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very-grownup · 1 year ago

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Recently, I had cause to contemplate a serious question. It is the sort of question to haunt you at night, one that stumps the greatest minds of our generations; possibly all generations to come.

Which Vinland Saga character is most capable of raising a true alpha warrior elementary school age child?

NULL ARNEIHD

There is nothing that says a woman can't raise an alpha child, except for centuries of effective, logical, and morally superior patriarchal societies, none of which have suffered any demise, leading to our shining mantopia of the present day. But Arnheid is not the mythical woman who can do almost as good a job as the worst man. At best, Arnheid will teach your child how to take a punch.

25) BUG-EYES

We don't know much about Bug-Eyes, except that he let himself be taken as a slave and sold to an old man who refused to call Bug-Eyes by his real name. You don't want your child learning to accept anything but being the dominant party in a capitalist relationship or in the heated realm of name supremacy. When Hunter starts kindergarten, he should know better than to quietly accept demotion to Hunter J.

24) OLMAR

Olmar is the opposite of a capable guiding light for your soft pre-pubescent offspring. He has trouble lifting a sword. He is bad at riding a horse (the monster truck of the pre-industrial age). He grows inferior facial hair. He only kills people by accident. The only reason Olmar ranks higher than Bug-Eyes is he can teach your child the importance of being born into privilege and that as long as they have money, they're guaranteed to be superior to someone.

23) THE EAR

A nickname is acceptable if it relates to a cool physical trait or skill that makes you an essential part of a badass warrior squadron.

But there's nothing cool about ears. That's a nerd's body part.

22) RAGNAR

Ragnar looks like he should be an excellent teacher of alphaness. He can grow facial hair. He's survived the Viking age long enough to grow facial hair and lose head hair (baldness is famously alpha as you shed nature's cossetting helmet). His head is shaped like a bullet (a shape that's as alpha as eagles and penises). But Vinland Saga is pre-bullet. The shape of his head is meaningless.

Also, we know what happens when Ragnar raises a child. You should want better for your little bundle of bones and testosterone.

21) THORS

Thors has so much potential to rank higher. Physically he's the pinnacle of what your child should want to achieve -- tall, bearded, able to withstand being filled with so many arrows -- but philosophically he will only fail your child, at best. If you let Thors take charge of your impressionable youngster, some serious trauma and starvation-based amnesia will be necessary to override unhelpful lessons of pacifism, equality, mercy, and how farming is more rewarding than bashing skulls together until the brains of your enemy coat your hands.

And there's always the risk those beta cuck lessons will re-emerge later in life.

20) WILLIBALD

Willibald is a good intro role model. He's opportunistic, ready to exploit others for his own benefit, and a problem drinker: all great skills for your child to develop on their road to being a true alpha warrior.

Once your child starts learning to read, if they're being taught by Big Government's Woke Academy, they need to be removed from Willibald's influence because he will give them a bible.

19) LEIF

Now, Leif may not look like a great teacher of alphaness, but consider: he's ancient, having survived many sketchy boat travels, he's a successful merchant in a time when you had to put in the work, and he's pretty successful at bartering in exchanges that treat human beings as property. If your child is a physical failure in some way, like maybe they have a vagina or glasses, they should probably learn some lessons from Leif and, since they're soft, don't tell them that's the best they can hope for.

18) PATER

Pater was a slave and through hard work he was able to get all the way up to servant who is in charge of slaves. Pater may not be able to teach your child how to be an alpha, but he does serve as an excellent example of how anyone can pull themselves up by their bootstraps. You don't want your child to disregard that sort of thing completely; what if they need to take advantage of a grading curve one day?

17) EINAR

Einar is a slow learner. He lets family members be killed and his village be pillaged twice! He doesn't start unlocking the potential of hidden berserker rage until he's a slave. He's a powerful man and isn't going to ruin the example of his physical strength with unnecessary literacy or brains, but he never lets himself go full berserker and rip out a man's throat with his teeth. He also lets another man have the woman he likes; he doesn't even make him fight to possess her!

Einar is, at best, the substitute teacher who'll inadvertently show your child a movie The (NOT) Man thinks they're too young and soft to see.

16) FOX AND BADGER

No one wants to hear their child is less an alpha and more a second or third banana to a much cooler child. Fox and Badger can provide helpful guidance in that area and demonstrate that it's important, if you have to be part of a duo, to make up for the other's flaws. For instance, if you can't grow a decent moustache, find a man with a beard, but make sure he's shorter than you and has one of the inferior hair colours. In terms your child may understand: if they're friends with a kid who has a PS5 and they only have a PS4, they need to find a kid with a bad haircut and Nintendo Switch.

15) FLOKI

Sure, he's big and strong and a winner, but you know what Floki ultimately is? A fucking weasel bitch who thinks he's better than he is and prefers taking on people just slightly weaker than he is and engaging in backstabbing and traps.

These are all fine qualities for an aspiring alpha child, but not when your head is going to be used to teach basic geometry. If you child tries to emulate Floki, they're going to find themselves dunked on by a math teacher in high school.

Math teachers are the cucks of the teaching world.

14) KETIL

Like Pater, Ketil is a great mentor-figure if your child is an unpromising lump of human that fills you with shame and concerns about what that bitch Linda was doing while she was pregnant. Ketil is a true self-made man, in that he finds the identity of a much cooler dude and makes it his own. Wealth, security, reputation, facial hair, 50/50 on fucking out failure sons, and choice of enslaved women to fuck. Remember: it doesn't count as weakness if she sees you cry, because she's not a person.

13) THE PHANTOM HEAD OF SWEYN, KING OF DENMARK

In a way, the Phantom Head of Sweyn, King of Denmark, is an excellent guide to the world of alphadom. He's fucked enough to be riddled by so much syphilis, he's a land conquering war king, he's willing to pit his children against each other to determine which is more worthy of being his heir, and instead of showing traditional love, his children must content themselves with the real gift an alpha father can impart: not being murdered, yet. He's tenacious in his desire to continue imparting his wisdom to his younger son, as shown by being a Phantom Head haunting him for years after he's died.

He is just a hallucination of a dead man's severed head, though, and at the end of the day, if you've been raising your child with anything like real grit, they will use the Phantom Head of Sweyn, King of Denmark, as a soccer ball.

And then your child is playing soccer. Ugh.

12) SVERKEL

Sverkel is Ketil's ancient father who persists in living alone on his own patch of land, supporting himself with his own two hands and the hands of slaves, whose hands are his hands. He thinks his son is an idiot and his grandsons are idiots. He only shows begrudging affection to traditionally attractive young women and men who he views as superior to his own family members. He's basically the perfect man to entrust your young child to if you want them to grow up to be a strong, self-sufficient, emotionally closed off survivor.

Unfortunately, in our modern society, the skill of 'just not fucking dying' is only impressive when you're a billionaire or a war criminal, so your 21st century offspring will be as engaged in learning from Sverkel as they are in hearing about grandpa's time in [select age-appropriate American forever war].

11) ATLI AND TORGRIM

Like Fox and Badger, but better. Say, five better. Like Fox and Badger, Atli and Torgrim will teach your child the importance of brotherhood, teamwork, and combining power into a more deadly force. But fivebetter, because instead of a fat-one skinny-one team-up, Atli and Torgrim are true Vikings and ask "What if we were both just jacked blonde dudes with beards?"

On the route to becoming a lone wolf warrior alpha on the playground, make sure your child knows their best ally is someone exactly like them.

10) THORFINN

Entering the top ten, we finally reach series protagonist, Thorfinn. Thorfinn is in an unfortunate position. At one point in his life, he would have been, if not a great teacher, at least a great camp counselor for your child on their journey to sucking the marrow from the bones of those who fall in dodgeball. Once, Thorfinn let nothing stop him in his pursuit of climbing trees, walls, and adult men to end limb and maybe life with his knives and teeth.

Sadly, Thorfinn's life takes a dark turn, and he has cause to remember the lessons of his pacifist father. From atop a mountain of corpses, Thorfinn becomes consumed by guilt and sorrow. As an adult, Thorfinn would rather get punched in the face one hundred times than bite a single finger off a giant.

Unless you want to convince your child that Thorfinn died at sixteen in a cool Viking accident, the best lesson your child can learn with a teacher like Thorfinn is when you pick them up after their first day and whisper, loudly, while pointing in an exaggerated manner: "Don't be like THAT loser, Hunter."

9) CANUTE

Canute ranks higher than Thorfinn because his character arc is constructed in thematic contrast, to wit Canute goes from a soft, scared little baby boy with flowing blonde hair to a scarred king willing to torch entire villages for communication purposes, deny knowledge of old allies, subjugate anyone with assets he needs to strengthen his position, and poison brothers.

It's inspirational, aside from all the Jesus Canute puts in everything.

And a top tier alpha would punch his brother in the throat until he died and not use a sissy long game weapon like poison.

8) GARDAR

Now Gardar, Gardar is a real man. He's big, he has facial hair, we know he's fucked at least once, and he will go on a murder spree to get back what is his, even pushing past the point of death. The only thing you have to watch out for if your child is being taught by Gardar is that they understand murder sprees are best BEFORE enslavement, not after, and that they should never love anyone but themselves so much that it drives them to madness. Too much love for others can make you vulnerable even in your most murdery madness.

7) SWEYN, KING OF DENMARK

All the positive qualities of Sweyn's Decapitated Phantom Head, but with the benefits of a body and limbs. Even the most powerful child will not be able to use him as substitute sports equipment unless they first learn how to break kneecaps.

6) THORGIL

Thorgil is essentially a Viking marine played by peak Hulk Hogan. His muscles have muscles. His beard is blonde and luscious. He's killed many people, will kill more, and is incredibly hype about that killing. He has weird relationships with his family. I have confirmed there is at least one person out there with a workout inspired by Thorgil with the goal of becoming as jacked as Thorgil. He can swim and strategize and will never surrender. He rejects the weak control of fancy hereditary monarchy and embraces rule based on who can crush the most skulls simply by flexing their biceps (it's Thorgil). He's even good at using lesser people for murder-by-proxy.

Perhaps Thorgil's greatest flaw is that he won't be able to teach your child how to maximize their human pawn options.

And numbers. He definitely has a problem with numbers.

5) WULF

Wulf has a name that calls to all children who aspire to standing on a pile of unconscious classmates during recess. He's essentially a Viking gym teacher and Viking gym class has decapitation instead of skipping rope. He doesn't do embarrassing things like showing emotions and he's capable of understanding numbers in the only context where numbers matter (how much you need for successful slaughter of your opposition). He even looks cool. You'd play a guns and grit videogame with a player character who looks like Wulf.

He's kept from being top of the pile because he's a loyal retainer to a weaker man. That's okay, though. Your alpha child should aspire to becoming greater than even the coolest of gym teachers.

4) BJORN

You know what's better than your one cool gym teacher?

That guy, but he does drugs. Not bad drugs that make you introspective, cool drugs that make you even better at murdering. Your alpha child will need to learn one day about the benefits of performance enhancing drugs.

3) SNAKE

If there's one thing we know about alphas, is that they love selective interpretations of characters named Snake and this is another great Snake to add to the list. He's the leader of a band of mercenaries, which means he's a murder entrepreneur. He is stronger and smarter than everyone in his employ, which means he can never be truly challenged. He has a mysterious background, which adds to his cool mystique and is probably something he can impart to your child for playground reputation enhancement. He is literate but uses it to entrench himself in a position of power over others, showing that there are benefits to being able to read. If you spin it correctly, you can even use Snake's generally positive relationship with Sverkel as a way to teach your child the importance of respecting and attending to you, and only you, when you are old and infirm (you will never die or suffer any kind of negative repercussions for the way you live your life).

2) THORKELL

Thorkell is so cool and nearly the perfect teacher for your alpha child. He is easily the strongest man in the history of Vikings. He can use entire trees as battering rams. He is not slowed down or put out when he loses organs or limbs; in fact, he recognizes that injuries are badass and make you more powerful. He is a man who will impart in your child the need to constantly fight and destroy basically anyone who is willing to consider putting up a fight and to always pursue greater challenges. Probably your child's boring, non-Viking teachers have even used the word 'challenge' in some context when you've met with them and whatever they were talking about, you can bet Thorkell will help guide your aspiring muscle golem to destroying that thing. There are only two reasons Thorkell doesn't occupy the top spot on this list. One is that there's no indication he possesses dietary or exercise secrets that will help your child grow to be 8 feet tall.

1) ASKELADD

The other reason is that there's one man in Vinland Saga who has a track record of actually raising an alpha child, even if that child lost his way. Askeladd is all about tough love and killing sources of soft love. He's cunning, ruthless, and can get someone who wants to kill him to work for him for a decade. He knows how to gather important resources to be self-sufficient -- once you pillage, torch, and slaughter an entire village, their resources are your resources, after all. He's well-travelled, ambitious, and will carry a grudge forever, never hesitating to sacrifice weaklings in pursuit of his goals. His hands-off approach raised a malnourished child who hated him into the kind of boy who could run up enemies thrice his size and bite their fingers off. Imagine what Askeladd could achieve with a child eager to learn? /Your/ child won't fall into a pit of numb despair and skeletons that leads them onto the path of peace like some kind of loser.

#vinland saga #weeb shit #serious lists about serious lessons

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kingbriar · 1 year ago

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⟨Seth Rollins. cis male. he/they. 37.⟩ We just saw Ansel Briar entering L’Antique C’est Chic. I heard through the grapevine that their loyalties lie with the Jolly Rogers and that they also go by the King of Hearts. Be careful, they work for them as an assassin and can sometimes be bored by repetition, jealous, petty, or even bloodthirsty but I’ve also heard some people say that they were dedicated, confident and quite stylish.— Moss. they/them. 23. EST. violence against children (< 10)

AESTHETIC | MUSIC | LONDON FALLING RPG

STATS

Real name: Ansel Ford Briar

Code name: King of Hearts

Alliance: Jolly Rogers

Job: Contract Assassin. (Works part time coaching at Crossfit North London, esp in conditioning. Bit of a reputation for being intense, but that’s the point, right?)

Age: 37

Physical: 6'1", 225 lbs

Birthplace: Houlton, Maine, US

DOB: August 10, 1986

Star sign: Leo

Gender: Male-adjacent (he/they)

Sexuality: Bisexual disaster

FC: Seth Rollins

Family: Dan Briar (Father), Evelyn Summers-Briar (Mother), Four Siblings (I'll name 'em someday), Rebecca Briar (formerly Ballagh, Ex-Wife)

BIOGRAPHY

Ansel’s from the sticks. His father was a hunter first and owner of the local general store second, born and raised in the woods of northern Maine, where his mother settled there later with a group of poets and artists who were inspired by the quiet snowy mountains and the way the sun shines through the leaves. Those same mountains meant she had to be driven nearly two hours in the family’s beater red pickup to the nearest hospital to bring him and his younger siblings into the world. All of them were hard on her, but that didn’t stop them from having five kids.

His mother called him Ansel, after Ansel Adams. His dad said that was some pretentious bullshit and always called him Andy, or the leader of the pack, so Ansel did his best to step up and be the best role model he could. He started following his father out hunting when he was five, and maybe they should’ve started worrying when he took to it so quickly. Maybe Ansel had a couple too many questions about how to balance wearing camo to blend in with bright, flashy hunter oranges and yellows, but was happy enough to sit still and quiet, listening for a broken twig or rustling leaves, and he never cried when his dad showed how they’d have to slit a buck’s throat to kill it quickly if the first shot didn’t get it done. Ansel killed his first deer at 8 without his dad holding the rifle steady, skinned it a little too quickly and held onto the antlers as a trophy as long as he could.

Ansel went to a university in Boston, and both reveled in finally being a small fish in a much bigger pond, and itched for attention. He studied literature to keep his mother happy, spent hours hitting the gym to look more impressive than he was and make up for the lack of mountains to climb, and made the rounds through anyone looking for a messy one-night stand.

But then met Rebecca Ballagh in some 300 level poetry class he suddenly had to pretend he cared about. She was something special, had enough of a dangerous edge that Ansel couldn’t get bored of her if he tried. He met her family at a shooting range outside the city after dating for about a year, and they offered to put him up and give him a job if he wanted to stay in Boston. It took him a little too long to realize her family were the last, quiet dregs of the Winter Hill Gang and US-based IRA that were slowly building themselves back up, but hey, the one thing he’d missed about home was hunting.

A person ain’t too different from a deer, to a wolf. Everything bleeds the same.

But now that he ran with a pack again, it came with new rules. Clean up, cut your hair, kid. Pipe down. Dress like everyone else. Wear black. Shut the fuck up and become a ghost. Becca helped when she could, but she liked him better this way too. Colder, a soldier. They got married in 1998, and Ansel didn’t quite look like himself in the pictures.

He tried as hard as he could to just focus on blending in- you don’t wear camo without orange, you’ll get shot- but the longer he stayed, the whole gang made his skin crawl. Every hit was scripted down to the second, and if he deviated from it in the moment to keep himself alive and useful he got beat down and hung out to dry in front of the rest of the gang. He started spending more time at their local crossfit box than with his wife. At least something was intensive enough to make him feel something. But even that after a while started to feel monotonous. The same fights with the family. The same rotation of classes and workouts and late night jobs. The same accusations that he was having an affair with his trainer. Always the fucking same. Boredom sunk its claws into him, but breaking routine only shortened his leash.

They slowly fell apart over seven years, until Becca served him their divorce papers in 2004. Maybe he bitterly sent an anonymous tip to the local PD about the plans for the family’s next few moves the day before they had to appear in court. Served them right, Ansel thought. At least until cops had barricaded the entrance to his new studio apartment he just finished moving into a week later, saying that they’d been given anonymous information that warranted arrest and trial.

He didn’t know who else to call except one of the gang’s lawyers, who came in all smug smiles and talked him through exactly what had been given to the cops like he’d written up the list. With the given evidence, he would have done life in prison and paid thousands of dollars in fines on top of legal fees. But by already coming back to them? The gang could put in some work, get it down to a lot of hearsay and a manslaughter charge on one of the hits that Ansel had really fucked up. The angle was clear, and the gang were convinced that by getting it down to ONLY 15 years in a State Prison, he’d have to come crawling back to them on his knees. He walked free in 2019, finally sick of sick of sewing orange and camo, but with enough scattered online classes for a quasi fashion degree and a developed enough collection that he could apply and get his visa to work a brutal, grunt seamstress job at Burberry, and get the fuck away from Boston before he could even be approached by his former pack.

Being American and an ex-convict did him very little favors and that job was falling through before he knew it, but he had found a couple crossfit boxes along the way, and did his best to fight off the bone-deep itch to draw blood other than pricking his own fingers, and take sharpened fabric scissors to someone’s flesh. The wolf was almost free of his chains, screaming to be fed so he could be truly free and then suddenly he’d killed his landlord after Burberry fired him and Ansel couldn’t quite scratch together rent. A vague shape of a heart carved into the side of his neck with a kitchen knife just so he could watch it bleed. Instinct took over, and he covered his ass, watched the press run wild, and was quickly approached by a different sort of pack. Not a family, like Winter hill, but a crew. The Jolly Rodgers.

#face | seth freakin rollins #about the boy

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knighta3 · 3 years ago

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Hollow Mind has filled my mind

I just wanted to spit out some thoughts I had from this episode because there was so much to unpack. So, um, spoilers. There's also no real structure to this, but I'll try not to be too unorganized.

So Hunter and Belos' relationship is sure something. Now, it's easy to think he never cared about Hunter. But I think he did, in a twisted selfish way. And of course it has to do with Wittebro.

Philip clearly cared about Wittebro a lot. Deeply admired him, I would say. Belos modeled his mask after the one his brother made for him, after all.

Because this was the era of witch trials in colonial America, the two were raised to hate witches. They spent time playing witch hunter together.

But things started to change when a witch showed up.

Notice that Wittebro is holding a pitchfork, but is not approaching threateningly. They were on an actual witch hunt when this happened. But instead of attacking, Wittebro decided to forgo their anti-witch upbringing and hear them out. He was probably always fascinated by learning new things, much like Hunter. Philip seems more apprehensive.

In Yesterday's Lie, we saw this illustration of the brothers. The one with the cardinal (Flapjack) is Wittebro, while the other is Philip. I think this is a condensed representation of a period of time rather than a single event. For awhile, I had puzzled over what that stick Philip is holding was supposed to be. But I think it's a torch. Possibly showing how Philip wasn't fully on board with what Wittebro was doing. But because he admired his brother so much, he followed along anyway.

But as time went on, Wittebro grew more enamored by this world of witches and demons. Supposedly even falling in love(I'll call her Wittewife), and expecting a child. Philip wasn't pleased. He thought Wittebro was going too far. The witches were stealing his brother. In Philip's eyes, Wittebro was choosing the demon realm and witches over humanity -- over him. His own brother was betraying him to fraternize with witches. And if the witches could beguile even his amazing brother, then who knows what they could do to the rest of humanity? That's how he justifies it to himself, at least.

But of course, Wittebro didn't actually betray him. He still loved Philip. Despite Philip's decent into bitterness and hatred.

But it wasn't enough. Philip didn't want to believe his brother chose to fraternize with witches, but he also couldn't not believe it. The better option in his mind was to tell himself this was no longer his brother. The witches took his brother away. Philip eventually confronted Wittebro again. Wittebro didn't want to fight, which led to his death. His body lays in a pose unnervingly similar to that of the Boiling Isles Titan(I don't know what to think of this).

That wasn't enough for Philip though. He wanted revenge on all witches for stealing his brother. He wanted his brother back, but in a selfish way. He wanted the brother who would play witch hunter with him. The brother who didn't choose witches over him. The brother he had admired so much, rather than the person Wittebro actually was.

For his revenge, he needed help. He's trick people and sacrifice them, sure. But he needed someone loyal to him. So who better than his brother? He created grimwalkers in a deluded attempt to get his brother back. But time and time again, they betray him once they start figuring out what he's doing. Still desperate, Philip keeps trying. He needs to prevent his brother from being beguiled by the witches. Maybe wild magic was the problem. Maybe if he kept the grimwalkers from wild magic, they wouldn't be corrupted by it(all the while, Philip was corrupting himself and became Belos).

So Belos gets to Hunter(they were probably all called Hunter, but I'm talking about our Hunter). This grimwalker is showing more promise than the others. He is desperate for approval and eager to please. He bends over backwards to justify Belos' actions, wanting to believe they're doing the right thing. Hunter is deep in denial.

After defeating the palismen amalgamation, Belos approached Hunter with a smile and a thank you. Belos was pleased with Hunter(and it felt at least somewhat genuine to me). But then Hunter questions him and Belos frowns. Hunter found out about all the bad things and the fate of the previous golden guards, and seems desperate for Belos to explain that it's some sort of misunderstanding. Hunter doesn't want to believe his entire life was a lie.

Belos probably could have come up with some sort of explanation to appease Hunter. But he's seen this before. After the grimwalkers start acting like this, they betray him. Any appeasement would be temporary. So he doesn't even bother trying to manipulate Hunter anymore. It's just time to take out the trash and start over. It's a shame, Hunter had showed such promise. Belos thought he'd stay loyal longer than the previous grimwalkers. And this one looked the most like his brother on top of it. But Hunter never even got the chance to actually betray Belos. And it's likely many of the previous grimwalkers were treated similarly. And Belos even blames Luz for Hunter's supposed demise(she actually saved him because of the glyphs in her jacket).

Okay, moving on to some more disconnected thoughts.

-- I've seen other people theorize that Wittewife is a Clawthorn ancestor. I'm inclined to believe it. And Wittebro's woodcarving(the kid!Belos mask) as a kid seems like an interesting connection to the Clawthorns being known for palismen carving.

-- Why does Belos keep making grimwalkers if they always betray him? Is he really that desperate to keep his brother around? It's still possible a grimwalker is needed for the day of unity somehow, it just doesn't have to be Hunter specifically. But we'll have to wait and see how that plays out.

-- Does the line "two hearts of stone" refer to Belos and Hunter? As a grimwalker, Hunter would literally have a galderstone for a heart. And Belos is cruel and stone-hearted. I don't know what else to think of that.

-- When making the return spell, Eda said it needed a power source. I'm assuming the initial spell needed one too. But the initial spell had three witches with magic to power it. Eda no longer has magic, so she needs to use the Titan blood.

But Luz and Hunter activated the initial spell. Neither have magic to power it. Maybe the spell used Hunter's galderstone as a power source?

Hunter seems perfectly capable of using magic with Flapjack; who is a normal staff. Yet Eda can't seem to use Owlbert in the same way(assuming she has already tried, which I think she would have). Also a galderstone thing?

-- Maybe it's a good thing Raine, Darius, and Eberwolf were stopped. Who knows what Belos would have done to them when he found out.

-- When did Belos realize Hunter and Luz were there? Immediately? Did he only see them before they saw him? Or did he only realize when Luz approached him? Because each option can change the context of the situation.

If he realized immediately or before Luz noticed him, then he chose to appear as a crying child in order to manipulate them. It's highly likely, but I want to ponder the other options for a minute anyway.

Also, if he immediately noticed, then that means it would have been bad if the three traitors had gone because they would have had no chance. There would have been no hiding.

If he didn't realize, then he would have been appearing as a child regardless of if Luz and Hunter were there anyway. That would say something about how inner Belos is a scared child running away and hiding from the palismen amalgamation. He can choose his form, obviously, but that would be a conscious effort. And if he defaulted to being a child, that could have some interesting implications. He could be appearing as a child because the guilt is actually nagging at him, at least a little bit deep down. Or the "curse" is overwhelming him.

Again, it feels most likely that it was all manipulation from the beginning, but it's interesting to think about anyway.

--That's currently all I've got. These were just thoughts I had following the episode and I wanted to get it out so I could better process the information.

#toh #the owl house #toh spoilers #hollow mind #toh hollow mind #long post #i speak #a3 speaks

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bleufrost · 4 years ago

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There's Just Time (A Loki x reader Fanfic)

Chapter Three: A Home Amidst Chaos

Summary: You were an explosion waiting to happen who found love in the arms of a hurricane. Loki saw you as an angel that calmed his demons. For you, he was a savior that taught you to trust your abilities, yourself, and others. When he died, you were broken. You clung to any hope possible and watched as it all fell away. With nothing left, stories from your youth flooded back of a mysterious force that controlled time and space, and you knew that you would do anything to see him again...even if that something meant teaming up with the Time Variance Authority to capture the man you love.

Loki's begins to feel things for you that he can't deny. Time can't change everything, and not all secrets can stay hidden.

Words: 8,006

Warnings: grief, mentions of self harm, violence, death

main story: prologue | chapter one | chapter two

moments in time (avengers era, prelude): part one

If the world was ending

You'd come over, right?

The sky'd be falling while I hold you tight

No, there wouldn't be a reason why

We would even have to say goodbye

“Alright, I’m finished!” Loki clicks a few more times on the outdated computer, sending something off to be graded. He sits back in his seat with his feet on your desk, sending a smile your way that is quickly diminished by the far-off look in your eyes.

“You know, if you’re anywhere near as bored as I am, we could go off and have ourselves a bit of fun elsewhere?” His eyebrows raise suggestively and you actually take him seriously for a second. Just a second.

“As lovely as that sounds, I think I’m going to pass. Besides, the faster you get through with the lessons, the faster we can actually go out and do something.” Your hand comes up and swats at his feet, but he moves them just before you make contact. He’s smiling again. The small chase is something he clearly needs in this dreary prison.

“Did they make you go through all this training as well?” Loki’s eyes follow a few people as they walk around the room. While he could be searching for an escape, you actually think that it’s more out of curiosity than anything else.

Your shoulders shrug. “Mine wasn’t quite as extensive. I think the difference in apparent moral compasses might’ve screwed you over in this case.”

Loki feigns hurt, hand clutching his heart dramatically. “Well, little one, it’s a good thing they left you in charge then, isn’t it?”

Loki props his feet back up beside you and leans back. “Do you mind if I take a break?”

You relax, mirroring his position with a sleepy smile. “Not at all. I would’ve already taken twelve if I were you.” Loki motions to the stack of magazines behind you and you offer one up to him. His hands flip it open to a random page, eyes scanning in bored interest. You miss the sound of his voice instantly.

“Hey, do you mind reading that out loud? It looks interesting.” Loki flips the page over so that you can see it. His eyebrows raise in confusion.

“You’re interested in motorized water vehicles?” You look at the bright blue page and struggle for a second to hide your distaste. No, you weren’t interested in that at all.

“Yeah, of course. They're...fascinating.” He looks totally unconvinced, but lets a small laugh fall from his lips. If nothing else, it was amusing to him.

“Well, alright.”

Loki’s lips move swiftly over the page, his voice low and soft as he reads the advertisements in the magazine. He finds the whole thing rather plain, yet he doesn’t stop. Every once in a while, his eyes glance up from the pages to see you. You, with your wide eyes and adorable little smile. Everything about you felt small, not necessarily because of your stature or status as a human being, but because you came off as so open and trusting with him. Your eyes droop as he continues to read, and he finds himself making a conscious effort to quiet his voice. Read softer, slower, so that you can rest. He wasn’t oblivious to whatever you had with him in your timeline, he just wasn’t quite sure what it was. Regardless, some part of him thought he might understand.

Just as your eyes fall shut, a loud timer rings throughout the cubicle. Miss Minutes pops to life on the desk, waking you suddenly. Loki curses the glowing clock in his mind, but shuts the magazine swiftly.

“Okay, y’all. Let’s review what we’ve learned!” Realizing that this wasn’t necessary for you to participate in, you allow your eyes to fall shut again. The harsh glow shines brightly behind your eyelids and you can’t help the frustrated little cry that leaves your mouth when her shrill voice scolds Loki for not taking things seriously. When your eyes open again, Loki is staring straight at you with an odd mix between amusement and determination. One might even call it...mischievous.

“How about I silence this alarm clock for you?” You sit up as his feet quickly fall flat on the floor. Loki rises, rolling up the magazine and swatting at Miss Minutes with an amused grin on his face. She dodges a few blows and your own smile crinkles your eyes when she scolds him a second time. Loki grabs another magazine off the desk and tosses it at you.

“Help me catch her!” You fumble to grab the magazine, rolling it up tightly once you get a solid grip on it. Laughter quickly escapes your mouth as you and Loki lunge for an increasingly annoyed Miss Minutes. Just as you think you’ve got her, the clock launches herself into the computer. Your paper weapon lands a blow with a solid THUNK...right on Loki’s arm.

You look up at him, stifling a giggle as he stares at his arm in shock. “I am so, so sorry, Loki.” The words barely make it out in between laughs. When his eyes land on your smiling face, they narrow dangerously.

“Oh, you clearly aren’t...but you will be.” Loki reaches for you and you shriek when his arms find your waist. He swings you around and you find it difficult to breathe once he finds out you’re ticklish. Loki’s eyes crinkle with joy, loud laughter leaving his own lips for the first time in what could very well have been years. It felt good to have the walls down. To not fear an ulterior motive or wonder if an attack would come at any moment.

Loki felt safe with you and, as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t blame it on any charade composed by magic. Not here.

“I see the lessons are going well.” Mobius stops by the side of the cubicle, watching the two of you as you quickly compose yourself. Loki’s arms move from your waist, but hover just below your lower back. He straightens up slightly, mimicking you with the intrusion.

Mobius lifts his hands in a surrendering motion, trying not to seem like a threat to either of you. You didn’t exactly see him as one, his arrival was just unexpected.

“Gear up, kids. We’ve had another attack.” Mobius throws Loki a jacket and he pulls it on as the three of you walk. Stopping to admire it, he turns to you and models the new look. The colors are drab and the orange block letters feel intrusive, but he looks good. He always does.

“It suits you.” His nose scrunches up in distaste.

“Well, it’s repulsive so I would hope not. However, I do appreciate the compliment.” Once again, you find yourself laughing as you follow Mobius into the briefing room.

The meeting is incredibly boring. Much of the same information they originally gave is being repeated, and whether that’s for Loki’s sake or theirs, you’re unsure. You tune in and out, taking in any new information or straying conversation from the usual briefings. It takes everything you have to hold your tongue when Hunter B-15 makes a comment about Loki being a variant, but he holds his own without any interference. Your mind is still on autopilot when Mobius starts listing off Loki’s powers, and when he says the term ‘illusion projecting,’ you interrupt out of pure habit.

“Duplication casting.” Your eyes raise suddenly when Loki corrects Mobius at the same time as you. He grins at you, excited by the knowledge you apparently have on his magic. He then falls into a speech that explains the intricacies and differences in his abilities. A speech you could likely recite from memory, but adore hearing nonetheless.

Loki finishes his explanation with a sarcastic, “But, you already knew that.” The words are smug, the self-satisfaction only heightened by the smirk he offers the room. That changes when he looks your way. Instead of the self-righteous smile, he instead gives you a look that is far more sincere, as if he wants his words to you to be the same, but genuine.

While walking over to where your crew would depart, Loki suddenly asks another question that you’re surprised hadn’t come up sooner.

“Will I be getting my powers back once we’re out there?” He turns to Mobius excitedly.

“Well, yes.” Loki grins at you, the mischievous look becoming more and more normal for him now that he feels a bit more secure.

“Aren’t you worried about me betraying you?” His face falls when Mobius shakes his head. The resounding “no” taking a hit to his confidence for sure.

“You already know we can catch you, how is betraying us going to get you any closer to the Time Keepers?” The spark instantly returns to Loki’s eye. He turns to you, allowing Mobius to walk on ahead of the two of you with a satisfied smile. He knew Loki wouldn’t step out of line, not with the promise of a meeting on the table.

“Are you working toward an audience with the Time Keepers as well?” That thought had never really occurred to you. Quite honestly, the only real thing keeping you here was Loki. It did bring up alarming questions though, things that you hadn’t felt the need to consider until now.

“I’m not sure. I haven’t really put too much thought into that part of my plan yet.” His face goes from confused to stern, trying to work through what you just said and how you could have possibly not had an end game here. What he didn’t know just yet, was that he was your end game. You suppose getting him that meeting was likely your goal now too.

“That’s a bit alarming, though I’m sure you have your reasons.”

The renaissance fair that you find yourselves entering is dismally dreary. The skies are grey and the air cold as ice. Loki starts in again, firing questions at Mobius that garner relatively mundane responses. It was all new to him, you understood that.

The brightly colored flags stood stark against the dark clouds and you soon found your mind drifting to other things. Other circumstances and memories.

Tony had once forced your entire team to go to a carnival, insisting that it was a great opportunity for ‘team building.’ Loki was completely over the comical magicians and juvenile illusions. He honestly was ready to leave the moment you arrived.

It wasn’t until he saw your eyes light up with the twinkling lights of the roller coasters that he decided the carnival might not be so bad. The way you couldn’t keep your joy from bubbling over at the oversized stuffed animals and sickly-sweet treats was so beautiful to him. He spent the rest of the evening following you from place to place, laughing as you jumped up and down in excitement over the same things that most adults here overlooked. You acted as a child would. It had embarrassed you when he mentioned that later, but his assurance that it was not a bad thing made your heart feel so full of love for him. Loki understood that you had lost much of your childhood. He understood that you were denied moments of wonder and were instead forced into endless seas of pain. He understood, and he adored you all the more for your ability to allow yourself to feel that happiness now.

“If this place excites you, I fear you wouldn’t be able to contain yourself on Asgard.” Loki leans close to you as he says it. A gentle smile causes his eyes to crinkle in the corners. You smile too, though you look down as your cheeks redden. You were caught.

“If that’s an invitation, I gladly accept.” You look at him, the burning in your cheeks diminishing as you gain the confidence to fall into a familiar banter with Loki. Now it’s his turn to be caught off guard.

Loki’s mouth opens and shuts a few times, and he ultimately opts to just shake his head with a small chuckle. “Perhaps it is.”

Your smile drops once the tent flaps open. If you thought outside was dark, this place is a black hole. Small torches light up the corners of the room, but the light that they offer is hardly enough to see. Bodies litter the ground and you nearly yelp when you accidentally bump into one on the floor.

Loki reaches out to steady you, guiding you over to a clearing at the center of the tent. He does it so absentmindedly, so naturally that it feels as though he’s done it a thousand times before. In your memories, he has.

The rest of the crew fan out, examining bodies and searching for any clues as to the whereabouts of this other variant. You turn to move, hesitantly trying to find your footing in the darkness, but his hand reaches out instantly to stop you. When Loki begins to talk, they all halt.

“If you leave this tent, you’ll end up like them.” It’s bullshit and you know it. Loki has this way of looking a little too thoughtful when he’s making things up on the spot. It had taken you years to get the hang of it, but you could often read him like a lie detector now. Not all the time, but the times where he was desperately trying to conjure up an entire scenario with no moments notice...those you could call.

He keeps talking, ignoring Hunter B-15 as she urgently announces how little time you all have left. Mobius watches him for any sign of deceit, but finds none. He has them fooled. That is, until Mobius catches your eye. You don’t know what Loki is planning, but you know it can’t go on much longer without causing serious damage. Mobius sees this, and he leaps in where you won’t.

“He’s lying, just playing games. There’s no one out there.” Mobius points at Loki with disapproval. “I expected more from you.” He looks at you then with even more disappointment. “Both of you.”

Back on desk duty, you sort through a few stacks of paper trying to get things back in order after yet another person decided to look through Loki’s files without so much as even attempting to put them back where they belonged. It seems he’s a hot topic here, though you should have guessed considering this is one of the most exciting things to happen at the TVA since you’d arrived.

There was so much information in these files, and you often felt like you were intruding by reading them. Of course, you were here because you knew more about Loki than any words in a file could tell a person, but it still felt a little wrong. You would be lying if you said you’d read every part of them. There were things too intimate in here. Things that should be left to his discretion to share...even if they were about you.

“Let me park ya at this desk with our previous Loki expert. Here’s a good trick, pretend like your life depends on this.” Mobius heads off to the cafeteria, leaving Loki standing before you.

“I suspected I might find you here. Seems like we’re being punished.” He looks around the stacks of files and books with disdain. This is likely the most dreary part of the entire TVA.

You pull his files off of one of the chairs and motion to it, rising to send the files back to their shelf.

“Oh, we’re definitely being punished.”

After about an hour, Loki is completely bored again. You don’t blame him. He’s read through the same paperwork on each of the attacks multiple times already. It was busy work.

You look over the paper you were reading when he animatedly gasps. “Don’t tell me the variant ambushed and killed another team of Minutemen!” Your hand comes up to stifle a laugh and Loki’s eyes land on you for a second before he goes back to reading, this time purposefully putting on a show for you.

It doesn’t take long for the both of you to start laughing. You know this isn’t going to get you anywhere, might as well have some fun with it. And it is fun.

Unfortunately, not everyone thinks so. The librarian behind you shushes the two of you loudly, causing you to bite your lip in an attempt to quiet your laughter. Loki looks at you, brows scrunching down as though he can’t believe what she just did. He offers you one more glance, then turns around and shushes the lady back. You don’t even try to stop your amusement and Loki turns back to you with a wide grin. After a few more minutes, you have to get up to use the bathroom. When you return, your heart nearly drops.

On the desk lies scattered papers belonging to Loki’s personal files. Pictures and detailed descriptions of major life events sit out in the open, and you can’t tell if he was just haphazardly looking through them, or if the files spread out were ones he had already read. Your eyes land on multiple folders pertaining to the two of you, his time spent in a cell, the months you sat by his side in attempts to understand him and help him acknowledge his own good. You see The Avengers Tower, knowing that you spent years there fighting alongside him, reading alongside him, sleeping alongside him. It was jarring to be hit with it all over again. When you try to speak, your breath hitches in your throat. Loki looks up instantly, shoving the folder he was reading beneath another and grabbing for one randomly.

“Loki…” Your eyes begin to water, this wasn’t the way you wanted things to go. He shouldn’t have looked. Had he seen everything?

He quickly stands, reaching for you. His hands rest against your arms and he leans down to meet your eye.

“Please don’t be upset. I didn’t read anything that would be improper. I just wanted to understand.” You refuse to look at him, knowing that the tears would fall the moment you looked into his blue eyes.

“Understand what?” Loki holds you a little tighter. You could feel his hands tremble.

“Why someone as delicate as you would care for a beast like me. I could absolutely destroy you without batting an eye. It would be easy...yet you trusted me not to. You still do, even now.” There’s a strain in his voice when he speaks. The sharp blade of his words paining you deep within your chest. He couldn’t possibly believe he was capable of anything so cruel. Not after everything he knew about what would have awaited him in the correct timeline.

“It’s because you’re not a monster. We both know you couldn’t kill me ‘without batting an eye’ because it would hurt too much. Did reading those files help you understand that at all?” When you finally look at him, his eyes are pleading. He lets out a deep breath of air that he had apparently been holding.

“I feel as though I’d have to see it played out myself. And I know that isn’t something you’re comfortable with. I accept that. I’m okay with that.” Each sentence is punctuated with a soft squeeze of his hands. He’s wrong though.

“No, Loki. Seeing it wouldn’t make a difference. Everything in those files are things that you need to live. Watching it and experiencing it are two very different things.” His grip loosens ever so slightly as his shoulders fall.

“But I’ll never get to experience it, will I?” Now it’s his turn to look down, glassy eyes barely hidden. It makes your own tears spring forward again.

“Not the same way it happened before.” He nods his head once, accepting the solemn truth. It would never play out quite the same as before. It couldn’t. When his hands release you, your own instantly come up to rub the tears from your eyes.

You take your seat again, pushing his files aside to grab for another on the variant attack. Loki follows close behind, taking his own seat. You work in silence, feeling his eyes on you as you focus on ignoring his still-open files.

“I meant what I said by the way.” Your hands stop, hovering over another one of his folders that you were prepared to push away.

“What?” When you look up, he’s watching your hand. You drop it and his gaze falls to the desk in front of him, contemplating his words before he says them.

“I didn’t read anything that you wouldn’t have otherwise told me about. It was tempting, and I will admit that I saw the names on a few of the folders, but I find myself respecting you far too much to do anything like that. I suspect I know why.” As he says the last sentence, he meets your gaze once more. There is so much vulnerability in the air, you feel as though you might suffocate.

After a moment, you nod at him. Even if he had read every single file, he hadn’t done anything wrong. They were his files, his life, his choice. The way he said it though, reminded you that you could tell when he was lying. He wasn’t.

It takes another hour, one shrouded in silence, until Loki sparks up again. He lets out a little excited gasp, and when you look up at him you swear you can see tears in his eyes. You have no time to question him though, as he grabs your hand and runs with you to the cafeteria to find Mobius.

With a lot of effort and time spent convincing Mobius, some of that time used watching Loki goof off and completely season Mobius’ salad to death, your little team is off to Pompeii. Loki had come up with this theory that the variant was hiding in apocalyptic events, able to do whatever they pleased because the whole place would be wiped out. Nothing they did mattered there, so they could scheme without any interference from the TVA. That was the theory.

The village was beautiful, peaceful in a way that you weren’t accustomed to. As Loki and Mobius spoke behind you, you once again found yourself lost in the sights. There was a silence that echoed in your mind every moment you spent without your powers. In most places, you could almost ignore it, convince yourself that the hollow space within you was nothing but a ghost. There was always so much energy in places like the TVA. You could pretend that energy was more than just the normal buzz.

Here though, things were different. You felt a sudden sense of grief run through you. These people would be filled with fear in a matter of seconds, and you would be powerless to do anything to help them. They would be in pain, and you could offer them nothing. It left you feeling empty and useless.

A whoosh of air whips past you, breaking you from your sadness. Loki jumps up onto the back of a goat carrier, unlatching it and cheering the goats on as they run from their enclosure. You stare in shock, looking back at Mobius who only shrugs at you and shakes his head.

When he begins speaking Latin, you can only make out a few words. He’s so animated, it’s almost comical.

The volcano explodes behind him and the crowd screams, running for cover. Loki continues to run around throwing things and laughing.

“Nothing matters! Enjoy your last meal, dance while you still can!” He comes to a halt in front of you, holding his hand out toward you.

“May I have this dance?” You shake your head in disbelief. This doesn’t deter him though.

“Loki, are you serious?” He holds his hand out a little further, dropping the ‘end of the world’ charade and smiling at you genuinely. He looks almost shy.

“It is the end of the world, after all.” You look around, most of the people have left. What was happening was a terrible tragedy, but Loki was right; there was nothing you could do. Sometimes there just wasn’t.

His hand is large, making you feel safe as he closes it around yours. Loki gently pulls you close to him, resting his hand on your waist and guiding you in circles. He spins you around, and for a moment this chaos actually feels like home.

There are occasions when not having a sense of time isn’t quite so bad. You could drift through life, doing what needs to be done without worry of running out of it. Things felt like they went by quickly. This wasn’t one of those occasions.

Mobius flips another page in his folder and sighs. He rubs his eyes and shuts it, handing it to you to be placed amongst the various others you had already read through. A sleepy yawn leaves your mouth. As much as you hate field work, at the very least it required less monotony than this.

You really can't help it when your eyes begin to drift shut. Just like that, everything goes quiet.

Mobius watches you and Loki with an amused eye roll and tiny smile. The two of you had fallen asleep at the desk. You were leaning against Loki, his arm draped over you and holding you protectively to his chest. His head rested on top of yours, relaxed in a way that Mobius had yet to witness from either of you.

For two people who never quite let their guard down, you sure were calm now. Mobius remembered the day he first met you, a scared and desperate kid who nearly broke down when he agreed to give you a chance. You always played up not trusting him, but Mobius knew he was the closest thing you had to a friend for a long time before Loki appeared. You had depended on him, and he found himself wanting to keep that faith in him alive. You were just a kid, you didn’t deserve to have to go through half of what you already had.

Loki was a slightly different story. While Mobius knew there was much more to the god than trickery and illusions, he wasn’t anywhere near as gentle as you. While you hunted by demand, Loki did so for sport. He knew why you were attracted to Loki, he had read your file. You were a healer above all else. You found purpose in providing peace amidst turmoil. Loki was the ultimate hurricane. That had to be it. There was obviously no other explanation for your unwavering drive to protect him.

Mobius didn’t know it, but that was a very small piece of a much larger puzzle. The complexities with which you and Loki loved was not something that could be deciphered through reading. It wasn’t trivial in the slightest. It was deeply and remarkably emotional.

No, Mobius only saw a scared little boy and a girl who wanted to banish the fear from his heart. Suddenly, it hit him. Scared little boy!

A slam on the desk causes you to jump, awakening you from your nap. There’s something solid beneath your head, much softer than the wooden desk you expected to feel. Opening your eyes, you find yourself resting against Loki’s chest. It feels so safe here, so calm. His arms hold you close to him and you notice when he struggles to open his eyes. It felt like you hadn’t slept in days, so you understood the sentiment completely.

When Loki finds you snug within his arms, his heart beats a little faster. He's sure you can hear it, your head is so close to his chest. You're so fragile to him, and having you here against his body stirs up something within him that screams at him to protect you. He barely has time to process everything before Mobius flips open a file in front of the two of you.

“Wakey, wakey, kids. I found something on that Kablooie we picked up at one of the scenes.”

Rising from Loki’s chest, you feel his hands fall from around you. You miss him immediately.

“What’s that?” Loki stretches, leaning over to see the bag that Mobius pulls out.

“Candy. Do you have candy on Asgard?” Mobius looks at Loki incredulously.

You shake your head, both in response to the question and to clear the sleepiness from your mind. “Nope. None that he’s ever eaten anyway.”

Loki pipes up defensively. “Well, we have grapes, nuts, things of that sort.” Mobius looks at you, shock on his face. You shrug. When you first found out that Loki had never had candy, you made it your mission to overload him on sweets. You always adored sweet things, and sharing that with him was one of your favorite pastimes. Maybe that could be something you did again.

“No wonder you’re so bitter.” Loki stares after him, taking offense to the comment. Mobius doesn’t even notice, opting instead to slam another stack of papers down. Time to continue your work. At least you had a lead now.

“Remember, this is a class ten apocalypse. The variant should be considered hostile, and it is important to keep an eye out for reset charges. The variant steals one every time there is an attack.” This briefing is one you actually find yourself paying close attention to. You’d been to a few apocalypse sights while working with the TVA, not to mention the trip to Pompeii just recently with Loki and Mobius. While this shouldn’t be anything too extreme, the fact that the Loki variant could be there made you worry. While you knew finding this variant could get you one step closer to finally being free with Loki, something held you back.

Arriving at the sight, the rain pummels you brutally. The blue glow of the Roxxcart sign reflects off of everything around you. Holographs flicker in the rain, and you would almost find it pretty if not for the chill of the water.

By the time you make it into the store, you’re shaking and dripping wet. Loki stops beside you, puddling water onto the floor. Your nose scrunches up, attempting to hold back a sneeze, but you can’t. Trying not to call any attention to your shivers, you just smile at Loki and shrug it off.

Loki looks you over quickly, taking in the wet clothes and blue tint to your lips. His hand comes up and a bright green glow washes over you, instantly drying your clothes and warming you up.

“Wouldn’t want you catching a cold.” Now, he smiles and the green light dries him as well. You nod in thanks, bumping his shoulder and walking over to the rest of the group with him.

“Alright, I’ll go with our little sorcerers-”

“No. You two head out with D-90. He stays with me.” Mobius fights the hunter on this, insisting to no avail that Loki should stay with you guys. Eventually, she forces him to back down but the same definitely won’t be said for you.

“I go where he goes.” The hunter sighs and turns to you, staring you down. Walking up to you in an attempt to appear intimidating, she stands nearly chest to chest with you. It wouldn’t be that easy though.

“We don’t need you here. If you don’t want to follow my command, you can leave.” You glare back at her. If she thinks that you were going to back down now after having gone against the most powerful force in the universe, she had another thing coming to her.

“We both know exactly what I’m capable of and why I’m here. Don’t fucking threaten me.” She rolls her eyes, but you’re not finished.

“Every emotion, every fear, every little thing that you’ve pushed down because it’s just way too much to deal with. I’ll make you feel it. You will never know what peace is again. We can work together, or I can be the worst nightmare you’ve ever experienced. The only difference will be that you can never wake up.” The hunter’s eyes widen for the slightest of seconds, but it’s long enough for you to see that you won. Pushing past her, you walk back over to Loki and start heading down the hall.

Loki stares at the hunters and Mobius, eyebrows raised and expression definitely showing that he felt the embarrassment for them. He points in your direction and follows after you, impressed and completely in awe. It was easy to forget how scary you could be. Everything about you felt calm and sympathetic. You were easy to underestimate, but maybe that was deliberate.

The lights flicker around you and your heart rate picks up. You were never a fan of dark, enclosed spaces. When Loki’s footsteps catch up to you, you’re relieved for multiple reasons.

“That was quite impressive. Albeit, a bit frightening. Remind me never to get on your bad side.” You try to keep the smile off of your face, but his grin makes you feel at ease. Rolling your eyes, you smile back at him.

“I really doubt you’re scared of me.” Loki walks a little faster, getting in front of you and walking backwards to face you.

“You’re right about that. I don’t often back down from dominant individuals. It does do something to me though.” He winks at you and you laugh, smacking his arm playfully. You might just be thankful for the darkness now, considering it’s hiding the bright blush on your cheeks. You would never get used to the way Loki’s flirting made your stomach flutter to life with butterflies.

Your eyes suddenly catch sight of a man standing by the plants. “Who is that?”

Loki turns instantly, standing between you and the man. Hunter B-15 walks up to question him, her weapon held out protectively. Looking at him from behind Loki, you recognize something in him. Something that doesn’t feel like it should be there. God, you wish you could use your powers right now. Nothing felt right, but without them you had nothing to back that up. Still, you would risk looking foolish if there was a chance that you were right.

“Something’s off about him.” Loki turns his head to acknowledge you.

“What?’ The hunter walks closer to him, telling him to head back to the main part of the store.

“Wait, something isn’t right!” B-15 turns to you, but the man grabs her and falls limp. You don’t miss the light green magic that flows between them. She turns and smiles at Loki.

“So, you’re the fool the TVA brought in to hunt me down.” She looks at you from behind Loki, smiling wider. “And of course you brought the pet.”

Although it takes you a second to recognize what just happened, Loki catches on instantly. He smirks at her.

“Me, I presume. It’s so nice to meet you.”

She motions for him to follow her as she makes her way through the aisles. Loki squeezes your arm. “Stay behind me.”

“I was so worried that they’d found a better version of me. But now, seeing how delusional you are working for the TVA...well, I’d say that fear is gone.” Her legs swing, mocking you with how nonchalant she appears.

“I don’t work for the TVA, I work for me.” The variant turns around to face the two of you fully. She smiles and clicks her tongue condescendingly. Her head tilts, catching your eye.

“It’s cute that you believe that. I’m an enchantress, Loki. I can tell when someone’s under a spell.” He follows her gaze, moving to hide you fully when he notices where she’s looking.

The variant lets out a breathy laugh and turns back around. A worker walks up to her, and before you can do anything to stop it, the magic shifts between them.

Loki doesn't miss a beat, talking before the worker is even fully enchanted.

“I have an offer for you, that’s why I found you. I'm going to overthrow the Time Keepers and, cards on the table, I could use a qualified lieutenant." You try not to let that get to you. He says it so easily, the words flowing without any hesitation. It couldn't be the truth, right? You could read him like a book, but right now you were struggling. It was just the nerves.

"And I assume you mean me and not your little pup." That one hurts. For so long it was common for people to see you as some lost child next to Loki. They treated you as though you were a victim, being corrupted and taken advantage of while blind to it all out of love. You weren't blind, and you weren't some useless toy.

You were so caught up in your thoughts that you almost missed the look he gave you.

Loki's eyes lock on yours minutely. He tilts his head just slightly, but you know the look. He has a plan. Trust him.

"There’s only one person I can trust. So what say you, Loki?" He holds his arms out invitingly, gently pushing you further back in the process.

"Don't call me that. Enough with your games, I'm not interested in ruling the TVA."

Their eyes take on a shift, anger surging through them as they turn away. Loki follows after them.

"If you don't want to overthrow the TVA, what do you want?" Electricity hums around you, the lights flickering violently. When they go down, you can see the orange glow radiating from multiple spots around you. Loki looks around as well, he faces you with an urgency that sparks panic in you.

When he speaks, his voice is low and rushed. "Go find Mobius. If there's a fight here, you don't need to be a part of it."

Your head shakes and you reach for him. If there was going to be a fight here, you weren't going to leave him. You were never the best fighter, not without your powers. You could help though. You had to.

"I'm not leaving you alone with them." He wants to disagree with you. The conflict flashes in his eyes, but he has little time to argue. Loki nods his head toward the corner. If you want to stay, you don't need to be at the center of it.

Loki turns and steps toward the variant slowly. They changed again while the two of you spoke. This new body was large, clearly strong and far more intimidating than the previous.

Loki is undeterred and his arms stretch out, directing the attention to the glowing charges around the room.

"I see, that's your plan. Lure us all here so you can blow the place up."

Overhead, the lights flicker again. You see them charge forward and scream when they kick Loki forcefully across the room.

"Thank you for helping me stall for time, you really do love to talk." Loki rises just as the variant steps forward. You scan the room for anything that could be of use and find a cable hanging off of a shelf.

Your arms reach for it, swinging it overhead and wrapping it around the variant's neck. Your legs swing up and use his back as leverage to pull harder on the cable. Natasha had taught you a thing or two and you were now thankful for the hours spent getting kicked around by her on a mat.

Loki rushes to you, punching the variant in the face. You feel him stepping backwards and can't move fast enough to avoid smashing into the aisle behind you. The metal digs into your spine and you yelp in pain, letting the cable go. Your body falls to the floor and the variant grabs for your throat while you attempt to recover.

Just as his hand is about to close around your neck, Loki swipes his feet out from under him. The man's head slams against the floor, temporarily incapacitating him.

Loki locks his hand on yours to help you rise.

"Are you alright?" You nod your head rapidly, getting up to make yourself less of a target. "Are you?" Loki checks himself over. "It appears so."

The break is short-lived as Loki takes a hard hit to the side. The variant locks its sights on you. He kicks violently and you barely dodge it. Your arm swings back to strike the man in the face, giving Loki the chance to run back over to you.

Loki grabs you quickly, pushing you behind him as the enchanted man sends another kick your way. He blocks it, but just barely. Loki summons a vacuum cleaner to his hand, swinging it around to send the man flying back. He runs over to you, holding your arm and looking back occasionally to make sure the man is still down.

“If I can get you close enough while distracting him, do you think you could stop the enchantment or put him to sleep?” You shake your head, knowing that you can’t. His powers may be available to him out here, but yours still aren’t. As long as the TVA knows where you are, your powers are kept from you.

“I know you probably don’t use them much now, but I know what you can do! This Loki is incredibly resilient, I’m going to need your help if we aim to stop him.” You continue to shake your head adamantly.

“I can’t.” He grabs your hand, knowing that your magic often resonated from the centers of your palms.

“Yes, you can. I’ll take the fall for it, you don’t have to worry about a thing.” Loki squeezes your hand in his, the urgency in his actions hitting you down to your core. You feel useless. Your fighting abilities were minimal at best. Loki could take this variant without you, but you were barely a distraction to him. The TVA had left you powerless and with very little means to protect yourself. You couldn’t do anything and it made your stomach twist now that it was directly affecting Loki too.

“Loki, I can’t!” A small spark stings the hand that Loki has wrapped in yours. Your eyes grow wide at the feeling, knowing that it couldn’t have possibly been you...right?

A low chuckle sounds from behind the two of you and Loki rises to hide you from the opposing figure. They're much smaller now, and their voice is softer.

“Leave the poor girl alone." The person steps closer, slowly shaking their head at Loki as though scolding a child.

"How is she supposed to use her magic when they have her chained up like a dog?"

Loki turns back to face you, a thousand questions floating through his mind. Only one matters at this moment though.

"They keep them from you, even out here?" His eyes fill with pain, knowing that he played a part in that somehow. Even if he hadn't outright forced you to do it, it was still his existence that led to it. You had abandoned a part of yourself for him.

You look down, suddenly feeling humiliated. The shame of what you were willing to lose felt so much heavier now that he knew. It wasn't just a temporary restraint like he had been given. At this point, you had been severed from your powers for what felt like years. It was shameful.

He struggles to find the right words to say, but nothing can make this better. He couldn't imagine the pain you were in. Remembering the person behind the two of you, Loki says what he needs to in order to keep the focus off of you. He knew you weren't useless without your powers, the fight you had just put up proved it. You didn't quite see that same strength in yourself though, so he wanted nothing more than to ensure you weren't the target of this variant's attacks.

"You clearly know she's no threat to you, so what do you want from me?" Loki turns away from you, stepping up to the variant.

"This isn't about you."

Everything in the store powers down. As the lights go out, reset charges glow and vanish in squares of glittery gold.

In front of you, the variant picks something up and waves at you and Loki with a satisfied grin. She disappears in the portal before you can even think to move.

The glow of the portal casts Loki in a golden light. He stands by it, watching as the variant runs through and disappears. You can see the hesitancy in his face. He's struggling.

“Loki-” Before you can even finish, he cuts you off with urgency.

“Come with me.” You make no move to approach him, fearing that he might do something rash if he feels trapped. You’re confused though. He couldn’t have just asked that, could he? He knew you had no powers now, so why wouldn’t he just go?

“What?” Loki quickly turns to face you, taking long strides to reach you in as little time as possible. His hands come up to squeeze your arms, trying desperately to garner all of your attention. He needed you to see how serious he was right now. How sure.

“Come with me. I know that there is much more to our story, and while I respect your wishes not to show me, I also don’t think I’m ready to live this life, my life, without exploring what still could be.” His eyes are so piercing, so pleading.

You’d given up everything once to see Loki again. Risked imminent death just for the small hope that he might still be out there somewhere. Hell, you had gone against the Time Lords themselves to reach the TVA so that you could find Loki...and he hadn’t even asked that of you then. Why now, when he’s nearly begging you to run away with him, would you say no? He knew your powers were being locked away from you, yet he still wanted you beside him.

What you didn't know was that the discovery of your powers was the final straw for Loki. His time with you may have been limited so far, but he was certain that the kindness and genuine care for him that you showed, even when you didn't think he'd find out, was not something that he could ignore. In his heart, he knew that he held so much emotion for you. Even now, the urge to have you by his side was far too strong to deny. The fact that his affection was clearly mutual made him ache for further discovery.

Behind you, hunters and TVA agents run closer. You can hear Mobius calling to you and Loki, but neither of you make any move. Loki is waiting for your decision. It suddenly dawns on you that he might not leave if you don’t make one, or if you decide to stay. He would sacrifice what was likely his only opportunity to escape if running meant leaving you behind. You already knew your answer, but that solidified it. You would happily go wherever Loki led you, because you knew that he would do the same.

“Let’s go.” His eyes twinkle with relief and pure happiness at your words. You chose him. You knew he was unaccustomed to that; to being someone's choice. He’d have to get used to it very fast now that you two were going to be on the run together.

Loki grabs your hand, stopping once more to look at Mobius apologetically. You would be lying if you said it didn't hurt a bit to betray him. You had to though.

With that, Loki pulls you through the portal with him. It seals shut behind the two of you in a glittery display of light.

a/n: can you guys guess which scenes made me happy in the show? there was so much smiley loki in this chapter, and while i cant stop myself from being slightly angsty, i hope you guys liked the fluffiness in this. please never be shy to tell me what you think, i love hearing from y'all and your interactions make my heart so happy. have a lovely weekend angels!

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#loki #tom hiddleston #loki x reader #loki fanfic #loki odinson x reader #loki imagine #loki imagines #marvel x you #mcu #marvel x reader #marvel fanfic #loki laufeyson #tva #loki spoilers

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goldenraeofsun · 4 years ago

Text

Good Ideas

1.5k of canon-divergence fluff, now on AO3!

Dean is almost finished with his standard gun cleaning (once a week whether they need it or not) when footsteps approach from outside his bedroom door. Heavier than Eileen but lighter than Sam - must be Cas.

“What an awful day,” Cas sighs as he practically throws himself onto Dean’s prized memory foam mattress. He doesn’t even take his shoes off first, like an animal.

“Hello to you, babe,” Dean says, amused. He raises his head to fully look at Cas, now face planted into his pillow. Dean would like to say it’s unusual to see Cas this drained and frustrated after another shift at the Gas n Sip, but it’s become pretty much standard. And, because not-that-deep-down Dean’s a shitty person who lucked out and got a (fallen) angel to fall for him, he can’t entirely squash the pleased feeling in his gut that flares up every time Cas comes home to him, no matter the circumstances.

“Hello, Dean,” or that’s what Dean assumes Cas is saying, based on their past million and a half conversations over more than a decade.

Dean carefully sets down his colt and pads over to the bed. He takes a seat near Cas’s shins, the mattress slowly but surely dipping as it remembers Dean’s distinctive ass print. “What happened?”

“Humanity is stupid.”

Dean snorts. “Don’t have to tell me twice. What’d humanity do this time?”

Cas turns his head so he can glare balefully down at Dean with one brilliant blue eye. “Todd refilled the soda machine incorrectly. We had to reimburse ten customers who poured the wrong drinks despite the clear signs indicating the buttons were temporarily incorrect.”

“What a disaster,” Dean deadpans.

Cas groans a stream of indistinguishable words that might not even be English - knowing him, he’s probably insulting Todd’s mother ancient Aramaic or something - before he concludes, “It was a very uncomfortable situation. Todd is an imbecile.”

“Want me to kill him for you?” Dean asks casually.

Cas’s whole torso inflates with the depth of his sigh. “No,” he says, but the word is muffled and has zero conviction behind it.

“Come on,” Dean pokes Cas in the thigh. “You were the one who wanted this job in the first place. All the ‘human dignity’ you could choke down and all that crap.”

“I must’ve been mistaken.”

“Whatever you say, man,” Dean says, grinning as Cas rolls over so he’s lying normally on Dean’s bed. “Y’know, you could always do something else. Quit the Gas n Sip.”

“Like what?” Cas asks as he frowns up at the ceiling. “I don’t have much experience except in inventory management and customer service.”

“What about all your angel stuff?”

“I can hardly list ‘former Angel of the Lord’ on my resume,” Cas grumbles.

“You’ve got all those languages crammed in your brain, serious hand-to-hand skills - I could teach you all I know about cars, and you can add that.”

Cas gives a considering grunt.

“Look,” Dean says as he scoots further up the bed so he’s more aligned with Cas’s chest than his knees. “You were the one who was all gung-ho about getting a job to interact with normal people.”

“I needed a better baseline now I’m human because you and Sam are not ‘normal’ by any definition of the word,” Cas sniffs.

“Rude. Anyway, I told you to take things slow. So your first stab back at slumming it with regular folks isn’t going so great. Sometimes these things take a while to settle down,” Dean says, uncomfortably reminded of the time he had to comfort Sammy after three piano lessons didn’t turn him into the next Geoff Nicholls - or Elton John, as Dean had to amend after Sammy shot him a look of complete incomprehension.

“You don’t have to throw yourself into anything,” Dean adds gently to Cas. “We’ve got no big bad waiting out in the wings. It’s okay to take things one step at a time.”

“Because you provide such an excellent model of restraint and forethought,” Cas mutters.

Dean rolls his eyes. “Obviously. You don’t see me jumping back into Leave it to Beaver.”

“Because that’s not what you want,” Cas says, his eyes narrowing. “You said civilian life isn’t for you.”

Dean swallows. He pulls at a wrinkle in the sheets. “You so sure about that?”

Cas props himself up on his elbows, intrigued. “You’re truly considering retiring from hunting?”

Dean glances over at his guns, disassembled and gleaming on his desk. “I’ve been thinking about it. Sammy doesn’t go on many hunts anymore, says it’s more important to teach the next generation of fighters than handling everything by ourselves.”

“A wise thing to say, considering the limitations of the average human lifespan.”

“And you wonder why we never bring you to parties,” Dean says as Cas scowls in return, really only proving Dean’s point. “I’ve been looking into other stuff to do.”

“Like what?”

“Not sure,” he admits. “Sam’s got his Hunter Hogwarts thing going on - I could help Sam out, but the thought of reading and assignments makes me want to throw myself out a window.”

“You do like to be more hands-on,” Cas says diplomatically.

Dean sighs, wistful. “If the Roadhouse was still around, I would’ve kicked ass there. Talking with veterans in the business, passing along intel, throwing out the occasional brawler.”

Cas cocks his head. “Why don’t you rebuild one?”

“What?”

“Another Roadhouse,” Cas says like it’s obvious. “Those hunters Sam is teaching, they will need another meeting point once they’ve completed their training.”

Dean gapes at him, trying not to get his hopes up. He can picture it with alarming clarity, him behind the bar, Cas sitting off to the side, pouring over the books or a translation for one of Sam’s kids.

But this thing with Cas is so new - rescuing Cas from the Empty, telling him haltingly and not in so many words Cas could have what he wanted after all, doing their weird not-dating thing that works for them. Dean can’t be sure they’re on the same page about this.

Cas is technically human, but so many parts of him are still pretty out there in terms of fitting in with normal people stuff. Dean suggested they go on an honest to God date about two weeks after that went down - dinner at a fancy place in Salina. He even looked it up on Yelp. But, naturally, Cas had to ask ahead of time what usually happened on a date - a real date, Dean, because Metatron’s pop culture dump gave me many false impressions of what is normal or healthy for humans.

When Dean embarrassingly couldn’t think of a single thing people did on dates except eat and have sex, Cas went to Sam because apparently there are zero boundaries when it comes to Team Free Will. And Sam, like a total Samantha, said most people talked about their feelings and life goals.

To which Cas turned back to Dean, said those big, I love you, words like they’re nothing and everything, and added his life goal was not dying before spending the rest of his human life with Dean.

The fucker even looked pleased Dean didn’t have to shell out the dough for a fancy steak.

“You have enough connections in the community to round up a decent clientele base,” Cas continues. “Not to mention your reputation, which would go a long way towards drawing hunters you personally haven’t met before.”

Dean clears his throat. “You really think I could do something like that?”

Cas narrows his eyes. “I think you could do anything you set your mind to,” he says with that patented-Cas sincerity that Dean would call bullshit with anyone else. Cas continues, “Twenty-seven percent of restaurants fail in their first year, but I have every confidence in you beating the odds.”

Dean snorts. Even Cas’s Beautiful Mind statistics aren’t enough to bring his mood down.

“And if you need help…” Cas drifts off sheepishly, “I do have requisite experience managing inventory. I cut down on unsellable food by fifteen percent two weeks ago.”

“You’re a goddamn genius,” Dean breathes as he bends over Cas.

Cas smiles up at him. “Would you want to?”

“Would I - ?” Dean breaks off incredulously to kiss him. “Of couse I fucking want to. But you really think it’s a good idea?”

Cas purses his lips. “It was my suggestion in the first place.”

“But maybe you were just spitballing,” Dean hedges. “So if you really think restarting the Roadhouse would be a bad idea, I can take it.”

Cas wraps a hand around the back of Dean’s neck, pulling him closer. “I don’t have bad ideas, Dean,” he murmurs.

That is so blatantly untrue, Dean almost bursts out laughing. But before he can make a sound, Cas’s other hand slides underneath his shirt, his fingers tapping lightly against the buckle of Dean’s belt. Dean raises his head to catch sight of Cas's face, and Cas’s eyes are dark with want.

Alright, so in times like these, Dean can admit Cas can have a good idea or two.

#destiel #destiel ficlet #ficlet #rae writes fic #profoundnet #established relationship #canon divergence

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deberiaestarescribiendo · 4 years ago

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The Lost Children #Writer Wednesday Din Djarin Modern Day Bounty Hunter x f!reader

For #Writer Wednesday created by the amazing @autumnleaves1991-blog and tagging @clydesducktape (thanks a lot for the hard work of compiling everything each week)

Summary: This a part 2 of a fic I wrote a few months another Wednesday, read it here. After you scape with Din and your child, you try to find a life again even if that means he has to leave you.

Warnings: Language, talking about neglecting children or abandoned kids, guns. This is fluff with angst and Din being a softie but a dumbass expressing feelings

A/N: I'm super tired, so be ready to find many grammar and mispellings I didn't have the time to really read it through.

The lost children

For a bit, that’s what he said, what he promised until you’re safe and settled.

“So you can keep your little kid in the babycare with the rest of the kids while you’re working. One of the cabins to the right of the front office we’ll be entirely yours. We only ask that you keep clean and in a good state”

“Of course” you’re shining, happy and excited

“You heard that Greg, we’ll have a place on our own” your arms hold the baby tightly, rocking him softly until he giggles. When you turn to Din, he can see your eyes glowing, kissing little Greg’s head, you whisper thank you

Thanking him? what for? He just pointed out that small, almost entirely ripped from the wall, announcement of a local hotel in the middle of the woods that looked for personnel willing to work and live in the resort when they were stopping at a gas station.

It is a perfect place to hide and live a peaceful life and let a baby grow up in the middle of nature. Greg and you could be happy. So why is he thinking that he should make up some excuse so you don't stay, so you don’t leave him. He should be selfish and grab your hand and run away again like you’ve been doing for weeks now, but that’s not life for a baby, and you deserve it, leave the past behind. And him, even if he doesn’t want to admit, it’s part of your past of that runaway woman that commited many mistakes.

But Din’s a bounty hunter, his life on the road, from one job to the next would only make you unhappy, and at the end, you would hate him; and that’s it’s not an option.

Nothing has made Din happier than seeing you smile at him, the little comments here and there you tell him praising him and thanking him one, twice, a thousand times for helping you, the way the baby caresses his face with his small hand and those big eyes looking at him intently until he smiles with only those two little teeth. The way you look perfect, almost like a Madonna from the Renaissance, when the street lights hit your face while he’s driving and you hold your baby against your chest, both of you sleeping in the car.

Would you think he’s a creep for staring? There’s a warmth that grows inside him when he stares at you and baby Greg. A warmth he doesn’t want to let go. He cannot offer you a good life and Din doesn’t want to force you to live like he does, just because he’s so selfish to let you go.

“So what do you think?”

The manager leaves them to think about the offert. And Din balances his big body from one of his legs to the other, hands on his hips, he sighs

“I think”

I think you should be with me

I think I should protect you

I think I should protect Greg

I think I want to be with you, the both of you, forever

I think I love you

But he doesn’t say it

“I think you should take it. It is a good place for a kid”

You frown, even baby Greg looks at him puzzled from the crook of his mother’s neck

“Yes, it seems great, quiet...And I like that Greg could be with other kids. But what about you?”

Your eyes look big, pleading, there’s a question, a petion in them but you don’t say it with words so maybe Din is imagining it, he wants so bad that you will stay with him that maybe he’s making that up

“I will go and…”

And miss you

And miss Greg

And be alone again

“Start the business again somewhere else” he shrugs, and he sees the light flicking in your eyes, the idea in your head being shattered, you’ll never ask the question and he will never answer.

“But you can stay a few days, right? Rest, eat properly for once and repair the car”

“I don’t know…”

What would hurt more? leaving already or prolonging it?

“I don’t want to be this direct, Clint...” he likes that you keep using that nickname you gave him when you’re in public. You only use his real name when you’re alone. Making it even more special, it’s intimate, more anything he has ever felt.

“but you need a shower. And I do too and this stinky baby” you bury your nose on little Gregs neck and it makes him laugh out loud that angelic and sweet giggle hits him hard and before he even knows it, Din is nodding

“A few days won’t hurt”

It’s surprising how they fall easily in a routine. How they seem to find a perfect way around each other, a perfect model like the stars and planets always circling around each other and never colliding. You, dancing softly in the kitchen humming while you stir the soup, baby Greg chasing his little frog while Din holds his back so he doesn’t lose his balance

“Hey, you want this?” Din smiles fondly to the baby and with his long arm places the soft toy far away from him “C’mon like before “ his big hands on his side while the babe excitedly starts crawling towards his frog

“Hey! look! he’s getting faster!”

You smile at them, that big and serious man has the proudest smile, so bright and pure watching your baby grow before his eyes.

It’s been almost a week and he’s still repairing the car, or so he says. The manager hasn’t asked any questions and just assumed they are a family. And you must accept that you do look like one, a broken and weird one, but more than anything you have ever experienced.

And you wish he stayed forever that he could be a father to Greg, he certainly acts the part.

“Dinner is ready.”

The scent of the pines, the bugs chirping and the soft crackle of the fire is the perfect lullaby. Your baby has taken the habit of falling asleep against Din’s wide shoulder while the three of them enjoy the small porch outside the cabin.

“I think the car is ready”

The words you fear the most float in the air and you’re almost tempted to ignore them

“Hmm” you don’t face him yet, just look at the trees and try to swallow the pain “And where will you go?”

“Don’t know yet”

“How will I contact you?”

“I…”

“Do I have to search on Craigslist? Some old codewords in the newspaper? How do you even find a bounty hunter?” you’re laughing, but it really doesn’t hide the pain in your tone

“I have a phone” Din rolls his eyes at you but he’s amused, surprisingly he’s smiling more since you met him, he’s not that stern or cold as you pictured him when he caught you

“That would have come in handy when we were lost in the desert”

“I mean a fixed one”

“You have a house then?” you turn to him, lowering your voice midsentence as you see your son sleeping peacefully on Din’s arms

“Sort of”

“I will need you to expand that a little bit more Din”

Din in the quiet of the night, the moon, the stars and the fire illuminating your face he admires you pronounce it: The tip of your tongue showing softly between your teeth and he wishes to see you repeat it one, twice a thousand times.

“My family, my...it’s difficult to explain, anyway, it’s my safeplace, where I go to rest, I get the information for my next jobs, etc”

“Oh...okay, so I call you there?”

“Yeah you could, and write if you want” he offers with pleasing eyes

“Penpals, great” you answer and it sounds more sarcastic that you intended

“You could send me pictures of Greg”

Din lowers his eyes to the soft crown of the baby, that soft place on his head where he smells so sweet and tender. He can believe that he’s going and there will be no nights like this.

“I will do”

Your eyes get teary watching him softly kiss you babe, carrying to his crib whispering sweet words so he doesn’t wake up.

“So I’ve packed many water bottles, and those protein bars in case you get yourself lost in the desert again, cowboy. Sadly you won’t have my unparalleled company” you joke tapping him on his arm

“No, I won’t” Din forces a smile “I...Take care” he awkwardly squeezes your forearm

“You too-Shit!” you scream slapping your forehead “The sandwiches! I knew I forgot something. I made you something for lunch. I’ll be right back”

You press little Greg to Din’s arms before running away leaving them with wide eyes and a confused look

“Take care of you mother, kid, sometimes she can be a lot to handle”

“Hi, Ken” you say breathly as you storm inside the reception and get inside the staff meeting room.

“Hi! Has your boyfriend left already?” He asks while writing something on his agenda

“Not yet” you say looking for the lunch bag you had prepared inside the fridge. You hand stops midway when you heard her voice

It is horrible, we have not consolation, our baby has been kidnapped and we have no information

Her fake cries fill the room, some national tv is making a report on the kidnapping of little Greg. The tragic zoom at her face fades away when they show a picture of your baby.

“Fuck…” you mutter

I need him back. He’s my baby

“He’s not your baby, you bitch” you spat under your breath

“What did you say, hun, you need something” Ken raises his eyes to you, one eyebrow arched, he follows your eyes to the TV

“That baby looks exactly…” and then you know

You grab your sandwich bag and strom out as you did before. Din is holding Greg on his hip while he finishes loading the trunk with his bags

“We’re out of here”

You cry when you reach to him, pushing him away, you close the trunk door

“Wait what happened?”

“No time, let’s go”

How has this man trusted you so much as to run away with you? For all he knows you could actually be a kidnapper, that story about leaving your son with someone you trusted and that eventually you discovered that they were assholes could be fake. But he doesn’t. He runs away, drives and drives without asking a question.

“She had the guts to say it was his son, he isn’t. She barely had it for a few months until I could settle my life. And then she asked me for a crazy amount of money because children are expensive you know I fucking payed for a a new pool in her stupid house, while my son was always dressed in old clothes, too big or too small. They didn’t care for him”

And on top of trusting you, he lets you rant away all you anger

“There’s no way I’m giving him back. I rather die!”

He stops the car, the road again is silent, dressed in the colors of the sunset

“Calm down, you’re scaring him” Greg looks at you with trembling lips not knowing why he should be scared or angry, he just knows that his mama is upset “He will stay with you, I promise”

“The police must be searching for us” your warm tears cloud your eyes

“They won’t find us where we are going”

He ditches the car somewhere and you see him burning it. He carries the big bag on his back and hands you water and snacks from time to time.

“Just a few miles more”

The red stone looks like some ethereal cathedral around you, a palace in the middle of nowhere almost like another world, magical and eerie. If there’re marks or signs you don’t see them, but Din walks among the rock so sure of his steps searching among the labyrinth of rocks. And suddenly…

You hear the soft clicks of many guns' trigger locks going off at the same time. But Din softly whistles some tune and from all over: up the rocks, between them, children come out. Kids, all different from one another, some really young, others tall and weirdly looking teenagers in that mixed age where they are not a child nor an adult and others already grown to be young adults.

“Din” a curly haired girl dressed with camouflage clothes runs towards him with open arms, she has a crooked smile as she has lost some of her front teeth

“Hey, gumball!” Din bents down when she hugs him, her sweet face pressed against his belly

“Who are they?” a boy, holding a shotgun to his side, his face full of red dots, frowns at you

“They’re friends who need help” Din explains raising one of his arms trying to calm down the group

“Are they lost too?” Gumball asks

“Yes” Din nods

“But she’s a mum” some kid screams from above

“Mums can be lost too. C’mon, we’ve been walking for hours, can we go home?” he answers

“Of course, let’s go. Boba will be happy to see you” Gumball grabs Din’s hand and smile widely jumping happily through the stone corridors

“Wait, Din, what the fuck? who the fuck is Boba? What are these kids doing here?”

Gumball fires a concerned look at you

“She said two bad words”

“Gonna let it pass, Gum, she’s a bit scared and tired” Din smirks your way and you question in silent muttering the fuck again and again

“I see you pronouncing it, you know?” Gumball rolls her eyes “No bad words or you pay the price”

“Yes, understood, sorry” you close your lips hard trying not to ask more questions until you arrive home or whatever that is.

After a few minutes of turning left right, left right, right left you’re completely lost until the stone towers open up a way to a plain and on it, a ranch.

Some horses roam around nibbling on the pale green grass that grows on the land. A house on the centre is painted white but the paint looks old and chipped.

Now in the clear you count the children that surround you, ten, ten kids in the middle of nowhere.

“Welcome to the Watch” Din smiles at you, he almost look shy and earning a upset look from Gumball, he releases her hand and holds you with his big palm on your back

“What is this place, Din?”

“Home” he simply answers

The kids run through the porch screaming and opening without a care the door to the house

“Yeah, I heard you, little heathens” a masculine voice screams from the interior

His hard steps clack on the ground and you hear the spurs before you see him arriving with his leather boots, his used jeans and a low cowboy hat covering him from the sun

“I thought something must have happened to you” he says, evaluating Din. His tanned face is covered by a long and twisted scar from his lip to his forehead, he has dark eyes like Din but colder in a way, very deep and when they fall into you, you hug your baby tightly without thinking it

“I see” he says “C’mon on in, that baby can’t stay too long in the sun”

The house is nice, surprisingly tidy given the fact that there are ten kids living in it. The furniture looks like the exhibit of an old auction house, each one of them completely different of style, color or age from the other.

The man that everyone call Boba gives some orders to the group and they efficiently start doing what he asks

“Prepare a room for our guests”

“Bring water and food”

“Prepare some fresh fruit for the baby”

You sit, little Greg with eyes wide open. As any baby he’s absorbed by all the children around him, and he reaches with his little hands trying to grab them

“Little fella wants to play, you can leave him on the rug if he wants to”

“He’s fine here, thanks” you say holding him although Greg is already removing your hands from him wanting to explore

“Boba, we have nowhere to go” Din explains sipping on his cold water

“I guess, you have never brought anybody here” He reclines himself on his rocking chair watching Din intenly

“We need to protect them for a while, until we can find a solution”

“You’ll be safe here, you know that, you can stay as long as you want, just respect the house rules” and he points to a wood board, engraved in them are a few rules

Be respectful of yourself and others

I finish my tasks as promised, ask for help if I can’t

I will not curse

Be clean of yourself and your environment

Protect your family and your house above all

“They seem...pretty logical, won’t be a problem to follow them” you smile uncomfortably

“Well, somebody said you have a potty mouth, young lady. So watch it, but for the moment, you may rest, we will see for the rest tomorrow” He sighs when he gets up and taps on Din’s shoulder before he goes to the kitchen

“Let’s make dinner” you hear him scream, before the rumbling of pans and chopping and children screaming start

“Din…” you say after a moment

“I know you have a million questions”

“Duh!” you laugh nervously

“This is my family, we’re not related by blood but by circumstances. Lost kids, abandoned, neglected; we have a safe place here and in time we go out in the world and make our own life but we always have the Watch over us. A place where we’re watched over, taken care of, listened…” his caramel eyes glow and you see his strong and stern facade crumble before your eyes, in this place he can relax. He feels safe so you can too, right?

“We’ll be fine here” He reaches for you hand, the one that holds little Greg caressing him with your thumb, and covers both of you squeezing softly

We, it’s the second time he has referred to you as a group, you and me and Greg, We.

“We’ll be fine” You smile back, lowering your face, you kiss his knuckles, leaving a warmth there Din will be holding for hours.

You don’t notice, but the whole time during dinner he passes his thumb over that small place of his skin where you kissed him.

(Hey! remember when you read that fic in May? I continued it...so sorry that it took so long, I've taken the liberty of tagging you since you were interested in a follow up from the first one @fangirlalexia @childrenofthewatch )

#writer wednesday #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #The mandalorian #The mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian au #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x female reader

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jeannereames · 4 years ago

Note

Was likely that Alexander and Hephaistion's relationship was a Kathryn Howard/Henry VIII situation, with Hephaistion coerced by his family to become Alexander's confidant/best friend/lover. If he was forced into the relationship, do you think he eventually fell in love with Alexander, or stayed with him for power or because he was too scared to say no? The letter referenced by Aelian implies Hephaistion's considerable sexual influence; although Aelian isn't very reliable, do you think it likely?

Let me explain a little about the Macedonian court to explain why the above is unlikely.

Most folks are familiar with the institution of the Royal Pages, or “King’s Boys” (Basiliskoi Paides). Following NGL Hammond, these boys were c. 14-18. (Although if they had a strict age threshold, it’s hard to say; I suspect Hammond may have been unduly influenced by the Athenian institution of the ephebic military service, which was set at 18 to enter.)

Anyway, in addition to the Royal Pages, we also have a unit called the “Hunters” (Kynegoi), associated with Herakles. What they did is unclear, but seems to have been for boys about 18+, again, upper-class (Hetairoi). Various suppositions have been supplied, but I like Hatzopoulos’s (if I remember right) that they may have functioned rather like a “police force” outside Pella in the countryside of the lowlands, as officer-training. It makes a certain amount of sense, as it would be good experience for young men to learn to think on their own in dangerous situations. It seems like a logical extension of the Royal Pages. Alternatively (or perhaps in addition, as the Kynegoi were not—it seems—a military unit) boys exiting the Pages entered the Pezhetairoi (under Philip) or the Hypaspists (under Alexander): a specialist unit with picked men, especially those “bigger” than average (taller, more bulky). Hephaistion appears to have gone into that unit at some point.

Now, as you can imagine, the competition and back-biting would have been ENORMOUS in either group, to get the attention of the king. But throw the prince into the mix, and it was more so.

In addition to the King’s Boys, royal princes appear to have had a group of young men semi-assigned to them by the king: the syntrophoi. These are picked contemporaries, almost certainly most from the Hetairois class, who were “raised” and educated with him. Meant to be his playmates…and eventually his high-ranking officers. It’s what Curtius refers to when he says Hephaistion was “raised and educated” together with Alexander. He was one of the syntrophoi. Each prince had his own set. We don’t know how many they numbered (probably varied), but IF the gymnasion recently discovered near/at Mieza is any indicator, a prince (especially the one designated as heir) might have as many syntrophoi as the king had Hetairoi: a hundred or so.

(In Dancing with the Lion, I didn’t want to juggle that many boys, but also, I wrote the book before that ginormous gymnasion was found. So while I did have a gymnasion there, it wasn’t anywhere near so large. I’d have reduced the number of boys anyway. There are enough unfamiliar names floating around as it is!)

So I wanted to explain how the court worked, in order to understand how Hephaistion would have entered into Alexander’s personal circle. What his roles might have been.

As a syntrophos of Alexander, Hephaistion’s parents may well have encouraged him to seek royal attention and approval, as that would reflect well on their family. But he wasn’t “chosen” to be Alexander’s best friend. He would have had to fight and elbow his way into that position. Competition was standard for Greek (and Macedonian) culture. Something about Hephaistion attracted Alexander. I doubt it was anything purely sexual. Hephaistion’s isolation at the court, if he was, indeed, of Attic or Ionian extraction, may have made him valuable because he didn’t have lots of family to divide his loyalties (from Alexander). But I’m sure it was more than that.

It’s okay if they just, you know, liked each other. 😊 Not everything is transactional.

We know that Alexander considered him very dear, and seems to have for a while. Sabine Muller and I disagree over when Hephaistion joined Alexander’s court, but even if we follow Sabine’s timeline,* which makes him an adult, not a boy or teen, he appears to have become important to Alexander fairly early.

We don’t know how Hephaistion felt, except by extrapolation. I tend to believe the affection was mutual, not one-sided or opportunistic from Hephaistion. Here’s why:

1) Alexander was a smart guy, and a prince from day one. He would’ve learned to smell sycophancy in childhood. It’s a survival tactic. No matter how good of an actor Hephaistion may have been, long-term, an act would have worn thin. In fact, I think Hephaistion’s importance to Alexander was precisely because it was genuine. Alexander got lucky and found a true best friend—a rare thing for kings.

2) As for why they got along… IME, smart people in positions of authority (who are not narcissistic**) may put up with and find use for yes-men/women for a while, especially in “underling” positions. But they grow tired of them long-term. Hephaistion and Alexander were close for years. And, if I’m right and they’d met by Mieza (if not before), they were friends, even best friends,*** for 19 years. That’s longer than most modern marriages.

Therefore, I’ve always seen Hephaistion as someone uniquely able to keep up with Alexander, and who was honest with him (something Curtius asserts). In short, Alexander not only found that rare thing—a true best friend—he found one smart enough to match him, but who didn’t elicit a response from his over-developed “competition” gene.

As I’ve said before, all of that is why I find their story so compelling. In a competitive, calculating world, it seems refreshingly real.

---------------

*“Hephaistion,” Lexicon of Argead Macedonia, Heckel, Heinrichs, Muller, Pownall, Frank and Timme, 2020.

**Alexander was not a narcissist. I’ve seen him accused of it, especially lately with Trump as a model, but narcissists are rarely so successful (their own delusions prevent it), and he just doesn’t tick enough DSM diagnostic boxes, for me.

***Remember that, for the Greeks, philos was a higher position than erastes or eromenos.

#Alexander the Great #Hephaistion #Hephaestion #Syntrophoi #Hetairoi #Hypaspists #ancient Macedonia #ancient Greece #Macedonian court #Royal Pages at Macedonian Court #asks

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kingonafiftymetreroad · 4 years ago

Text

Fic Rec Post

Hey everybody! One of my secret santas asked me what my favorite fics are so I decided to make a full blown rec post just for them. These are a little all over the place so I hope you can find something that you enjoy here! ☁️✨

Please make sure to read all tags and warnings before reading a fic. And don’t forget to kudos/comment!

🌙 The Finish Line (Is A Good Place For Us To Start) by LoadedGunn 122k

Louis Tomlinson, one-time Formula 1 World Champion, is looking forward to the 2013 season. He’s got Zayn in his garage and Liam in his ear, he’s got Cowell Racing backing him despite former indiscretions, he’s got experience and the best race car out there. Not to mention he’s the only racer they have, after Oliver dropped out late last year.

It hasn’t occurred to him that Oliver would have to be replaced by February. That is, until he finds himself at a party celebrating Harry Styles leaving Ferrari for Cowell. Harry hotshot Styles, who broke a record last year and is probably looking to make a big splash. Harry Styles, who is talented and somewhat intimidating. Harry Styles, who left Ferrari for reasons unknown and seems kind of lonely and harmless in person. Lonely, harmless, hot as fuck. Whatever.

The first thing Louis does is take him under his wing. From there it’s nine months of slow-burning romance, the past catching up to them, turning into the human puppy pile that is OT5 and a lot of feelings until, of course, reaching the finish line.

🌙 a promise lives within you now by sarcasticfluentry 46k

A Lord of the Rings-inspired Middle Earth AU. Louis is an Elven prince, next in line to become King of Mirkwood, and Harry is the orphaned Human boy who grows up alongside him. They fall in love, but Louis’s obligations to the throne, Harry’s mortality, and impending war threaten to tear them apart.

🌙 if you're for real and not pretend by brownheadedstranger 21k

In which Harry works in a bakery and Louis can't seem to find what he's looking for.

🌙 Into The Blue by zarah5 117k (story is locked, ao3 account required to read)

AU. In which Louis is Harry's scuba instructor and quite happy to provide the requested special treatment, pun fully intended. It can't be all that difficult to convince Harry that they're on the same page, right? Also, Niall and Liam may or may not be dating, and Zayn is surrounded by emotionally stunted idiots. He bears it with dignity.

🌙 Don't Unplug Me Or Shut Me Down by slashter 7k

Louis scowls. "He's a photography student. He works with gorgeous models and probably breaks hearts with his smile. I'm a nerd. I earn my money fixing broken crap, and for some stupid reason, I like it. He wears short skirts, I wear t-shirts, he's cheer captain and I'm on the bleachers, et cetera, et cetera." Louis sighs. "I swear, the coolest thing I've ever done is wear contacts."

Basically, Louis is a self-proclaimed nerd who fixes things and Harry seems too perfect to keep breaking as many things as he does.

🌙 You Are The Blood by sarcasticfluentry 175k

A seventh-year Hogwarts AU in which Niall gets all the girls, Liam goes on a journey of self-discovery, Zayn falls in love, Harry wants something more, and Louis tries to figure out once and for all why he, a Muggleborn, was sorted into Slytherin.

🌙 this must be what all the fuss is about by youcomecrash 3k

"You're sweaty," he mumbles matter-of-factly. Louis opens his eyes and raises his head from between his arms. Harry's just staring up at him with a lazy expression and Louis kind of wants to kiss him to sleep. "That's because it's a hundred degrees in here, babe."

🌙 I Fell From the Sky For You (Like a Shooting Star) [by louserz] by waddupjordan (orphan_account) 8k (This was originally posted on tumblr by @louserz and this person had permission to post it on ao3 for the author. if the original author sees this and wants me to take this off of my rec post please DM me and I will. This fic displays elements of depression and homelessness although it is not tagged that way so please take caution in reading this. I don’t want to accidentally trigger anybody.<3)

Harry owns a bookstore, Louis is homeless, and apparently even shooting stars fall in love.

🌙 Sail Across Me by iwillpaintasongforlou 21k

Harry is a prince that is about to be forced into marriage against his will and running away to sea seems like a much better option. Louis is the captain of the infamous pirate ship The Rogue and he has a thing for helping defenseless creatures. Especially when they're as pretty as this one.

🌙 but maybe im just in love when you wake me up by theonewiththelarrystories 6k

lazy morning sex, prompted by Asher: "like a whole sleepy sunday morning vibe of waking up together and then louis pulling a sleepy harry into a warm bath and louis washing harry all over. a bit of body!worship, louis gently working conditioner into harrys curls and him practically purring. Then louis taking it slow with kisses on harrys neck and gentle touches and then fingering harry until hes whining with his head thrown back against louis’ shoulder little needy noises coming from his perfect fucking lips. and then harrys boneless and content while louis leads him back to their bed and spreads him out face down and rims the fuck out of him until hes screaming and then he fucks him gently and then they cuddle on the couch and harry wears louis’ white sweater and louis calls him ‘sweetheart.’"

🌙 strawberry milk fic by Wankerville 158k (3 parts)

This is a 3 part story. The 1st part was originally written alone and then the author added the rest. You can just read the 1st part (19k), and you’ll still be satisfied without feeling added pressured to read the whole thing. Please read all the tags and warnings for each fic beforehand!

🌙 and we live like legends now by soleilouis 16k girl!direction

harry works at a juice bar, and louis is the cute girl that skates at the park right next door.

🌙 Through Eerie Chaos by MediaWhore 102k (story is locked, ao3 account required to read) @mediawhorefics

For as long as anyone can remember, Old Hillsbridge Manor has always been believed to be haunted. Everyone in the village agrees and keeps a respectful, fearful, distance. New in town after a bad breakup and an internship that led to disappointment rather than a permanent job, Harry Styles figures taking pictures of the decrepit building could be a great new creative project. Or at least a much-needed distraction while he searches for a job and crashes at his parents’ new house. No one warned him about the apparitions though; about the music, the laughter, the people who flicker and vanish when you call after them, the echoes of a past that should be long gone… Harry has never believed in spirits but even he can admit that there’s something weird going on. What starts as mere curiosity evolves into a full-blown investigation and soon enough, Harry finds himself making friends with an aristocrat from the 1920s and struggling with finding the best way to tell him that he’s dead.

The Ghost Hunter AU where Niall lives to prove ghosts are real, Zayn is a skeptical librarian and Harry gets caught up in a century-old mystery and catches feeling in the process.

🌙 jump in the deep end by istajmaal 5k

Louis’s stomach lurches as he closes the last bit of distance, Harry’s nose settling between his arse cheeks and pushing them apart. Harry’s lips brush against the puckered skin around Louis’s hole in a kiss and Louis lets out a whine so high-pitched he barely recognizes it as coming from himself—what if I'm not clean enough, what if Harry hates it, what if Harry pushes me away—but then Harry’s long, wet tongue swoops in a circle around Louis’s rim and Louis feels like all the breath is knocked out of him. He grabs for Harry’s hand, still digging into his thigh, and squeezes over it, until Harry releases his vice grip on Louis’s thigh and laces his fingers through Louis’s.

or, Louis's arse is a sensitive subject, so Harry approaches it gently. With his tongue.

🌙 the wheel breaks the butterfly by embodied 4k girl!direction @aliensingucci

“Out with it, Styles,” Louis groans. Harry’s suddenly regretting this whole thing, and she’s sure she’s beet red now, so she just blurts it out so fast she’s not sure if Louis even understands her right away.

“I’ve never gotten head before.”

AU. harry and louis are roommates. girls' night ends a little differently than usual.

🌙 you flower, you feast by stylinsoncity 18k

He's King of the Underworld, but don't assume Louis has it all. He could stand for some excitement in his monotonous, eternal life and maybe, even.....a soulmate.

(Despite not having a soul.)

And along came "Harry".

🌙 you change, water sea by got2ghost 4k girl!direction (ziam with side larry)

“Zayn wants me to teach her how to make a girl squirt,” Louis says, like it’s the most casual thing in the world. Liam chokes on the water she’d been swigging from her thermos, which makes Louis throw her head back and laugh. Zayn’s brows pinch together and she pats Liam gently on the shoulder, muttering, ‘you okay babes?’

🌙 The Case Of The (Definitely Not Haunted) Styles Mansion by BriaMaria 40k

“So there’s a sense of humor buried beneath all that condescension, huh?” Louis said when he’d stopped laughing.

“It’s not condescension, it’s intelligence. I understand you might not be able to recognize it yourself,” Marcel said, then slapped a hand over his mouth. “Oh god, I’m sorry.”

Louis stepped closer, his eyes on Marcel’s face. “For being an asshat?”

“For being rude,” Marcel said, from beneath his palm.

Louis shifted a half-step closer until he was at the very edge of Marcel’s personal space. It felt like he was nudging at it, asking to be let in. Marcel flushed hot for no reason.

“Lucky for you it takes quite a lot to actually insult me,” Louis said taking one step closer. Too close. Too close.

Marcel met Louis’ eyes. Those blue eyes that reminded Marcel of poetry instead of science, lyrics instead of formulas. They were so pretty he wanted to drown in them.

---

Or the Nancy Drew AU where Marcel is a man of logic, Louis is a private detective who believes in ghosts, and the Styles Mansion is definitely, absolutely, positively *not* haunted.

🌙 You are the Lyrics by TheIfInLife 4k @larryficwriter

or, Harry wears lingerie for the first time and Louis definitely approves.

🌙 Wild at Heart Ain't Hard to Find by QuickedWeen 11k girl!direction @becomeawendybird

Louis and her best friends Niall and Liam always take an annual vacation together. This year Niall has picked Redwater Canyon, a small tourist town where everyone lives like it's the Old West. There are saloons, stagecoaches, and limited access to WiFi.

The town boasts tours, excursions, activities, and the hottest woman Louis has ever seen in the form of the local blacksmith.

🌙 Withdrawal Was the Weeping by QuickedWeen 11k girl!direction

Confined by life and society, Harry spends her Sunday afternoons walking aimlessly about the countryside as it's her only source of freedom. One Sunday she is aided by the most beautiful woman she has ever met, but not everything is as it seems. Was it a trick of the light? Was it Harry's own active imagination? There is nothing to do but try to find her again.

🌙 i must admit i thought i'd like to make you mine by disgruntledkittenface 50k @disgruntledkittenface

Louis fell apart when her ex broke up with her and moved across the country. Just as she’s starting to move on, Zayn comes back to town for their mutual friends’ wedding – with a new girlfriend as her plus one.

Blindsided and scrambling to save face, Louis lets herself get talked into a fake relationship with her new friend Harry. Their arrangement makes Louis feel pathetic and embarrassed, but it’s only going to last a few weeks. She just has to get through the wedding – what could happen?

🌙 tempted by the fruit of another by disgruntledkittenface 3k (zayn/louis/harry)

Zayn didn’t mean to look. And she certainly didn’t mean to watch.

It’s just that Louis and Harry are the worst hosts in the world; they’re in their bedroom, clearly fucking (again), and so loud that Zayn can’t concentrate on her game of Among Us in the living room. Liam has killed her twice. Liam. So she just went down the hallway to make sure their bedroom door was at least closed.

It wasn’t.

Zayn stumbles into a world of possibility when she stays with Harry and Louis for a few weeks.

🌙 I have more favorite fics but they are not included here due to them being deleted from ao3. They’re saved in PDF form both on my laptop and my phone (I go back and read them all the time) so if you’re interested in those you’re welcome to reach out to me and ask privately and I’ll share what I can.

This turned out a lot longer than I had expected. If you read through the whole thing thank you! ✨

#☁️✨#fic rec #masterpost #long post #fic rec masterpost #ls #fav #i plan on adding more fics as i read them too #hope ur able to find something to read ss!#if ur looking for more specific types of fics lmk and ill see what i got :)#fic #larry stylinson #my post #my recs

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incorrectsmashbrosquotes · 5 years ago

Text

Super Smash Idol

Master and Crazy Hand singing: Upside, inside out! Livin’ la vida loca! She’’ push and pull you down! Livin’ la vida loca!

Galeem: Alright, cut it out you guys. You’re giving me a headache.

Dharkon: Oh come on. They’re just having fun. They’re actually not that bad.

Crazy Hand: ’Not that bad’?!

Master Hand: I choose to take that as a compliment.

???: You should.

*Galeem and Dharkon turn around and see the one and only…*

Galeem and Dharkon: Simon Cowell?!

Simon: Because I rarely give them.

Galeem: Easy, Simon. The competition hasn’t even started yet.

Simon: I can’t help being judgmental. It’s who I am.

Galeem: Alright, then. Who’s up for a little contest?

*All the Smash Brothers begin cheering*

Master Hand: Welcome to Super Smash Idol! Where you, yes you, at home, get to vote for the best singer alongside our judges: Galeem, Dharkon, and Simon! To crown the next Super Smash Idol! Our first contestant tonight is…

Roy: Uh yeah, the heat was on! Rising to the top, oh yeah! Everybody goin’ strong! That’s when my spark got hotter!

*Roy plants his sword into the ground, causing a small fiery explosion*

Roy: I heard somebody say Burn, baby, burn. Disco Inferno!

Simon: You’re on fire, Roy.

Roy: Burn, baby, Burn. Disco Inferno!

Galeem: No! You’re really on fire!

Roy: Huh?

*Roy turns around and sees that his cape is quite literally on fire*

Roy: AAAAAHHHH!

*Roy runs away in panic and is replaced with…*

R.O.B: Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto. Domo, Domo.

Simon: Come on, get real, R.O.B.

Galeem: I guess his singing was on automatic pilot.

Wendy Koopa: Some boys take a beautiful girl, and hide her away from the rest of the world. I wanna be the one to walk in the sun and…

Dharkon: Yeah, you go… girl?

Simon: Yeah, go girl, and get an extreme makeover. and some singing lessons.

Wolf, with Isabelle singing backup: Burning the ground, I break from the crowd. I’m on the huntdown after you. Scent and a sound, I’m lost and I’m found. And I’m hungry like the wolf!

Isabelle: Oh, you’re hungry? Well, let me run to the kitchen and make you a sandwich.

*Isabelle runs off stage*

Wolf: N-no! Isabelle, It’s part of the song. I’m not actually… Ugh.

*Wolf runs after Isabelle*

Simon: I’m hungry for some talent here.

Galeem: Oh, really?

Simon: And the outfits those two were wearing? Hideous.

*unbeknownst to Simon, several Smashers are trying to hold back the Villager as he tries to bury his axe in Simon’s back for insulting Isabelle. The next singer then takes the stage*

Captain Falcon: I’m too sexy for my shirt. Too sexy for my shirt. So sexy, it hurts. And I’m a model. You know what I mean. And I shake my little tush on the cat…

*Galeem holds out a remote towards Dharkon. Dharkon presses a button on the remote, opening a trap door beneath Captain Falcon, dropping him from the stage*

Simon: If I don’t get a good singer soon, someone is going to get a rather painful Falcon Punch. Most likely the next contestant.

Olimar: I can see clearly now the rain has gone. I can see all obstacles in my way…

*Olimar then trips over one of his own Pikmin, since the astronaut always has his eyes closed for some reason. In response to this, Galeem covers his center with one of his wings, Dharkon’s eye widens and he raises a tentacle over his non-existent mouth in surprise, and Simon covers his ears. The next contestant then begins singing*

Falco, while dancing with Kazooie: Sugar, ah honey honey. You are my candy girl. And you got me wanting you…

Dharkon: Aw, what a cute pair of lovebirds.

Simon: I just knew you’d say that, Dharkon. What’s next? A singing squid?

*Meggy quickly leaves the theater, allowing the next contestant to begin*

Joker, while playing with his grappling hook: ~I’m~ hooked on a feeling! I’m high on believing…

*Morgana then comes up and whispers something in Simon’s ear*

Simon: I couldn’t agree more, Morgana. Hook, line, and stinker!

Joker: ~I’m~ hooked on a… Ack!

*A giant hook appears from offstage, grabbing Joker and quickly dragging him off the stage, allowing the next contestant to start*

Samus, wearing her powerful jet boots: You keep saying, you got something for me. Something that you call love, but confess. These boots are made for walking, and that’s just what they’ll do… ‘Cause one of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you!

Simon: She truly is the greatest bounty hunter there is. She managed to find one of the rarest things in the universe: My approval. And possibly my vote. What the…?

*Simon looks next to him and sees that Galeem and Dharkon are gone*

Simon: Ugh. Always breaking the rules.

Galeem: What I like about you.

Dharkon: You hold me tight.

Galeem: Tell me I’m the only one.

Dharkon: Gonna come over tonight!

Galeem and Dharkon: Yeah! Keep on whispering in my ear!…

Simon: Overall impression: Rather wonderful.

Galeem: …'Cause it’s true!

Dharkon: That’s what I like about you!

Galeem and Dharkon: That’s what I like about you! That’s what I like about you! That’s what I like about you! Yeah!

Master Hand: Now, it’s time to decide. Who will be named the next Super Smash Idol? Will it be: Roy? R.O.B? Wendy? Wolf? Captain Falcon? Olimar? Falco? Joker? Samus? Or Galeem and Dharkon? Place your votes now!

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arcticdementor · 4 years ago

Link

The hilarious headline in the Daily Beast yesterday read like a cross of Clickhole and Izvestia circa 1937: “Is Glenn Greenwald the New Master of Right-Wing Media? FROM HIS MOUTH TO FOX’S EARS?”

The story, fed to poor Beast media writer Lloyd Grove by certain unnamed embittered personages at the Intercept, is that their former star writer Greenwald appears on, and helps provide content for — gasp! — right-wing media! It’s nearly the exclusive point of the article. Greenwald goes on TV with… those people! The Beast’s furious journalisming includes a “spot check” of the number of Fox items inspired by Greenwald articles (“dozens”!) and multiple passages comparing Greenwald to Donald Trump, the ultimate insult in #Resistance world. This one made me laugh out loud:

In a self-perpetuating feedback loop that runs from Twitter to Fox News and back again, Greenwald has managed, like Trump before him, to orchestrate his very own news cycles.

This, folks, is from the Daily Beast, a publication that has spent much of the last five years huffing horseshit into headlines, from Bountygate to Bernie’s Mittens to classics like SNL: Alec Baldwin's Trump Admits 'I Don't Care About America'. The best example was its “investigation” revealing that three of Tulsi Gabbard’s 75,000 individual donors — the late Princeton professor Stephen Cohen, peace activist Sharon Tennison, and a person called “Goofy Grapes” who may or may not have worked for Russia Today host Lee Camp — were, in their estimation, Putin “apologists.”

…

For years now, this has been the go-to conversation-ender for prestige media pundits and Twitter trolls alike, directed at any progressive critic of the political mainstream: you’re a Republican! A MAGA-sympathizer! Or (lately), an “insurrectionist”! The Beast in its Greenwald piece used the most common of the Twitter epithets: “Trump-defender.” Treachery and secret devotion to right-wing politics are also the default explanation for the growing list of progressives making their way onto Fox of late, from Greenwald to Kyle Kulinski to Aaron Mate to Jimmy Dore to Cornel West.

The truth is, Trump conservatives and ACLU-raised liberals like myself, Greenwald, and millions of others do have real common cause, against an epistemic revolution taking hold in America’s political and media elite. The traditional liberal approach to the search for truth, which stresses skepticism and free-flowing debate, is giving way to a reactionary movement that Plato himself would have loved, one that believes knowledge is too dangerous for the rabble and must be tightly regulated by a priesthood of “experts.” It’s anti-democratic, un-American, and naturally unites the residents of even the most extreme opposite ends of our national political spectrum.

…

Follow the logic. Isikoff, who himself denounced the Steele dossier, and said in the exchange he essentially agreed with Meier’s conclusions, went on to wonder aloud how right a thing could be, if it’s being embraced by The Federalist and Tucker Carlson. Never mind the more salient point, which is that Meier was “ignored by other media” because that’s how #Resistance media deals with unpleasant truths: it blacks them out, forcing reporters to spread the news on channels like Fox, which in turn triggers instant accusations of unreliability and collaborationism.

It’s a Catch-22. Isikoff’s implication is a journalist can’t make an impact if the only outlet picking up his or her work is The Federalist, but “reputable” outlets won’t touch news (and sometimes will even call for its suppression) if it questions prevailing notions of Conventional Wisdom.

These tactics have worked traditionally because for people like Meier, or myself, or even Greenwald, who grew up in the blue-leaning media ecosystem, there’s nothing more ominous professionally than being accused of aiding the cause of Trump or the right-wing. It not only implies intellectual unseriousness, but racism, sexism, reactionary meanness, greed, simple wrongness, and a long list of other hideous/evil characteristics that could render a person unemployable in the regular press. The label of “Trump-defender” isn’t easily removed, so most media people will go far out of their way to avoid even accidentally incurring it.

…

The consistent pattern with the Trump-era press, which also happens to be the subject of so many of those Greenwald stories the Beast and the Intercept employees are complaining about, is that information that is true but doesn’t cut the right way politically is now routinely either non-reported or actively misreported.

Whether it’s Hunter Biden’s laptop or the Brian Sicknick affair or infamous fictions like the “find the fraud” story, the public increasingly now isn’t getting the right information from the bulk of the commercial press corps. That doesn’t just hurt Trump and conservatives, it misinforms the whole public. As Thomas Frank just pointed out in The Guardian, the brand of politicized reporting that informed the lab-leak fiasco risks obliterating the public’s faith in a whole range of institutions, a disaster that would not be borne by conservatives alone.

But this is only a minor point, compared to the more immediate reason the constant accusations of treachery and Trumpism aimed at dissenters should be ignored.

From the embrace of oligarchical censorship to the aggressive hawking of “noble lies” like Russiagate to the constant humbugging of Enlightenment values like due process to the nonstop scolding of peasants unschooled in the latest academic jargon, the political style of the modern Democratic mainstream isn’t just elitist and authoritarian, it’s almost laughably off-putting. In one moment it’s cheering for a Domestic War on Terror and in the next, declaring war on a Jeopardy contestant flashing the “A-OK” sign. It’s Dick Cheney meets Robin DiAngelo, maybe the most loathsome conceivable admixture. Who could be surprised a politically diverse group finds it obnoxious?

During the Trump years conventional wisdom didn’t just take aim at Trumpism. The Beltway smart set used the election of Trump to make profound arguments against traditional tenets of democracy, as well as “populism,” (which increasingly became synonymous with “the unsanctioned exercise of political power by the unqualified”), and various liberal traditions undergirding the American experiment. Endless permutations of the same argument were made over and over. Any country in which a Trump could be elected had a “too much democracy” problem, the “marketplace of ideas” must be a flawed model if it leads to people choosing Trump, the “presumption of innocence” was never meant to apply to the likes of Trump, and so on.

…

By last summer, after the patriotic mania of Russiagate receded, the newest moral panic that the kente-cloth-clad Schumers and Pelosis were suddenly selling, in solidarity with famed progressive change agents like Bank of America, PayPal, Apple, ComCast, and Alphabet, was that any nation capable of electing Trump must always have been a historically unredeemable white supremacist construct, the America of the 1619 Project. The original propaganda line was that “half” of Trump supporters were deplorable racists, then it was all of them, and then, four years in, the whole country and all its traditions were deemed deplorable.

Now, when the statues of Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln and Roosevelt came down, there was a new target, separate and apart from Trump. The whole history of American liberalism was indicted as well, denounced as an ineffectual trick of the oppressor, accomplishing nothing but giving legitimacy to racial despotism.

The American liberalism I knew growing up was inclusive, humble, and democratic. It valued the free exchange of ideas among other things because a central part of the liberal’s identity was skepticism and doubt, most of all about your own correctitude. Truth was not a fixed thing that someone owned, it was at best a fleeting consensus, and in our country everyone, down to the last kook, at least theoretically got a say. We celebrated the fact that in criminal courts, we literally voted to decide the truth of things.

This new elitist politics of the #Resistance era (I won’t ennoble it by calling it liberalism) has an opposite view. Truth, they believe, is properly guarded by “experts” and “authorities” or (as Jon Karl put it) “serious people,” who alone can be trusted to decide such matters as whether or not the Hunter Biden laptop story can be shown to the public. A huge part of the frustration that the general public feels is this sense of being dictated to by an inaccessible priesthood, whether on censorship matters or on the seemingly daily instructions in the ear-smashing new vernacular of the revealed religion, from “Latinx” to “birthing persons.”

In the tone of these discussions is a constant subtext that it’s not necessary to ask the opinions of ordinary people on certain matters. As Plato put it, philosophy is “not for the multitude.” The plebes don’t get a say on speech, their views don’t need to be represented in news coverage, and as for their political choices, they’re still free to vote — provided their favorite politicians are removed from the Internet, their conspiratorial discussions are banned (ours are okay), and they’re preferably all placed under the benevolent mass surveillance of “experts” and “professionals.”

Add the total absence of a sense of humor and the inability of “moral clarity” politics to co-exist with any form of disagreement, and there’s a reason why traditional liberals are suddenly finding it easier to talk with old conservative rivals on Fox than the new authoritarian Snob-Lords at CNN, MSNBC, the Daily Beast or The Intercept. For all their other flaws, Fox types don’t fall to pieces and write group letters about their intolerable suffering and “trauma” if forced to share a room with someone with different political views. They’re also not terrified to speak their minds, which used to be a virtue of the American left (no more).

From the moment Donald Trump was elected, popular media began denouncing a broad cast of characters deemed responsible. Nativists, misogynists and racists were first in line, but from there they started adding new classes of offender: Greens, Bernie Bros, “both-sidesers,” Russia-denialists, Intellectual dark-webbers, class-not-racers, anti-New-Normalers, the “Substackerati,” and countless others, casting every new group out with the moronic admonition that they’re all really servants of the “far right” and “grifters” (all income earned in service of non-#Resistance politics is “grifting”). By now conventional wisdom has denounced everyone but its own little slice of aristocratic purity as the “far right.”

#matt taibbi #substack #glenn greenwald #journalism in action

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parjiljehavey · 4 years ago

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Lost Shadows Left Behind iii

Summary: If he hadn’t already guessed she was a hunter by how she had answered the phone when he first talked to her over the phone, Nero would have guessed it now just by the outline of what was most certainly a gun at her hip from the inside of her jacket.

i ii interlude vergilius

Read on AO3 for detailed notes at the end!

8th of May, 11:40am

One year, ten months, and twenty three days after the events of Redgrave City

—————————————————————-

When he was a kid, at the orphanage before Kyrie and Credo’s parents took him in, he had always wondered what his real parents were like. He would make up stories and features in his mind, to help him escape from the bullying he faced and the borderline neglect of the matrons. He daydreamed of his parents showing up one day and taking him home. That he’d have a doting father who’d put him up on his shoulders and a loving mother who would hug and kiss him. The phantoms that Nero created in his mind as a child were often his companions.

After Kyrie and Credo’s parents took him in, Nero often followed Credo around with Kyrie following after Nero. Credo was the whole reason why Nero had joined the Order of the Sword in the first place.

After he met Dante, Nero had noticed the resemblance. How many people had white hair who weren’t elderly? None, as far as he’d known. Nero had assumed at first, that Dante might have been his father. But something never felt… right about that thought. He knew in his bones that he and Dante were related in some manner, but Dante being his father? That never sat right; it screamed out as not right .

The revelation that Vergil was Nero’s father? That his own father had torn off his arm? It.. hurt. It hurt and it made Nero angry; almost as angry as the thought of the two idiots that were his father and uncle killing each other. But he also felt… lost. Talking to Kyrie had helped him recenter himself. It always did.

Kyrie was excited when he told her that morning that he’d be meeting his mother. She’d told him, after he explained the call to her, that the woman’s reaction said everything he needed to know. That this was his mother. Nero had to laugh then, because Kyrie knew him so well that she knew there was a small part of him that was expecting the worst; that this woman wasn’t his mother and he had missed something.

Nero’s next phone call that morning had been to Vergil. It was awkward making small talk. They mostly stuck to the details of the job Vergil was currently on in Russia. The locals weren’t giving Vergil straight answers as to where the rest of the vampires were currently. Vergil was on his tenth day of the hunt and had eliminated only half during that time. Towards the end of the call, Nero divulged who he was meeting for lunch.

As he walked towards the diner that Dante had given him directions to, Nero felt his palms sweat. Parked on the curb near the diner was a land rover. That must be the land rover she mentioned.

Look for the land rover. You’ll know it when you see it.

It was an older five door model and beat to shit. Dents and gouges littered the vehicle. Almost all of the windows from what he could see had cracks running across in some manner or another. One of the windows near the back was gone judging to the presence of a plastic sheet held on by duct tape. Crates and boxes of assorted sizes were secured to the cargo rack on the land rover’s roof. There was a woman leaning against the front passenger door next to the curb, fiddling with her phone. Nero stopped for a moment, just looking at her. without even talking to her in person yet, it hit him that that woman leaning back against the door of the beat-up land rover was his mother. Heart pounding as he got closer he took in her appearance.

The first thing that Nero noticed was the scars; seven lines that cut across the right side of her face. The longest ended just short of her chin. Her hair was pulled tight into a braided bun at the base of her skull; the chestnut hair was littered with gray, a streak of it started at her temple. She was probably someone who started to go grey early. She wore grey-green military style jacket, dark jeans, and boots. If he hadn’t already guessed she was a hunter by how she had answered the phone when he first talked to her over the phone, Nero would have guessed it now just by the outline of what was most certainly a gun at her hip from the inside of her jacket.

She looked up, spotted him and held up a hand in greeting as she tucked her phone away. Nero responded and jogged up the rest the distance. Now that he was closer, he saw that the scars were just on the one side of her face. He spotted a few familiar facial features on her angular face, because they were his own. Her nose, the strong and sharp cut of her jaw.

“It’s the scars, isn’t it?” She had an eyebrow raised, a quirk upwards to the corner of her mouth. Nero realized he was staring.

“Sorry, I-”

She smiled, revealing a dimple. “I’ve had them for twenty years now, I’m used to it.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not rude to stare.”

She chuckled, and extended her hand. “Lucrecia Capello.”

“Nero.” Her grip was firm. He could feel calluses on her hand. They stood there for a moment. Nero cleared his throat, scratching at the back of his head. Why was he so nervous? “I don’t… really know what to do from here.”

“Well, let’s start by ordering some food. We’ll go from there.”

—————————————————————-

tagging: @queenmuzz @starrymindgurl

#devil may cry #devil may cry 5 #nero #dmc nero #nero sparda #oc: lucrecia capello #nero's mother #nero's mom #MOMMA'S HERE #i wanted this to be longer but it fought me on it i got the scars to prove it #devil may cry oc #back to re2 i go

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fandomrewrites · 4 years ago

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Season 2; Episode 9: Party Guessed

Hello all! No Isaac in this chapter, sorry. But I still I hope you enjoy this chapter and as always constructive criticism is appreciated.

Season 2; Episode 9: Party Guessed

Pairings: Scott McCall x Twin Sister, Lydia Martin x Best Friend, Isaac Lahey x Reader

Warnings: Mention of stalking

Word Count: 2,562

Season 2 Masterlist

After the rave I drove Matt home in an awkward silence. Once the car pulled up to his house and slowed to a stop the brunette beside me reached for the door handle but paused. “About that really, incredibly bad idea I had-”

“You mean the kiss?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“That’s the one.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“For real?”

I nod, “Definitely.”

“So, I know Nate and you are over. Or at least I’m pretty sure that’s true. But is there anyone else?”

“Nate and I are definitely over. Like so over I don’t even want t breathe the same air as him.” I pause, sucking in a breath.

“And anyone else?” He asks once more.

“Not.. really.”

“I hate not reallys. You never know what to do with a not really.”

I awkwardly smile at him, “Sorry. Would you understand if I said it was complicated?”

“Not really. But I’ll try.” He sends me a gentle smile and places his hand over mine. Then opens the door and steps out. I lock the door and sigh, taking a breath before I start driving away.

When I reach over to change the gear shift to drive I notice Matt’s forgotten bag left on the floor of the passenger side. I reach over to pick it up and bring it to him but his camera falls out. Reaching for the camera to put it back, my thumb accidently hits a button lighting up the screen.

I see Matt’s pictures from the lacrosse game and start smiling, these are really good. I click to the next picture and then the next. When I make it to the fourth picture my back straightens in alarm. The picture is of Scott, his eyes glowing, the next picture shows the same thing.

Clicking onto the next picture already thinking I was prepared for what I was about to see then being shocked when it was something completely different. Rather than it being a picture of my twin with glowing eyes, it was a picture of me on the bleachers during the lacrosse game.

The next picture, another picture of me, this one in the hallway during school. The next, a picture of me during lunch. My heart begins racing as I continue to hit the next picture, seeing more and more pictures of myself. Pictures of me at school and in my room.

Finally, knuckles pounding on the passenger window makes me jump and nearly drop the camera. I shakily look up and see Matt with a weird smile, that I can’t quite place. He mouths, “open the window” still smiling.

I hesitate for just a brief moment before doing what he said.

“Forgot my bag.”

“Yeah,” I breathe out. Reaching over and handing him his bag and camera.

“Some good pics in there, you think?”

I nod, trying to smile. “Yeah. You’re really talented. I saw the lacrosse ones.”

“There’s a good candid of you in there too.”

“Oh. Really?”

“You want to see some others? I mean this tiny screen doesn’t really do them justice. I could show you some on my computer.”

“That sounds great. But maybe another night.”

“Come up. Just for a few minutes.” He insists.

“I told my mom I would be home soon.”

“It’s the weekend. I’m sure she’ll understand.”

“I know, but-”

“And it’s spring break. You don’t have anything to do tomorrow, do you?”

“Yeah, actually I do. Things with Lydia. I should really get going.”

“You sure?”

I nod once more, “I’m sure.” I insist, thankful that he can’t hear how fast my heart is beating.

Finally, Matt backs away from the car, pulling his bag over his shoulder. I quickly roll up the window and leave.

*_*_*_*_*_*

The next day Lydia and I went shopping for her birthday party later tonight. After our trip to Macy’s she insisted we got to Allison’s and include her in our usual party ritual, which I of course happily agreed to.

Once Mr. Argent let us in we made our way up the stairs and without knocking, Lydia swung Allison’s bedroom door open. “Clear your schedule. This could take a while.”

She brushes past the hunter with me following after closing the door. Lydia dumps the handfuls of bags onto the girls bed as Allison begins to talk. “How many outfits do you plan on wearing tonight?”

“It’s my birthday party. I’m thinking, a host dress, evening wear, then after hours casual.”

I shake my head and smile as Lydia starts laying out the outfits. “I noticed you didn’t send out any invites.” Allison hesitantly says.

“She never does. It’s the biggest party of the year.” I reply.

“Everyone knows.” Lydia adds.

“I’m just wondering if maybe this year things might be... different.” Allison says.

Lydia turns to her bewildered, “Why would anything be different?” She then turns to me for an explanation.

I sigh, “Things have been a little off lately.”

“Like Jackson.” Allison pipes up.

“What do you care about Jackson?” Lydia asks.

Avoiding the question, Allison asks one of her own, “Do you know if he’s coming?”

“Everyone’s coming.” Lydia confidently replies. She then models a dress in front of the mirror, “This one’s Material Girl. I love it. On me. Not you. This is for you.”

She then pulls out another item from one of the bags.

Though Allison doesn’t pay much attention to it as she continues, “No one’s seen him since last night and i heard his parents are getting really worried. So if you know where he is-”

Lydia interrupts, “This is definitely your color. Although, honestly, Allison you have to start spray tanning. You’re starting to look goth and I don’t even know if it’s called goth anymore. It’s just pale and pasty and not good.”

Before Allison or I can say anything a knock sounds at the door. Mrs. Argent steps in looking towards her daughter. Lydia turns to ask, “Mrs. Argent, what do you think of this one?”

Mrs. Argent briefly looks at the dress, “It’s lovely. Allison, can I grab you for a moment to talk? Just the two of us.”

“Can we do it later?” She asks as she gestures to all of the clothes spread out on her bed.

“To be honest, sooner is better.” She replies as she reaches a hand to her shoulder.

“Party starts at 10.” Lydia informs.

“You’ll be around before then?” Mrs. Argent questions.

“I think so.” Allison casually replies.

“You think so?”

“I don’t know.”

Mrs. Argent gives a nod as Allison’s attention moves back to Lydia. She turns and leaves the room as we continue looking at the clothes for tonight.

*_*_*_*_*_*

After a couple of hours Lydia and I left to get ready for the party at her house. I was wearing an all black outfit that consisted of a black see through short-sleeved top, a black top underneath, a faux leather black skirt with a zipper up the front, and strappy black heels.

Once we were both ready, we made our way downstairs and waited for the guests to arrive. Once the first couple of guests arrive, music starts blaring as Lydia stays inside to greet her guests.

Though it’s officially past 10, there are only a few guests at the party. I walk towards Scott and Stiles when I see them by the pool. But before I have the chance to say anything Allison walks up to us too. “Jackson’s not here.”

“No one’s here.” Stiles deadpans.

“Maybe it’s just early?” Scott questions, sounding unsure.

I shake my head as Stiles answers, “Or maybe no one’s coming because Lydia’s turned into the town whack job.”

Allison turns to Scott, “Should you even be here?”

Scott nods, “I’ll be okay.”

We turn our attention to Lydia who hands a drink to the last of her party guests. She glances around to see who else needs one but there is no one else.

“We have to do something to help. I’m going to message some people from school.” I say.

Pulling out my phone I hesitate when Scott speaks, “She’s completely ignored Stiles for the last ten years.”

“I prefer to see it as me not having been on her radar, you know?” Stiles pipes up.

“We don’t owe her a party.” Scott continues.

I roll my eyes, “That’s my best friend you’re talking about. But fine, if you don’t want to do it, I have practically everyone in the school’s number anyway.”

I turn to walk away, annoyed with my twin, “(Y/N) wait!”

I ignore him and continue walking back inside the house as I send out a mass text: Come to Lydia’s birthday party - Great music and great food - Invite everyone!

A few minutes later more and more people start to trickly in. I sigh in relief and make my way back outside with a cup in my hands. “(Y/N)!” I look to my right and see Scott coming up to me. “I’m sorry about earlier. I ended up texting the lacrosse team.”

I nodded and smiled, “I know that Lydia isn’t or at least wasn’t the nicest person. But she means a lot to me and I want her to have a great birthday.”

He nods, “She will. How was your date with Matt? I never got the chance to ask.”

Not wanting to get Scott worked up I hesitate, “It wasn’t a date. But it was fine.”

Scott raises his eyebrows, “You’re lying.”

I open my mouth to respond but no words come out. I close my mouth trying to think of something to say but stop when Stiles comes up to us, “So you going to apologize to Allison?”

I don’t hear the rest of the conversation because I slip away, making a mental note to avoid Scott for a while and to thank Stiles for the interruption.

*_*_*_*_*_*

I stand leaning against the house and taking sips of the punch Lydia made. Looking across the yard at all the party guests, I make eye contact with Matt. I quickly break eye contact and turn to try and blend in with the crowd.

Unfortunately I was not fast enough in my attempt to escape. Matt gently grabbed my hand just before I made it inside, halting my movements. “What do you need?” I question as I pull my hand out of his.

“Could we talk? We left things kind of awkward and I want the chance to explain.”

I bite my lip and eye him. Sighing, I finally answer, “Fine, follow me.” I bring him upstairs to a guest bedroom before turning to give him my attention, “You get two minutes.”

He moves to close the door but stops when he sees me give him a look. “Right, okay. I know I took some pictures of you that I should’ve told you about. But try to look at it another way. Is it really that bad? That I think you’re beautiful? That I think you should be the subject of a perfect photograph?”

“It would be flattering if it wasn’t so creepy. I mean, some of those pictures - I don’t even know how you took them.”

“With a telephoto lens. Come on. Photographers call them candids.”

“And police officers call it stalking.” I say matter-of-factly.

Matt raises his eyebrow, “So I’m a stalker now? Is that it? YOu think my bedroom is wall-papered with photos of you? You think I’m the kind of guy who’s going to say something like if I can’t have her, no one can? Well, get over yourself. There’s another pretty girl walking in the room every five minutes.”

I immediately cross my arms and narrow my eyes, “Great. Then all you need to do is wait another three. Good luck. And don’t talk to me again.”

“(Y/N), hold-on-” Matt tries to grab my arm as I pass him but I rip it out of his grip and glare at him, quickly making my way out of the room.

Rather then move downstairs to the party I moved down the hall to Lydia’s room.

I shut the door and move to sit on her bed holding my head in my hands. I sit in the quiet, blocking out the sounds of the people and the music from downstairs. After a few minutes the sounds fizzle away, but then I hear it.

I look up suddenly, my head spinning to the closed door. I hear a voice yelling. A voice that, though I haven’t heard it for years, is something I cannot erase from my mind.

I shakily stand up and slowly take step after step to the closed bedroom door. I listen as another voice starts yelling at the first. A man and a woman having an argument.

I blink back the tears threatening to spill as I listen intently at the door. Finally, I reach towards the handle and rip the door open. “I can’t believe you’re drinking again! Don’t you want to do better! We can’t be a family if you keep doing this!” The woman yells.

“Who cares about this family? The kids are worthless and I should have left you when I had the chance!” The man yells back, just as angry, possibly even angrier.

The man makes eye contact with me, a bottle of whiskey in his hand, “You hear that (Y/N)! You’re worthless. Worthless and pathetic. You should have never been born.” He spits out. He then raises the bottle to his lips, taking a swig of the alcohol inside and starts to stumble his way over to me.

The through gritted teeth the man speaks once more, “Maybe I should just end you’re worthless life now.” He raises a hand.

I flinch stumbling backwards and falling to the floor. Tears now freely flow down my face as I push myself against the wall and try to find the man, but he is nowhere in sight.

Not too long after that Stiles rushes up the stairs, “(Y/N)! Are you okay?”

“I... I don’t know.” I pause sucking in a breath and finally raising my hands to wipe my eyes, though the tears have already dried, “I think I was hallucinating.”

“Yeah, we all did. Have you seen Lydia?”

I shake my head as Stiles helps me up. We make our way back downstairs to find Scott, “I can’t find her. But I found (Y/N/N). And dude, everyone - anyone who drank that crap. They’re freaking out.”

“I can see that.” Scott replies.

People are jumping and pushing others into the pool. Shrieks can be heard from the party goers. “What the hell do we do?” Stiles asks.

“I don’t know but-” Scott is cut off by someone’s panicked voice.

“Stop! Don’t - Don’t-” We all turn to see Matt. He gets thrown into the pool and starts desperately thrashing around calling, “I can’t - I can’t swim!”

Jackson calmly reaches down, dragging Matt out of the pool as the music fades. Someone’s voice breaks the quiet, “Cops are here!” Suddenly everyone starts running as they try to leave the house.

As we get shoved to the side we step around the house trying to keep an eye out for Matt and Jackson. Scott gets separated from Stiles and I but when we finally meet back up Scott looks shocked, “Matt is the master.”

#teen wolf imagine #series rewrite #sister mccall imagine #lydia martin imagine #isaac lahey imagine

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aion-rsa · 4 years ago

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Space Sweepers and the History of Working Class People In Space

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

This week saw the release of Space Sweepers, Korea’s first big budget special effects space movie extravaganza. There are a lot of interesting things to say about this movie, but one of the things that makes it stand out is it’s an excellent portrayal of people in space who are skint.

See, I hate to break it to you, but you’re probably never going into space. Unless you’re a highly trained technical specialist (well done!) or a billionaire (pay your taxes!), your best shot at seeing Earth from space within your lifetime is the development of realistic-yet-cheap VR headsets.

And the thing is, a lot of the time this holds up in sci-fi as well. Space travellers are either living in a post-scarcity utopia, are part of the military, or are some kind of genius scientists.

Even where we see supposedly salt-of-the-Earth relatable types, like Han Solo or Mal Reynolds, their scruffy outfits and roguish ways can’t quite cover for the fact that they own and live in the equivalent of a massive luxury yacht or private plane. Serenity may look like a rust bucket, but it’s far from the equivalent of a white van, and while Mal is constantly complaining about the costs of fuel and repairs, that doesn’t change the fact that he seems to own the ship outright, and in “Oxygen” he appears ready to buy the ship for cash.

As for Han Solo, leaving for a moment his humble origins and that he won the ship in a card game, within the Galaxy Far Far Away the ratio of space travellers to non-space travellers doesn’t seem that different from the one on Earth. Yes, there are lots of smugglers and Tie-fighter pilots and interplanetary bounty hunters, but for every one of them there are millions of Tusken sand raiders, Jawa scrap merchants, moisture farmers and Corellian street rats. Spacecraft might come and go from the spires of Coruscant as regularly as buses, but the population density is such that most people on that planet will be lucky to see sunlight, let alone the stars.

Meanwhile, back in the real world, the chances of an ordinary person getting into space even in the foreseeable future vary between Willy Wonka Golden ticket level lucky, or truly dystopian. On the one hand, Elon Musk has announced the first all-civilian mission to space, led by billionaire Jared Isaacman (so, not what you’d call an everyman), two seats given to people who have won a place by donating to St Jude’s Hospital (it probably won’t be one of the smaller donors), and finally, one lucky front-line health worker.

But Elon Musk wants to colonise Mars, and sadly billionaires still need people to clean the toilets, so Musk has other ideas for how ordinary people might get into space. Unfortunately that idea is indentured slavery, demonstrating that the most prescient science fiction writers of our generation are the writers of first-person shooters.

This is why, outside of post-scarcity-fully-automated-luxury-space-communism, and the military, science fiction is always oddly quiet about money. With a few honourable exceptions.

We Just Work Here

The first and most obvious reason why any ordinary working-class person would end up in space is “they’re paid to”.

Pretty much the codifier of working-class people in space is Alien. The crew of Nostromo aren’t scientists, they’ve not got The Right Stuff. Nobody on that ship is getting a high school named after them. The crew of the Nostromo are basically truck drivers who venture off the highway and run into something nasty. Yes, ironically they show a great deal more competence, professionalism and intelligence in encountering an alien threat than the actual scientists in the prequel movie, but the first conversation these characters have when they come out of hyper sleep is about money. From the outset, these are people in a place of work.

It’s a model that set the format for gritty-industrial-working-class-people in space movies going forward for better or worse. Event Horizon just lifts Alien’s aesthetic completely for the rescue ship Lewis & Clark, as does the videogame series Dead Space, like Alien, set aboard a mining ship.

Away from the horror genre, Outland sees Sean Connery play sheriff in a final frontier mining town that could have taken place in the same world as Alien.

And of course, Red Dwarf, which not only made good use of the Alien aesthetic, but also cast the colony commander from Aliens as their Captain, to tell the story of chicken soup repairmen in space.

Across all of these stories, and of course the aforementioned videogames, the life of the blue collar space traveller is an unpleasant one, exploited by a company that not only controls your life while you work, but also owns all of your food, water and air. Indeed, it’s not rare for them to go further. In Moon, another film where the spacemen-to-earthmen ratio seems not far what it is now, Sam Bell’s employer decides to save the cost of training employees and ferrying them back and forth from Earth to the Moon by taking one employee and filling a cellar full of his pre-programmed, short-lived disposable clones.

Space Sweepers

Public Transport

But maybe you don’t want to work for “the Man”, not an unwise call given the Man is probably trying to feed you to something horrible in the hope of creating a new bioweapon. One surprisingly under-utilised method of getting into space is public transport.

In The Fifth Element, Bruce Willis plays a special-forces-operative-turned-cab-driver who, as part of his cover, wins a ticket to go on a space cruise. Although looking at the sets and the extras in this movie, as well as the packed-in-as-tightly-as-we-can apartments back on Earth, one gets the impression this is not an option open to the majority of working joes.

Perhaps the best example of this is in the shockingly under-loved 2018 flick, Prospect, featuring future Mandalorian Pedro Pascal.

In Prospect, the spaceship is little more than a rotating framework filled with cargo containers in front of a massive engine. The father and daughter prospecting team are on board a lander that resembles nothing so much as an old Apollo Lunar Lander on the inside, and as the mothership approaches their destination the ship doesn’t even stop, it just releases the lander, tells them when the ship is going to be passing back that way and warns them the line is being terminated, so there won’t be another ship passing that way.

This is a model it would be fantastic to see more of. The landing module is small enough that it’s entirely plausible that even these not-very-well-off characters could buy, hire or rent one. Rather than having the freedom of the space ways like Mal or Han, their travel options are entirely restricted by what destinations are profitable for large shipping companies and whether they’ll let you tag along. And while on the surface the aesthetic looks a bit Alien, in truth it feels far more like it’s cobbled together from relics of the actual space age.

Borrow Your Way Into Space

And finally, of course, there’s the Elon Musk solution. Borrow your way into space. One of the early places to use this idea was Gateway, by Frederik Pohl. Frederik Pohl in particular is fantastic at writing science fiction worlds where people actually have to worry about money. In Gateway and its sequels humanity has discovered Ancient Aliens left a space station nearby, stocked with a lot of spaceships. Being alien technology, humans can’t control the ships accurately, they’re limited pretty much to pressing the “Stop” and “Go” buttons, and when the ship flies off it might land on a world of fabulous riches, or it might chuck you into the heart of a star.

Prospectors who want to try their luck in these ships have to take out a loan to get to the station, and throughout the novel the protagonist is constantly aware of how many credits are in his account.

Which brings us back around to Space Sweepers. At first glance the Space Sweepers set-up might seem similar to that of the Millennium Falcon or Serenity – an extremely “used” looking ship run by a rag-tag bunch of misfits. But the first time we see the protagonist, Tae-ho, he’s in a pawn shop. As soon as he gets back to the ship we learn the crew are still paying off the cost of the ship, as well as the costs of repairs and parts.

We see an awful lot of “Space sweepers” throughout the film, junk collectors gathering up salvage from Earth’s orbiting collection of derelict spacecraft and defunct satellites. But these people don’t seem like roguish space pirates, the impression they give is more akin to app-based gig workers.

This is compounded by another issue – that to work in space you need a visa, with citizenship limited to the wealthy few who are able to afford a place on the deluxe orbiting space habitats.

Everything in Space Sweepers is driven by money, whether it’s Tao-Ho’s attempts to raise enough money to find his daughter, the robot, Bubs, and her attempt to get a humanoid body that reflects her gender, and of course, the $2 million reward for “Dorothy” which drives the whole plot.

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Often space-based sci-fi is about the fantasy of freedom, of exploration. Even shows like Star Trek give us characters whose job isn’t much more than to fly around having adventures. But there is rich storytelling to be done about the people who have to clean the space toilets.

Chris Farnell’s novella series, Fermi’s Progress, is about a ship whose FTL drive vaporises planets, and features at least one space traveller who isn’t a scientist, super soldier or billionaire (although to be fair the other three characters are exactly that). You can find part one here.

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