recognizable clones. For you, a princess who’s friends with multiple senators, the spotlight isn’t new. Everything was going well, and you were well on your way to being tipsy. But—as odds have it— you were spotted. The people who saw you hounded you with questions. What neither you nor Rex knew at the time, was that a female Pantoran celebrity landed on Coruscant the day before. The media hoped to catch a glimpse of her and, despite your yellow tattoos looking nothing like hers, they latched onto you. And the fact that a clone trooper was next to you. You sincerely hope the real Pantoran won’t suffer too much from the media’s onslaught.

The droid’s robotic voice jolts you out your thoughts. Fumbling a bit, you insert a credit chit (a temporary, untraceable one), and hop off. The apartment building itself isn’t that discrete. While the building doesn’t reek of poverty, it pales in comparison to your regular Coruscant residence. You think of the handmaidens and guards you tricked and hope they aren’t too mad you snuck out.

Sighing, you enter the unit and flick on some lights when something grabs you. It’s a testament to your upbringing that you don’t scream outright. Or attack back. The attacker in question begins laughing, a full-bellied, happy laugh. You’d smile if it weren’t at your expense.

There, grinning from ear to ear, Rex stands, one hand on your arm.

“How did you get here before me?” He shrugs, leading you further into the unit and tossing you a pack of wipes.

“Skipper and Boot dropped me off two buildings down.” Ah. The two Coruscant guards, you suspect. You begin wiping the blue paint off your face and neck first before moving onto your hands.

“They weren’t suspicious?” Rex gives you a little grin before sliding a hand to your backside and giving a little squeeze. You yelp, more out of how uncharacteristic it is than surprise. You try to levy a glare, but his smug face is too much of a deterrent. Bastard. Hot, sexy, romantic bastard.

“I’m not the first clone who snuck off to an apartment building. And since I look shiny, they were even more willing.” He takes the wipe from your hand, rubbing at the spots you miss, and you have to stop from swooning at how sweet he is.

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, something about ‘little brothers growing up.’ I told them I had a hot Pantoran waiting for me, and they broke half a dozen laws to get me here.” You raise a brow, a smile tugging at your lips.

“That eager, huh?”

“Always,” Rex whispers. It occurs to you, just now, how close you are. Sometime during your conversation, Rex had maneuvered you to press against his armorless chest, one hand on your waist, the other on your lower back. He tugs you even closer, and you can feel the hardness of his muscles beneath his skin-tight blacks. You realize, with some disappointment, that you’re still fully clothed in a heavy outfit, cloak, and headdress. Rex seems to have the same realization, and he leans down to steal a kiss.

You let him, closing your eyes and reveling in the steady, comforting way his lips move against yours. A hand slides up your shoulders, and you hear the gentle thud of your cloak falling. The fresh air against your now bare arms makes you gasp, and Rex takes the opportunity to brush his tongue on the roof of your mouth. You shudder, head already swirling at the sensation.

Rex leads you with a steady grip on your waist. You don’t bother separating, and stumble a bit. He catches you, and you giggle, breath mixing with his own. The ground moves beneath you before something hard presses into the backs of your knees. You open your eyes just as you tumble backwards into the bed, headdress already discarded. Rex gives you a smile, trying to be seductive but looking much too adorable. You can’t help but laugh. He flushes, the beautiful red decorating his dark skin, and his cuteness increases tenfold. It gives you whiplash, honestly, how someone so hot and sturdy can be a total, bumbling sweetheart.

Hands grab at the closures on the side of your dress, and you shift downwards to allow the garment to slip off. Rex throws the dress to the side, and if it were anyone else, you’d complain. The dress, despite being a disguise, is still a collector’s item from Alderaan’s latest fashion season. But, since Rex was the one to haphazardly throw the dress equivalent of priceless art on the ground, you hold your tongue. Actually, you open your mouth, but only to let Rex slide his tongue into it.

Moaning around his lips, you feel the rest of your undergarments loosen and fall aside. In your haze, you grasp at Rex’s biceps, pleased at the strength under his muscles. You slide a hand down his chest, feeling every hard plane, every dip. Rex pulls off you for a moment, eyes wandering over your exposed body. He unzips his blacks hastily, almost desperately, and you mourn about the fact that you didn’t have enough time to admire Rex in his blacks. It’s a simple protective undergarment, but the way it hugs his body is much too tantalizing for you.

You sit up on the bed, bracing yourself on your elbows, and watch. The material clings to his skin, even as he wiggles out of it. It’s tempting to say that he strips sexily. With his darkened eyes and languid movements, Rex definitely looks like a seasoned man. But the concentration on his face alongside the uncooperative fabric makes him seem all too adorable. You want to laugh again but opt for sending him a smile instead. Just because Rex’s ego isn’t high doesn’t mean you should damage it right before sex.

You don’t bother hiding your appreciation as he reveals more skin. Finally, after what feels like hours of agony, Rex stands bare. Without another second to spare, he leans over you, nudging you to your back. Lips graze over yours for a moment before forcing your mouth open. Groaning, you wrap your arms around Rex’s broad shoulders.

He slides you up the bed, closer to the headboard, and his lips leave yours before attaching to your neck. The steady sucking and occasional bite make your head dizzy, and you close your eyes. Your cunt throbs already, anticipating, waiting. Rex shifts, tongue licking at the skin below your collarbone, and you feel something half-hard against your leg. It feels good, like always, to have Rex’s mouth on you, but a sudden thought pierces through your hazy mind.

“No. Visible… marks,” you manage to say. Rex’s head lifts from his assault on your neck.

“Oh. Forgot about that,” he says, sending you a sheepish smile. He’s cute, you think. Too cute. And, despite being so much bigger and stronger, you have the urge to wrap him up in a big hug and protect him forever. After you get your brains fucked out of course. It seems like he’s on the same wavelength, and his adorable face plunges into the valley between your breasts and- oh .

Rex goes straight for sucking and biting and licking everywhere but the one place you need him. By the time Rex finishes marking your entire chest, your nipples almost ache at being left untouched. You whine, going so far as pushing his head closer to you. He chuckles, and his warm breath feels so good against your already heated skin. Finally, after moments of pure torture, his tongue grazes over your right nipple.

You moan, momentarily satisfied. Laying here, with Rex’s mouth on you, feels better than expensive vacations or gaudy clothes or aged alcohol. Rex makes you descend into pure bliss, and he manages it with foreplay alone. You shift a bit, trying to open your legs to wrap around his waist. He lifts up, and your legs ease out from beneath him.

With Rex paying attention to your chest, you take the opportunity to grind up against him. Your clit grazes against his lower abdomen, just above the thing you desperately want inside you. But you have some patience and, since it took a lot of work to plan this night, you have hours to spare. The thought makes you giddy; hours alone with Rex sounds like the closest thing to heaven.

You rock gently against him, the grinding just enough to satisfy you. Rex, ever the vigilant lover, takes notice and separates from your chest. Before you can whine, he unhooks your legs from his waist and crawls down. A moment later, he wraps his arms around your thighs, encasing his head between your legs. You only have a second to breathe before a warm tongue touches you right there . Your right leg drops to the bed, no longer held, and a hand reaches up to wrap around your breast.

Rex’s tongue circles your clit, once, twice, three times in slow, delicate motions. It’s akin to torture and only makes your clit throb. You try to push up off the bed, but his grip on your left leg traps you down. The only thing you can do is throw your head back and close your eyes.

“F-fuck, Rex. Too… slow,” you groan. He chuckles in response, the uneven vibrations of his voice making you even hotter. Rex squeezes your breast for a brief moment then begins to suck on your clit in earnest. He alternates between sucking and using his tongue to swipe in multiple directions. Up and down, left and right, even a constant pulsing motion centered around your clit. To add to your yearning, he doesn’t even touch your center. You know, without a doubt, that you must be dripping.

All it takes a long swipe up your entire cunt for you to scream. Thankfully, you manage to throw a hand over your mouth despite your head being too fuzzy to think about anything else. His tongue continues to lick you, coaxing you through the high, until you whine about overstimulation. After a minute or two, your breathing slows, and the tingles all over your body seem to subside. When you open your eyes, you see Rex grinning over you. His mouth is shiny and wet—your doing, you think with pride— and you pull him in for a kiss, not minding the taste.

“Good?” he murmurs softly against your swollen lips.

“Yeah. Very good,” you say and pull away for a second to plant a messy kiss on his neck. Just as you open your mouth to suck a hickey there, Rex backs off. Suppressing a pout, your eyes trail from his neck, down his chest, and to the very hard cock Rex holds in his hand.

He spreads your legs with his knees, and lowers down. A hand hovers right above your mouth. You give Rex the sexiest look you can manage—to which he responds with an endearing smile— as you lick a wet stripe down his palm. You take two of his fingers in your mouth, sucking and swirling with your tongue. His smile transforms into something hungrier, more primal, and you clench around empty air. It’s messy and wet and much too hot, even for you. Against your protests, Rex retracts his hand. He pumps himself once, twice. Despite him already being hard, his cock seems to grow larger. He has a prominent vein on the underside of his cock, a glistening red tip. You want him in your mouth but… Force, you need him inside you first.

“ Please , Rex,” you plead. He presses himself against your core, and thrusts his hips up and down, coating his cock with your wetness. His motions cause the head to brush against your pulsing clit.

When he’s satisfied, Rex pushes in just a little bit. “Ready?” You nod desperately, too excited to think straight. Rex groans as he slides in the rest of the way. It’s a tight fit— Rex is a supersoldier, and you haven’t had sex in three months— but Rex manages to fill you up perfectly. The first time you had sex had been a tad painful. The both of you were inexperienced since he never bothered with sex, and you had a reputation to think about. Granted, you fucked in an empty closet aboard a Star Destroyer, which might have added to the somewhat painful encounter. But here, trapped by his arms in a secret apartment, you’re proud to say that Rex stretches you in the most delicious way without any hints of real pain.

He pulls back a little bit before thrusting a little harder, and he starts at a steady pace. It’s not fucking, but Rex definitely isn’t going as slow as he can. There’s a slight urgency in his movements, a hint of care and intimacy. He leans over you, bracing himself on his elbows, and you grip his biceps, his hips meeting yours with every thrust.

“Fuck...,” he groans. “You’re so. Kriffing. Tight,” he says, dipping his head into your neck. You feel the bare trace of teeth and tense, slightly worried about marks, but it’s his tongue that darts to the dip above your collarbone.

Rex alternates between an in-out-in-out-in-out motion and grinding as you reach down to rub your clit. “So good,” you mewl, baring your neck for Rex. It’s altogether a bit too much: your fingers combined with Rex’s cock send you spiraling. You can feel the tell-tale sign of an orgasm coming— the urge for release just barely out of reach.

“Close?”

“Hmm... yeah.” Rex detaches himself, and you pout. The absence of his chest on yours allows the room’s air to cool your sweaty, heated skin. His thrusts slow until they stop. Frowning, you try to grind back, but Rex places a hand on your lower stomach and presses down.

“Can we change positions? For a bit?” Rex asks, looking shy despite his cock seated deep inside you. You nod; the brief interruption already has your orgasm dancing even further out of reach.

Rex pulls out in one motion, and you groan at the sudden loss. You spare a glance at his cock, moaning all the while. Rex flushes. Cute.

Hands grip your hips and gently urge you to turn. You follow his instruction, pushing yourself up on your elbows to flip and lie on your stomach. The air feels good against your back, and you prop your knees up, face planted into the sheets. It’s a presentation of sorts, a tantalizing, submissive position. You shake your ass for a good measure and smile when you hear Rex’s breath hitch.

You yelp when a rough hand grips your ass for a second, squeezing tight , before leaving. Then a sharp slap rings throughout the room, and a distinctive, stinging pain registers. “Good?” Rex asks, voice throaty and raw and much too attractive.

“Yes, captain,” you say, smiling into the sheets. When you first addressed him by rank, you had been making out in an empty medbay. He came in his blacks—armor included— and apologized profusely to which you responded with another kiss.

Rex slaps you again, and you jolt in surprise. The force isn’t hard, but it surprises you nonetheless. You feel two hands on each of your cheeks, and they pull at the flesh there, exposing you. The air feels good on both your holes but not as good as Rex manhandling you. He pushes your cheeks together and apart again. Rex moves them up and down too, pinching at the junction of your ass and thighs, massaging your lower back. He’s playing, you realize, and you love it. “Your ass is so fucking good,” he groans, sending another slap down. One of his hands snake to your waist and grips the skin there.

“Please, captain. I need-” Rex shuffles on his knees a bit and, without warning, pushes into you all the way. At this angle, he fills you deeper than before, and you have no choice but to take it. Rex starts slowly, making sure you get used to the new position. A hand settles on the dip of your lower back.

He grinds down and little by little starts to pick up the pace. His speed pushes you up the bed, and you can hear the supports squeak against the floor. You manage to sneak a hand between your body and the bed, finding your clit with practiced ease. As you begin rubbing yourself in desperate figure-eights, Rex thrusts a little faster, a little harder. He presses down, rocking your whole body, forcing all coherent thoughts out your head.

“You like that, princess?” You can only groan in reply, the warmth in your stomach building. “So kriffing hot,” he grunts and licks a blistering stripe up your spine. He presses in as deep as he can and, instead of almost pulling out and ramming back in like before, he thrusts shallower but harder. The increased pressure makes your head loll, and you distinctly feel a wet pool by your chin where you drooled.

Your fingers on your clit pick up their pace, bordering on pure agony and pleasure. You forget following patterns and move messily to stimulate your clit. It’s harder to keep your hand there though because Rex leans over to press against your back, trapping you. His chest is sweaty but hard and sturdy and firm. “ Fuck , princess. You’re so good to me.” He sends a particularly hard thrust into you, and you yelp at the pressure.

“I- kriff- love you, Rex,” you breathe out, mind delirious but honest. Your confession seems to send him into a frenzy because he pulls away, grabs your biceps to haul you off the bed, and sets a bruising pace. He bends you so your back arcs, face upturned to the ceiling while the captain pounds into you from behind.

Lips attach to your right shoulder, and you keen as Rex bites down. With every thrust in and out, you hear the sinful way your ass smacks against his hips, the wet squelch of his cock rearranging your guts. Rex’s rough grunts when he grinds deeper into you, your choked moans at his roughness. He rocks against you, pushing up-up-up . It’s thrilling: being used like this. You’re like a rag doll in his arms. And it’s oh so delightful to let Rex wreck you. With his speed and aggression, your breasts bounce uncontrollably, almost painfully. In your haze, you manage to cup your chest with your hands, trying to ease the pain. Your fingers roll around your stiff nipples which sends a new wave of pleasure to your cunt. But you can barely hold on; the sheer speed makes your breasts bounce too fast. Rex’s thrusts send your hands tumbling away, unable to grip on.

The bruising pace makes your eyes roll, and you finally let go. Your entire body goes limp in Rex’s hold, content to let him have your heart and your body and your mind. He continues to use you, not relenting in his pace. Sensing your tiredness, Rex lowers you to the bed, unlatching his hands from your biceps but keeping one on your lower back, still pounding into you.

It takes three more deep thrusts before you come, gasping into the pillow. Colors burst behind your closed eyelids, clouds of pure pleasure and dizziness and affection. Rex grunts once, twice, and tenses, groaning. You feel a warm burst, and suddenly, you’re fuller than you thought possible.

He drapes his body over yours, and the both of you stay there, content to be together. It takes minutes before you return to your senses, and even then you’re still a little fuzzy. He stays inside you the whole time, and you feel his cock soften with a slight throb here and there. Even while limp, however, he still manages to fill you enough so nothing leaks out.

Something gentle brushes against the side of your face, tethering you to the physical world. “Love you too, princess,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “My cyare,” Rex adds with another kiss on your neck. You shiver despite feeling much too hot and grin into the bed.

A moment later, he pulls away, the both of you groaning. You feel empty and cold, and your cunt clenches as he leaves. A steady trickle of his release drips down your skin and onto the sheets below. Rex lets you go and, with an undignified grunt, you roll to your back, Rex joining you. The two of you lay there, basking in the aftermath. More cum drips out of you, and the thought makes your clit throb. Fuck, you just came twice and you’re already horny again.

“Come here,” Rex orders, tugging you into a hug. He grabs two pillows and places them under your heads, but you migrate over to his. “Pillow stealer,” he accuses. You smile back. After all, it’s much better to share one pillow. He drapes an arm over your torso, and you nuzzle into his neck.

“That was good,” you murmur.

“Yeah? You liked that?” There’s a small hint of vulnerability in his voice, something unsure and worried.

“Of course. You know what I like.”

“I guess... I didn’t go too hard, did I? You went limp all of a sudden, and I thought I hurt you.” You separate from his neck, looking up at his concerned face.

“You’d never hurt me. Never. It just felt so good that I let go. I’d… like that again,” you blink up at him. Already, the pull of sleep calls to you.

“Oh. Ok.” His eyes drift down to your neck. “Sorry.”

“Hmm?”

“There’s quite a few visible marks.” You smile tiredly at his guilty expression.

“I can cover it with makeup. I’ve gotten better at it, haven’t I?” The both of you laugh. Rex places a hand on the back of your head and tugs you closer. You entangle your legs and, with a shy smile, feel the wet trace of his cum spill down your thighs. He seems to feel it too because he tenses. Worried that he might be uncomfortable, you try to pull back but stop when something nudges against you.

“Already? How?”

Rex grins. “Enhanced human, remember? Besides, you’re sexy and naked and tight.”

“And wet,” you add on.

“And wet.”

“I’m a little tired though,” you say as a yawn escapes your lips. While the thought of getting fucked by Rex again is enough for even more of his cum to gush out, you’re still tired. The whole day has been exhausting: putting on a disguise, running from the press, and getting fucked by the man you love.

“If you want, you don’t have to move.”

“Oh?” He hums, tracing a nonsensical pattern on your skin.

“I’ll be on top and you can lay there. You can even sleep.” The idea is tempting; not having to do anything while Rex fucks you sounds like a dream. But you want to make sure he doesn’t get too tired or feel like he’s being used. He deserves to relax. You think of ways to show him how much he deserves it. Maybe later, after a round or two, you can wrap your mouth around him, bob your head, and taste him for the first time in three months. Swirl your tongue on the underside and-

Well. You’re tired but still very much horny.

“If you really want to.”

“Oh I definitely want to, princess.” You giggle at his enthusiasm and place a tiny kiss on his collarbone, eyes almost closing out of exhaustion.

“Well then, captain, go ahead.” He pulls away to lean down and peck your lips then turns you to lie flat on your back, already slicking his impossibly hard cock against your cum-filled, dripping cunt. Rex slots into you and the intrusion is tighter than before. You’re already a little sore, and you definitely won’t be walking straight tomorrow. He thrusts shallowly then slowly picks up the pace, grunting delicious sounds. Part of you wants to stay awake just to see and hear him. But a bigger part of you wants to rest, and his promise of fucking you to sleep is too novel and exciting to pass up.

The last thing you see before you sleep are his golden eyes looking equal parts hungry and adoring.

[shsl-otaku]

Where Greed Goes, Despair Follows: Chp. 2

F/N: Raven Sin of Despair

Pairing: Ban & Y/N

Anime: Seven Deadly Sins

Genre: Adventure, Romance

Warnings: None

Tag list: @asgleo16 @yuri-2018 @vialuciferscage @supremeladyren @commanderawkward @chidayasays @misfitgirlwrites @amberfoxcosplay @catlover7722 @shiggi-trash @supremetodoroki @happynoodle @milkysamu

•••

"No kidding! I saw it with my own two eyes! I swear by all that’s holy, it the wandering rust knight I saw out there!"

"Yeah, seems like it’s been on everyone’s mind."

You sat on the counter as you watched the men converse, Meliodas wiping glasses behind you.

"I still don't think King is actually dead. He’s way too powerful to be killed by people of such little power," you said, your brows furrowing.

"Yeah," Meliodas nodded. "They are just rumors. He's probably hiding somewhere."

"And Ban..." You groaned, putting your head in your hands. "I fell for an idiot!"

"Second time you've said that," Meliodas laughed.

You groaned more. "Out of all the places he could've chosen, it just had to be a prison. And out of all the prisons he could’ve chosen, it just had to be that prison. I should kill him when I see him."

Meliodas smiled softly, slightly nudging your shoulder. "You miss him though."

You laughed and looked up him. "Of course I miss him. I miss all of them. How could I not?"

"—Eight Deadly Sins."

You turned your head in the direction you heard it.

"'The Eight Deadly Sins'?" Meliodas asked.

"You’ve never heard of them, young cavern owner?" The guy asked, drunken smile plastered on his face.

"Their wanted posters are hanging everywhere! Like those over there!" Another man said, nodding his head in the direction of the posters.

"Meliodas of Wrath, King of Sloth, Ban of Greed, Gowther of Lust, Escanor of Pride, Diane of Envy, Merlin of Gluttony, and Y/N of Despair. They’re all very powerful, but I heard that Meliodas and Y/N are the most feared."

"Really?" A guy called out.

"Yeah. I’ve heard that Meliodas had taken down full countries before."

"I heard that one time an army trying to attack Y/N was found dead, all of them impaled by spikes from the ground. The entire battlefield was on fire."

The bar grew quieter as their eyes widened in shock.

"Everyone was impaled?!" a man said.

"Yeah... the spikes were like nails in the ground," the man shuddered.

"Meliodas and Y/N... Do you think the Holy Knights stand a chance against them?"

Your eyed them, an amused smirk on your face. You always found the exaggerated rumors funny. Some of them were definitely a stretch, but you always got a good laugh out of them. They did wonders for your reputation.

Meliodas chuckled, listening in on the conversation.

Suddenly, there was the sound of creaking metal coming from outside the Boar Hat. Everyone grew silent, fear hanging in the air. You turned to look at the door.

The door opened and a large, rusted knight stood at the door frame.

"The... Eight... Deadly... Sins..."

All the men screamed and ran out through the back. You stared at the knight in surprise.

Meliodas jumped over the counter and placed his hands on his hips. "Now, who are you?" Meliodas asked, tilting his head.

The knight suddenly collapsed onto the ground, its helmet falling off to reveal a girl with silver-white hair.

Your eyes widened. You took a sharp breath. "Meliodas, is that-"

“Her.” He said, staring down at the girl.

•••

You laid on your bed in your new room, waiting as Meliodas was sorting things out with the girl. Elizabeth... she looked exactly as he described. Meliodas had told you about his and her curse not long before the Sins scattered.

He described every one of her with detail, and you could feel the despair radiating from of him as he told you about the curse. You could tell how agonizing it was for him to be stuck in this hopeless cycle. You cursed both the gods and the demons for it.

You sighed and laid back on your bed, closing your eyes. It wasn’t long until you sensed people approaching the Boar Hat. 'Now who could that be?'

Your eyes flashed open and you quickly sat up, alarmed. 'Oh no. Holy Knights.'

You threw on your hood and quickly ran out of your room, making your way up the stairs to Meliodas's room.

“Meliodas!” You said, slamming the door open. He turned around, Elizabeth turning to look at you as well. "Holy Knights." You said.

Meliodas nodded. "Okay! Y/N, take Elizabeth out through the back way and run into the woods. I’ll take care of this!"

Elizabeth looked at you, a scared expression on her face.

"We’ll be fine," you assured her. "Come on!" You offered her your hand and she took it. You led her to the back of the Boar Hat and quietly opened the door.

You and Elizabeth stood by the door frame, ready to run. You heard Meliodas talking to the knights at the other side of the Boar Hat.

"Elizabeth, on my count, we run to the woods. Run as fast as you can and do not look back. My friend will meet us when he’s done. Don’t worry," you said, gripping her hand.

"O-Okay," she said, shakily.

"We’ll be fine," you whispered, smiling softly. The two of you ran, you leading her by the hand.

"Hey! Two people are escaping through the back," you heard a knight yell.

"Shit," you said under your breath. "Run faster.” Elizabeth gripped your hand tightly as you were running. Your eyes widened as you sensed a wave of power coming close to you and Elizabeth.

"Get down," you yelled, pulling Elizabeth close to you and falling onto the ground. All the trees were sliced around you, just barely missing you two.

You looked up to see the large Holy Knight approaching. You protectively pulled Elizabeth closer to your side, your hand slowly making its way to your dagger.

"Princess Elizabeth..." the Holy Knight said. "I’ve come to take you into protective custody. I must insist you come with me now and spare your little friend the trouble."

You turned your head to face her, eyes wide in surprise. "Princess?"

Elizabeth’s eyes started to water. "Miss... I’m so sorry... if I hadn’t have gone looking for the Eight Deadly Sins, then you and your friend wouldn’t have gotten hurt. This is all my fault.”

"You’re looking for the Eight Deadly Sins?" You asked.

Elizabeth tried to hold in her tears. "I thought that if I found them, they could help me save the kingdom from the Holy Knights... Instead, I got you and your friend in danger. You two helped me and you didn’t even know who I was..."

"Hello," a voice said, happily.

You and Elizabeth turned forward to see Meliodas smiling at you two.

"Meliodas," you said, sighing in relief.

"Huh? Why are you crying, Elizabeth?" Meliodas asked, tilting his head.

"Y-You and your friend might get arrested because of me," she said, shakily. "I’m so sorry. You two only tried to help me. You’re the most kind people I’ve talked to in a long time. I was a stranger and you still... I don’t even know your names," she wept.

"Meliodas," he replied.

Elizabeth looked up. "H-Huh?"

"My name is Meliodas," he repeated, smiling widely at her.

You took off your hood, revealing your face. "And I’m Y/N," you said, e/c eyes glinting.

Elizabeth gasped. "Y-You... You’re the Dragon and Raven Sins!"

You smirked. You looked up at Meliodas. "Meliodas, would you like to take care of that Knight or should I?"

"I’ll do it," Meliodas said. "You take Elizabeth back into the Boar Hat. I’ll be back in a bit!"

"Right," you nodded. You put your hood back on and helped Elizabeth up. You both saw Meliodas start running towards the Holy Knight before you took off to the Boar Hat.

"Y-You’re the Raven Sin of Despair, Y/N," she said, running beside you. "I can’t believe it was you two all along!"

"Save the talking for when we get inside, Princess," you said. "I’ll explain once we're not out here running for our lives."

The two of you ran into the Boar Hat and you quickly locked the back door. Suddenly, you felt the Boar Hat start to shake.

"What is that?!" Elizabeth gasped, holding onto the counter.

You breath hitched in your throat and you quickly gripped onto the counter as well. "I don’t know-!"

"Bye bye!" You heard Meliodas say from outside. He walked into the Boar Hat, the bar still shaking.

"Meliodas, what’s happening?!" You asked.

"Oh," he said. "We’re moving!"

Your eyes widened. "We're what?"

You staggered to the porch of the Boar Hat to find yourselves on top of a giant green pig.

"S-She's huge!" you yelled.

“She’s my mom," a voice yelled at you from below. You looked down to see a large pink looking up at you from your feet.

"IT CAN TALK," you screamed, jumping almost a foot in the air.

"Of course I can talk," the pig yelled.

"Alright, alright," Meliodas cut in, laughing. "Next stop, Bernia Village!"

[ambarto]

You ever get like five different ideas from angst but none of them is long enough to stand on its own and so you just make Frankenangst? Yeah

Warnings: character death, description of injuries

----

Arakano thought once he took down the chief of these creatures they would slow down. Grow fearful, perhaps, run from him.

He should have known better. It seemed the monsters were braver than Arakano had hoped. They had laughed as he took on their commander, sneered in a circle around them, sure Arakano would have lost. Arakano won, and now they were angered.

He couldn’t take them all on. His sword fell left and right, slicing heads and arms that their armors didn’t cover well enough. Where were the others of the Noldor? Arakano couldn’t see anyone past the hordes of enemies coming for him. His sword was growing heavy in his hand. His father had not been far behind him.

With a shout, Arakano killed another enemy. His breath was beginning to come short. He couldn’t hold out on his own much longer. Everything was starting to blur together-

Arakano shouted when something hit his knee. A mace he hadn’t been able to avoid. Even over the sounds of battle he heard the crack. His leg gave out beneath him, unable to support his weight.

He wasn’t getting out of here. He had pushed on too far. His father wouldn’t be able to get to him.

The one who bent over him clearly thought Arakano was already gone. It had its guard open, and Arakano thrust his sword forward, burying it right in its neck. His hand wasn’t able to keep gripping it, and it was wrenched from him.

They jumped on him as wolves on a deer. They crowded on him, covering the light.

Arakano was a warrior. Arakano had fought his way through ice and hunger. Arakano was a Prince of the house of Finwe, and if he could not win, then at least he would drag as many of these things with himself as possible. Fear barely had time to grip his heart before he lounged.

He kicked and punched and bit like an animal. A creature squealed when Arakano sunk his teeth in its dirty skin, ripping it. He swung his arms blindly, trying to hit anything around him, not even feeling the pain of his fists hitting metal armor, only satisfied that he had indeed hit something.

They grabbed him, held him down into the mud. Briefly, Arakano had time to think that his siblings would cry. Findekano for sure. Turukano and Irisse always pretended they were too strong to have feelings, but Arakano knew them better. At least, he hoped, they would be proud of him.

Then, he only had not thoughts but to scream.

They cried, when they learnt what happened to their youngest brother. Just not upon his body. Nolofinwe was the one who found him, and he did not let his other children see him. The sight, he knew, would never leave him. He did not want his children to forever see what was left of their brother in their dreams.

-

They found some refuge in the south, near the foot of the mountains. It was not a place anyone liked, but it seemed the fire from the north had momentarily forgotten about it. There was no other place to go, right now. Armies to the east and to the west, going for the Pass of Sirion and for Feanorian lands alike. There was nothing they could do but wait.

They also didn’t know who to ask for what to do.

Someone had managed to drag Lord Angrod off the battle field. The healers crowded around him, but any hope for him had been lost.

So much of his body was covered in burns it was horrific to watch. His flesh was exposed and blackened. In some places, his very bones could be seen. How was he even still alive was beyond anyone. Lord Angrod had always been known as stubborn. Too much.

He groaned something that could have been his son’s name. The healers did not answer him. There were no news yet from Minas Tirith. Under the black smoke that still covered the sky, it was hard to hold out any hope for them.

“’Ik... ro...” he groaned. Cough shook his chest, the same cough that plagued everyone, their lungs too full of ash. A rag had been laid upon his eyes, if only to spare the healers the sight of what the fire had done to them. Not that the rest of his face was a less gruesome sight.

“The Lord Aegnor is surely alright,” an healer told him, once she understood the sounds were an attempt to saying Aikanaro’s name.

Another healer glared at her. They all knew what had happened to their Lord’s brother. She shook his glare off. She was a healer. Her job was to ease suffering. There was nothing but death that could ease Lord Angrod’s agony, but at least she could comfort his spirit.

He would see his brother soon enough, anyways. With luck, he would not pass the night.

-

Turin would come.

That was what Finduilas kept repeating herself. He’d come. He’d save them. She had to cling to that thought. He would find them. He would-

The Orcs were getting restless. Finduilas didn’t understand their horrid language, but she saw how unsettled they were. They kept looking behind themselves, as if expecting something to jump them.

Finduilas wasn’t sure where they were. They seemed to be by a river, but she could not be entirely sure of which one. The Taeglin, perhaps? They had been taking detours through the forests, she was entirely lost. She tried to think of who lived in these lands - mortals, mainly, if some of them were hunting the Orcs it would explain their nervousness.

Would Turin know anyone here? Finduilas knew very little of his past before Nargothrond. Perhaps he had friends. Perhaps soon they would reach them. Finduilas tried to strain herself, but she heard nothing. She could not even turn properly to look, bound as she was.

An Orc - a sentinel - burst through the trees, shouting. Whatever he said, it put all the other Orcs on edge immediately. They got up, hands to their weapons.

The other prisoners looked at them with terrified eyes.

“Worry not,” Finduilas whispered. “I think someone is chasing us. We may yet be saved.”

“What are you yapping about?” an Orc shouted. She stood in front of Finduilas, baring her fangs to her.

Finduilas kept silent. She looked at her in the eyes, and said nothing.

“The prisoners are slowing us down,” another Orc said.

There was a general agreement between them. Finduilas’s heart jumped. Then they were being chased, after all. There still was hope.

“She is the princess, is she not?” an Orc asked, pointing at her.

Grunts of agreement.

Suddenly, Finduilas was grabbed and dragged to her feet. Fear cursed through her, but she repressed it. She could not let herself be afraid. She would keep hoping.

She did not quite feel pain. Only a strange, bizarre pressure to her chest. The Orc had moved so fast. She had not expected him to raise his spear. Even as she looked down and saw it embedded in her chest, she struggled to understand its presence.

Perhaps there would be a way to take it out.

Perhaps Finduilas should be named Princess of Futile Hopes.

-

Feet moved around in his field of vision. Caranthir’s eyes stared ahead, fixed on the silver hair just some paces ahead of him.

He pressed his own hand to his throat. Apply pressure. Stop the bleeding. That was how Caranthir had been told to treat open wounds. Never had he thought he would be doing it to his own neck, trying to keep himself from bleeding out on the floor of Menegroth.

He had reached the throne room just in time to see Celegorm fall. Caranthir had attempted to make his way to him, and everything he had gotten in exchange was a sword he was not able to avoid. All he could do now was bleed out, as Celegorm without doubt already had. Useless.

Given the way his ears were ringing, he wasn’t being too good about keeping his blood in.

Someone stumbled on his legs. Caranthir hoped they were a Sinda. He hated them all, right now. He had not hated them when he had come here, ready to force Dior’s hand. Now he did. Celegorm was right in front of him, lying face down, fallen by a Sinda’s sword.

He couldn’t say Celegorm had ever been his favorite brother. But he was Caranthir’s brother nonetheless. His big brother. Who used to pick Caranthir up as a child and put him on his shoulders. Who was stubborn, and reckless, and impulsive, and somehow had always seemed impossible to harm.

Tears pooled in Caranthir’s eyes. Usually, he would rather be caught dead than seen crying. He had a reputation to uphold. Now he did not have the strength to hold it back.

He was losing the struggle to stay awake. He clung to awareness, but it was sleeping between his fingers together with his blood.

Where were Maedhros and Maglor? Were they not heading here too?

Tears pooled under his face. He wanted to see them. He didn’t want the last things his eyes saw to be Celegorm’s body.

He wanted his big brothers to hold him, and lie to him, tell him everything would be fine.

What a foolish, useless wish.

-

Were the Valar merciful, a stone would have struck Turgon’s head, and killed him immediately.

The Valar, it seemed, were not. Or perhaps it was Turgon who was being given special treatment.

It would not be long. He did not feel anything in his lower body. He could not seem to draw his breath in. Part of what had once been his tower was pressing heavy on his chest. Was this gurgling sound his blood in his lungs?

What a fool he’d been, hoping that Gondolin may hold. He should have listened to Ulmo.

So many things he should have done. He should have protected his sister better. He should have been closer to his nephew, help him through whatever led him to this. There were so many things he wished he could have told his daughter, his son-in-law. His grandson, and may Eru make it so that the child was saved.

Such a great King, such a great kingdom. And now, in the end, only him and his regrets.

As his fea was squeezed from his body, he wondered if this was what it felt like to drown. Buried in rock and not water, but was the principle of the thing not the same? Darkness, no air, and no one to comfort you as you died.

Perhaps this was his penance for not having been faster in saving Elenwe.

[chris-evans-indian-fanfic]

21st Century Vampire

One-Shot

Description: Marvel AU where Steve is a vampire who works at a blood donation centre. 

Warning: Just mentions of blood, nothing gore.

This one-shot is my entry for @caplanbuckybarnes writing challenge! There are some hilarious prompts on the list! Check it out now! 

My Main Masterlist

I don’t consent to have any of my work published or featured on any third party app, website or translated. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but Tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission. In that case, please do share the link and let me know.

…

Steve Rogers was probably the world's worst vampire. Even after being alive for more than a century now, he was broke. And where did he manage to find work? At a blood donation centre! Disgusting! He was lucky there were very few vampires in LA, or his reputation would have been shredded to bits. A vampire working at a blood donation centre? Humiliating! Dishonorable! 

Steve hated working there. The stench of human blood was nauseating, the human beings more so. But unfortunately, the pay was decent and his colleagues were understanding. Nobody questioned his extremely pale skin, or found it weird that Steve never stepped out when the sun was still in the sky. Everybody quietly accepted that he was allergic to garlic without posing any further inquiries.

Working as a receptionist, he led quite a dull life work-wise. There wasn't really much for him to do except ask people to fill forms and sometimes calm down nervous first-time donors. He was generally patient with the humans, always biting back his wincing words, or trying his best to be as sympathetic as possible. Hey, after spending almost a 100 years on the planet, he could try to be a little more patient and a little less condescending.

But his calm and collected facade came crashing down the day you walked into the centre.

Flaunting a latest (and factually incorrect) vampire-teenager-love novel in your hand, you headed towards him and flashed a nervous smile. "Hi, do you guys take blood?"

Steve commended himself on the amount of self control it took not to roll his eyes. "You can donate blood here miss, if that's what you are talking about."

"Yes yes that's what I meant. I want to give blood. Where do I go?" you glanced towards the door beside the reception area.

"Kindly fill this form first ma'am," Steve pushed a familiar document towards you.

You filled it up pretty fast, leaving the space for your blood group blank. "I don't know what my blood group is. Is that okay?"

Calm down Steve, you can do this. "No ma'am that is not okay. When was the last time you took a blood test?"

You only bit your lower lip in response. 

"We will have to get a blood report done first, then you can donate ma'am," Steve explained irritably.

You nodded, "Ummm yeah, sure, absolutely. It's not like I am scared of needles or blood or anything. I read vampire fics for a reason, people!" you told a semi-empty waiting room.

Steve squinted his eyes at you, "Are you scared, miss?" 

You paused for a bit, then pointed at your book, "Yeah… But you know if I can handle the blood sucking scene in the book, I can surely handle a machine sucking my blood, right?" you tried laughing but only a dry sound escaped your throat.

Steve couldn't take it anymore. He hated novels that portrayed vampires as just human blood sucking creatures. He rolled his eyes at her, "That book is the worst kind of literature you can read. It is full of false information. Do yourself a favour and throw it in the bin."

A frown creased your forehead as you let his spiteful words sink in, "Who cares? It is still a great novel! And all the places that the author has mentioned exist in real life! So I don't know what you are talking about."

"Really? Just the real places are important to you? What about all the incorrect facts about vampires?" Steve replied hotly.

"What about it? The author has portrayed vampires in a completely different light!" you exclaimed.

Steve laughed an empty laugh, "Oohhh no! Vampires are NOT featured differently in that novel or in any other works throughout the world! They do not crave human blood. Infact, vampires hate human blood and everything to do with humans!"

"Oh yeah? And how do you know so much about vampires?"

On any other day, Steve would have backed down, claimed himself as a vampire enthusiast and accepted his defeat, but not today. Not on the full moon night he knew would turn Bucky into a tamed werewolf. He knew by the time he would reach home, Bucky would have eaten his carpets, bumped his head against himself in the mirror, ripped his stuffed toys and then cried over them. Today he had to deal with an emotional Bucky for the entire night. 

Then there was you. So stubborn to accept the truth that you were willing to argue with a complete stranger about your cursed book. 

The sheer stench of human blood added to the horrible cocktail of things that flipped off Steve.

Today would be the day Steve would lose his patience. 

"BECAUSE I AM A VAMPIRE!" he screamed at the room.

His announcement was followed by pin-drop silence. 

Unable to bear it anymore, he started his rant, "Do you think we vampires hunt humans? Of course not! There are so many of you guys in the world that it never was, is not and will never be considered as a sport! And no, our skin doesn't sparkle in the sunlight like freaking diamonds! Our sensitive skin gets burnt in the sunlight!"

His thin chest heaved as he struggled to maintain his breath, "No garlic and silver can kill us! We are all allergic to garlic. And silver gives us rashes on our skin. But do you know what is the worst part of being a vampire? The immortality! I am a 100-years-old vampire who is still somehow broke! And where did I finally manage to find work? At a freaking disgusting blood donation centre!"

You had moved away from his desk, afraid of his sudden outburst. 

The door next to the reception area opened as a tall, dark man poked his head out. "Is everything okay out here?" Dr Sam Wilson asked, taking in the scene before him.

Steve was still panting as the others in the waiting room just looked at him in shock. A few had their phones out and seemed to be recording something.

"Dr. Wilson," somebody asked, "Is it true what this man said? Is he really a vampire?" 

Sam looked at Steve, lines of exasperation evident on his face, "Ma'am, vampires, witches, wizards, werewolves etc do not exist in the real world." 

He turned to Steve, "Steve, what's going on?" 

"He just told us all that he was a vampire," you said, "Went on quite a detailed rant about it."

"Steve," Sam managed to say in a bitter tone.

"Why have you hired such wackos doc?" a man asked from the crowd.

"I am not a wacko!" Steve retaliated, "I am a vampire!"

"Then turn into a bat now!" the same guy challenged him.

"Huh! Vampires can't turn into bats. Some vampires liked to have bats as pets earlier," Steve defended his point.

"Steve, pack your things. You are fired," said a grim Sam.

"But I really am…"

"Steve, I have tolerated your outbursts in the past. I am not going to forgive you again. This is an highly unprofessional and unacceptable behaviour. You are fired effective immediately," Sam stood his ground.

Steve scoffed. So much for telling the truth.

He gathered his things and left, mad at himself, mad at the world, mad at Dr Erskine for turning him into a vampire just so that he could join the army.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice as you caught up with him. "Hey," you softly said to get his attention.

Steve jumped. You quietly chuckled at his reaction. "Aren't vampires supposed to be aware of their surroundings?" 

He threw you a disgusted look and kept on walking.

"Hey wait!" you called out after him. "Are you really a vampire?" 

He looked at you at that moment. The sincerity in your eyes softened his. "Yeah," he muttered. 

"Can you keep a secret?" you whispered.

Steve leaned in closer to you. "I am a witch."

He looked upwards, rolled his eyes and started walking again. 

"Wait! Don't you believe me?"

"No I don't! And I really enjoyed the joke. So thank you!" he shouted back.

You saw his dark silhouette become a small dot on the horizon as a plan formed in your head. A vampire was maybe just the missing piece of the puzzle. You already had a speedster, a magician who practised the dark arts, a man with superhuman strength, another who could spin spider webs through his hands and lastly, a man who could fly.

You smiled at yourself. An army of some of the strongest men on Earth was just what you needed to start a revolution. An army of men, led by you, the Scarlet Witch.

Permanent tag: @donutloverxo

Taglists open!

[penpatronuswhump]

WHUMPTOBER 2020

No. 25

Fandom: Avengers

Whumpees: Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Clint Barton

Title: The One Where Tony, Steve, and Clint are Tortured 

By: PenPatronus // PenPatronusAooO 

It was a lovely dinner. Tony had it catered by the best restaurant in the city and hired waiters and waitresses to serve everyone. He invited the whole gang to the Tower: Steve, Bruce, Clint, Vision, Wanda, Natasha, Peter, Scott, Sam, Rhodey, Bucky, and Doctor Strange. Tony took a moment to look at everyone seated around the table and admire each of them. He was grateful for them. He’d never had so many friends in his life – friends who knew his sins and accepted him anyway. Friends he was proud to have at his table. Friends he was grateful to for coming to his table. For Thanksgiving he’d have to get a table twice the size so that everyone could bring their significant others and their kids.

 “Mr. Stark?” Peter caught Tony staring. “Mr. Stark, are you ok?”

 Tony grinned. He put his hand on Peter’s shoulder and squeezed it. “Never better,” he said, and he was surprised to find that he meant that. What was better than a great dinner with your best friends?

 “Mr. Stark, I was thinking… Every organization has a hierarchy, right? I’m probably at the bottom of this one—”

 “The very bottom, kid,” Stark confirmed with a smile.

 “Well, what can I do about that? I mean, what’s a guy gotta do around here to get promoted to, uh, sergeant or something?”

 “Well first,” Tony held up his empty glass, “you can get me more wine.”

 The blue-skinned, black-haired man who appeared in a spiral of red sparkles in front of the bar had sigils in his face that Tony recognized as Norse. His eyes were red, and he held a knife that was stained red. Steve and Clint instantly moved to Tony’s side at the head of the table as the being approached. Everyone else spread out behind them – if they had to use their weapons and powers on the intruder, they didn’t want to hit each other.

 “Where’s my brother?” the man asked with a baritone voice. “Where is Loki?”

 Everyone looked at Steve and Tony.

 “I traced his steps across the universe to this very room. Where is he?”

 It was Tony who took a step forward. “You know, you could introduce yourself. It’s just nice manners when you break into someone’s home. We’re the Avengers. It’s nice to meet you. And you are…?”

 “Helblindi, son of Laufey and Farbauti.”

 “Well I’m Tony, son of Howard and Maria, and I don’t remember inviting you to this dinner. So how about you throw some of that red confetti and zip on out of here.”

 “Until recently I didn’t know I had a brother. Now I can sense him – him and that Asgardian Thor.” Helblindi raised his knife. “Where are they?”

 “They’re not here,” said Steve. “It’s been years since Loki was here. You won’t find them, not on this planet.”

 “They didn’t exactly leave a forwarding address,” Clint chimed in.

 “Then summon them,” the frost being insisted.

 “We don’t know how to do that,” said Natasha from Clint’s right. She wasn’t lying. “We don’t know anything.”

 Helblindi pointed his knife at Nat. “Find Loki or Thor for me, or I’ll kill you.”

 Wanda summoned red magic around her hands. Strange encircled his wrists with golden cuffs. Rhodey, Natasha, Sam, and Clint took out the guns they had in their pockets. Peter and Scott bent at their knees, ready to pounce. Vision floated into the air and raised his palms.

 Helblindi held his red knife high. “I’ll return here in 72 of your hours. If you don’t have Thor or Loki, then these three men die.” Suddenly, he dropped the knife to the floor, and red light exploded across the room, knocking everyone over. Helblindi marched forward and pulled Clint to his feet by his throat. He did the same thing to Tony, holding the two of them above his head like trophies. Steve, disoriented, dove into tackle him, and that was when all four of them disappeared in a shower of red sparks.

“Mr. Stark!” Peter cried.

 “Clint!” Nat gasped.

 Sam ran to where Steve had been standing. “What happened? Where did he take them?”

 “It this creature is able to cross the universe, then he could be anywhere,” Strange pointed out.

 Nat turned to face the group. “Does anyone know where Thor is or how to contact him? Because, seriously, I don’t.”

 Nobody raised their hands.

 “Crap.”

 ---------

 Steve woke up in a cell the size of a queen-sized bed. He hung from the center of it by cuffs and chains that had all but cut off the circulation in his hands. He stood on shaky feet, fought past the dizziness, and looked around. Clint and Tony were also in bed-sized cages – Clint on Steve’s left and Tony on Steve’s right. Both men were unmoving. Across the room, a SHIELD symbol hung on the wall. Old, abandoned equipment sat everywhere – computers and carts of metal supplies and piles of unopened rations. An abandoned SHIELD base – but where? Steve wrestled with his cuffs and got nowhere.

 Helblindi was sitting on an empty crate, watching Cap come to. He flipped his red knife over and over in his hand. “Where is Loki?” he asked, frustration apparent. “Where is Thor?”

 Steve looked at his teammates. “Are my friends alive?”

 Helblindi stood up, still twirling his knife. “At the moment. Would you like to keep them that way?”

 Steve snorted. “What do you even want with Loki? Why are you looking for that monster?”

 The red knife was aimed at Steve’s throat. “Watch your mouth, mortal. That’s my brother you’re talking about. Don’t you have any brothers?”

 Steve almost said “no,” but then he thought of Bucky, of Sam and Tony and Bruce and Clint, and he said, “Yes.”

 “And you wouldn’t go searching across the universe for them?”

 “I wouldn’t kidnap and threaten to kill people to find them.”

 Helblindi smiled and shrugged in a very Loki-like manner. “To each their own.”

 Steve rolled his eyes. “How about this: the next time Thor stops by, we’ll tell him you’re looking for him and let him know what planet you’re on… As long as it’s not ours.”

 “I appreciate your attempt at compromise. And I might even consider it if I didn’t believe that you’re lying to me.”

 “We’re not lying. We really, truly do not know where Thor and Loki are. And holding my teammates and me here isn’t going to change that.”

 “Desperate people do desperate things,” said Helblindi. “Your teammates back at your base, knowing your lives are at stake, will suddenly find themselves thinking outside the box. They’ll figure out how to summon Thor or Loki and if they don’t, they’ll die, too.”

 ----------

 It was absurdly early in the morning when Jane Foster’s phone rang. Her phone only ever rang that early because of emergencies, so Jane answered it instantly. “Hello?”

 “Dr. Foster? This is Natasha Romanoff.”

 “Natasha—Oh! Yes, oh, yes. Miss Romanoff. Your, uh, reputation precedes you.”

 “As does yours, Doctor.” Nat was talking at breakneck speed. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Dr. Foster—”

 “Jane.”

 “Jane. I’m sorry to disturb you, Jane, but we need your help. Have you heard from Thor lately?”

 The speed of Jane’s heartbeat doubled. “No – no, I’m afraid not… Not for a long time.”

 “Did he leave any way to contact him? Some way to summon him if you needed him?”

 “Like his phone number?” Jane half-laughed. “No, sorry, no.”

 “Dammit.” Natasha sighed. “Jane, there’s something else. Has Thor ever been to your home?”

 “Yeah…? Why? What’s going on?”

 “Well, it turns out that Loki has a brother, and this brother of his is able to… sense, somehow, where Thor and Loki have been. This means that he might show up in your kitchen asking for Thor at any second. You have to get out of there.”

 Jane’s blood froze. “I’ll start packing.”

 “Ok. And while you’re packing – no longer than five minutes, Jane – while you’re packing, I need you to think up a list of anywhere else on earth Thor or Loki may have gone. We need to evac people from those places as soon as possible.”

 “I’m on it.”

 ----------

 Clint recognized where they were immediately when he woke up. He reported to Steve, who was hanging in the cage on his right, “When Loki did his mind control on me and a bunch of SHIELD operatives and scientists, this was sort of our headquarters. We took over this base.”

 Steve perked up a bit. “Where are we?”

 “Near the Jersey border. This place used to be a small airport.”

 Helblindi strutted over to Clint. “My brother can control minds? Fascinating.”

 Clint spat so hard that he hit Helblindi’s boots. “Your brother is an asshole who tried taking over this planet. We kicked his ass.”

 Helblindi’s eyes narrowed. “Did you, now…” He approached the bars to Clint’s cell and waved the knife at him. “Well, maybe I should get a little revenge for him…”

 “Then you’ll want to take it out on me,” Tony suddenly said. Steve and Clint pivoted right and saw Stark on his feet, swaying, but holding his ground. “Since I’m the one who blew up his ship and destroyed his entire army.”

 “Tony,” Steve cautioned.

 Tony ignored him. “You know that Tower you snatched us from? That was where he surrendered – such a loser.”

 Helblindi ignored Clint and went to Tony. He dragged the knife across the cell bars as he walked.

 “Tony.” Steve’s chains rattled as he tried to get out of them.

 Helblindi opened Tony’s cell and entered it, knife first. “What did you say about my brother?”

 “Well,” Tony sneered, “he lost, so he’s a loser, so I called him a loser. Your brother is a loser.”

 “I know you’re just saying these things to draw my attention away from your friend,” Helblindi said. He circled Tony like a hungry vulture. “It’s admirable, honestly. But you’ll still have to pay for those words.”

 “No!” Steve and Clint cried when Helblindi raised the knife and swung it at Tony. He slashed the inventor across his cheekbone, leaving a deep, bleeding cut. Tony didn’t make a sound. Blood rolled down to his chin.

 Helblindi grabbed Stark by the throat and glared at him with those red eyes. “What do you have to say now?”

 Tony glared back. “Give me a category.”

 Helblindi chuckled and let Tony go, sending him dropping backwards in his bonds. “Do you have a hobby, Tony?”

 Tony got back up on his feet. “Several. You want to learn how to crochet?”

 Helblindi sneered. The knife slashed again, this time from the corner of Tony’s mouth straight to his ear. “I have a hobby. It’s been a passion of mind. Family business, you might say. I wonder if my brother loves it as much as I do…”

 “You weren’t kidding when you said you crocheted that winter cap for Lila?” Clint asked Tony.

 “I wasn’t kidding,” Tony confirmed. “Well, I sort of did it. I designed a new type of knitting machine that—” Helblindi stopped Tony short when he whipped the knife for a third time, this time slicing Tony across the shoulder. “Ouch,” Tony growled, more annoyed than in pain.

 “Stop it,” Steve ordered in his most “captain” of voices.

 Helblindi turned his attention away from Tony. The moment his back was turned, Tony leapt up and wrapped his knees around his neck. He squeezed with all his might, pulling the frost being’s body closer so that he could smack that black-haired head with his own. To Tony’s dismay – and Steve and Clint’s – the being just chuckled. Slowly, as if he enjoyed the tension, he reached up, wrapped a hand around Tony’s left ankle, and twisted. They all heard the cracking sound as the ankle broke. Tony yelped and let go. Helblindi pivoted and smacked Tony across the mouth, punched him in the stomach, and clobbered him across the chin. Stark spat blood.

 “Stop!” Steve shouted. “He gets the point!”

 Helblindi locked Tony’s cell and moved into Steve’s. “What’s your name?”

 “Steve Rogers.”

 “Steve Rogers. Strong name, for a Teran. You’re the leader. I could tell by your posture back at the Tower. And by the way everyone looked at you. I respect leaders.” Helblindi cocked his blue head to the side. “Do you have a hobby, Steve?”

 “How about we skip to the part where you tell us what yours is?”

 Helblindi laughed. “Very well. Should I tell you or show you?”

 “Show—?” Steve was cut off when Helblindi sliced him down his arm from the inside of his elbow to his shoulder. He went right, then, and sliced a similar length down Cap’s ribs from his armpit down to his hipbone. Right when Helblindi went in to slice up Cap’s stomach was when Steve yanked down hard on the chains above him. The chains separated from the ceiling and fell straight down. Steve stepped backwards and they piled right down on Helblindi’s head, knocking him out. “CLINT!”

 Barton was already on it. He flipped his body upside down, raising his feet to his hands. He found the lockpick in his shoe and got out of his cuffs in record time. After getting out of his cell, he raced into Steve’s and freed him, then the pair moved to Tony. “About damn time,” Stark muttered, annoyed. “LOOK OUT!”

 The real Helblindi – not the faux version he’d cloned with his magic, as Loki liked to do – emerged from the shadows and kicked Steve in the back, sending both him and Barton into the cage with Tony. Then the frost being, having, unlike Loki, grown up being schooled on magic, used his to slam the three Avengers against the back wall of the cave and hold them there, surrounded by red sparkles. “Well, that was fun,” Helblindi said, smoothing back his black hair. He cracked his knuckles, walked into the cave, and kicked Barton in the stomach so hard that Clint nearly retched. He punched, then, giving Barton an instant black eye. Punch number two split open his lip. Punch number three busted his nose.

 Helblindi stepped back then and massaged his hand. “We have 70 more hours of this fun,” he said, grinning. “You three better get used to it.” Then, with a flair of his fingers that released the Avengers from being held against the wall, Helblindi locked the cage door and disappeared down the hall.

 ---------

 Dr. Erik Selvig answered his cell phone without looking to see who was calling. “Yes?” It was Natasha. They chatted. Selvig had no clue where Thor was, or how to find him. “Try praying,” he recommended.

 “Sir, we need to know every place that Loki and Thor may have been on this planet. It’s our only help to find them.”

 “What about that SHIELD base Loki had Barton and I in right before the attack on New York? The base where we perfected the tech and planned the attack on the Helicarrier?”

 “WHERE IS IT?”

 ----------

 Clint and Steve could only watch – and also try not to watch – as Helblindi surrounded Tony with red sparks and lifted his body up into the air. Lightning flashed beneath Stark’s clothes. Blood dripped from his fingernails. His limbs shook with pain.

 Steve couldn’t stand it. “Me!” he shouted. “Take me!”

 Helblindi grinned as Tony squirmed. “Are you begging?” he asked Cap. “Are you begging me?”

 Steve didn’t hesitate. “Yes. Yes, I’m begging you to take me instead. I’m begging.”

 Tony dropped to the floor of the cell. His eyes were open and twitching. His hands trembled and his legs stretched, retracted, then stretched again as he fought through cramps, bruises, and fire. Helblindi approached the cage. “You know what most people don’t understand about torture, Steve Rogers? It’s the psychological torture that’s most enjoyable. Watching leaders like you, men responsible for other men, look so helpless…” Helblindi rolled his eyes back and smiled wider. “Delicious.” Before Steve could comment, Helblindi pointed his knife at Clint. The unleashed magic lifted Barton from the cell floor just like Tony.

 Clint screamed.

 ----------

 Sam landed the Quinjet a hundred yards away from the target. The team had worked together so much that they no longer needed words. They just started running the minute they left the ship, pairing up, going up and left and right, ready to attack the compound from every angle. Vision, Wanda, Peter, Scott, Sam, Rhodey, Bucky, Bruce, and Strange waited for Natasha’s signal.

 --------

 Helblindi my have knocked him out, Steve decided, because he certainly didn’t remember lying on his side to take a nap. But he woke up from a restless sleep in one corner of the cage. Tony was on his right and Barton was on his left, both lying on their backs. Both bleeding from a hundred different places. Both looking at Steve with lifeless eyes.

 Lifeless.

 The noise that came out of Steve’s chest was part-sob, part roar. He crawled on his hands and knees over to Tony’s prone body and shook Stark by the shoulders. “Tony? Tony! Oh, God, no…” He crawled to Clint and shook him, too. Again, nothing. Barton was dead. Eyes dry, but still sobbing, Steve went back to Tony and put his hands on either side of his friend’s face. “Dammit, no, wake up, WAKE UP!”

 Steve collapsed back on his butt and put his face in his hands. He’d failed his team. Clint and Tony were dead. He didn’t save them. Steve fell over to the right, directly onto Tony’s lifeless chest, and that’s where the tears poured.

 “Cap,” someone whispered. Steve looked up. As soon as he did, the fake bodies beside him disappeared. Tony and Clint – though they looked like corpses – were perfectly alive and sitting side by side at the rear of the cage. “Cap, it’s not real. He’s making you see things,” Tony told him.

 “Oh, God…” Steve gasped. He crawled over to his friends, put a knee between them and wrapped his left arm around Clint and his right around Tony. “Oh, thank God…” Barton and Stark hugged him back.

 A cackle. Helblindi was watching from outside the cell. The son of a bitch was eating popcorn. “You three are adorable,” he mocked. “Honestly. I’ve tortured people to death before and you three are just the most fun I’ve ever had.”

 Steve wiped his eyes dry. He stood, then turned to face the frost being. “Our team’s coming for us,” he told Helblindi. “And when they see the shape you’ve left us in, they’re going to be pissed.”

 Helblindi approached the cage door and so did Cap. “I hope so,” the frost being said, “because it would be nice to have a fair fight.”

 “Oh, there’s going to be a fight,” Steve assured him. “And that fight will end when I snap your neck.”

 Helblindi raised his knife again. “We’ll see about that.”

 All three of them – Tony, Clint, and Steve were lifted into the air by the red magic. Their bodies sizzled, cracked, and burned.

 None of them could resist screaming.

 It was then, right when Helblindi was enjoying his hobby the most, that two legs kicked in the door at the end of the hallway. Vision and Wanda entered and hit Helblindi with an absolute tidal wave of red and yellow energy. The frost being was knocked off guard. His magic broke and Steve, Clint, and Tony fell to the floor. None of them moved.

 Strange came through the door on the opposite side of the hall. He hit Helblindi with blasts of golden light. Simultaneously, Sam and Rhodey aimed their guns down from the rafters and unloaded them into the frost being. On the floor, dropping in from the vents, Bucky and Natasha aimed and fired their weapons, too. And then fingers pried open the roof like a can of tuna and tossed it aside like a frisbee. Scott waited a second for the others to get clear, and then he slammed his foot down directly on Helblindi.

 Peter and Bruce busted into the cage. “Oh, God,” Bruce exhaled when he saw the state that Steve, Clint, and Tony were in. “Are… Are they even alive?”

 Peter rushed to Tony and knelt beside him. “M-Mr. Stark?” He touched his mentor’s shoulder, rolling him onto his back. “Mr. Stark, can you hear me? TONY?”

 The place exploded in red sparks. Peter and Bruce ended up in a dogpile with Clint, Steve, and Tony. Scott was thrown up and out of the building. The others were knocked back against doors and walls. Only half of them got back up on their feet.

 Helblindi wiped imaginary dirt off his shoulder. “Is that the best you’ve got?” he laughed from the middle of a tornado of sparks. He marched into the cage and pulled Tony out of it by his neck. Once he was sure that every eye in the room was on him, he held his red knife to Tony’s throat. Tony was conscious, but barely. He was only on his feet because the frost being held him there. Helblindi shouted, “Last chance! Where is Loki? Where is Thor?”

 A flash of light outside. A roar of color suddenly descended into the room. Even Helblindi needed to shield his eyes. The light retreated into the shape of a person and there, hovering in the center of the base, was a very, very pissed off Carol Danvers. She pointed her fists at Helblindi. “Let him go.”

 “What in Hel are you?” the frost being asked, shocked. He let go of Tony. Stark collapsed to his knees. Unable to find the strength to catch himself, Tony fell forward and landed facedown, spreadeagled. Helblindi kicked him aside on his approach to Captain Marvel. “You’re nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

 “I’m the last thing you’re going to see,” she threatened, “if you don’t leave this planet right now, and never return again.”

 “You’re a goddess,” Helblindi exhaled, in awe. He walked gradually forward as if approaching an altar in a church. “You should be worshipped.”

 Carol landed on the floor and put her arms at her side. “Leave,” she ordered again. “Now.”

 Helblindi spread his palms out and bowed. “A queen,” he decided. “I’ll call you a queen—!” Red sparks exploded from his hands.

 Carol was ready. She reflected the magic right back at Helblindi. The frost being screamed and melted from his own magic.

 It was over.

 “Thanks Carol,” Nat said, breathless, as she rushed by to get to Clint. She practically fell on top of him, and he groaned in pain. “Sorry,” Nat said, flushed and frantic. Her fingers fluttered all over his body, but she found nowhere to touch him that wasn’t bleeding or bruised. “Barton, I’m so sorry… We tried to find you, we tried so hard.”

 “It’s all right, Nat,” Clint said between swollen lips. “It’s all right.”

 Bruce helped Steve sit up. “We gotta get you to a hospital,” Banner concluded.

 Steve wiped his face. “Is T – Is Tony ok?”

 Peter got to Stark first. “Sir?”

 A disoriented Tony opened bruised eyelids. “Hey, kid.”

 Peter’s hands shook. “Hey, Mr. Stark. Are you ok, Sir?”

 Tony looked at him. He didn’t even try to move – or couldn’t. “You know I’m proud of you, right, Pete?”

 Peter didn’t like the sound of that, and neither did any of the Avengers who were crowding around the pair. “Mr. Stark…”

 Tony looked up at his teammates – at Steve and Bruce, Clint and Nat, Sam and Rhodey… “Thanks for coming to my table,” he whispered. And then Tony’s eyes rolled backwards into his skull and he went silent.

 ----------

 Tony woke up alone. He resented that. No one should wake up in a hospital alone.

 A toilet flushed nearby. Steve exited the bathroom. “Oh,” Tony said. “There you are.”

 “Here I am,” said Steve. “How’s that kidney feel?”

 “What’s that?” Tony sat up in bed and poked his body all over. “Kidney?”

 “Here.” Steve gently pulled up Tony’s shirt and revealed a bandage on his left side. “Some of our organs got a little fried. Clint has part of Sam’s liver and you have one of Parker’s kidneys.”

 “The kid gave me an organ?” Tony bellowed. He turned to the door where he was sure, now, that his friends were waiting, out in the hallway. “PARKER!”

 Peter entered with a guilty face. He was in a hospital gown, bandaged up in the same place as Tony. “Yes, Mr. Stark?”

 “YOU…” Tony shook his fist at his young protégé. Then a forefinger pointed out from the fist. “You… Are promoted.”

 Peter beamed.

 The End

[vs-redemption]

I saw your ask about how you don't understand how ppl claim hawks worse than the villains and just wanted to say, I don't either. Looking at his actions, yeah I guess I can see why, but as a person? Worse??.... No. Like, we've been given his inner thoughts and intentions. It's not like he enjoyed any of what he was doing. The person people initially loved hawks for isn't GONE and im honestly sad to see stans just give up on him as a person.

Hey anon! Thanks for reaching out. Before I respond, a quick warning.

⚠️ I’m going to be mentioning manga spoilers, so anime onlys be cautious ⚠️

So, I know Hawks is a controversial character. I also know plenty of people have analyzed and argued for both sides, so I’ll try to make my points brief.

Here’s what I know.

Hawks was reluctant to take the undercover job with the LOV from the very start and expressed concerns over having to stand by while innocent people were killed. And during the Endeavor vs High-end nomu fight, Hawks saved every single person in that collapsing building even though it was a chance to build trust with Dabi and the LOV. Dabi even asks him when they meet why there hadn’t been any casualties. It’s obvious to me that Hawks values human life.

Strike one agains Hawks: Best Jeanist. There’s a lot of debate over whether or not Hawks actually killed Jeanist. People have pointed out that none of the pros have questioned his absense, plus Dabi seemed to question the authenticity of the body. Only time will tell if Hawks really killed him. If he did kill Best Jeanist, I’ll admit that it’s wrong. Even if he got permission from the commission and it helped him gain trust with the LOV.. that’s messed up. (I love Best Jeanist so much)

Strike two against Hawks: Twice. Did Hawks take advantage and manipulate a mentally ill person? Yes. Is that wrong? Yes. Twice is the victim of a broken system. Had he been given the help he needed from the start instead of being shunned and isolated, he wouldn’t have ended up seeking acceptance from the LOV. Hawks understood this too. That’s why he offered to help Twice and begged him to surrender peacefully. Hawks did not want to kill Twice and if Dabi hadn’t shown up, maybe he could’ve captured Twice alive. Unfortunately, after Dabi showed up, it made things even more difficult for Hawks so he had to make a tough call. Twice is a one man army and was the biggest threat to the Heroes. Letting him escape would’ve been disastrous (Shigaraki’s huge power boost is even worse but that’s a whole other can of worms) Was killing Twice the right decision? Could Hawks still have found a way to capture Twice alive while also escaping Dabi? Idk but Im pretty sure Hawks is going to feel the weight of his choice, and I’m pretty sure he didn’t make the decision lightly. I really liked Twice, and I’m super sad he was killed, but I do know that he was a criminal and a huge threat.

Another issue I’ve seen people bring up is the “heroes never kill” philosophy. I totally agree, heroes shouldn’t kill, but Hawks wasn’t exactly in a normal situation for a hero, was he? He said from the beginning that he’d put his reputation as a hero on the line if it meant protecting people. He wasn’t acting as a hero when he stopped twice... he was acting as a double agent.

The last point I want to address is that some people say what the league of villains is doing is right. Here’s what I think. There are definitely problems in the hero society that need to be fixed. The answer though is not in kidnapping children, turning people into nomus, or disintegrating entire cities with no regard to loss of innocent lives. Hawks has done some shady stuff but nothing on the scale of what the league has done. So no, I do not think he’s worse than them and I think he values all human life more than anyone in the league does.

Anyway lol that was longer than I anticipated. Sorry for that. I just want to reiterate that I have no problem with people who hate Hawks, I just think it’s unfair to judge him so harshly. I think he knows that some of the things he’s done are wrong and hates himself for having done it. He’s going to have to live with the guilt of his actions (though I don’t know for how long... Toga’s coming ahh!)

Thanks again to the anon for sending in your thoughts