#He's supposed to be training her to be better and she made the same choice he made.

[jesuis-assez]

↠ Tim & Lucy ↳ 2x01 - Impact

[butchvamp]

i did Lucanis's inner demons quest last night and have some thoughts [everyone groans in unison]

i admit that i definitely have a bias for Lucanis, i really like the crows (or i should say the crows from previous games & the lore around them) and my Rook is a crow so i'm inclined towards him in general.

that being said i feel i'm just. missing huge bits of information about him. he exists entirely in a void. i don't really know anything about his relationships with Illario or Caterina, the game glosses over so much of his role and what exactly he does within the crows (beyond just talking about how he was the Demon and the Magekiller) i suppose it's just too icky for the game to truly acknowledge outside of a few jokes about Lucanis poisoning the gang's food...

i know from seeing people posting excerpts from his novel that Caterina did, in fact, physically abuse him; i figured this was the case considering she's a high ranking member of the crows and thus no doubt had a role in torturing recruits, even if the game pretends like this is a thing that doesn't happen. you get a bit of banter early on where Lucanis, talking about Illario's behavior, says something along the lines of "My relationship with Caterina was complicated, too, and I was her favorite." implying some level of friction between them as well as conflicting feelings about her death.

but then that's it. we get nothing else. this should be a major piece of his story, a part of why he feels the way he does, and exploring Caterina's role in his and Illario's abuse would better expand upon Illario's resentment and make his and Lucanis's relationship more compelling beyond "Illario is a big jealous meanie."

i really wanted to like the inner demons quest more than i did, because conceptually i enjoy going into the fade/Lucanis's memories with Spite, so far Lucanis's quests have felt the most Dragon Age to me (fighting a naked woman in a giant pool of blood + seeing Spite lose control, him and Illario butting heads and having a competitive relationship before this (as the crows all should...), etc. these are fun!) but just like the rest of the game it's still holding back.

when you confront the memory of Caterina all you get are these choices:

none of these are particularly satisfying if you actually know the things Caterina has done... "Your love for him" is actually vile lol

this entire questline is a linear walk through fragments of the Ossuary & Lucanis's memories, there is nothing interesting here, Rook just plays therapist for about twenty minutes and then you make a nothing choice at the end that has no affect on anything at all... and most egregiously, we have learned literally Nothing new about Lucanis that the game hasn't already made an effort to tell us repeatedly (a real problem the game has in general, constant hand-holding and repetition).

there's Quite a bold choice to compare this quest to the Fade section in origins right at the start, with Rook and Spite joking about getting past the guards: "What did you expect, to turn into a mouse or something?" like yes, actually, i did expect something a bit more! even if you want to say the warden does the exact same thing with their companions in that quest, their dialogue is FAR better-- again, Rook's is all clinical therapy-speak (where did she even learn this shit? did the crows pay for her to get a degree in psych and become a licensed counselor?) and in origins, we do actually learn something new about each companion as well as getting to see them interact with their fantasies and/or nightmares. we get nothing here...

we could have seen him and Illario training together, being competitive, the early seeds of resentment being planted between them by Caterina's goading and abuse. we could have seen the guilt Lucanis feels about this, about Caterina's favoritism and how it's affected his relationship with Illario. we could have actually seen what happened to him when he was captured and in the Ossuary, we could have seen some of the horrible things he's had done to him and that he himself has done to become the Demon of Vyrantium, we could have learned more about why the demon inside of him became spite specifically-- because if what Zara's echo said is true, it started as an Envy demon-- so it was influenced by Lucanis in some way. what makes him spiteful? why is it spite that keeps him alive in the Ossuary...? is it spite as in defiance-- defiance of the Venatori, of Caterina's expectations and abuse, in defiance of Illario's betrayal...? unfortunately, Lucanis never really feels spiteful at all. determined to survive the Ossuary, but afterwards, never has he come across as spiteful (Spite is mostly just petty and a bit bitchy).

in my opinion the Envy demon fails because Lucanis was never envious of Illario or the First Talon position, only crushed by the loss of their relationship and guilty over Caterina's favoritism. obviously Caterina's expectations weigh heavily on him, but he knows he's the favorite, and he doesn't envy Illario for not being so-- he seems very aware of the fact that it doesn't equate to Illario having it "easier." but the game barely addresses this, only in weak voice-overs, while the majority of the quest is spent convincing Lucanis that he's not actually a demon. Lucanis is wholly a good guy that only kills blood mages and loves his poor grandma and his inner demon is entirely Literal and just him feeling bad about being an abomination :(

nevermind all that yucky complicated stuff. Illario is Bad and Jealous and deserves to be punished for... doing exactly what crows have always done.

of course it's easy to make Illario look bad when all of the other crows are treated like a found family, when we know that's not the case at all. crows have been competing and scheming and killing each other since origins. this isn't meant to make light of Illario's betrayal (in fact i still think it's quite significant given their history and the two of them being the last of their family) but instead Illario is very obviously suspicious from the start, the reveal of his betrayal was not surprising, it's predictable because, again, he is presented very differently from all the other crows we've seen in this game-- he's the Bad one, and Lucanis is the Good one. no nuance!

in his short story, The Wake, Illario is actually depicted as being extremely remorseful, getting very drunk and reminiscing on old childhood memories of Lucanis while Viago has to carry him home... of course there's no way of knowing the exact intent behind this story or what changed since (published in 2020 and written by Mary Kirby, after all) but either way, we don't get anything like that here. somewhere along the way we lost the depth and complexity of both characters; we don't get to confront this big ugly thing between them because the game refuses to engage with anything ugly at all.

[anjellaufeyson]

The truth lays within jealousy- Bellamy Blake

Warnings: basically just cursing and knife play

Summary: Bellamy's your enemy but things begin to take a turn once you start fighting to push through emotions you feel towards each other.

Bellamy Blake made my blood boil, and I prayed I made him feel the same way. I was best friends with his sister, Octavia. Meaning, I had no choice but to be in the same tent or room as him. The rivalry between Bellamy and I formed when the 100 first came to Earth. We were on dividing sides, he had everyone in his control and made them feel free but that ended dangerously. I was with the group that wanted to help and make sure we survived. 

“Do you always have to disagree with me, Blake?” 

He turned to look my way, his hand resting on the map below our waists laying on a table. “Do you always have to have disagreeable ideas–Kane?” He spit my last name out as if it left a bitter taste. 

I’m just thankful he didn’t call me that other name, the one he knew I so deeply despised. My eyes rolled on instinct, “You’re such a dick, you are aware of that flaw right?” 

He glared my way, “You always keep me aware don’t you, princess?” 

I fucking hated him, “Don’t call me that, Blake.” 

“What will you do if I say it again?” 

My father made me train with guards on the Ark since I was a child, I could easily take Bellamy, and him forgetting that made me always want to remind him. I stabbed my knife into the wood table and as soon as I did Octavia walked in. 

She moved the tent opening away, “What is going on?” 

Bellamy folded his arms making his muscles fight with his shirt. I tried my best to not stare but as much as I loathed this man and wished him nothing but the absolute worst–he was the formation of my desires. And that left lingering resentment. “Your friend is threatening me, O.” 

I unstuck the knife and pointed it at him from the other side of the table as I talked, “He was testing me, Tavia. It’s his favorite pastime,” I said staring harshly at Bellamy. 

“How about you both go train, maybe away from each other? You can work with Murphy and I’m sure you can find someone, Bell.” 

I gave a half smile, “I’m sure every–what’s the number now?” I made it look like I was deep in thought, “Like 50 girls now? Are willing to train with you, you know your way around the 100, Blake.” 

Bellamy gave me dead eyes as his jaw clenched. I struck a nerve. “O, get out.”

Octavia usually hates when Bellamy orders her around just cause he's older than her but she listened without a fight this time. She knew I crossed some form of a line. She mouthed sorry to me and walked out. 

I moved over to him, my knife laying close to his throat. He didn't care, he didn't even bat an eye. He almost smirked at the notion.

“Tell me, princess, was I supposed to pent up everything I was feeling like you do? Tell me, how's that going for you?” 

My eyes widened a bit, “I’m sorry do you want me to just go sleeping around with every dude on this earth because what? I can’t deal with my emotions correctly?” 

He bit his tongue. 

“I guess maybe I should take your advice because I see how greatly it’s been going for you. The known asshole you only go to for a hit and quit it.” 

Bellamy eyed me, “Is this you trying to offer up, princess?” 

My breath was shaky, I scoffed, “Go float yourself.” I stormed out of the tent and went to the only place inside Arkadia where you could blow off steam. The training spot. Bellamy usually overwatches, sometimes with Lincoln so I wouldn’t be surprised if he made his way over here.

Murphy made his way over to me, “Need a partner?” 

I nodded my head and decided to not take my anger out on him–at least not with words. “Yes, but I can’t promise I’ll go easy on you, Murphy.” 

He smiled as he got into his stance, “I didn’t expect you to. I remember seeing you training from time to time with soldiers. I’m going to have to bring my A-game now.” 

I laughed and it made me feel a bit better, say what you want about Murphy–but his sarcasm and wit will always make you laugh. I got into position and Murphy punched towards me and I moved my hand fast enough to push it away and block it. We kept going back and forth, not taking it seriously. 

Soon, as expected Bellamy appeared. He crossed his arms as he analyzed our performances. Suddenly both of us began to take it a bit seriously, but I chose to ignore Bellamy. He knew I was holding back, it showed in Bellamy's face.

“Let me try.”

I ignored him but Murphy stopped fighting, I tried to regain my breath. Murphy was like Bellamy’s sidekick since the beginning, that faded and nobody tried to make an enemy of Bellamy. Like it or not he did run a lot of things we live by. Especially with Clarke gone. 

He got into position and I immediately went to attack. I moved close and elbowed his face causing him to move forward. I went straight for a kick to his bent knee and easily got him down. When getting up his hand stayed on my thigh as he rised up, it was like he was purposefully trying to mess me up. That could be the only reason.

“Damn Bell, maybe she should replace you as a trainer,” Octavia said while spectating. Monty and Jasper laughed. 

Bellamy stood up and hit me immediately in the gut. From the force, I took a couple of steps back, and I cursed under my breath. He shrugged with a grin forming on his lips. When he went to pull another move I grabbed his arm pointed it up, and used my left arm to push down on his arm. I twisted his shoulder and I knew I was causing pain. I had this move done to me and I was in pain for a couple of days. 

For a split second, I heard a groan from him, it almost put a smile on my face. “C’mon Blake, are you even trying? If you lose this–I can only assume where you’re going to go to…or who.” Maybe it was a low blow but he pissed me off before. 

My fist came towards him and he grabbed my arm tightly, almost hard enough to leave a bruise, and flipped me onto the ground. I tried not to give him the satisfaction of knowing I was hanging onto this fight by a thread. I kicked his stomach and he caught my leg and tried to make me fall but I did the one trick that took me years to master–I kicked with enough force off the ground for a second to gain a stance to be able to kick him back. 

Bellamy went to hit me in the face but I got to him first and elbowed him. He spit out blood and turned his head up with a grin as he wiped the blood. He tricked me and by making it seem like he was going for a low attack, I didn’t move up in time to block him and he punched me. My lip began to bleed. 

“Guys, I think you should stop now. You proved you both can fight–now stop,” Octavia warned. 

We ignored her warning and kept going. I was determined to beat him, and I didn’t have a real reason why. Part of me wondered if this was my only source of letting my emotions go, maybe I wasn’t that different from that man that I hated. We are both stubborn, witted, determined, quick-tempered, reckless, and aggressive. 

“One hit and we’re done,” he said. “Better make yours count, princess,” he whispered. The way he made it seem, that nickname was for our ears only. He never said it loud enough for others to hear and I almost preferred it that way. And when he did, he was only focused on me. As if nobody else was on the earth with us. 

My thoughts were distracted and he immediately brought me down. My back hit the ground and I winced in pain, my back arched a bit hoping that would help the pain. Before anyone could help, Bellamy quickly moved to my side. “Are you okay,” he asked almost frantically in a low voice. He sounded genuine.

The gaze I had on him changed, it softened even though I was in pain. I was utterly confused. “What are we doing,” I whispered, his back covering everyone’s view of my lips. At best, they’d hear mumbles. 

“Your solution to letting your emotions out, remember?” He lightly laughed, “Fuck, we’re idiots.” Bellamy brushed his thumb on my bottom lip, “Truce?” 

My brow almost furrowed, “Truce? Does that mean we suddenly don’t hate each other?”

He laughed and began to help me up, “No, definitely not. You’re still the bane of my being.”

I stood up and got my words out fast enough before everyone crowded me to see if I needed Abby, “And you’re still the only person I hate in this world.” 

Bellamy slowly backed away as we kept our eyes on each other, everyone kept asking if I was okay but I didn’t reply. I was too fixated on the man I detested. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” I said while brushing past them. The one person who got horrendously hurt was Bellamy, yet he didn’t complain or stop them from helping me. 

“I’ll help you to, Abby,” I said putting his arm around my shoulder which felt oddly–right. When I looked back to show Octavia I was going to help him, I just saw a group of disbelieving faces. I’d be shocked too, never would I have ever felt pity or thought of helping Bellamy. “I kicked your ass.” 

He laughed as if he didn’t have drops of blood on his shirt, “I’d call it a fair fight.” 

“I’d call it my win.” 

He glanced at my lips then my eyes, we came to a halt. “You want to finish this?” 

I could feel his hand brushing along my neck, “I think we’re probably banned from training together for a bit. Though I think that wasn’t a training session–that was fighting.” 

Bellamy’s gaze dropped, he stared at me, almost desperate as if he was yearning for something he never even got to get ahold of for years. His touch became more apparent, he stared at my lips as he talked. “I’m not talking about in the training spot.” 

My lips parted and suddenly every feeling I had for him disappeared. Only one stayed- the desire I clung to. Instead of going to Abby, Bellamy and I went into his tent.

It was as if both our strengths had been regain, like we were both pushing our limits to be ignoring our pain to mix it with pleasure. Bellamy took his shirt off with such poise and it made me roll my eyes. I started undressing myself also. My eyes lingered on his chest, God, he was so defined. Like a Greek god or a statue made out of generosity.

"My eyes are up here, princess," he said as he pushes me down onto his bed.

I didn't like how much I secretly enjoyed him calling me princess. "You're so full of it, Blake."

He kissed me roughly, as if we didn't have time to spare to be kind to one another. Our hate lingered and I loved it. I winced in pain because of my lip and that caused him to groan into my mouth. He was making it harder and harder for me to not rush this.

I switched spots with Bellamy, God forbid he lets me control one thing. I kissed down his neck being anything but gentle to the parts I knew he was going to have a bruise at tomorrow.

"Fuck," he whispered.

My hands traveled down his chest and before I could do anything he traded spots with me. "Watch yourself princess, if you keep going- I don't think I can stop myself."

"I don't want you to."

Bellamy used his knee to spread apart my legs. He put his hand around my neck and slowly pushed down so I’d be lying flat on my back. I felt my stomach growing butterflies. “I will be anything but gentle with you–” He paused and stared at my lips. “But I think you can take it.”

[rachetmath]

Jaune More MC Ruby?

Ruby: That’s why I’m the MC and you're the side character.

Jaune: So because you have silver eyes you’re special?

Ruby: Yep.

Jaune: Even though I cheated Beacon.

Ruby: Yep.

Jaune: I was bullied.

Ruby: Yep.

Jaune: My partner is dead. And because I let my guard down, Ozpin died, and Oscar had no choice but to come on this journey. You know,  because of me.

Ruby: Yep.

Jaune: And because Cinder, who works under Salem killed my partner, I have beef with the main villain and her whole crew.

Ruby: Yeah.

Jaune: Salem, who I have way more in common with than most people, the deemed goddess I’m defying her, just like she did with the brothers over a loved one's death. Are you following me so far?

Ruby: … Yeah…

Jaune: Hazel, who mind you, lost his sister. He lost his sister because of the world Ozpin had created, like I did, with Pyrrha.

Qrow: She had a choice.

Jaune: A few days' choice which turned into minutes when Beacon was attacked. Then discovering how bad the situation is, you know with Salem being immortal, I almost hurt if not killed Oscar, making me at the spur of the moment,  just as bad as Hazel. And mind you I was willing to fight you on that.

Ruby: Uh… yeah…

Jaune: Tyrian, has the opposite to my semblance. Wasn’t he more interested in me than you? And you were his target.

Ruby: Mmhmm.

Jaune: Let’s talk about Cinder again. Cinder had two stray kids who followed her. I have Ren and Nora. Neither have parents. Also, we both want power but for different reasons. We even have different views on destiny.

Ruby: Oh damn.

Jaune: Atlas. Oscar did Ironwood not act like how I did in Argus but worse?

Oscar: Yeah he did. Jaune even saw Salem in person before you did.

Yang: So did we. You saw her face to face.

Oscar: I’m Ozpin. What is that supposed to mean?

Ruby: Oscar, not helping.

Jaune: Neo. We both lost our partners. The difference is that I have friends while she has none. The cat, him, and I almost have the same ability except he manipulates your soul or takes it. He might as well have been a devil version of me.

Weiss: O. Dear lord.

Jaune: Watts. … … … You know what no. He-he was no. Like he could have done better, he’s an example of being smart yet making the dumbest choices. 

Weiss: True.

In the Twilight

Watts: What?! My decision was understandable.

Ironwood: No. No, they were not.

Penny: Like you could have logically put your two weeks in and left for another kingdom. Or country. Like Vale. Mistral. Anywhere. You could have helped where you could've been needed. Which would have made you better than my father.

Watts: I wasted my life.

Back to Remnant 

Ruby: Um….

Jaune: You know what I have to ask this question. What is the moral of the story and how does your character fit into this?

Ruby: Well my-

Jaune: Let me retort. I lied. I was bullied. I had no idea about anything in the hunting world. I needed a teacher. I lost someone important to me. I have beef with the main villains. I train to get stronger to be of use to others.

Ruby: So?

Jaune: Okay. No one believed in me. But I still went to chase my goal. I lost the best thing in my life. I still moved forward. I had to kill someone. Still moved forward. I’m an old man trapped in a boy's body. Still moving forward. Fighting the odds that are stacked against me. I have seven who no one knows about. Yet your family is more interesting.

Ruby: Your point?

Jaune: The moral of the story is that no matter your circumstance you can always be better. Never allow destiny or grief to influence your entire life. No matter what odds that stand before you,  you can ultimately change your fate. And no matter the darkness a simple soul can light up the night and unite everyone against a greater evil. Even when the whole world is against you, you are never alone to endure it. If we stand united and look past our differences only then the wor;d would be a better place.

Ruby: Well my mom died at Salem’s hands.

Jaune: And?

Ruby: It's still relevant.

Jaune: You're right. But how many times has your mother been mentioned and you bothered to get information about her?

Yang: I-

Jaune: Bitch shut the fuck up. You were looking for the deadbeat mom more than the mom who stepped up.

Ruby: Well um… um…. Damn. Oh, but I-

Jaune: You weren’t the sword. I may not have known Penny as long as you, but the fact, that I could've saved her proved her death hit harder than Pyrrha's. I’m close to walking in Raven’s path.

Ruby: Shit.

Jaune: And back to your mother. She was a silver-eyed warrior. But Salem is still here. Do silver eyes work on her?

Ruby: Um.

Jaune: Because Salem is still both the brothers' creation. The old humanity. She can't be phased by the black liquid even though everything they touch decays. 

Ruby: She's immortal.

Jaune: Yeah but again when Maria told you her story didn't she try using her silver eyes on humans and it didn't work? 

Ruby: Cinder.

Jaune: Grimm arm.

Ruby: The hound. 

Blake: Silver-eyed person too but only stunned them.

Ruby: Blake.

Blake: What a minute he had animalistic ears. Should I be concerned for my people?

Jaune: Yeah… we’re not getting into that. The point is if you go see Salem and your silver eyes don't work then your mom died for nothing.

Ruby: Oo. Um…

Jaune: And let's get back to the other villains. Besides Emerald, Mercury, and Tyrian, some of them have valid reasons to join Salem. 

Ren: Jaune!

Jaune: Ren, your village got destroyed.

Ren: Nevermind.

Me: Hold up. Let me start. With Cinder, a huntsman saw what she was going through and didn't bother to help her. She was alone. The world abandoned her.  

Jaune: So Hazel was right. In fact, Raven had a point.

Oscar(Ozpin): Mr. Arc I-

Jaune: Motherfucker Hazel had every right to be angry. Dude shadow missions involve us going with experienced hunters. Yet his sister died and Ruby could’ve died. Shadowing them. Following their lead. Does that not show how bad the hunting system is? Not just that we got hunters who died in the line of duty. Not to mention how some were sexually harassing the girls.  And some of them are just plain crazy or assholes. Not to mention Blake, Qrow, and Raven. You let them in. And to make matters worse you chose Pyrrha, a first-year student, to be your maiden.

Oscar(Ozpin): She was my best option. 

Jaune: So Glynda wasn't on the table? A high-ranked fourth-year student wasn't on the table? Man, at least you could have chosen Ruby considering she has silver eyes and is a young upcoming prodigy. That would have made her more important. Like Ozpin Ruby off the bat was better than Pyrrha.

Qrow: Hey, I would have stopped that.

Jaune: O, so… it was okay with Pyrrha… but not your niece. I see. Hypocrite.

Qrow: Damn. Set myself up for that.

Jaune: Watts, despite his stupidity, had a point. James would abuse any source of technology just to have some level of control over something. Why did you think he wanted your sister instead of Penny? Why do you think he wanted Amity up as quickly as possible? Why do you think he hacked into Penny? Everything was always about control.

Weiss: Well our lives weren't easy.

Jaune: That I won't deny. Yet we are all still bad people.

Yang: Jaune my mother -

Jaune: Raven and Summer left you. Summer no one cared enough to talk about. Raven doesn't matter at all. Willow waited until her children were teenagers or young adults to start dealing with an abusive father. And Kali… yeah she should have slapped some sense into her daughter. 

Weiss: Well your mom doesn't love you.

Jaune: Don't care. Back to Jacque though how does he and James know each other? Why do they have beef with one another? Unless… o. Oh no. Don't tell me. Did James set Jacque up with Willow? And in return, he helps James rise to power. Or did James love Willow but because of his career he couldn't marry her? Could Winter be-

Weiss: Please stop. I do not need those theories in my head.

Jaune: Fine. The point I'm trying to make is… … well how about you explain.

Me: It's crazy how Jaune fits the main character role better than Ruby.

[bibibbon]

Need to get something off my chest

People in the fandom blaming Nana for causing Shigaraki to be abused and all the suffering the Shimura family went through as well as calling her decision to abandon Kotaro stupid is if someone blamed all the abuse and horrible actions of Enji that the Todoroki family had to suffer through on Enji's deceased father.

Specifically people appear to zone in on Nana's call to not have All Might or Gran Torino check in with her family when it makes sense. She knows AFO has eyes and ears everywhere and will use that to kill those closest to her and those around her as we know since Nana's husband is dead by the time Kotaro is given up for adoption and All Might leaves Japan for the US in order to avoid AFO for that same reason. There is also no way for Nana to know that her successor would wind up as the strongest wielder of One For All and would be the first person to take down All For One.

I'm not sure if you were in the mha critical side of tumblr, but this is a very common opinion here. Nana deserved better, and none of the nana hate honestly made sense.

People shouldn't blame nana for doing what she could to protect her child. She explicitly said that she had done it to protect him, and she didn't willingly want to give up her child. The act wasn't done out of malice but was done out of love. Her husband was dead, and all for one was on her tail. She had to train all Might, and there was no safe choice to keep kotaro. It was a hundred times safer to make a distance between her and kotaro so he could live without the burden of his mother's duties on top of him caring or threatening to cause him constant harm.

Nana tried her best as a mother, and we didn't talk enough about it. She, at the beginning, was probably the breadwinner of the family, her job making it so that she had limited time with her son, yet from the flashbacks we see that kotaro loved his mother dearly. He loved her that child him simply cried and cried when she was about to leave, he loved her to the point that he kept her picture acknowledging that she was his mother yet despising that she left him all alone. His hatred of nana stems mainly from feelings of sadness and betrayal, which only exist because he loved his mother and felt safe when she was near.

I suppose we don't talk about the fact that after nana's husband died and she became a widow she had to juggle all the responsibilities of being a weirder of OFA, a mother who had to be constantly active in her child's life and a hero who had to save others while also ensuring that she earned enough money to keep her son comfortable.

I headcanon that at the time nana was never a good cook and that it was her husband that usually cooked for the family but when he died she had to take on the cooking duties which was a struggle but we see her actively trying even including her son in the process.

Giving up kotaro was the most logical circumstance, and I stand by that. I think to a certain extent, kotaro realises that too, and it's exactly why he doesn't blame his mother but blames her job he blames the hero, not his mother. To me, it evidently seems like kotaro separates nana into two different versions : the hero and his mother.

If we follow that belief, it's exactly why the only photo that kotaro has with his mother is so painful. Every time he sees that photo he in a way, is forced to acknowledge that both versions of nana are his mother. The photo shows his mother, but it shows her in her hero attire she is the 7th weirder of ofa in that picture not his mother but the mannerisms, the way she smiles and looks at him is that of a mother's look.

A haunting picture for kotaro. A picture of a mother's love.

Comparisons between enji and nana fall on deaf ears especially when you look at the circumstances and situations that both characters are faced with.

Enji DOESN'T love his children, his actions were out of malice, greed and desire to be great. He sacrificed family for greatness.

Nana LOVED her child. Her actions had a desire to protect, love, and care for her only family, her only offspring. A beautiful light in the world that she doesn't want destroyed by AFO. She had no choosing as I bet if she truly had the choice. She would do anything to love, protect, and be with her child. In a dreadful situation, nana chose the only way to guarantee kotaros safety.

[creepy-friday]

Just came across your blog and I ended up binge-reading everything! I'm in love with the way you write the characters, specially the Proxies. And the female Proxy is definetly my favourite👌.

How it would be if, instead of being Slender's trusted minion and already a experienced Proxy, she was a newbie and fresh meat? Kinda like Cody, younger and dragged there with little to no choice because the Operator saw potential in them. Would the dynamics change, since she doesn't have a high rank to rely on?

Maybe Brian is appointed as her mentor and he gets advantage of her inexperience by corrupting her?

I'M VERY GLAD YOU ENJOY MY BLOG💖

Creepypasta Proxies x Newbie!Female Proxy

The overbearing silence after the buzzing static faded away was bringing in a new damned life.It's been a month since you were bought here,locked in your room until The Operator decided it was enough for you to settle in

It was time for you to meet again with the masked men that dragged you here-the same killers that were supposed to be your team, "allies" even

Every resident was looking down on you,even EJ that pitied you and looked at you with mercy behind his blue mask.The first time you had to pay a visit to his clinic he even asked if you are scared because deep down,his instinct made him to enjoy it

The harassing is real,but this time it's more dangerous.Remember,you're a helpless outsider in a place full of rapists,killers and awful fantasies.Walking down dark hallways is always in a hurry,same as eating and showering.

Since Brian was assigned to your ass,you're almost totally saved and worry free next to him,but he's also a piece of shit

He sees your potential,after all, if The Operator views you as valuable-then you're most certainly priceless.

He's a gentle guy,takes his sweet sweet time to teach you everything you need to know.

Sure,he respects you,but during training sessions he will do everything in his power to get you under him,sort of helpless.

"See,it's not that hard" he breathed out as he guided your hands on the right places "if you ever happen to find yourself in this position you know what to do now,right?" he smiled in a gentle manner,slowly standing up from above you,taking you by your hand with him."Do you want to reverse the roles?"

He will defend your name even if you are in the wrong during proxy meetings.He will keep on bringing up how fucked up all of them felt when they arrived there,and this point always works.(more or less for Masky)He knows how to pull the strings when he wants to

You already know the drill,Masky is a menace to work with,especially with newbies.Don't get me wrong,he doesn't expect you to be fully prepared to know shit,he enjoys having you dumb,but he will always make you feel like shit,he will try his best to bring a pained expression to your face because it makes him feel better and he's bored of Toby

Definitely uses you as a vent chat,no restrictions for him,from inventing some fucked up story to telling you about his miserable life from before the mansion and during the present since he doesn't expect you to stay

The only time he stops is when his friend gives him the sign.It's crazy,but he respects Brian more than he cares about breaking some of your lovely bones

Toby was more than glad to know another woman "joined in",especially since you're new and vulnerable,he now has the chance to look out for someone and to be needed

Altough Toby was the most unusual individual,Cody was the one to give you the creeps most of the times.And he does it on purpose

Since he's no longer the fresh meat everyone looks down to,he feels superior that now he has you around

He wouldn't bully you or make you feel bad on purpose, but he will definitely baby you around A LOT

Kate is complicated.She doesn't talk,she doesn't look at you,she doesn't make any effort to teach nor to train you.She looks down on you,and the only time she will open her mouth is to either tell you to stop what you're doing or to answer any of your questions with a phrase so vague it will make you have even more questions

Time is precious,so don't waste it.Every hour can be spent becoming stronger,but also every hour goes by terribly slow when around every fucking corner someone is gawking their eyes at you

[katzenmas]

okay but think about Nikto. Nikto who was not always no one. He was his mother's son, his sister's younger brother, the smiling kid from apartment 56 in the orange complex, the runt of the litter in his class.

Nikto who once had a name. A little boy who had a funny nickname that was yelled by his friends as they skipped class and ran from the guards in school. A boy who had dreams and nightmares and stupid petty fights with his classmates. Nikto who in his teenage years buzzed his hair and started wearing darker clothes. A boy who was offered his first cigarette at 14 and coughed up half a lung after one hit. A fight with the kids from a neighboring school left his nose crooked and blood filling his mouth, but his hands were slung over his friends' shoulders and they laughed. Nikto who watched wars break out. Had to hear it on the radio, see it on the news. Two old men talking about yet another conflict while playing chess in a park. History class in school talking about 'The Great Patriotic War', the horrors suddenly becoming too real. The need to do something pressing into his mind as he read the newspaper about an attack on a theatre by Chechen terrorists. Nikto who's mother's face paled when he said he enlisted. His older sister who tried to tell him to go to univeristy, study and then leave to go to a different country, live a better life, a life he deserved. His grandma who let silent tears spill as she remembered how her own husband did not return to her. A 17 year old boy who made up his mind, he wanted to serve his country, answer the call of duty. Nikto who went to training camp, passed it, but barely. A young fresh-faced boy who layed in his barrack bed and wondered if he made the right choice. He though he could never get used to the wight of his gun. Nikto who as the years passed adapted to the harsh military life. He revelled in it. The man came a long way, no one would be calling him the runt of the lotter now. His body filled out, muscles and skin hardening, his face that held baby fat even into his late teen years all but completely dissapeared, being swapped for a five o'clock shadow and a square jaw. Nikto who got into the helicopter with a smile, joking around with his squadmates as they set out to their next mission. The man who took down 13 hostiles by himself but was overwheled, the man who was not deemed worthy enough to go back for, the man who left at the hands of the enemy. Nikto who finally became no one. Nikto who's mind was spliced in so many directions that he could not make out the heads or the tails of life. Nikto who was no longer a boy or a man. He was death, he was nothing. Nikto who forgot his own name, forgot what life was like before the torture. Nikto who looked into the mirror, at the deformed thing that used to be his face. His minf trying to, but never quite coming up with a picture of what he looked like before. Nikto who came back changed. The voice in his mind also splitting, making him think that he was no one but also everyone at the same time. A big void of bodies and sounds trapped in one broken body. Nikto who had a chance to go back home. The door to the apartment where he supposedly spent his whole life was unfamiliar to him. The peeling paint and the rickety lock looked like things he knew, but the more he tried to remember the harder it was. Nikto who watched the woman who was supposed to be his mother fall to her knees when he said that her son is dead. The dog tags and envelope methodically handed over to her. He watched as another woman slowly made her way over to the weeping lady, embraced her and wailed. Wailed for a man who was dead but also alive. Screamed a long forgotten name and prayed to god, a god that Nikto himself remembers praying to during those months of being caputered. But they don't get an answer from him, just like he never did. He mutters an apology and turns away from the door. Leaves the orange complex with the women who grieved him behind. Just as he left himself behind. he was no one. He was Nikto.

[inevitablestars]

little snippet of sibling angst

(from a one shot im writing that doesnt exist yet)

By the end of the year neither he or Lily talk about their siblings. Until the day before the train home. “I’m nervous about seeing Tuney again.’

“Why?”

“What if she’s moved on even more?  Last summer she spent more time with her new friends than with me.” 

“She misses you.” It only makes sense to him that way. He misses Regulus every day even when he’s with his friends. They don’t replace him. They never could, not really. That’s his little brother, no one else can ever be his little brother. 

Then he adds, “Do you think Regulus will talk to me at home when he hasn’t all term?” 

“Why wouldn’t he?” She says easily, like there isn’t a world between him and Regulus. 

It’s like he hardly knows him now, that’s his little brother but at the same time, who is he? He looks exactly like the boy he raised, like the baby that made him a brother, like his best friend of the first eleven years of his life. But who is he now? Someone else is wearing his little brother's face. Will he recognize the voice coming from him over the summer, if he talks to him at all that is. 

“I don’t know.” He barely whispers. 

No one else would understand this. Even Lily doesn’t quite get it. It’s just… Regulus. He’s Regulus. He’s a little boy that’s growing up all wrong. Exactly as their parents want him to, but that’s not right. He’s supposed to follow in Sirius’ footsteps. It would be better for him. Or he should at least be his own person. Make his own choices and mistakes. Find his own joy. It could be so easy for him to do that. And then he wouldn’t be pulling away from Sirius. there wouldn’t be such a divide. They would still feel like brothers in more than just name.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

At An Impasse

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Princess!Reader

Word Count: ~1.2k

Warnings: angst

Summary: You're taken back to your home country to continue tradition and marry someone you don't love. When objections come around, you look to the crowd in hopes someone saves you. Someone does and now you have a new choice to make.

Play Pretend Masterlist

Square Filled: royalty au for @anyfandomgoesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

You thought the next time you were in Yacleira, you’d have a much different life. Here you are, back in your dressing room wearing the same beautiful dress you were wearing when you left this country. The dress is a pinkish-beige color instead of the traditional white a wedding dress is supposed to be. The strapless bodice has golden swirls and diamonds are placed sporadically along the spiral lines. Extra fabric was sewn onto both sides of the dress to give it a more full and voluminous look. Those pieces of fabric start from your waist and go all the way down to the ground to meet the bottom of the dress. The fabric is curled over each other to create a sort of wavy look that looks natural. The bottom of the entire dress has fluffy ruffles and a train flows behind you.

Why did you think things would be different for you? Why did you have hope that you were going to be treated differently? Spencer has shown you things you only read about in books, and made you feel things only characters in movies get to feel. The time spent with Spencer has been the best months of your entire life but your parents don’t care about any of it.

Their princess is back and they expect her to get married off to someone she doesn’t love. You want to scream and cry but you don’t, and Ben watches you with a careful eye knowing you want to. He hasn’t said anything to you since you got back mostly because you think he feels guilty for sending you to America without checking who you’re staying with. It’s not his fault but he won’t hear it.

Your mother enters the room and smiles when she sees you in your wedding dress.

“Look how gorgeous you are.”

“Thank,” you mumble.

“Don’t be so sad, honey.”

“You won’t understand. There was something special with Spencer. I thought I really loved him.”

“Everything is going to be okay. You’ll see.”

This time, she isn’t letting you out of her sight. She is eager to walk you down the aisle knowing you’ll be married to Henry in only a few hours. The tradition fulfilled, the peace treaty unbroken. Ben stands on your left while your mother stands on your right. Both of them start to walk you down the aisle where Henry is waiting for you at the altar. You keep your gaze focused on the banner right above Henry because you will break out in tears if you look at him. Maybe if you pretend he’s Spencer, it’ll be better.

The minister’s voice drones out so you’re not paying attention to anything he is saying. It’s like you’re locked inside your body, forced to watch this disaster play out. There is nothing you can do about it so you sit idly by and wait for the storm to pass. This is being televised to the citizens of Yacleira with the most important people in the audience.

“If anyone should object to the marriage of Y/N Richmond and Henry Harrington, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

You don’t look to the audience knowing there is no one there who will speak up.

“I do.” Your eyes widen and you look to see Spencer standing up. “I object.” You can’t find the words as whispers fill the ballroom. He steps into the aisle just as everyone turns to look at him. “I know I don’t hold nearly as much value as a prince but I do know that I can’t stop thinking about you. You make me happy, happier than I have ever been in a long time. I have no idea where this relationship will go but if you let me, I will do everything I can to make you happy. I want to be with you. Do you want to be with me?”

Everyone turns to look at you who has a shocked look on your face.

“I have a confession,” Henry says and all eyes are on him. “I can’t… I’m in love with someone else.” Shocked gasps go through the room, and Henry looks at you. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to hurt you.”

“I think I’m in love with someone else, too,” you say and look at Spencer.

Your mother and father are already storming up to the altar with not-so-pleased looks on their faces.

“Throne room, now,” your mother scowls.

You look at Spencer once before leaving the room. Ben and Kylen follow you to the throne room while your parents deal with the rest of the wedding that may not happen. You’re only in the throne room for five minutes before Spencer and your parents walk in.

“Mother, I’m sorry--”

“How do you feel about Spencer?” she asks.

Spencer walks over to you and you grab his hand in support. You can’t believe he flew all the way out here just for you. He must have left only days after you did since the wedding happened four days after you got back to Yacleira.

“I love him, Mother.”

“Then you two need to make a decision. I have misjudged you and I apologize for that. Your father and I were talking in the days before the wedding. I had hoped you would marry Henry but I realize now how unhappy you have been. I loved your father when I married him but I see now you don’t love Henry. Forcing you to marry someone we want isn’t going to work for you.”

“Mama,” you whisper tearfully.

“I love you so much, my dear. I want nothing but happiness for you, and if being with Spencer makes you happy, then I want you to be with him.”

“Thank you,” you smile.

“However,” your father’s voice booms around the throne room, “there is a choice you need to make. If you don’t want to marry royalty, then we won’t make you. We’ll deal with Vosharia and sign a new peace treaty.”

“What’s the choice?” you ask.

“You can either give up royalty and live as a commoner with Spencer or you can embrace your status as Queen with Spencer by your side. You’ll need to be married for that and without Vosharia, I can give you another year before you have to be married.”

You look at Spencer who is already looking at you. How can you possibly ask Spencer to do this? You want nothing but to be with Spencer but does he want you enough to be in this life with you?

“We’ll give you two a minute,” your mother says.

Everyone leaves the throne room to pick up the pieces of the abandoned wedding.

“Y/N--”

“I could never ask you to give up your life for me.” The tears fall but you make no move to wipe them away. “I could never ask you to give up all your friends and family to come here and live with me as King.”

“Technically, I’d be a prince.”

“That’s not the point,” you sigh.

“Still, I could never ask you to give up your friends and family for me.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Neither do I.”

This time, you have no words. Do you stay with Spencer in Virginia or does Spencer move to Yacleira and rule by your side? No one else can make this decision but you and Spencer.

x

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[magics-neptunes-things]

Dr. Bronze

Hi guys!

This is a small one with Ona and Lucy :) It comes from several request, so I hope you will like it!

Please enjoy ♥

TW : None

She’s a doctor. It’s still funny for Lucy to say that, but she likes the idea, to be honest. She’s pretty honored and this distinction made her think back about the woman she was at that time. She was so far away to imagine where she would be more than ten years later.

Not here in the English Camp, looking at Tooney and Alessia giggling about something she doesn’t want to know. But here like having be able to live so many things with football. She has won the Women’s Euro in 2022 and almost won World Cup in 2023 with England. And she won almost everything with Barcelona those last past years too.

And she can say that she never has been so happy as she is right now. And not only because of football, even if she met the woman she loves deeply thanks to football and their mutual friends.

She sighs softly when she reads one more time Ona’s last message, saying how sorry she is for not being able to come to the ceremony in Leeds University. Lucy wasn’t expecting her to be able to come to be honest, Ona is with her national team somewhere in Spain, training for the Olympics.

She would have love to see her again though. She misses her girlfriend, like crazy. They had a long discussion in Cuba about Lucy’s future and their relationship when they learn that Barça hasn’t accepted Lucy’s wishes. They knew it would be difficult to be separate again, but it was only for several months until Lucy will finish her career and come back in Barcelona to Ona.

That’s their project. Lucy joked about opening a bar, but she really thinks she would love it now. She hasn’t talk about it to Ona, scared that the younger one will make fun of her.

“Lucy, get your ass here right now or you will be late for fuck’s sake!”

Lucy groans when she hears her brother screaming in their parents’ house. It’s the day where she was supposed to received her distinction and she really needs to leave right now. But she really wanted to hear Ona’s voice before leaving and her girlfriend doesn’t seem to want to answer for now.

Lucy’s frowning when she comes down the stairs and when she goes in her brother’s car. Their parents’ left before them with Sophie, Lucy’s little sister, but the footballer can’t help and try to call Ona again.

“What the hell is she doing?” Lucy groans in a low voice.

“Maybe she’s tired of you. Maybe she realizes how easier it’s to live without you” Jorge teases her sister.

The slap he received after that echoes inside the car.

“Oy!”

“Shut up your face, will you?”

He rolls his eyes playfully, but Lucy’s reaction makes him realizes that maybe it isn’t the right place to joke. They never really talk about their respective feelings and love life to each other. But Jorge likes Ona, and he likes his sister with the Spaniard.

“Sorry if it was a bad choice for jokes” he says after a moment of silence.

Lucy groans for any answer, busy to write to Ona. She frowns again seeing that her messages are being delivered but not read.

“She’s not answering at anything” Lucy mumbles.

“I’m sur she’s fine, Luce. Maybe she has some tactical class or something?”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

She’s not scared anymore like she was last year when Ona wasn’t answering her phone quickly. It happened from time to time for Vilda being the reason of Ona’s silence. Vilda isn’t here anymore, and things got a little better since, even if it’s not the best conditions. But it’s the evening and they usually are free.

Jorge looks at his sister, briefly leaving the road with his eyes.

“You are going to be alright; you know? Ona and you.”

“How can you know?” Lucy asks after a moment of hesitation.

“I just know. That girl is really in love with you, and I can say you are too. It’s different from your other relationship, I can say it. And everyone who knows you can say it, you are like two parts of the same orange. It’s like all the things who could separate you aren’t and make you both even stronger.”

Lucy stays silence several seconds, really touched by her brother’s words. She’s sure that Ona is the love of her life, but she’s not sure that she’s Ona’s one. She will probably never be, never taking the girl for granted.

“It’s going to be so hard to be away from her” Lucy points softly.

“I never said it will be easy. But you will survive this.”

Lucy smiles for real this time. She never thought that Jorge’s words would one day make her feel better about her love life and her choices.

Ona still hasn’t answer to her when she faces the outfit she’s supposed to wear for the ceremony.

She would have love to see Ona sitting next to her mother in the crowd, but she’s not mad or even disappointed. Just a little bit sad to have a reminder of what their life will be for now. She will miss having Ona dead asleep next to her every morning when they were supposed to gets up for training. Or a koala-Ona begging her not to leave the bed.

After her speech, she got lost a little bit in her thoughts, but managed to smile at the right time and give right answers to what is addressed to her. They talk to some people around them for several times before Lucy’s father grab her arm.

“Come on, let’s go to the restaurant now” mumble Lucy’s father, probably tired of all this protocol.

Lucy smiles when Jorge snorts and follow her family, taking a look at her phone again. She got several notifications, but still nothing from Ona and she’s writing to Mariona when they pass the doors of the building.

“Hola, Doctor Bronze.”

Lucy almost misses a stair step. She knows that voice by heart and would be able to recognize it between thousands of other voices. But that voice isn’t supposed to be here, she’s supposed to be training in Spain.

But when she raises her eyes, Ona is really in front of her. With her freckles, her chocolate doe eyes and a slight cocky smile.

Lucy doesn’t speak, she breaks the distance to Ona in three great steps, before taking the youngest girl in her arms, in an embrace probably able to break her two or three ribs. But Ona doesn’t complain, in fact she puts her arms around Lucy’s shoulders and hide her face in her neck.

“You are here” Lucy whispers in Ona’s hair, making the Spaniard smiles.

“Of course I am” she whispers back.

“Don’t break your opponent’s back, Luce” Jorge shout from afar.

They both can hear Diane shoving Jorge and the others away, making the couple smile again.

“How are you here?” Lucy asks, looking at her girlfriend.

“Your parents came to take me from the airport. I explained to Tome what was happening, and she said I can come” Ona explains softly, stroking Lucy’s face with her fingers. “It’s just today and tomorrow though.”

“I take it” Lucy smiles.

And now that her family is gone, she puts her lips on Ona’s. She can feel her smile under her lips and she kind of regrets not to be alone with Ona to deepen the kiss.

“So, this is where you studied?” Ona asks, looking around.

Lucy hums, unable to stop looking at Ona. She got a tan from her training in Spain, and she definitively has more freckles. Lucy resists to the envy to kiss every single one of them, choosing to kiss her jaw instead.

“You want me to show you around?”

“Mh deepens. Will there be secret places where you took other girls to kiss?”

“No” Lucy laughs. “Come on.”

Without any hesitation, Ona takes the hand Lucy is reaching out, interlacing their fingers. Like she proposed, Lucy shows the places where she studied, even if she took a lot of classes online too, to be honest. But she likes to have her girlfriend for herself before actually going to the restaurant with her family.

They managed not to cross the path of a lot of people. They know that there is people around and probably photographers. Everyone has a smartphone to take a picture now anyway.

“Oh. There is one more place I want to show you” Lucy says while they were going back to the car. “Come.”

Ona happily follows her girlfriend, not letting her hand go a single second. Lucy turns behind an old building before stopping suddenly. Ona doesn’t really understand what happened, but soon she’s trapped between a wall and her girlfriend, who is smirking at her.

“Now, I have a place here where I kissed a girl on this campus.”

The rest of the night went well. They finally went to the restaurant where Lucy’s family was waiting for them and had a wonderful time. The food was delicious and even if they were with the others Bronze, Lucy never let Ona’s hand go. She played with her fingers during all the time they were sitting. Ona always got along pretty great with the others Bronze, much to her relief. Lucy didn’t have the least concern about it.

Then they finally went to the hotel where Ona took a room, happy to finally be alone. They couldn’t keep their hands away from each other as soon as Ona closes the door behind them.

After several hours and a long shower taking together, they are in bed, facing each other. Their legs are interlinked, and Lucy is stroking Ona’s hip while looking at her.

“I love you so much” Lucy says softly. “I can explain how happy I am to have you here.”

“I love you too. And my girlfriend is a Doctor, I couldn’t miss that, right? Doctor Bronze” Ona teases.

“Why is it so hot when you say it?”

Ona laughs this time and Lucy can only smiles, loving to hear that sound. Ona rolls on her back to stretch, but it’s not Lucy’s taste to see her walk away from her, even if it’s only a few centimeters. She passes her arms around Ona’s body to drag her against her.

“What if I sequester you and I take you to a secret place known only to me?”

“Would you stay with me?”

“Of course”

Ona smiles hearing Lucy’s evidence in her tone.

“Then it wouldn’t be a kidnapping, because I’d be entirely consenting.”

Lucy hums, passing one leg on both of Ona and hide her face in Ona’s neck. She misses her smell too. Lucy’s breath makes the younger shiver, but Ona doesn’t move, only playing with Lucy’s hair.

“What are you thinking about?” Ona asks, realizing that Lucy’s eyes are wide open.

“Barcelona” Lucy mumbles. “The places I love, the places we went together and the one I want to go the next time I’m back.”

“What’s your favorite place?” Ona asks curiously.

“Our home.”

It’s sappy, but Ona loves it. She passes her arms around Lucy to feel her better against her.

“You know how we talk about me coming back to Barcelona at the end of my career?” Lucy asks.

“Yeah?”

Ona’s voice is as calm as possible, but she can’t help but be scared that Lucy already change her mind. England is where she grew up, where her family is. It would be almost normal to want to come back here. Just like she herself wanted to go back to Barcelona.

“We never really talked about what I would do at this time.”

“What would you like to do?”

Ona watch as Lucy rolls on her stomach, so almost completely lying on Ona. But the English Woman just wants to be able to see Ona’s face.

“I know it was just a joke with Mapi in the beginning, but I think I would love to have my own bar. Just somewhere where people can come to drink something and watch sport on TV.”

Lucy is looking at Ona with a lot of attention, almost waiting for the Spaniard to laugh at her face. But Ona never does it, instead she looks thoughtfully at her girlfriend.

“If that’s what makes you happy Luce, just do it” Ona smiles softly.

“You make me happy.”

Ona rolls her eyes with a smile but happily let Lucy kiss her lovingly. The Spaniard missed her girlfriend as much as Lucy missed her. It wasn’t easy for her to let Lucy go in London, but her girlfriend’s happiness is what she cherishes the most.

“But during Barca Femeni’s and Spain women’s games, I’ll have to close the place to come watch you play” Lucy adds soon after.

“Will you wear my jersey?” Ona ask with a smile.

“Mh… Maybe”

“Hot” smirks Ona.

Lucy laughs softly, letting her finger run on Ona’s face. She seems to have more in mind, but Ona knows better than push her to know what’s going on in her mind. Just when she turns her face to kiss Lucy’s wrist, the latter talk again.

“Maybe our children will wear it too?”

“What, a Spanish jersey or a Batlle one?” Ona smirks.

They talked already about having children together, but not really about what team they could play. if they want to play, of course. Lucy is surprised by Ona question, she never thought about it to be honest. But if they stick to their plans, they will be living in Barcelona, so it will be logical for them to play for Spain.

“We will let them chose” Lucy answers wisely.

“Sure, Dr. Bronze” Ona chuckles.

[ambrosiagourmet]

Not to absolve Toshiro of anything, but I wish Izutsumi could know about that little moment

Maizuru: Asebi is missing! Toshiro: She'll find us if she wants to Maizuru: But she hates us! I made sure of that! Toshiro: She'll Find Us. If She Wants To.

It's not a big courageous gesture, but. Izutsumi, it's another someone who saw you and cared about you.

Okay, I've seen this version of the dialogue around a bit and I've been so confused where it comes from? Apparently it's in the anime dub, specifically. Both translations of the manga use pretty similar language, as does the original sub of the anime:

It is in an official source now, so I don't think it's exactly wrong to treat it as canon, but... even then, I dunno. I'm not sure I view the interaction as Shuro being supportive of Izutsumi there, and Maizuru as being the bad guy.

I understand that a lot of people really dislike Maizuru, some to the point of discomfort, and that's fine - I have similar character types that can make me too uncomfortable to like/engage with, so I do understand the negative feelings around her.

But I like her! I think she's an intriguing, messy character. I think she's someone further along in the path of compliance with a toxic system, who has settled into her role as both perpetrator and victim within it, and I think that's interesting.

Maizuru acted as she thought she was supposed to, and it hurt Izutsumi, but I don't necessarily think she singles her out or treats her particularly different from the others in her care... I mean, the hag spell is something she used on Shuro too, when he was younger. She fucking SUCKS at childcare, and she treats people like the are sure to eventually fall into their roles. But she also didn't choose to "purchase" Izutsumi, or to be put in charge of her.

She's only 15 years older than Shuro. At what age was she put in charge of caring for him? Did anyone help show her how to do that? Toshitsugu certainly didn't, and his wife resents Maizuru. Also, for that matter, how old was Maizuru when her affair with Toshitsugu started... and how old was he?

She didn't choose the role of childcare at all, as far as I can tell. She was a ninja, before that, and she tried to use that training to raise kids, and it went uhhhh badly! Shocking! But I don't honestly know that like Hien or Benichidori would do that much better, if they had to make that transition.

I think it's interesting Maizuru's hag is specifically pointed out as using its weapon incorrectly. I feel like that's not just meaningful as a lesson for Izutsumi... I think it says something about its creator, as well.

Anyway, uhhhh, what was I talking about?

Oh yeah, Izutsumi leaving.

I don't personally think Maizuru asking after her was a matter of control rather than concern (it's probably both, really), and don't think Shuro's response is a matter of concern rather than disinterest (maybe that is both too, though).

Even if it was, though, I actually like that Izutsumi isn't there to see it. Shuro should respect her when she's not around just as much (if not more) than when she is. I think it's valuable for people to do well by someone they've hurt (or who has been hurt in the name of the system they benefit from) without that person's gratitude even being an option.

Maybe this is just my personal experience, but I sure know that there are people no longer in my life from whom a choice to respect my boundaries, that I never learn of, would make a positive impact on me. A more positive impact, specifically, than if they made the exact same choice in a way where I'm aware of it.

Sometimes the wounds need time, and sometimes they will never fully heal at all. Sometimes distance is a kindness. Sometimes "she'll make her way back if she wants to," means she'll never make her way back, you know?

Maybe I'm reading too much into it, but that's my wish for Izutsumi, honestly. May she never be asked to grapple with feelings of the people who enslaved her, good or bad. May she never have to think of them again, if she so chooses.

[splendsay]

COD FF // Callsign: Sunshine // Ch. 44: Just a .22

WE'RE IN BOSTON FOLKS THIS IS NOT A DRILL

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Callsign: Sunshine // Chapter 44: Just a .22

Rating: 18+ !!MDNI!! Chapters: 44/? WC: 118,410 Pairing(s): TF141 x F!Reader (You) Chapter Warnings: Explicit language, suggestive content Chapter Excerpt (🚨spoilers!!🚨):

"Fuck you," you seethe through clenched teeth.

Your upper thigh is clamped between both hands. Blood dribbles down your fingers, the makeshift tourniquet Simon made from the hem of someone's shirt not quite enough to stem it. Ricky is digging around in the hole near your knee -- parting skin and sinew with a surprisingly surgical pair of tongs to root out the bullet currently lodged somewhere close to the bone.

The only reason you haven't ripped the skin off his smarmy mustachioed face is because you're a little tipsy. And restrained by the arms of Soap, whose lap you're in.

"Don't be so dramatic, darlin', it's only a .22," Ricky chides.

"How could you possibly fucking know that?"

"Got an eye for 'em'."

"Course you do."

Even through the liquored haze, it still feels like a fire is ravaging your entire leg. The pain of the gunshot itself is sharp. Throbbing. But the attempt to remove the bullet has truly been a grueling test of your ever-fluctuating willpower. 

"How's about I carve your eyes out with my bare hands and make you eat them, you f--."

Ricky lets out a hearty guffaw, cutting you off.

You don't mean it, though the thought does bring a small amount of joy to your otherwise pain-addled brain. In the short time he's been stabbing you thoroughly and repeatedly, you've learned that batshit threats of violence usually make him laugh. And making him laugh is a nice distraction.

Not a very effective one. 

But it's better than nothing. 

"Take another shot o' moonshine," Ricky instructs, gesturing to the flask beside his foot. 

Moonshine doesn't remotely begin to describe the heat of Ricky's horse piss liquor. You'd told him as much after your first swig. 

"You should call this shit Sunburn," you'd sputtered. He'd laughed at that too. 

It's the only medication you're going to get, but you're not sure getting hammered is going to make this experience any better.

"No, thank you."

"Suit yourself, darlin'."

Soap idly traces his thumbs along your biceps. Another nice distraction. Together, you sit in the first row of first class on an American Airlines passenger jet. An Airbus. Ancient, but still moving. 

Turns out Cap's friends are looters of a grand sort. Grand larceny, to be specific. Slim's defense when pressed was that nobody else was fuckin' usin' it. Without Cap conscious to otherwise vouch for her, you'd had no choice but to take her word for it. 

Cap himself is in Slim's hands, which the siblings -- you think they're siblings -- all four of them: Slim, Ricky, and the other two pilots, Junior and Rabbit -- insist is a good thing. She's got him somewhere behind the curtain separating first class from the rest of the plane. You've asked about him a dozen times. At least. They've assured you each time that Slim was a trained combat medic. Has seen a head injury or two in her time. Nimble fingers and whatnot. 

But you can only think of Alex. Alex and his weeks' long coma. Alex who hasn't ever quite been the same, though you suppose you never truly knew him before his injury. He's been stoic. Quiet since you got on the plane. Resting against Farah's shoulder just across the aisle from you. 

Simon is on your other side, in the window seat, holding your hand. Well, really, you're holding his. Squeezing the shit out of it. The tips of his fingers are white. 

Gaz, Gary, and the Los Vaqueros boys are behind you, silent enough to suggest they've all fallen asleep.

Ricky's hand slips, sending his tongs deeper than they ought to be. You howl in outrage, thrashing in your seat, almost kicking him in the chin, but Soap quickly detains you -- with an arm banded across your chest and a low murmur in your ear. 

"Be still, love."

You hiss at him. "Fuck you too." 

He chuckles, which sends a flare of defiance through your skull -- a shock of red on the edge of your vision. You buck against him, wriggling your hips, trying to set yourself free of his grip. But it only tightens.

"You don't mean that," he croons. 

"Maybe I do."

"Careful, Ace."

The heat behind his warning softens your ire instantly. "Don't 'careful Ace' me," you lecture -- but there's no tooth to it. Not as you become very aware of his breath, hot on the back of your neck. One of his hands drops from your arm down to your waist. 

Some of the pain eddies away. Dulls. Like someone threw a blanket over it. More effective than Ricky's toilet liquor, anyway. 

Your eyes slide to Simon's, whose twinkle with something mischievous. Something dark and husky and deviant. The ever-present thread between you tightens -- though, now there's more of it. Another branch. A third anchor. 

Everything is taught.

"Ace..." Soap murmurs, following your gaze. 

You shift your hips again. Just a little. He stiffens beneath you. Releases a huff of air, blowing your some of your hair into your face. 

"Be still, woman," Ricky scolds. 

"Eat me, asshole." Your voice is soft. Throaty. You couldn't be more transparent if you tried.

"Just fuckin' relax."

"I am relaxed."

"Then stop movin'."

You can't.

You feel feral. You need to get up and walk around, if you only could. You need to run a hundred laps around the plane. Shed your skin. Get out of Soap's lap and into -- something else. 

Soap plants a gentle kiss on your shoulder and a shiver skates down your spine. 

"Johnny," you hiss. "Knock it off."

"I'm distracting you."

You let out a quiet groan -- a mix of chagrin and desire -- hardly audible. But Soap hears it, the growing firmness in his lap a delicious confirmation.

But another sharp throb of pain in your thigh dumps a bucket of ice water over your head, involuntarily sending your foot forward into Ricky a second time. 

"Oof, hey now, I've almost got it," he scolds, dodging you. 

"Fuck off, Ricky."

"Foul mouth."

"Bite me."

"Just -- think happy thoughts or somethin'."

"Happy thoughts? Really?"

"I dunno, have your other boyfriend whisper sweet nothings in your ear, since the one ain't enough."

Simon and Soap both go still. You blink at him, incredulous. Indignant. 

"Are you out of your fucking mind?"

"Loaded question."

You snort. "Confidence inspiring."

"I ain't one to judge, don't you worry."

"That's not what I meant."

"Well don't worry 'bout this neither," he gestures to your leg with his free hand. "I know what I'm doin'."

His words don't quite match his physicality. His brow is coated in sweat -- the headlamp he's using to see what he's doing sliding down a little as each minute passes. 

Not exactly soothing to the nerves. 

You miss Doc. 

..................................................................... Links to: Spotify Playlist Full Fic

[emwritesstuff]

DYNAMO | Steve Rogers x Reader | part 7.

HYDRA has made their share of human experiments. You're just one of them. One of the least successful ones. One of the least functional ones. At least your life in the facility gave you a few things: unwavering resilience, cool(ish) superpowers and a great sense of humor. Steve Rogers would strongly disagree with that last one. A single chance encounter with him reluctantly brings you into the Avengers Compound, and you're determined to make his life as miserable as you can. Feeling's mutual.

AO3 | Masterlist | Playlist (coming soon!)

notes: There's more to your powers than you could have imagined. my biannual update, a large boy at least... do you guys still read this thing? (warnings: inaccurate science, brief mention of HYDRA shenanigans and minor injury) (7,411 words)

7: JOULE'S PRINCIPLE

After swinging your leg over the seat, you’re left with no other choice but to put your arms around his waist to hold on. The wind whipping around and the lapses in stability has you clinging to Steve against your better judgment, even though he’s a skilled rider and you doubt he’d get both of you into an accident.

Still, it’s enough to make you decide you’re definitely a car person.

Although you have to admit having an unobstructed view is great. You can see the entire city from the bridge you’re crossing, twinkling like it did in your imagination. It’s nice to know it does it justice. You now get why everyone loves this place so much, and you don’t regret being irresponsible one bit.

The bike is also pretty convenient. Steve zips through traffic, and soon enough the city views become a treeline and the Compound gates welcome you in.

“The lights are back on!” You say, loud enough for Steve to hear over the noise of the Harley— you’re not sure how much his super hearing can pick up.

His answer comes roughly in the same volume, as he drives you into the garage: “The maintenance guys got to it pretty quickly. No harm done, besides the temporary outage.”

“And Tony’s PacMan streak?” You ask, hopeful he’d say that was left intact too.

“…and Tony’s PacMan record streak.” This stupid video game will get you kicked out one day, you’re sure of it. Steve sighs as your shoulders fall, despite him looking way more amused at the situation than you are.

He has to help you with the helmet straps again, and you flinch from the cold feel of his fingertips. “Besides that, everything’s back to normal.” His touch makes you feel like you poked a live wire, or like when you zap yourself with your powers. “Are you—”

You shove the jacket into his chest the second Nat’s bleached-blonde head pokes inside the garage. Bruce follows right after her, and it makes you want to tease her about it, but the look on her face is so serious you decide against it.

“There you are! Bruce told us what happened during training. Are you okay?”

“He… told you. He told you everything?” You look over her shoulder at your doctor, and he shrugs apologetically.

“We were worried when you fucked off. Don’t do that again.”

You widen your eyes a little, then give her a sheepish look. “Sorry I stole your car.” Nat smiles.

“Don’t sweat it. It was smart you dumped it at the train station, actually. It has a tracker I can’t take out.” The way she says it makes you think that she can’t because she isn’t allowed to, not because she doesn’t know how. Natasha would know how.

You don’t mention that you were feeling way too queasy to drive her favorite BMW all the way to New York City, and that’s why you opted for the train; it’s likely not a very good idea, considering how cool she’s being about it all.

You’re not even sweating.

“You’re lucky Steve found your ass before we had to bring S.W.O.R.D. into the picture.”

“Yeah, I suppose it was lucky he was in town.”

“In town?” Bruce questions, and you look at him as the four of you leave the garage in direction of the Compound living area. “No, he said he was gonna find you himself—”

“Bruce.”

“—didn’t he ‘Tasha? Just took off on his Harley and–”

“Bruce!”

“…what?” Before you can finish turning to Rogers and question his previous statement, he’s already got the elevator half closed.

You glower at the metal doors. He was right about things being back to normal - here was evidence he is back to helicoptering you, watching your every step because of course he wouldn’t find you capable of staying out of trouble; and you are back to feeling the bitter taste of animosity on your tongue.

You suppose this your own fault. Maybe you should just accept you’re stuck in this place forever.

Steve lets out a big, slow breath as the elevator doors close, leaving Sparky and her pinched eyebrows on the floor below. It’s for the best. He wouldn’t have answers for her nor himself at the moment. The feel of her body, her legs, wrapped around him made him feel electrified without her using those powers of hers.

He sure wishes he had them as an excuse.

Bucky raises an eyebrow at him when the doors open again, welcoming him into their shared quarters.

“You’re back already. You found her?”

Steve nods, walking over to the kitchen and fetching a bottle of water. He’d found her alright, looking cold and distracted on the steps of the Brooklyn Museum.

“She good?”

He nods again. “Barely put up a fight.” He’s glad he acted fast and got to her before anyone else took notice, because that would be a whole lotta trouble and she was enough of it on a normal day.

The thought of a S.W.A.T team being sent, anything that seemed too much like an arrest, or in truth, anyone other than himself finding her made his skin crawl.

Maybe he was a control freak. She’d told him so herself, more than a few times now.

“No— I mean, is she good. Physically, mentally?”

Steve looks up from his water. Bucky’s empathy was not really a rare occurrence, but he’s surprised nonetheless. HYDRA is as much his enemy as it is Steve’s, and he figured that would be too big of a barrier for Bucky to cross. Apparently not.

“She’s good, Buck. All back to normal.”

Back to extensive training. Back to occasional missions. Back to mutual dislike, the image of her in his jacket already a hazy, surreal memory.

Shoved away like the jacket itself, the second Natasha had eyes on them. Normalcy.

Bucky nods, knowing as well as Steve that for people like them, and her, nothing was ever really normal.

“Try not being too hard on her tomorrow.”

“I’ll be moderately hard.” Steve shakes his head, biting the innerside of his lip to stop the chuckle that wants to come out. It’s such a stupid piece of humor.

That’s what she said, Rogers.

“I hate this,” You mutter to his broad back, and he turns to you briefly. Of course he wouldn’t slow down to keep up with your pace; his own fitness routine is more important than camaraderie, especially when you’re involved. “Three more laps.”

“What? It was two!”

“It’s three now,” Steve Rogers is a petty, insufferable little motherfucker.

Well, not actually little. It’s the principle.

“Screw you.”

You’re almost waiting for him to clap back with a “you did”, or maybe “language” but that is how you’d react. Definitely waiting for him to add another lap, or ten. He doesn’t do either, just keeps on running ahead of you.

It’s like nothing even happened.

You shake your shoulders and head like a dog does when it’s wet, as if the innuendos were water drops.

You’re not a fan of running. It’s hard for you to understand how people say they run to clear their heads, because your way to do that is taking a nap. Or several.

Taking advantage of the current distance between you and Rogers, you pause, your hands on your knees and lungs working quickly for more air. You’re surprised when he turns instead of going around to finish the lap.

“Keep up, Sparky.”

You groan, standing up with your hands on your hips and shoving a petulant finger to his chest. “Don’t call me that. I could fry you like a fish andrunright out of here. Make sure to use money this time—”

“Don’t.” He’s not looking at you. His eyes stare behind and above you, and when you turn Fury is watching you both. There’s another man with him, in a fancy military uniform that screams everything but friendly. “Just. Keep. Up.”

The urgency in Steve’s tone makes you frown. His gritted teeth. He hasn’t stopped staring at the other two.

Alrighty, then. “Three more laps?” He nods, and you resume your early morning run.

You’re both one lap in when you speak again. “Who’s that?”

“That’s General Hoss. He’s Chief Commander of the NSA.” He looks back to check if you’re following, but you aren’t, neither his pace nor the words. “National Security Agency?”

“So… he’s pest control.” You bite your lip when he agrees. “He’s here because of yesterday, isn’t he?”

“I’m guessing yes.” Frost seeps into your bones, the regret Steve wanted you to feel yesterday finally kicking in. Like he can read your mind, he continues.“I’ll talk to him when we’re done here. You don’t have to worry about it.”

“Who’s worried?” A humorless laugh leaves your lips. You keep on running. “Last one, Cap.”

He nods. “That’s the spirit,”

By the middle of the third and final lap, Bruce Banner is standing at the side of the track field, a clipboard on his hands. You stop when Rogers does, a little surprised he doesn’t make the doctor wait for you to finish your workout.

“You feeling okay? You look a little green,”

“Good morning to you too. Cap.” He says tiredly, but you’re proud of your joke regardless. Even Steve has a curl to his lip this time.

You’re wearing them all down, little by little.

“What can we do for you, Banner?”

“I’m going to need Sparky here at the lab.” You raise an eyebrow. The routine checkup is supposed to be on Monday. “Me and Tony have been analyzing your data and have a few theories about your powers being unstable.”

“Okay…” The thought of the two scientists turning you into their little project makes you feel a little uneasy.

Tony Stark specially.

“Oh great, you’re here. Why are you sweaty? It’s 7 a.m.”

You point back to Rogers with your thumb, then realized that not only there was a crowd, but also an audience to your personal shitshow. Of course Tony had to drag the spider kid into this.

“Mornin’ run.”

“Ew. No time for a shower though, lucky us. Come sit over here.” Stark ushers you to a chair, strapping your monitoring bracelets on.

“Do you plan on explaining what in the fuck you’re about to do to me?” Steve mutters a timid language, and you both glare at him. “Or at least what is it that you found out about my powers?”

He sighs and stops what he’s doing, as if you’re wasting his precious time. “What do you know about Joule’s Principle? Physics?”

“In short? Nothing.”

“Then there’s no point in explaining anything to you.”

You’re about to tell him to shove the laws of physics up his wormhole when Bruce turns from the computer he was typing on.

“Joule’s Principle is a theory about energy conversion. Basically, an electric current produces heat as it passes through a conductor,” Bruce pulls up a full body scan, your full body scan, the areas on your head, torso and hands colored deep red and orange. “This shows your body temperature spiking as your powers flare.”

“So…I am the conductor in this Joojoo…thing?”

“Joule’s Principle, my little genius. And from our observations the extreme overheating could be causing all of those gross side effects of yours. The dry cleaners were concerned about that, by that way— ”

“Just get to the point, Tony.” Steve is leaning casually on the doorframe, his eyes focused on your body scans.

Stark’s head whips in his direction. “Didn’t notice you were still here, ‘Merica.”

In all honesty, you hadn’t either.

“Anyway, the side effects- especially bad when you’re not feeding off a generator. So! Here’s a little gift for you, from me and my little elves Banner and Peter.”

You blink once. It’s a lot to digest, especially when Peter Parker is shoving a glass case on your hands, with a small glowing disc floating inside.

“Do you like it?!” He says, and you wish you could mirror his teenage nerd enthusiasm.

“Uh… sure? Very shiny. Is it gonna fix everything?”

“Yes! I mean, not exactly. Maybe?” It’s Tony’s turn to answer, and you look at Bruce for help. He gives you a sympathetic smile and nods, agreeing with his mad scientist colleague.

Great. “And you can match Mr. Stark!”

…great.

“Uh– match? Isn’t your thing basically a mini atomic bomb? How am I suppose to use this? Wait, isn’t yours inside your chest ? Where—”

“Whoa, whoa… slow down. It’s not an atomic bomb, it’s a fusion reactor. And it’s going on your suit.” You breathe out a sigh of relief, although maybe you shouldn’t. Rogers also seems relieved.

Of course it’s going on the suit.

They wouldn’t just carve a hole in your body…right? Right. You’re still coming down from that small panic when FRIDAY speaks out. Captain Rogers, General Hoss is waiting for you at the lobby.

The monitor bracelets on your wrists make sure to tell everyone about your heartbeat spiking up. Your eyes find Steve’s, his posture now stiff and imposing. The good old by-the-book Captain America everyone knows and loves.

“I’m on my way, FRIDAY.” Shit. Shit shit fucking shit—

You can only imagine how that meeting is going to go. You’re probably fucked.

Right?

Maybe you’re hallucinating, but you swear he mouths three words to you before leaving: I got you.

“Sparky, you need to breathe.”

You draw in a desperate breath, only now realizing your lungs were completely empty.

“What…what were you saying?”

“The fusion reactor is going to be installed on your suit, giving you essentially an endless energy source for you to feed off from. We noticed that your side effects are more intense when you don’t. While they might not go away completely, it might help.” You nod, it makes sense. Sort of.

“Wait— isn’t this nuclear energy? My thing is electricity, I don’t know if you noticed.”

“My Pac-Man machine surely did. Which brings us to our second point… I’ve never seen electricity put cracks on a concrete wall, babycakes.”

You shake your head, as you would if your ears were full of water.

There’s something you need to pick up from what they’re saying, but you’re not a science person like they are.

“Our main theory is that your powers are not simply manipulating electricity,” Bruce says, pulling up a screen with graphics you don’t understand. “But also converting it. We believe the electricity you converted into mechanical energy is what caused the damages to the wall. Which means you could probably do it the other way around—”

“Like a dynamo!” Peter pipes up, and he and Tony share a look.

It scares you almost as much as the outcome of General Hoss’ and Steve’s conversation.

“A what?”

“A dynamo is a type of old-school energy converting machine, like you but made of iron and magnets. It has a ring to it, don’t you think?” In your indignation, you don’t pay attention to the fact that Bruce is still explaining things.

“I’m not old-school. You have me confused with the other guy.”

“—So by analizing all this data your suit and the other tests picked up, well, it seemed natural that you could convert all other types of energy into each other. Thermal, electric, mechanical, nuclear, sound, the possibilities are—”

Endless. The potential is endless.

Dr. Hermann Steiner knew it all along.

The dots connect in your brain almost instantly: your words, your failsafe— it uncapped the ability to harness so much energy it took your powers to a whole other level. Giving HYDRA all of the control in their hands, turning you into a near-perfect, glass-domed weapon.

Until now. Maybe.

Something tells you that S.W.O.R.D is going to have a field day with this information.

What an absolutely insane week you’re having.

“I feel like this isn’t right.”

It takes Wanda a couple of seconds to answer. “Your knees are a little bent, but you’ll get there.”

Your body is folded awkwardly into the downwards dog position, the muscles at the back of your legs burning from the unfamiliar stretch. Wanda’s so good at it she puts Natasha to shame, and that one has never lost her ballerina skills.

“I’m not sure how this is supposed to be relaxing and therapeutic,”

“It helps if you focus more on your breathing than in complaining.” She grins at you, looking at little crazy from this angle.

“I’m not complaining. It’s just an— observation,” You’re slightly out of breath, and she laughs. Things have fallen into routine after General Hoss’ visit. You’re not entirely sure what the results of his conversation with Steve were, but it’s been four days since and besides the fittings with your improved suit and a promise of testing out Stark and Banner’s theory soon, not much has changed.

Beside the whole…Steve Rogers thing. You’ve barely seen him these days, since he has been leaving the Compound every single day and when he is home he makes sure to stay out of your way. And everyone else’s. You know you should be feeling elated, but for some reason it bothers you.

His constant hovering and nagging would be better than this. Probably.

Wanda announces it’s time for the reverse warrior position, and you swear you hear your joints creaking as you move into it.

“Speaking of observation,” You start now that your lungs have air in them and you can breathe again. “What’s going on with you and Vision?”

She opens her eyes slowly, tilting her head at you innocently. “Nothing’s going on. Me and Vis are just good friends.”

Her accent makes the words drag slightly, thickened as she does when she wants to play tough.

“Right. As good as Nat and Bruce, eh?” Wanda blushes, and you grin like the Cheshire cat. Bingo.

“I’ll trade that answer for one about you and Steve.” Your grin falls off your face at the same time hers grows.

“What makes you think there’s something with me and him? We’re not even good friends, and besides, he’s been avoiding me like the pla–”

“Us witches always know. Hi Steve!”

You whip your head in the direction she’s looking, fast enough to rival a horror movie. Wanda’s giggling as you stare at the empty doorway, and you roll your eyes.

“You’re the worst.”

“You started it.” She says, standing beside you to correct your posture. “Come on, deep breath. Remember the mantra?”

You glare at her while you say “Om” , elongating the O instead of addressing her first comment.

The both of you finally get to sit in a comfortable silence, after the many torturous positions you attempt to twist your body into. You have to concentrate to keep your eyes closed and not hyper alert to your surroundings.

She’s so much better at it than you are it’s almost funny, despite her insisting every time that you’ve been doing better and should keep practicing.

Not that you’re planning on giving up your joint yoga sessions anytime soon.

Wanda Maximoff is probably the most welcoming and understanding out of all of your housemates, with endless patience for dealing with your moods as if they were her own. From what you knew, she’d been in a similar position as you are now. Maybe that was why.

Maybe she was just good.

You weren’t asking about Vision simply out of curiosity: although a part of it was, you needed to know if a stern conversation with him would be necessary.

After nearly three months, she was one of the only you could confidently call your friend, besides Nat. It was… a strange feeling, still.

“Hello, Stark.”

“Fuck off. You can’t get me with that one anymore,” You call Wanda out humorously, eliciting a laugh out of her.

“I thought Yoga was supposed to make you zen,” Tony Stark’s actual voice startles you, making you jump.

He’s standing at the previously empty doorway, hands on his hips as he stares at you as if you’re wasting his precious time. You make a face at him, raising your shoulders in question, and he rolls his eyes.

“You’re late.”

“Late for what?”

“For the suit’s first real test drive, Tiny Taser. I had FRIDAY call you fifteen minutes ago!” He says, urging you to your feet.

“We can’t hear FRIDAY from here. I blocked all noises out… for zen purposes,” Wanda pipes up, and you barely have time to fight against his antics and shoot her an apologetic look as he ushers you out of the room and through the endless Compound corridors.

You end up in a glorified broom closet, with Tony reinforcing that you have 30 seconds to change into the suit or he’s making you do this on your underwear.

Alas, you’ve changed, you’re about 10% zen, and you have an audience. Natasha waves at you from behind the tempered glass where Tony is also going for safety purposes. Bruce appears behind her with a clipboard in hand.

You see Nick Fury and Rhodes at the back of the elevated platform as well, making you wonder if Netflix isn’t on today or something.

Oh, and let’s not forget Peter Parker.

They’ve place a bunch of different things on the floor for you: an array of lamps and electronic devices; heavy metal objects, like oversized dumbbells. Barrels, some empty, some filled with firewood. A chair, very thoughtful of them.

“What do I do with this shit?”

Tony Stark comes to the center of the window, leaning over a small microphone.

“You’re so sweet, aren’t you? So delicate. You can start by–” Tony is eager to get his experiment going, but someone interrupts him, though you can’t make out who or what they said. “He’s the man’s little lapdog for the week and we get held up because of that? There’s no time to lose, Romanoff.”

“Should I do some tricks?” You say, making your fingers sparkle with lightning. No one seems to be amused.

You shrug, taking to repeating your HYDRA words quietly, falling into the familiar empty head space. The best way to get precise results, since you’d be using them during missions too.

You’re more than halfway finished when the door to the test room opens and slams closed, heavy footsteps following. Steve Rogers - or better yet, Captain America - strides in, fully clad in his own tactical suit. The vintage one. “I’m here– sorry I’m late.”

As if you needed any extra pressure. Fuck me.

“What’s with the costume? Hoss made you do a kid’s birthday party?” Stark quips, and you would’ve laughed if not for the present circumstances.

“Don’t start, Tony.”

Change of momentum with change of time. Noether-Theorem.

Hail HYDRA.

You really wish that last sentence wasn’t part of it.

“Alright, Sparky. Now that we’re all here, let’s get this show going.” You nod, watching as Rogers climbs up the metal steps to join the others. “We want you to focus on using the reactor on your suit as your main source of energy. I put some stuff for you to play with there, start with your usual party trick first. Anything else, Dr. Banner?”

“If you feel anything out of the ordinary just stop immediately. We have your wrist monitors functioning at all times too.”

You can see that Rogers is saying something to them, crossing his arms against his chest.

“Yeah, yeah. Take it easy, your safety is most important. I thought that went without saying,” Tony says through the speakers.

You take a deep breath, trying to concentrate on the task and not on the group watching you. It should be nerve-wracking but it’s not, thanks to how your programming works: the energy flows from the arc reactor down to your palms, lighting up the special seams of your suit in the process.

You almost miss the feel of the electricity inside you, running on the surface of your skin instead. It’s like being under a cold shower.

With little effort you make the lamps that were displayed light up, picking up a small one and holding it in your palms until the thin glass bursts.

“Sparky? Everything good?”

“Yeah.” You don’t look up, although a voice at the back of your head says you should be protesting over the rampant use of the nickname.

You move on to the other electronics, satisfied as they all power up one by one. It was easy enough, something you could do with or without a special suit. Your usual symptoms are nowhere to be found however: a very promising result.

“Let’s tackle the other stuff now. Maybe thermal energy? The barrel in front of you has wood, try getting a fire going.”

You walk over to where Tony suggested, staring at the wood. A fire? How on earth– you’re flabbergasted they’re just letting you play and figure things out, even in this very controlled environment, when it clicks.

It might be cheating, but if you zap the wood hard enough a fire could spark.

And it does. Your lips curl as the woods begin to burn, heating up your extended hand. Heat. You can feel it on your palm, scorching instead of the familiar coldness. If the arc-reactor is a source… what isn’t?

The potential is endless.

You push your hand further into the barrel. The fire is close enough to blister skin, but you barely feel it; all you care about is the new type of energy flowing towards you as the flames roar.

It’s enough to make you stumble backwards, your palms red and burnt, eyes dry and wide. Your body feels unbearably hot. It’s not as easy to control as you expected, probably because it’s so new, leaving you to release it all at once against whatever is on the way.

The thing you classified as a large dumbbell is knocked down as your blast strikes, rolling away. The other empty barrel crashes against the concrete wall.

Half melted.

You look down at your hands. Your temple is starting to hurt, but only a little bit. “Bruce, how’s my levels?”

“…surprisingly within range.”

This time, you turn your eyes towards the audience behind the glass. You probably look deranged, wide-eyed and grinning. Steve Rogers’ eyebrows are so close to one another they look like a singular line, and if it wasn’t for the glass he’d lean off the rail and fall into your little playground.

All this attention on you, as if he hadn’t spent the past few days pretending you didn’t exist. Typical.

Not that you care.

Nat comes up to him, touching his arm and saying something in his ear. His attention shifts from you to her, and you look away.

He didn’t have to be here, did he? You wish he’d gotten caught at whatever schmoozing to General Hoss he was doing before this.

You huff through your nose, cursing your programming for not being exactly thorough with keeping your feelings at bay. The more you used it, the more loopholes you found; if someone was able to elicit a strong enough emotion out of you, it was able to slip through the cracks of the flimsy mental armor. Rogers was one of those people. Natasha too if she picked her words right.

Maybe it was the lack of rewiring your brains every time you used it, like HYDRA used to do. It was extensive and painful, much more taxing than what you do now to come down from the programming. You are definetely not reminiscing that part.

Von Strucker could stay dead and buried.

If you could not use it at all, you wouldn’t. Fury’s presence in the training room is enough evidence of how much you have to.

“Now that’s a Dynamo if I’ve ever seen one. Right, Peter?” Tony says on the intercoms, and you look back to see Peter Parker enthusiastically putting both his thumbs up.

You groan. “No. I don’t need a superhero nickname, Stark.”

“But it’s great!” Peter says.

“Too late sugarplum, you already got business cards on the way.”

“Try not to fog the glass, Rogers.” Natasha’s voice calls out on his ear, and Steves snaps out of the trance he was in.

You and that wild smile of yours, with powers just as untamed. The sight filled him with a foreign pride. It worried him immensely.

“Her vitals might be regular but she has to be more careful,” He reinforces, turning to Bruce and ignoring Nat for a second. She raises one eyebrow. Steve shrugs.

He hadn’t missed the blisters forming on the skin of your palms, something you’d feel only later but his super-soldier vision had picked up.

S.W.O.R.D was already more interested in you than he’d like, and you’ve been pushing yourself hard enough. He doesn’t want you to find out where your breaking point is.

Instinct tells him that HYDRA still having vestigial roots inside your head is what’s keeping you from harnessing your powers fully, despite the immediate effects of the programming. He can tell when you’re under the spell, his eyes finding indifference instead of a passionate hatred inside your gaze.

With abilities like these, it could all go to shit if you’re not in control. The guys in suits wouldn’t hesitate in retiring a malfunctioning S.W. on the Raft.

Sentient Weapon. Asset.

The thought makes him cringe.

“We won’t let anything bad happen to her,” Natasha whispers, and he tightens his fists against the rail. It’s a silent agreement. He’d guaranteed General Hoss your record would be set straight and that he’d oversee it personally. Control freak. He was paying that vow with cashed in favors and his dignity. This damned old suit was proof enough. Itchy, too.

The outcome of that morning turns out to be unbelievably positive, even with the stupid new nickname. You’re eager to keep finding out what you can do with your powers — S.W.O.R.D is eager to have you on the field, putting them to good use. Which in hindsight it’s quite stupid of them.

The mission had gone to shit. It had been an intelligently laid trap, with an empty warehouse building stuffed to the brim with explosives, the HYDRA rats long gone from there, resulting in the side of the building being blown to smithereens. No one was dead, which was the most important thing, but you saw ambulances speeding by as you boarded the Quinjet. The media arrived before they could, transmitting the failure live. So much for no casualties. No one felt like saying anything, not even you, ears still ringing from the blast and trying to make sense of the sight in front of you. Steve Rogers, with his shoulders hanging in defeat. His hair looks powdery from the soot and cement that littered the air.

You’re sure yours is the same way. He shares a look with you, but it feels like a question, so you tear your gaze away, whatever had been locked away slowly rising to the surface as you recite your words in reverse order. You can’t handle another half hour in this emotional limbo; you’ll just have to deal with the comedown in this noisy flying tin can instead of your quiet bathroom.

You wonder if any of it could’ve been avoided. How did none of you see this coming? It looked too easy. Too good to be true.In a whim, you used your powers to keep you all from being buried under the rubble. Rogers, Romanoff, Wilson, yourself.

But if you hadn’t deflected the blast, those neighboring buildings wouldn’t be affected. Cars crashed on the streets trying to avoid the falling concrete.

You’re the getting the hang of it, sure, but it can be either too much or too little especially working with anything that isn’t electricity.

Despite it all, the worst of it that you’ve seen was a man with a broken leg and a poor Lexus that was already on it’s last breath anyways. You’re unsure about the extent of the material damage.

It’s New Jersey’s fault for being so damn crammed, Nat says, and you want to laugh. It’s her way of assuring you everything would be okay, and you focus on the part of you that believes her.

Despite it all, everyone is alive.

One thing is certain: for the good side and the bad, it’s all your fault.

There are reporters climbing over themselves once the Quinjet lands, and Steve makes his way down first; they all also nearly climb over him too, shooting questions out so fast you can’t keep up.

His broad back basically shields you from them, almost intentionally, which is great because you suddenly can’t breathe and your surroundings are feeling too tight. Damned programming that only works when it wants.

When a stray reporter finally notices you, Sam and Nat are already grabbing your shoulders and towing you away from the crowd.

“We left him behind,” You croak once the three of you are inside the elevator and you catch a glimpse of Steve’s now straightened posture, nothing like the one on the flight back. Nat squeezes your arm in a comforting gesture, but then you look at her and see some dried blood on the side of her face. Bright red as her hair used to be.“He’ll be fine. The news channels love him,” She sighs. “At least more than they do us.”

You’re quite aware of that; you’ve seen some snippets of his interviews on YouTube. He’s always dressed sharp, not a hair out of place. The gleaming smile of America’s greatest hero.

Tony has the TV on when you arrive to the communal living room, Roger’s appearance miles away from that mental image, except for the way he always carries himself at times like these: composed, with a gentle demeanor and attentive eyes.

You hate the diplomatic part of this job.

Despite Stark’s protests, you sink on the expensive leather couch, not having the will to do anything else. Your chest feels tighter, your throat dry; is this what guilt feels like?

Someone could’ve died today.

Either way, it’s your fault.

Steve Rogers moves on to another reporter from another news channel and the one that’s on the TV begins recounting this morning’s incident.

The cameras did you dirty; everything the news got from you is a blurry picture of your face. Your eyes have more white in them than usual, and you could probably benefit from a hairbrush and nose job. Your stance is akin to a cornered wild animal, almost.

You’re not like him at all.

Rogers is back on the screen, speaking into a microphone even though there’s at least three others near his face. You don’t really register the words.

Just accident and comes with the job.

His eyebrow twitches for a single second, but it’s enough to take you back to your shared look on the Quinjet.

“Hey. You really need to go shower before Tony hoses you down right here.”

Natasha’s voice sounds distant from your left - your ear is still ringing slightly, but it’s enough to pull you out of your flat-screen induced trance.

“Yeah— yeah, okay. I’m going.” You get up, but it’s hard not to look at TV again now that they’re showing the aftermath of today’s mission.

Avengers leave warehouse destroyed at Union City: 2 surrounding buildings suffered severe structural damage.

5 people are hospitalized. 8 units have been evacuated.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it too much, okay?” From the right, her voice is somehow distant too - but you can’t blame the explosion this time. “We’ve made worse mistakes. And yours saved all our asses.”

It’s hard to focus on the bright side when you are the accident that comes with the job.

“I don’t think Fox News would love that statement, Romanoff.”

“That’s why Steve does the interviews. He’s good at keeping the peace,” You finally manage to look at Natasha. Her face and hair are clean now; hair wet, a very large T-shirt that definitely does not belong to her hanging from her shoulders. “and they like him more than they do us anyway.”

“‘Cause they think they own him,” You roll your eyes. “and he’s too good to tell them to fuck off.“

Steve’s pleasant façade is back on the screen, and it makes you feel a little sick.

“Wow, you’re starting to sound like you care about him,”

You glare at her, an incredulous noise coming out of your mouth, and you think you might actually be sick. “I’m gonna go shower.”

“Good.” She laughs, and you don’t bother turning as you make your way to your room. “I won’t tell him, you know?”

“Fuck you!”

Natasha laughs harder.

You come out of your bedroom at least an hour later to a quiet, dim-lit floor. Your feet make little sound as you pad towards the kitchen you share with Wanda and Nat, and you don’t bother turning any more lights on besides the one inside the fridge.

You’re like a raccoon this time of the night, hungry for any kind of trashy snack you could get your hands on; it doesn’t help that you tried to speed up the coming down process of your powers and it made your stomach reject its contents.

With your head inside the refrigerator you almost don’t hear the sound of the elevator doors closing shut, and the heavy steps that followed - almost.

Steve Rogers is back at last.

His shoulders are slumped, hair and uniform still grimy from earlier. His face is the worst of all, with dark circles, droopy eyelids and smeared soot from where he probably rubbed it countless times during the press conference.

Eyebrows scrunched up in surprise, as if he wasn’t expecting to run into you.

“You look like shit,”

He breathes out a tired laugh. You half expect him to say it back to you. He doesn’t. “I know. I just wanted some water before I go fix all of—this,”

It’s something logical, really - you’re the one closest to the fridge, so you pour him a glass. You’re not gonna overthink that.

“The news people were here this whole time?” He hums in response, downing the glass of water like Tony Stark would do with a shot of tequila.

“CBS just left a few minutes ago.”

You’re also not gonna overthink about the way he looks at you when you take the glass from him and fill it up again. He drinks it slower this time.

“They’re pieces of shit.” “They’re part of this job. We do ours, and they do theirs.”

“It’s still bullshit.”He chuckles, shaking his head. “Yeah, I suppose it is.”

For once you’re more focused on your nightly snack - tortilla chips and a queso dip you pulled out from the back of the fridge - than Steve’s presence at your side. You’re waiting for him to just to go upstairs without another word.

“How are you feeling?”

It’s so quiet after you can hear your heartbeat speeding.

You meticulously scoop the still cold queso with a tortilla chip before turning to answer. “Me? I’m fine,” He’s assessing you with his eyes, and you regret not covering up more. You pop the chip into your mouth. “Just hungry.’

“Are you sure?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Steve sighs. “I know what you’re doing.”

You scowl.

“Yeah? What am I doing, Rogers?”

“Answering my questions with questions,” He says, running a hand through his dirty hair. “I know you’re using your HYDRA words during missions. During training.”

“So? It’s not like it’s a secret.”

You can tell he’s becoming irritated. Good.

“I know it’s taking a toll on you. Coming down from it, and everything else.” You frown, trying to square up to when he steps closer. “I just— I think you should stop using them.”

“No.”

“Maybe I can talk to Shuri and she can—”

“Really? You want to deprogram me? My powers are already out of control as it is, and you want to remove the one thing that gives me the slightest edge over them?” You nearly snarl, and he closes his eyes.

Neither of you are in the best headspace for this conversation.

You’ve seen the headlines. If that’s what they think of you semi-functional, you wonder what it would be like if you’re not.“Nothing that comes from HYDRA can be for your sake, Bucky is getting be—”“I am not Bucky.” You huff, and you want to throw something at him. And here you thought he was starting to accept you.

“I know. You— are you gonna let me finish?”“No. I’m fine like this—“

“Fine? You’re everything but,” You stare up at him, breaths quickening, waiting to hear him make clear how he thought you weren’t good enough. “You think I don’t know about how frequent your migraines are? About the morphine? The nosebleeds, the nausea, all of it?”

“So what? They’re not as bad with the new suit.”

“And the programming? Reliving that shit, again and again? You can’t convince me you’re tough enough to not let it bother you.”

“I am tough. I am HYDRA scum, am I not? Maybe I’m reminiscing,”Steve scoffs. “You can lie to everyone else. Not to me.”You breathe out through your nose, closing your eyes to fight off your annoyance. You try to remember he took one for the team today, with the press.“It’s fine. I’m finally being useful during missions, just like everyone always wanted—”

“Not at that cost. You don’t need to be useful—”

“Really? Because as far as I know, the only reason I’m still here is to be functional. An asset. This was the deal from the start, do you think anything but that will be enough?”

“It’s enough for me.”

You blink. It feels like the blood has drained from where it had rushed into your head, leaving it empty, your hands clammy. This night has taken such a wild turn you will need at least a couple days to process it fully. Steve and you are standing very close now, so much that your field of vision is nearly entirely filled of him. If you stood on your tiptoes your foreheads would be touching, even if you don’t remember stepping any closer. He looks the way you feel - exhausted.

“Has it ever crossed your mind, Steve, that my failsafe is there for a reason? What if I’m even worse without it?” You say quietly, voicing the fear at last.

“I don’t believe that for a second.” The way he says it makes you want to be a pathological optimistic like him.“Just… think about it, okay?”

It takes you a second, but you nod anyways. He squeezes your arms gently, and you only now notice he’s had his hand cradling your elbows ever since you were within reach.

“What about you?” Your question seems to catch him off-guard, and he tilts his head. “How are you feeling, I mean.”

If you moved your hands just a little, you’d be touching his chest.

“I’m—I’m fine. I’m good.”“Are you sure?”

Steve’s hand is still on your arms, his thumbs caressing your skin like you’re the one that needs comfort. Not that you don’t… but it doesn’t matter either way.

“I do this all the time.” You decide you’ll have to be content with his answer, even if his body language is telling you what his words aren’t. His eyes are soft like you’ve never seen before; at least not directed at you.There’s other things to be concerned about, however: the heat from his hands and the way he looks at you making your knees weak.

He’s so damn close.

“You really need a shower, good lord. You smell like wet dog.”

He lets out a breath. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m going now.” Steve says, letting go of you and stepping back, just a little. “G’night.”

He opens his mouth like he wants to say something else.

“‘Night, Steve.”

You’ll never tell a soul about the urge you just had to smother yourself in his arms, and how your queso and chips were forgotten on the kitchen counter as you scurried back to your room.

[graylinesspam]

Most people's hands develop calluses from wielding their lightsaber. Ahsoka has seen thousands of them. Puckering skin along the tops of their palms. Raised patches of skin across the side of their thumbs

There were differences between species, like the way that wookiee skin polishes to a near shine when it's worn against. Or the way the aquatic species scales would wear away until rough scar tissue replaced them.

But Anakin's metal arm was incapable of wearing in the same way that flesh does. Given the choice between which metal he wanted to be stronger Anakin chose his hand. The grip on his lightsaber is made of some common alloy, something cheap and easy to replace. It's not a soft metal by any means simply softer than his hand. So the place where his fingers grasp it has worn shallow grooves in.

Ahsoka turns the hilt around in her hands analyzing the way his hands slide along the shaft as he wields his weapon.

She can see the shape of his fingers in the marks, the places he grips harder are worn roughly, tension scratches catching on the lines across the pads of her fingers. But there are other lines worn smooth and reflective. She's sure those are marks from his thumb sliding along the length of it when he switches his stances.

His hand is so strong. Strong enough to swing around the heavy lightsaber. Strong enough to wear away at the metal.

Your lightsaber is your life.

Ahsoka holds Anakin's in her hands.

She wishes she didn't. Wishes she never had to. She hates this part of their relationship. Being a padawan means being responsible for your master as much as they are for you. If he wasn't so reckless. If they weren't in a war. If the council would only take their lives more seriously. If she were stronger. better.

She's in the bargaining stage now. She can feel that.

She hates sitting beside his bed. Anakin was supposed to be strong. Stronger than her. Better than her. How was she supposed to hold his life in her hands. They were so much smaller. So much weaker than his. And he was so much. So much personality. So much presence in the force. So much responsibility.

She has no idea how Obi-wan carried him and the responsibility of being a master.

The weight of it is as heavy as his lightsaber in her hand.

But she will carry it. Until he's strong enough to wake again and take it from her. A jedi's lightsaber is their life. And so long as he is unconscious Ahsoka will care for it. She will guard it. The way a padawan is supposed to.

Force knows Anakin has done it plenty of times for her.

Headcannon that Jedi lightsabers are never supposed to be put down. It's bad luck and general bad safe guarding practice for them to be unattended anywhere outside of the temple. So partners are trained to look after each other's lightsabers if they are ever incapacitated. Regardless of what kind of partnership it is.

But padawans and masters especially practice this and it's like a huge trust building exercise.

[lucagray813]

I've put together some initial thoughts/prompts/questions/ramblings after watching Season 5 of LMK.

CW: SPOILERS FOR ALL OF LMK SEASON 5!

Ten Kings are no more - are they replaced? What happens to the Dìyù without them?

Wukong can't remember being friends/enemies with Nine - was it in a previous cycle or outside of it?

Nine (Xiāngliǔ) and his metaphor of leaving the cave. Of embracing chaos and choice, rejecting destiny and order.

What are Nǚwā's cycles like? Is it the same people making the same decisions over and over again? Or is it a clean slate? Who knows about this? Does anyone survive and retain their knowledge of the previous cycle?

Macaque's time in Lǐ Jìng's Pagoda. How long was he there? Does time move differently? How are basic needs met? Do you no longer need to eat once you're there? Is food provided? Does it create a demon eat demon environment out of necessity?

How was MK's life supposed to be? If he'd woken up at the "right" time would he have known exactly what he was supposed to be doing? Would he have head off immediately to gather the stones? Would he have even been much of a person? Was Monkey King still meant to train him so he would be ready to gather the stones?

How did MK get to Pigsy's? Nine? To what end? How much influence has he had on MK's life before the staff? He makes a big deal about choice so perhaps little after his initial move?

The ramifications of everyone (?) having some sort of power. What kind of powers does everyone have? One of the elements?

The five elements in Chinese mythology are Wood, Metal, Fire, Water and Earth. But that wouldn't explain how the dog at the end is able to fly (very cute reference that it is) so it could be possible that the element of Earth has been replaced by Air? Or perhaps just replaced with a vague sort of heavenly power owing to the fact it's guardian was the Jade Emperor? Or there could be more to the powers than pure elemental magic? (Or mostly likely it is elemental powers and I'm too focused on the dog)

If each stone granted a specific set of powers would this then cause lines to be drawn? Divisions made? Would those who received the blessing of the yellow stone, the stone of the Jade Emperor, start to think themselves better than the rest? Possible A:TLA sort of situation?

What would the dragon and tiger have tested MK on if they had time? What was their relationship?

Smaller personal themes to explore:

Pigsy's feelings about being a father and what that means, Red Son's developing relationship with his family, Mei's fears of not getting stronger and of getting left behind (she was understandably upset at her lack of MK time but it really did border on desperate), MK coming to terms with what he was made for and choosing differently, MK's fear of chaos.

There is so much food for thought this season and I've got loads of fic ideas brewing! I will absolutely be writing a fic about Mac's time in the Pagoda - that just has way too much golden potential - but there's so many themes big and small to explore.

Needless to say most of S5 won't make it into my Monkey Talk AU but there's so much good stuff to explore! So I can almost guarantee some standalone fics!

Now I need to go have a long hard think about the nature of chaos...

[lainiespicewrites]

The Atreides Era Part 2

A/N: HI. this was supposed to be posted like 2 weeks ago! but I was finishing school and then my BEST FRIEND HAD A BABY! Life has been kind of crazy. But here is part 2 of my series for @hey-its-roseaurum ! for my dedicated followers my normal content will also be resuming soon as well! Enjoy guys!

Warnings: Death? Kinda?

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

By dawn, the masses had gathered. Or what was left of them. About 3 days earlier some of the camp had accompanied Lady Jessica. They had already gone south. Stilgar was at the center of the gathering along with Paul Atreides. Stilgar was giving a speech. This seemed to be his mantra. Matar and Chani exchanged an exasperated glance. The two lingered outside the group. 

“There is no turning back from this, Matar,” Chani Says. Matar nods at her friend. Her body is rigid but the glassy look in her eyes barely shields the hurt in them. 

“He says, it is for our protection. For my protection. But…” Matar pauses and looks at her friend. Chani tears her eyes away from the circus happening in front of them and gives Matar her full attention. She continues. “If he follows through with this. I fear it is him who will need protection.” She glances back at Paul. He looks like a leader. He is building morale with the soldiers before they make the move to head south. He looks… so sure of himself. But Matar sees right through it. She and Paul had, against her better judgment, become friends. Close friends. He may have a plan. But he has no idea what he’s doing. If he was so sure, so brave. Then why had he come to her? Why did he need Chani? If he was the fearless leader Stilgar claimed him to be, then why could she see the certainty wavering in his eyes when they met hers across the crowd of people around him? 

“Protection from who?” Chani’s question broke through Matar’s thoughts and her full attention was once again brought back to the girl standing next to her. Matar inhaled deeply, her eyes dropping to the sand beneath her feet. It was only months ago they had taken Paul and his mother in. Against her will, she was training him to walk so he wouldn’t get himself killed. Was he really strong enough to lead a war against the emperor? Was it even his choice? He was just a puppet on his mother's string. He made the choice. But it is Lady Jessica who laid the path. Matar paused still. Trying to choose the right words. Finally, she met Chani’s eyes again. 

“Himself,” she spoke. “He is a danger to himself.” Before Chani had the chance to respond the soldiers were beginning to move. Following the two men up the sand dune. Reluctantly the girls followed. A silence fell over them as they watched the young Atreides place the thumper in the ground. About 50 feet away Stilgar repeated the same process. Naturally, the Freman soldiers split off into two one to follow Stilgar and the ones that would travel with Paul. As they started to hear the rumble under the sand in the distance Matar once again caught Paul’s gaze. Without a word, she nodded at him and she and Chani joined Stilgar and the others waiting to jump. She did not look back at him. Nor did she see the brief expression of pain on his face as she had denied him. But it was short-lived.

The rumble was now only mere feet away. The head lifted up from the sand. Not one of them flinched. They all took their cue hopping onto the creature's back digging their hooks in for balance. Whatever reservations Matar had about this decision would have to be put to rest. Any chance to turn back was long gone. 

The ride south was long. And for Matar, quiet. A time to reflect. No matter what outcome she could not picture this move having a positive ending. Paul believes power is the answer. He’d once told her he would give anything to be equal to her. He seems to contradict himself often. More than anything. Matar could not shake the feeling that  Paul’s choice would tear them apart. He promised her it was to protect her. So he could keep her safe and keep them close. But in her eyes. His choice to give himself power and trying to rise above everyone else is doing the opposite. 

When their journey came to an end Matar took the time to get her bearings. She pays no mind to Paul as he sets off toward the temple. Or the shrine, as Lady Jessica had called it. She watched as the other Freman set up camp. Readying themselves for Paul’s instruction. Paul had refused to tell Matar how he planned to attack the Emperor. However, she knew he had a battle plan. Only time will tell. 

Matar found a quiet place on the outskirts of their new camp to set up her tent. She stares at the business of the scene around her. Everyone seems so frantic. Haphazardly setting up their new lives. Eager to play their part in this ridiculous game. Yes, She thought, she was losing him. Losing him to his own greed. The man she saw this morning already seemed vastly different from the man she was with last night. The man who spoke of oceans as deep as her eyes. The man who had plans to take her there. She wanted to believe he was still her same friend. But he made no effort to prove it. 

She was lost in thought. Settling into what felt like a foreign land. Matar did not notice that she was now alone. The other Freman had gone off to follow the young Atreides. Even Chani who had been setting up nearby was now gone. Still, Matar did not notice. Not until her friend’s voice rang out across the way from inside the shrine. At first, she thought she was mistaken. Matar quickly turned around from her tent. It took her only seconds to realize she was alone. And then again… unmistakable this time. It was a cry of her name coming from her best friend. 

Her heart races. Mind going a mile a minute afraid for her friend. Her family. Everyone she knows is inside that building. What has happened? Are they hurt? She took off. She ran from camp and across the sand to the shrine. Throwing open the doors, she runs inside. She follows the sound of her friend's screams but is stopped dead in her tracks when she finds her. As she takes in the sight in front of her feels as though the air in her lungs is depleted. 

Paul is lying on the ground motionless. Chani is kneeling next to him grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him trying to break whatever spell he’s put himself under. The Freman are scattered around the room. They’ve dropped to their knees in devoted prayer. And her… of course her. Lady Jessica stands aside watching the madness. Unphased and waiting. 

“WHAT DID YOU DO?” She hears her friend shout. She watches as Lady Jessica only continues to glower at Chani. 

“It had to be done.” She said. Chani looks back to Paul and shutters through a sob.

 “He’s dead,” Chani states. Matar can no longer stay in the shadows. She runs to her friend kneeling beside her. Her hand quickly finds Paul’s. Her Mouth goes dry when she finds no pulse. No. this isn’t real. Her body starts to shake with rage but she forces it down. She turns her head fixing her glare on the boy’s mother. 

“You killed your own son, and for what?” She seethes. But she’s not done. “That is low Lady Jessica, even for you.” Matar opens her mouth to continue to berate the woman but her words are cut short. 

“SILENCE,” Lady Jessica uses her power of voice to shut the girls up. “It is not your place to tell me what is best for the future of my family. And for your planet. You will thank me. And if you would let me finish… he is not dead.” Matar looks back to Paul’s lifeless form squeezing his hand in hers. 

“You did this! Fix him!” Chani shouts. Lady Jessica shakes her head remaining stoic. 

“The prophecy must be fulfilled …desert rain.” She states. Chani lets out a frustrated groan but Matar stills. She looks at her friend. 

“She is right,” Matar says as the girls lock eyes. 

“Matar,” Chani begins to protest. From behind them. Another vile of the blue liquid is being brought out. 

“I hate to agree with her. With any of this. It’s all bullshit. But we’ve always known about the prophecy. Chani if you don’t do this, Paul will die. You did not force his hand, but you can save his life.” Chani’s shoulders shake from the sob she’s trying to hold in. Finally, she can no longer hold it back and she lets her tears fall. 

“DO IT,” Lady Jessica’s voice rings through the room. Causing Chani to jump. 

She quickly wipes the tears from her cheek, dips her fingers into the blue liquid that has been presented to them and presses them to Paul’s lips. The room falls silent as everyone waits. Matar once again feels like she cannot breathe. She feels a twitch. And realizes she’s still holding Paul’s hand. His fingers slowly start to curl around hers. Then seconds later. He awakens. 

“Usul!” Chani lets out a relieved breath. “I’m here,” She looks back to Matar “We are here,” she caresses his cheek her face no full of concern. “Are you okay? Do you feel okay?”

The room erupts into chatter and Matar feels like her heart is being squeezed inside her chest. He is alive. Her friend her…Paul. He is alive. She looks at him and finds he is staring back at Chani. And for some reason, this causes more of an ache in her chest. Slowly he lets go of her hand and starts to sit up. 

“I’m okay, I feel okay. “ He assures her. His eyes shift to Matars and he gives her a gentle smile. But it feels forced. Matar nods at him, standing back up. Paul turns back to Chani. “Thanks to you.” He says. Matar quickly starts to feel as if she’s over stayed her welcome. Really she never felt as if she was welcome here. And she takes her leave. As she’s walking out the door she hears it. Chani slapped Paul hard across the cheek. Saying nothing else she stands and follows Matar out of the shrine. 

The doors close behind them and Matar stops for a moment to let out a shaky breath, showing any emotion at all for the first time since she entered the building. 

She feels Chani’s hand on her shoulder.

“Matar, he’s okay,” she says her voice soft. This is supposed to be comfort. But Matar’s body goes rigid, and what feels like jealous burns in her stomach. 

“I know,” she bites out. She takes another breath. This isn’t Chani’s fault, she tries to reason with herself. Chani hates the prophecy as much as she does. But she cannot help that she was apart of it. “Thanks to you.” her words come out more bitter than she means them to. She turns to face Chani, letting her hand fall from her shoulder. 

“And what does that mean?” Chani askes, her voice still calm. However, her eyes were sharp staring back at Matar. 

“It just means,” again Matar stopped herself. Chani was her friend. Paul was her friend. She was thankful that she saved his life and surely paul was too. That is all this is. “You were there, and I am glad you were. Usul would have died without you. I’m greatful that you saved his life Chani.” Matar says to her. Chani’s eyes begin to water again. She’s still emotional from the events that have just taken place. 

“I don’t know if I could have done it if you we’ren’t right there with me. Thank you. You are a good friend Matar. And an even better fighter. I can’t believe you spoke to Lady Jessica like that.” she chuckled softly. Matar cracked a soft smile. 

“It was nothing she didn’t deserve.” 

Just then the doors flew open again. There stood the man himself. He looked as if he was still in pain but he was fighting it well. 

“There you are,” He said to them. “C’mon, we have to prepare. We attack  tomorrow. The three of them exchange glances. Matar and Paul lingering for only a moment before she nods. 

“Lead the way Usul.”  She states.  Paul turns walking back into the building and the girls follow. 

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

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